Page 45 of Fractured Heart

“Choose between them?” My eyes widen.

“Well, you’re obviously going to date one of them, aren’t you?”

I shake my head. I doubt any of the guys would want to date me. And even if they did, how would I choose between the three princes? I freeze. That wasn’t what I meant, even if I was only thinking it. I like Tate and Charles. I kissed Tate and Charles. I can’t like JJ, too. I shouldn’t even like both Prince Charming and the Beast. What’s wrong with me?

“You don’t have to tell me which guy you like if you don’t want to.” Angela sighs. “But I don’t have any hot guys in my life, so it would be kind of cruel not to.”

I giggle. “I don’t even know if they’re into me.”

"They?" Angela's eyes twinkle.

“He,” I amend, blushing. I’m just not sure which he. Tate? Charles? Definitely not JJ. He’s an objectively good-looking guy, sure, but I haven’t even kissed him. And I don’t plan to. Because it’s wrong. And because he definitely doesn’t want to kiss me.

“So, you grew up in town?” Angela changes the topic. I sigh in relief.

For the next half hour, we talk about growing up: me here in town, Angela a few towns over. I gloss over life with Father, while Angela tells me about losing her parents and taking care of her little sister. We compare main streets and Angela describes a small theater that's in desperate need of repairs. It triggers a memory. Mom and I visited it back when she was alive. We watched Cinderella and then spent all week belting out the songs at the top of our lungs. We’d sung at the grocery store, at the park, and even at home while Father was at work.

“I’d love to see that place,” I whisper. I’d love to go back there.

“It’s beautiful,” Angela agrees. “But they closed it down years ago.”

My face falls.

“I could sneak you in there sometime. Don’t worry, I do it all the time. It’s my favorite place to practice.”

“Do you sing?” I ask hopefully.

“No. Dance. I actually got into LUV on scholarship, but I had to defer until next year.”

I feel a twinge of jealousy. My own application here at LUV Academy got rejected, but I don’t tell Angela that. Instead, I just listen.

By the time there’s a knock on the door, it feels like we’ve been friends for years. Like with my high school friends, I know everything about Angela, and she knows small bits and pieces about me. The parts I’m willing to share.

I cross the living room and peek through the peephole. I half expect another delivery of clothes, or maybe food, and my eyes widen when I see who it is.

“Tate!” I whisper-yell to Angela.

Her eyes widen and she races across the room to her massage table. Tate knocks again, more insistently this time, and I throw open the door.

“Roonie.” He grins when he sees me.

"Hi." I smile back, suddenly nervous. "Come in…I mean, it's your apartment."

Tate chuckles. "I've got to run. I have an appointment with my TA at one. I just wanted to give you this."

He hands me a brown bag, slightly darker than his cracked guitar.

I cringe. “I can’t accept this.”

“Yes, you can.” Tate opens the bag and takes out a large cardboard box. He opens that, too. “I had it set up at the store. Charles, JJ and I programmed our numbers, so you'll be able to reach us.”

"You got me a phone?" I gape as he takes out a brand-new model that's much more expensive than the one I left at Father's. "I can’t let you buy me any more gifts. It’s way too much. You already got me these clothes and…”

“Then consider it a loan. You need a phone, Roonie.”

"But—”

“Listen, I have to get going. But I’ll text you, so you know where to go for rehearsal.” He looks past me and spots Angela. “Oh, hey. I’m Tate.”