Islam my bedroom door behind me and immediately start pacing. The room is small with two beds, two desks, and a wardrobe, and doesn’t allow for more than a few strides before I’m forced to turn and pace the other way. My fingers curl into fists, my heart raging against my ribs. I feel like I’m about to claw my way out of my skin.
“What do you think they’re doing?” I mutter as I run a hand through my hair, not caring how it falls. “Is she really going to go through with this? The nerve! I told her she could have a free pass, but she chose him. I could snap him like a twig.”
“William, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I freeze and face the girl in my room. The girl I haven’t paid the slightest attention to since we left Somerton House. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot, wringing her hands at her waist. Her question pierces my flustered mind. She’s right, whatamI talking about? Why am I pacing about the room like a storm cloud?
She steps closer. “Are you worried about Edwina? Is he yet another unsavory character like the lion fae?”
“No,” I say, and it’s true. I’m not worried about her in that way. She didn’t consume any alcohol tonight, so her means to consent is sound. Yet my chest remains coiled with fury. But fury over what? She’s in no danger. Am I simply annoyed that she didn’t fall for my seductions?
My chest screams,Yes.
Is that really it? I’m…jealous.
Of that tiny fucking weed named Archie.
“Then…then why are you so upset?” Jolene asks, interrupting my thoughts once more. “Did I do something wrong?”
The worry on her face cools some of my ire, and I’m left with a well of shame. How careless I’ve been with this woman. Now my evening’s actions have come to collect my guilt. This was all my doing, bringing her into this. I was never attracted to her, yet I wooed her tonight. I even kissed her. That wasn’t for Jolene, but she doesn’t know that. She has no clue I only kissed her to rile up Edwina. It was only because I’d been looking at Edwina that I was able to kiss Jolene at all.
That’s the first time I’ve ever done that. The first time I’ve delivered a convincing kiss to someone I’m not attracted to.
Blooming hell, Ishouldbe attracted to Jolene. She’s pretty, I can admit that, but true attraction is different. Ever since the incidents with Meredith and Greta Garter, my tastes have grown more distinct. In my university days, when I slept my way through half my acquaintances, attraction was purely physical. Now there’s an emotional aspect too. Being pretty or handsome or sexy isn’t what constitutes attraction anymore. Not for me. It remains a factor, of course, but what matters more is an unmistakable pull. A longing. A desire for more.
But wait.
Doesn’t that mean…
I’m attracted to Edwina?
I run a hand over my face and resume pacing. Her visage fills my mind. Her fiery hair, always a mess. Those spectacles, constantly being shoved higher up the bridge of her nose whether they’ve begun to slip or not. The dirty hem of her dress the day we met. Her bare feet when she refused to take back her shoes. Her temper. Her pride. The way she lies.
My heart echoes with every vision. Every memory.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Even as my annoyance burns, so too does something else. It’s the pull. Longing. Desire. Want.
No, no, no. This isn’t possible. I can’t be attracted to her.
I’mnotattracted to…
I’m not…
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw with more force than necessary.
How the hell did this happen? Before I met Edwina, I was determined to dislike her. She was the wicked author behind the stage play that destroyed my career, and her appearance at Flight of Fancy was an unwelcome one. It meant I no longer had sole possession of The Heartbeats Tour. Our first interactions sparked my competitive drive. Not only that, but she drew my attention to her again and again simply because her dislike of me was so blatant and amusing. She was a source of entertainment, nothing more.
Nothing.
More.
Right?
