Rebel Princess

by Lynn Stevens

  I left the studio and headed toward the library. There were other things I needed to worry about. One, I needed more information on the lacrosse team. Two, I needed to get Max my article. Three, I needed to research the homeless shelter. Oh, and I had to write that paper for Madame Gutherie.

  My phone chimed with a text. I pulled it out of my pocket and opened it.

  Chinese tonight? Delilah had sent.

  Not sure when I’m going to be home. I hated blowing her off, but there was a lot to do.

  K. She added a smiley emoji. One of the things I loved most about her was her ability to stay positive.

  I looked down as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. When I looked up, I just missed slamming into a male chest. His hands darted out to my shoulders to keep me from falling back.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” Quinn said as he let go.

  “How else did you want to meet?”

  Quinn smiled. “Maybe at Jumping Joe’s? For coffee?

  Is he asking me out? My jaw almost dropped.

  “We can talk about the guy who punched you and how to avoid him.” His smile fell. “I can teach you a few self-defense moves, too. But not at the Joe’s.”

  “Ah,” I said as understanding dawned on me. “Thanks, but I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I can take care of myself.”

  Quinn frowned and stepped back with his hands up. “I’m sure you can.”

  “I can,” I reiterated, letting my irritation seep into my voice. “Men are all alike, you know? You think women need to be saved when most of the time, the men are the ones we need protection from. If men stopped trying to control us, we wouldn’t need saving.” I added extra venom to that last word. “We work twice as hard for half the benefits.”

  “Whoa, slow down, Emerald. I’m not the enemy here.” His tone was calm, like he was talking to a wounded animal.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, I gave Quinn a pained smile. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you per se but in general.”

  “And I would agree with you. In general.” His smile returned, and he dropped his hands, shoving them into the pockets of his jeans. “I served with women who could outdo every man in their unit, and I would serve with them again.”

  I bit my lower lip.

  “Start over?” he asked with a twinkle in his dark blue eyes. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Phillip Quinn, but everyone calls me Quinn. Would you like to have coffee with me and discuss the meaning of life?”

  “Nice to meet you, Quinn. I’m Emerald Paquette, but most people call me Em or Emmy.” I shook his hand firmly. “I would love to have a philosophical conversation with you about life.”

  “Great.” He held out his arm. “May I escort you somewhere?”

  I laughed at the gallantry. It was kind of sweet. I linked my hand through his crooked elbow. “To the Labyrinth, good sir.”

  “The library it is, Madame.” He bowed slightly.

  “Oh God, please don’t call me that. I’ll have nightmares,” I teased half-heartedly. Madame Gutherie’s pinched face popped into my mind, and I shuddered.

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Quinn said as he turned us toward the library. “Might I inquire as to why?”

  “Only if we drop the old English. I’m not sure I can keep it up.” I laughed again and inadvertently squeezed his arm tighter. His muscles clenched at the added pressure.

  “What do you expect from an English Lit major?” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Now, tell me, why does the word ‘madame’ give you nightmares?”

  “Madame Gutherie runs the dance program here.” I leaned closer and whispered, “I’m a dance major. Ballet to be precise.”

  “I can see that,” he said, nodding. “You stand straighter than most soldiers and walk quieter than a cat stalking its prey.”

  “You know a lot of soldiers, huh?” I wondered not for the first time what had happened to scar his face. It wasn’t a surprise that he’d made sure I was on his right as we walked. His scars were on the left.

  He snorted. “I spent eight years in the Army.”

  “Really? You don’t look much older than me.”

  This time he laughed. “I’m twenty-seven and a freshman. You?”

  “Twenty-one and a junior.”

  He let go of my arm to open the door. A blast of cold air hit me first, then the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. I inhaled deeply, savoring the dark roast scent. Quinn stopped just behind me, and I could feel him even though we weren’t touching. He stepped around me, taking my hand gently and leading me to the counter of Jumping Joe’s. just inside the door.

  “Let me guess, you’re a macchiato type,” he said, letting go of my hand.

  I missed the warmth of his touch immediately. “Not even. Café au lait.”

  “A woman after my own heart.” He turned toward the barista and ordered two. “Here or to go?”

  Jumping Joe’s was too packed for any serious conversation. Near the window, two of Colin’s friends sat deep in conversation. They hadn’t seen me yet, and I didn’t want to deal with any confrontation. Not now, not with Quinn here. “Let’s go to LeHigh. It’s quieter.”

  Quinn nodded, but I could have sworn his shoulders dropped a bit as if the tension eased when I said that. But what did I know? I barely knew him. Maybe he was disappointed I didn’t want to stay at Joe’s.

  Quinn handed me my café au lait after they called out “Quill” instead. He shook his head with a smile and sipped his drink, cringing.

  “Too hot?” I asked, popping the lid off mine. Steam drifted up over the lip of the cup. I blew on it. It never really helps, but there’s something comforting in doing it. I slipped off the cardboard sleeve and put on a crocheted one.

  “A little.” Quinn set his cup on the counter, stirred in a packet of sugar and nodded toward mine. “Did you make that?”

  “No, my roommate did.” I turned the cup around to admire her work. The sleeve was a red and white chevron pattern. “She loves to make things. Me, not so much.”

