“He’s right, Aly. I really want you there,” adds Freddie.
I open my mouth to speak, but Ollie cuts me off. “No excuses, Ryans.”
Once I’m safely back in my room, I’m left feeling anxious. Untethered. Unsure of what path I want to take, what path I’m supposed to take. I can’t pretend that everything never happened, but I also can’t explore what that means. Because when I do, it’s like riding on a pendulum that swings between bliss and despair. There is no way to have it all. To quench the feelings that arise in me when Ollie is nearby.
I try to temper the nauseous feelings that overtake me as I pull out the folder. The one my father put together containing stories about Ollie. This is the only way to stomp out the fire. Remind myself I’m just another girl.
He hadn’t locked the door despite saying he had.
He seemed smug when Aiden confronted us.
There had been so many girls before and after me.
These are the things I repeat as I open the folder.
I have to get Oliver Dudley out of my brain before I make another epic mistake.
As I flip through story after story, it becomes harder to discern fact from fiction. From what I dread is true and from what I hope is. Even through the haze of slander and trash, one story keeps screaming out at me. Repeated over and over again by tabloids and more credible sources: Oliver Dudley had lost his virginity to pop star Monica Apples during a party when he was sixteen. Hell, the girl wrote two chapters about it in her autobiography.
I remembered him attending the concert and bragging with Henry about the singer. Gushing about her when we watched MTV. She even mentioned the birthmark on his right shoulder. But could it be true? Why lie to me about being a virgin?
Was it part of some game? If so, when did the game stop?
Or are we still playing it?
Chapter Fourteen
16 Years, 6 Months, and 15 Days
“Seriously! Would I lie to you, mate?”
“I don’t know. I think you’d like to see me make a right git out of myself,” Ollie chuckles.
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” I mutter.
Stupid Henry! Stupid Monica Apples! Stupid Oliver Dudley!
“Awww, is someone jealous?” Henry taunts, pulling on my hair. I smack his hand away. “Jealous?” I scoff. “Of what, exactly? Some pipe dream you two have conjured up that an American superstar wants to bone Ollie? First, ew. Gross. Second, yeah right.”
Third, how could Ollie bring Henry here? This room was for the gluttonous intake of junk food and cursing at the match while hanging with my best friend. Not for slimeballs and talk of fornication.
“First, ew? Gross? Really?” Ollie asks, raising an eyebrow. “Am I that repulsive?”
“Most days,” I drawl, crossing my arms as I lean against the wall.
“Don’t listen to her,” replies Henry as he steps in front of me, blocking me from Ollie’s line of sight. Trying to make me disappear like he’s always done. Henry and I are like the Devil and the Angel playing tug-of-war with Ollie’s soul. “Why would Monica’s people reach out to me about the party and specifically mention that you should come along if she didn’t want your royal staff?”
“Ugh. You are so gross!” I exclaim, shoving Henry out of my way.
“Come on, mate,” Henry begs, choosing to ignore me. He clears his throat. “There’s no way they’re going to let me in if you don’t come along,” he says quietly.
For the smallest of moments, I feel bad for Henry. I know what it’s like living in the world of the Dudley boys. It’s nearly impossible to get to the royal princes unless you are part of their inner circle, but it’s a bit easier to get to people like Henry and me. I had been burned too many times by people claiming they wanted to be my friend only to find out they really wanted access to Ollie and his brothers. It’s why I don’t really have any friends other than the Dudley boys. But for someone like Henry, someone who craves attention, it’s a bit harder to turn down those connections. He needs them even if they are fake and empty.
Ollie’s eyes dart over to mine. “I…I don’t know. Ryans and I had plans tonight.” He scratches at the back of his neck, a sure sign he isn’t entirely convinced he wants to stay here with me. The ass! What does Monica Apples have that I don’t?
“What plans? Sitting around here watching some futbol match? You can do that any night. You’ve already done that a thousand nights,” Henry charges. He stalks over to Ollie, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I’m talking about getting shagged, Oliver. Tonight, you have the opportunity to get royally shagged by Monica Fucking Apples!”
