FOUR ARABELLA

FOUR

Arabella

I AM LYING through my teeth. I would be furious if he was seeing someone, especially if that certain someone was Lydia Fraser. She’s the worst. Unkind. Downright cruel. Believes she’s better than everyone else. Rude to everybody she encounters, even teachers. Condescending. I could go on and on.

I can’t stand her, obvi.

Worse? She’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. Tall and willowy with long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes and a perfect little rosebud mouth. She looks straight out of a fairy tale if I’m being truthful. Too bad that sweet princess mouth spews some of the vilest things ever. It’s so unfair that someone so terrible is also incredibly beautiful.

But I can’t admit any of that to Rowan. He might take great pleasure in knowing I was jealous of a girl he would give even an ounce of attention to. When Simone told me earlier about Lydia and his “supposed” meetup with her, it took everything I had within me to offer my restrained response. Deep inside, I was spiraling.

“Really, Bells?”

I blink Rowan back into focus, admiring for about the millionth time his handsome face and those pretty green eyes that are fringed with thick, dark lashes. The strong eyebrows and perfect blade of a nose. His high cheekbones and sharp jaw and that mouth, God , his mouth. His lips are perfection, and I want to know once, just one single time, what it would be like to feel those decadent lips on mine.

“Really.” My voice is flat, my expression as neutral as possible. “You know how I feel about you, Rowan.”

His gaze lingers on mine as he murmurs, “Right. And I feel the exact same way about you.”

His words mean nothing, but my heart hammers extra fast just the same. We are in a strange position that is of my own creation. The constant back and forth conversation laced with sarcasm and innuendo. The pretending I don’t like him when sometimes I feel like I might die for him if he asked me to. Like leap off a tall building, run an extra sharp blade across the inside of my wrist kind of devotion.

Sick and twisted but I’m only being truthful with myself.

“You two are ridiculous.”

This stellar observation is made by Callahan, who appears disgusted by our entire conversation.

“What crawled up your ass?” Rowan asks loud enough for the entire table to hear. A few of his friends laugh. Simone and Hadley both grimace with obvious disgust.

“I’m tired of the way you guys constantly flirt.”

“Flirt?” I rest my hand against my chest, my eyes wide as I watch Callahan. “You call our conversations flirting?”

Callahan switches his attention to Rowan, his gaze … knowing? Hmm.

“You two can deny it all you want, but it’s pretty fucking obvious that you’re into each other. I wish you’d just hook up with her and get it over with.” Cal leaps to his feet so quickly, his chair falls backward with a clatter, effectively silencing the entire dining hall.

“Hey. Watch what you’re saying,” Rowan snaps, his narrowed gaze on Cal. I can practically feel the anger emanating from him and I frown, wondering at that.

Why is he mad? Does he not like being called out by his best friend? And why is he mad at Cal anyway? He’s usually the most easygoing person at this table, save for this outburst.

Callahan glares at Rowan, slowly shaking his head. “I’ve never seen two people in such denial before in my life. Get your head out of your ass, Row. There’s a perfectly good girl sitting across from you who’s probably dying for you to ask her out. Put us all out of our misery and just do it.”

My heart trips over itself. I can’t believe Callahan called out his best friend like that. And over me? What is this life?

“What? Now you’re trying to tell me what to do?” Row leans back in his chair, his expression icy cold. “Stay out of my personal business, Cal.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” Cal sends me a look full of apologies before he returns his attention to Rowan. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Guys.” I snap my fingers and they glance over at me at the same time. I rear back a little, overwhelmed to have their focus. It’s rather intense, I can’t lie. “Are you seriously fighting over … me, right now?”

Rowan’s assessing gaze settles upon me and I go still, my breath lodging in my throat. “Absolutely not.”

My mouth drops open. Why that little liar.

“This is ridiculous.” Cal turns and stalks out of the building, the double doors clanging behind him making me jump in my seat.

Eventually conversations start back up in the dining hall, including ones at our table. Save for me and Rowan.

We’re not saying a word, especially to each other.

I keep my gaze focused on my salad, turning the various vegetables over and over again with my fork. My appetite has evaporated. My mind is a whirl with questions, none of them I can ask out loud. So Callahan and Rowan have talked about me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I had no idea I was a topic of conversation for Rowan. Most of the time he acts like I annoy him. Like I’m a gnat buzzing around his head and he takes great pleasure in swatting at me.

But he never actually slays me dead, so maybe there’s something there, like Callahan said. Or perhaps I’m delusional, as usual.

“If you’re trying to save my feelings by denying you’re going out with Lydia, you don’t have to be careful around me,” I finally say, hating every single word that leaves my mouth.

Rowan makes an irritated sound like a growl deep in his throat and God, I hate myself for thinking this, but wow that sound was sexy. “This is stupid.”

I sit up straighter, my voice coming louder. “What’s stupid?”

“What’s happening here.” He waves a hand between us. “We’ve been doing this for years, Bells.”

