“So, ready to explain?” my mother asks as I drop into another stuffed chair.
When it’s long past the time when everyone has gone to bed, I shower and crawl into the dark sheets, feeling the breeze pass through the open doors on my terrace. Waves roll in slowly outside, sending a fresh breeze and the sound of a deep, bassy rumble through my chamber.
I pull up The Link for a distraction, needing something to put me in a different mental state. I decide to add Raea as a friend, figuring I’d better just own it, and she accepts my friend request immediately, which makes me chuckle. Looks like she’s up, too.
Ciara tagged her in a post from break. It’s a photo of her and Raea with Tate and Kellan behind them, hugging them both. They’re all laughing and smiling on the transport with the caption saying: EXCITED FOR THE BREAK! #FountainIsles #holydaysfordays
The soft blue gown she’s wearing brings out the hint of blue in her hair. It’s not always easy to see, but in certain situations, such as with her gown, her hair appears more blue than white. My once-simple attraction has grown into an uncontrollable need for her.
Mine.
It’s like some beast inside of me keeps chanting that ever since she agreed to be mine earlier.
I keep scrolling through Raea’s feed. She shares numerous book recommendations and photos of plants and tea. She hardly shares pictures of herself unless she’s with someone else. There are a lot of her and Kellan, which doesn’t sit well in my gut. I find a few of her that she was tagged in from the media at balls and different events.
Gods, she’s gorgeous.
When she’s dressed in a royal gown with her crown, she looks like the most beautiful princess. There’s something ethereal about her and the way she smiles and holds herself. It’s so different from how she is at school.
I get a notification about her liking a photo of me. I click on the notification, and it’s a photo of me from an AerBall game last year. I’m celebrating with my team, and they have me on their shoulders.
I chuckle and shoot her a message:
Anders Rykerson: Stalking me, are you?
Raea Tierson: You wish. It popped up on my feed now that we’re acquaintances.
Anders Rykerson: Acquaintances? It’s a friend request, not an acquaintance request. You accepted to be my friend. In fact, I distinctly remember you agreeing to be more.
Raea Tierson: Whatever makes you sleep better, Prince. Why are you awake anyway?
Dammit, I love her sass.
Anders Rykerson: I could ask you the same thing.
Raea Tierson: Why do you answer my questions with questions?
I laugh out loud, filling the large room.
Anders Rykerson: Did you just respond with another question?
Raea Tierson: So did you. Gods, you’re annoying. I’m going to bed. Bye, not-just-my-friend.
Anders Rykerson: Friend? You’re right. That title doesn’t fit. But one title does…
Raea Tierson: Oh? And what title is that? Boyfriend?
Anders Rykerson: I’m not a boy.
Raea Tierson: You’re right. Let’s see…handsome Prince? No. Cocky, beautiful, annoyingly distracting man who consumes my thoughts?
I can’t help but smile.
Anders Rykerson: While I appreciate the honesty, how about an easier title: Yours.
It shows she read my message and started to respond, but then it disappears. I groan and roll over, dropping my Prism onto the bedside table. I wave a hand over the light panel just as my Prism dings with an alert.
Raea Tierson: Mine.