“Monica Apples? What kind of name is Monica Apples?” I grumble.
“The name you have when you’re a pop superstar with giant knockers,” Henry retorts. He turns his attention back to Ollie. “Please, mate. I need to get into that party.”
“So you admit you’re using him?” I charge. The sympathy I felt earlier for Henry vanishes. While I understand how being friends with someone like Ollie will forever make me question the authenticity of all my other relationships, I never attempted to use my connection to the royal family for my own benefit.
Henry turns on me. “I’ve never understood why you’ve always hated me so much. At first, I thought you were miffed that I was taking away your favorite boyfriend backup, but now I’m just wondering if you aren’t just a giant—”
“What’s going on here?”
Ollie, Henry, and I spin around to find Aiden staring at us from the doorway, holding a bag of crisps in his hands. Warmth rushes to my cheeks, and despite being two seconds away from kicking Henry right in the balls, a smile spreads across my face. Before any of us have a chance to respond to Aiden, a smile slides across his as well.
Ollie clears his throat. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from Aiden to his brother, who stands glaring at me like I was the one who almost called someone a giant bitch. “What are you looking at?” I ask, crossing my arms and lifting my chin. Ollie shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He takes a deep breath before turning his attention to his brother. “Since when do you like futbol?”
Aiden shrugs. “Thought I might see what all the fuss is about. I brought snacks. Aly said I couldn’t step foot in here tonight unless I did. Hopefully, I got us something good?” he asks. He holds up the bag of plain potato chips. Sure, I’d rather have something of the cheese variety, but they will do. Because Aiden brought them.
I reach up and run a hand down my hair. Aiden winks at me, and I bite down on my lip to keep from full-out grinning because something about Ollie being in the room watching us is weird. Like I should feel guilty about being so excited that Aiden showed up. I had casually mentioned the match at tea, suggesting he join Ollie and me. I hadn’t really thought he would. Ollie is right. Aiden hates futbol. So, if he showed up, well, that means it’s because he wants to spend time with me. Right?
Without warning, Ollie grabs me by the elbow and pulls me into the darkest corner of the room. Apparently, not giving a darn about the spectators. “You invited my brother to watch futbol with us? I thought this was our thing, Ryans?” he whispers. I don’t miss the accusatory tone.
“Says the boy who was just thinking about ditching me to go try and shag some bimbo,” I whisper back.
“I never said I was going.”
“You never said you weren’t,” I counter. “And do you know what Henry was about to call me? Were you going to let him?”
Ollie rolls his eyes. “It’s just Henry being Henry. He says things without thinking. Besides, I’m not entirely sure what he said wasn’t the truth.” Ollie’s eyes make their way over to where Aiden stands silently watching us.
I step toward Ollie until my toes push up against his. “Are you calling me a bitch, Oliver?” I ask through clenched teeth. “’Cause I will kick your ass. Royal standing be damned.”
Oliver lets free a deep and heavy sigh. “I would never, ever call you that, Ryans. That’s not what I me
ant…”
That’s not what he meant? Does that mean he thinks Henry was right about the other thing? That I treat him like some backup boyfriend? Back up to whom? Had Henry and Oliver had talks about this? Did the nature of our friendship bother Ollie?
Before I have a chance to ask him, Henry groans from the other side of the room. “Are we going or not?”
I swallow the giant lump that’s lodged in my throat. “Are you going or not?”
Don’t go.
Please, don’t go.
I don’t want you to shag Monica Apples.
I don’t say these words out loud. Inside my head, I’m shouting them. All of a sudden, this night, this decision, feels giant. Like the rest of our days depend on it. I don’t know what Ollie reads on my face, but as he searches it, whatever he sees is not enough. “Yeah, we’re going. Alexandra doesn’t need me here. Aiden can take my place.”
And without another word, he walks away.
“I know I’m not an expert on the game or anything, but shouldn’t you be a bit more excited that your team won?” Aiden teases.