“I know.”

“And we’ve gotten nowhere.”

“Was this?” I’m the one waving a hand between us now. “Supposed to actually go somewhere?”

He frowns.

I do too.

“Tell me something—have you ever had a boyfriend?” His question is casual. His expression is not. He appears to be bracing himself for my answer.

“Don’t you think you’d know if I had a boyfriend?”

“I don’t know what you do during your private time.” He shrugs. “It’s none of my business.”

I want to make it all of his business, but if I were to say that to him now, would he laugh? Or would he consider it?

For the first time since sophomore year, I have a feeling that he would consider it. Consider me.

My heart is in my throat. There’s a buzzing in my head and ears that makes it hard to hear, and I lick my lips, trying to come up with the right words to say something. Anything.

“Rowan Lancaster, there you are!”

We both swivel our heads to see the dreaded Princess Lydia herself approaching us, stunningly gorgeous as usual. Being in her presence immediately makes me feel frumpy and awkward and I clamp my lips shut, forgetting my true confession plans.

“Hey, Lydia.” He reluctantly—was it reluctantly?—drags his gaze from mine to acknowledge her.

While I sit in silence, jealousy bubbles inside me. It’s something I deal with all the time, it seems. Jealousy. Envy. People have things I want. Things I crave that I don’t get. Ever. Like love from their parents, their family. A boyfriend who is obsessed with them. And I hate admitting even to myself that I’m a jealous person, but I am.

I so am.

Putting on a brave face, I glance over at my friends, who both watch me with sympathy practically dripping off them.

Ugh, I hate that.

Looking away, I keep my attention focused on Lydia and Rowan.

“I was hoping we could get together after school sometime,” Lydia says, twirling a lock of perfect blonde hair around her finger as she studies him with hunger in her eyes. “We have that American Government project to work on, and we’re supposed to partner up with someone.”

I send a quick look toward Rowan, but he’s not paying attention to me. He’s too enraptured with Lydia and her stupid, beautiful face.

I’m in their class. I have that project to work on too, and I don’t have a partner yet. I don’t think any of us do. I figured our teacher would assign us partners, which is how she normally operates. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Wallace only just mentioned this project at the very end of second period. And look at Lydia, rushing in to try and pin down Rowan as her partner.

So smart. I wish I would’ve come up with that.

“Right.” Rowan nods, his gaze sliding toward me. “I already have a partner though.”

Lydia’s rosebud lips part in surprise. “Who?”

“Bells.” He inclines his head in my direction.

I gape at him. So does Lydia, who slowly turns her narrowed gaze upon me. “You’re partnering with Arabella?”

“I am,” he says firmly.

“You are?” I clear my throat when I realize I sound like I’m questioning him. “I mean, yes. You are. We are partners. In American Government. For our new project.”

I sound like an idiotic robot.

“Oh. I see.” Lydia’s voice is hollow, and she returns all her attention to Rowan. “Are you sure you want to work with … her?”

“Hey,” I murmur, vaguely irritated. What’s that supposed to mean exactly? “I didn’t ask him. He asked me.”

“I did,” Rowan confirms. “And I definitely want to work on this project with Arabella.”

I like it when he says my full name, which isn’t often. I do adore the nickname he has for me too. If I’m being truthful, I love it when he acknowledges me in any way possible, which makes me sound pathetic and sad, but I don’t care. It’s not like anyone can hear my thoughts.

“If you say so.” Lydia sniffs. “Have fun.”

The moment she’s gone, I’m leaning across the table, my voice lowering to a whisper. “What exactly was that?”

“That was me getting out of working with Lydia,” he responds without hesitation.

Hmm. Why wouldn’t he want to work with her? Does he find her beauty too distracting? I think her face would even distract me. “Maybe I don’t want to be your partner.”

“Come on, Bells. Give me a break.”

“You make it sound like it’ll be a privilege for me to work with you.” My tone is haughty because if he’s implying that, ugh. I know Rowan has a tremendous ego and for good reason. Look at him. He rules this school, and everyone adores him. I swear the entire campus was depressed after he broke his ankle out on the football field. No one likes to see their prince injured, including me.

He doesn’t say a word to my statement. Just watches me with that gorgeous face of his, his eyebrows lifting, his expression challenging.

“It’ll be an easy project,” he finally says.

“For you, only because I’ll do everything,” I retort. I have no idea if that’s true. Rowan isn’t dumb. He’s actually quite smart and I’m just being mean, insinuating that he won’t put in the effort.

“I won’t let you do it all,” he says, leaning across the table as well, though he grimaces when he does it. That boot always gets in his way, and I immediately feel bad for him. “I can hold up my half of the project. I’m not a slacker.”

I know he’s not. I had no business accusing him of being one.

“What’s this project about anyway?” I ask, because I haven’t a clue.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” His slow smile is lethal, sending an arrow straight to my heart and making it ache. “Together.”