I force myself to smile. “Of course, I’m happy. Thrilled. It was a great game.”
“Is that why you’ve said about five words the entire match?” Aiden shifts next to me on the couch, the couch we have sat nestled together on for hours. I should be thrilled, but once Ollie walked out that door, an emptiness settled inside me that all the junk food and futbol goals and time with a dreamy guy couldn’t fill.
My smile falters. “I’m sorry, Aiden. It’s just—”
“You’re upset about my brother,” he replies softly.
I manage to nod, unsure why at that moment tears fill my eyes. Aiden reaches up and places his hand against my cheek. “He can be a real wanker sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” I ask drily.
Aiden laughs. “Most times.” His hand moves to my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. “Can I ask you something, Aly?” I manage to nod, finding it impossible to speak. “Do you have feelings for Oliver?”
My eyes go wide. “For Ollie? You mean like feeling, feelings?” He presses his lips together and nods gravely. “Of course not!” I exclaim, jumping up from the couch. “That’s…that’s…insane,” I stammer as I begin to pace back and forth.
Aiden reaches up and grabs my hand, forcing me to stay put. “I don’t know that it is.”
My mouth drops open. How could Aiden think that I like Ollie? How could he not realize that the only boy I ever thought of like that was him? Have I not made that clear? Before I can lose my nerve, I let the words fly from my mouth, “Let’s go to your room.”
Aiden just sat through an entire futbol match without complaining. He had to like me. And I wasn’t letting stupid Oliver Dudley ruin that. He was off shagging Monica Freaking Apples, and I was letting him and what stupid Henry said get in my head.
Not anymore!
“Wh-what did you just say?” he stammers.
I wrap my fingers around Aiden’s wrist and pull him off the couch. “Let’s go to your room,” I repeat, cringing internally as I hear how shaky my voice sounds. Aiden swallows. “Please,” I beg softly.
I need to be out of this room. The longer we sit in it, the more it feels like the air is being sucked from my chest. There’s a panic that is threatening to consume me. I need to run as far away from it as I can.
Aiden nods silently a few moments before speaking. Having some sort of conversation inside his head that I’m not privy to. “Yes. I would like that, Aly.” His voice is low and ragged. He doesn’t sound like the Aiden I’ve been smitten with for years. This is a new Aiden.
I wonder what else he’s been hiding.
We walk in silence as we make our way down the hallway. At some point, Aiden grabs my hand. I should be nervous, but there’s too much noise in my head to even think about what might happen in that bedroom. All I can hear is Aiden asking me over and over again if I like Ollie. I have to fix it. Show Aiden just how much I want him. That it’s always been him.
Even when we’re safely behind the locked door of Aiden’s room, the anxiousness that has nothing to do with the situation I’m currently in nags me. I feel like I’m a balloon floating away from some crying kid. Up and up and up until I’m not. Until I’m deflated and forgotten. Oliver Dudley is off boinking some pop princess. Desiring a boy like him would mean constant sad balloon status.
Aiden is stability. He’s the compass during the storm. He always makes the right choices, even when he doesn’t want to make them. He is steady. He is comfort, and life has taught me at a young age that it is mostly a thing of chaos. With him, I always feel safe.
“Maybe I could give you another art lesson?” Aiden offers, his eyes darting over to his bed instead of his desk where his sketchbooks are kept.
He wants me.
Aiden wants me.
And it doesn’t matter that I’m not some mega superstar.
This is the part of the fairy tale where the prince takes the commoner in his arms and whisks her away from the crowds gathered at the ball. He stares down into her eyes, the moonlight basking them in a warm glow. He makes her feel for once, just once, she could be more. That she was meant for something other than the mundane drudgery of an ordinary life—that she was meant for greatness.
“I like you,” I blurt out. “Not Ollie. You.”
Aiden’s eyes search mine before he speaks. “Why?”
I run my hand down my hair before taking a seat on his bed. “Because you always want to be better. At drawing. At being a son. At being a royal. And you want all of us to be better, too. And Ollie…”
“And Ollie?” he asks quietly.
“Ollie is happy with who I am.”
“Aly, if I ever made you think that you aren’t the most wonderful person I’ve ever—”
“That’s not what I meant,” I reply. “Ollie would like me if I decided to go to clown school instead of college. That’s just his way. I want to be more.”
Ollie likes me just the way I am, but I want to be more than this girl. This girl who finds school near impossible at times and who shies away from the press. The girl who feels like she never belongs. I need to be more. I want to be the kind of girl who a boy like Aiden could love. I’m tired of being such a disappointment. Never smart enough or clever enough.
“Aly—” Aiden starts, but I cut him off, reaching up and placing my fingers against his lips. For a moment neither of us speaks. Our breaths are loud and rapid, and they fill up the space of his room. I remove my hand, staring at those lips that have haunted my dreams.
I lean forward, readying myself to make my move, but Aiden gently presses against my shoulders. “We shouldn’t.”
Here I was worried about Ollie standing by as my balloon deflated when Aiden was waiting to pop it. “We shouldn’t? Don’t you want to?”
“Of course I want to. What man alive wouldn’t want to?” Aiden smiles, but there’s a bit of sadness to it. “Some days all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss you.”
“Then why aren’t you?” I whisper.
“Because I just turned twenty, and you’re sixteen. It wouldn’t be right.”
Out of all the responses I had imagined in the mere seconds since I had asked the question—and that was an eternity when it came to a girl’s ability to think of reasons a boy didn’t like her—I hadn’t thought of that one. “You think I’m still a kid?” I ask.
Aiden takes my hands into his. “It’s not that. I just worry, maybe, you haven’t had a chance to figure it all out yet.”
I pull my hands away. “Figure out what?”
“Aly—”
Did he think I was too stupid to figure out what I wanted in life? I shake my head and get up from the bed. “I should go,” I mumble.
“I’m not saying that it’s never going to happen, Aly. I want it to happen. But we don’t need to rush,” he explains, following behind me as I head to the door.
“Yeah, yeah.
Sure,” I say, reaching for the doorknob.
Aiden places his hand on my waist, forcing me to turn around and face him. “It’s not going to be like this forever. I promise. Just be patient.”
I’m not sure what time it is when I hear the knock. Pulling on my sweatshirt as I head to the door, I wonder if it could be Aiden. Has he reconsidered? But when I open the door, I find a very disheveled Ollie staring down at me.
“Oh. It’s you.”
Ollie’s cheeks flash red as his eyes find the ground. He kicks at the doorframe. “Yeah. It’s just me. Can I come in?”
“Did you have a good time?” I ask, noting the way his shirt is mis-buttoned and his tousled hair. Ollie’s head snaps up and his eyes, well, they feel like they’re about to stare straight through me. He takes a step toward me, forcing me to move back into my room. We do this little dance until we’re both standing there looking at each other like idiots behind my closed bedroom door.
“Ryans, I didn’t sleep with her,” Ollie says, finally breaking the silence. “I couldn’t go through with it.”
For some reason, I’m overwhelmed with the desire to throw my arms around Ollie and hug him. Instead, I pick at a hangnail on my thumb. “And I care, why?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“No. I guess you wouldn’t. Would you?” Ollie says with a sigh. “Can we just go to sleep? I’m sloshed.”
I want to ask what happened with Monica. How he could be friends with someone like Henry. What did he mean that there was some truth to what his ass of a friend had said? Instead, I nod and we both silently climb into bed.
Chapter Fifteen
22 Years, 9 Months, 30 Days
“Just a few mates having a low-key night out. No shenanigans. Isn’t that what you said?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think you rather enjoy taking the piss out of me.”
Ollie presses his lips together to keep from laughing, which only increases my desire to turn around and jump back in the car I asked to wait for me once I saw exactly where we would be spending our night. Either sensing my intentions or anxious to get back to the party, he clears his throat and motions me in. “Come on, Ryans, by now you should know I can’t stop the shenanigans even if I wanted to.”
Royal Attraction Page 9