  We left the bustle of Joe’s and walked toward the student center in comfortable silence. LeHigh was one of my favorite places on campus. Again, Quinn held the door open for me. My grin probably lit the room. Guys just didn’t do stuff like that anymore.

  I glanced around the student center to ignore the flutter I felt from his earlier words. A woman after my own heart. Not a girl or gal, but a woman. My heart kicked up a notch the more I thought about it.

  Student Center was located on the first floor of the LeHigh building, and it was the perfect place to hang out with friends when the dorm rooms seemed too small. Totally ironic considering the dorm rooms were larger at Camelot U than at any other school I’d visited my senior year. The Media Cubicles with extra-large flat screens often hosted movie nights or big sports events, and the Game Room was great whenever some fun and games were required. But my favorite was The Lounge with the tranquility wall with a waterfall fountain. It was a peaceful spot in a hectic world. The chairs were plush with matching ottomans. The loveseats near the oversized fireplace were my favorites though. With the Florida heat, most people ignored the fireplace. It reminded me of home. I wondered where home was for Quinn.

  I led the way toward the fireplace and settled into a loveseat.

  “What do you do in your spare time?” Quinn asked after he sat in an adjacent chair. He crossed his leg, resting his ankle on his knee.

  “If I had spare time, you mean?” I laughed. “Between writing for the paper, two majors, and ballet, I don’t have time for much.”

  “Okay, fair enough. If you did have time, what would you do?” He fought the emerging smile.

  I tapped my fingers on my leg. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe go to a party or a club. I haven’t been to the beach in ages. That would be nice.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just trying to figure out what to do on a date.” His grin turned into a full
-fledged, dazzling smile.

  “With me?” I pointed to myself. Quinn was attractive, and he had been more than nice to me even after I berated him a few minutes ago. “Why me?”

  He leaned forward, and I found myself gravitating toward him. “You want me to list all the reasons?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. My breath hitched in my throat. This close proximity sent my pulse beyond an allegro into a presto.

  “One, you’re gorgeous. Two, you’re tougher than anybody I’ve ever met.” His gaze dropped from mine. “Three, you don’t look at my scars. You look at me.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine again. “And you haven’t asked how I got them.”

  I stared back at him. Of course, I wanted to know how, but it would’ve been rude to ask. “I figured that was something you’d tell me if you wanted. Once we became friends, I mean.”

  Quinn swallowed and picked up his coffee. He leaned back in his chair and share-time seemed to be over.

  “So, what do you like to do?” I asked, forcing nonchalance into my voice. “In your spare time?”

  He smiled, relaxing into his seat. “Like you, I don’t have a lot of spare time. I work during the day and help out at the shelter when I can, plus my classwork on top of all that.” He shrugged and glanced away. “It makes everything easier if I’m constantly on the go.”

  “Do you like go-karts?” It was one of my favorite things to do when I had time, which wasn’t often enough. I hadn’t been to the long track since the beginning of the semester. It was about forty minutes away from campus and off the beaten path. Locals race it all the time, but it wasn’t known to tourists. They came to Florida for the beaches and amusement parks, not to race on a dirt track.

  Quinn rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Yeah, but I haven’t driven one since I was a kid.”

  “I know a great track if you’d like to go,” I began, but a sudden shyness took over. Totally not like me. Then again, I’d never asked anybody out before.

  “I’d love to. Saturday?” He shifted in his chair and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the screen. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  I watched him walk to a quieter part of the lounge, his back to me. It gave me a great view of his rear end, which was spectacular in those jeans. My thoughts were all over the place. Colin and I had been together for a while, and our split was spectacular for the grapevine at Camelot. I’d caught him cheating on his papers. And on me.

  I was more upset about the academic cheating than anything else.

  It wasn’t fair to other students who busted their asses to get C’s. As for the other woman, she was another dancer who specialized in modern jazz. Needless to say, I caught him step ball changing into her vagina.

  Yeah, I was definitely a little bitter.

  Quinn turned, and I stared at his profile. He was handsome in an unconventional way. The scars gave him a dangerous vibe. They covered the left side of his face as if someone had taken a handful of razors and cut him from his scalp to his jaw. His left ear was mangled and red, and the skin around his left eye drooped down, but his blue eyes were unharmed. The scars actually made his eyes more piercing.

  His conversation caused him to shake his head and frown. He glanced toward me, then turned his back to me.

  Philip Quinn had secrets. Did I want to get involved with someone like that? I sipped my coffee and averted my eyes. It was one date. One date did not constitute getting involved. We could go out and decide it wasn’t meant to be.

  Or we could go out, fall madly in love, and I could end up heartbroken again.

  “Hey,” Quinn said as he sat back in his chair. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands pressed together. “Can we pick this up another time? I have to go.”

  “Sure.” I was a little disappointed and a little relieved. This would give me time to think.

  “Great, maybe we can still do something Saturday?” He stood with his phone clutched in his hand. His gaze darted to his phone, then to me. He spun it toward me. “Can I get your number, at least?”

  I pressed my lips to keep from smiling too wide. Maybe I didn’t have to think about this at all. I punched in my number and debated about putting something funny as my name. Then I sent myself a quick text, so I’d have his number too.

  He took the phone when I offered it and slapped it against his palm. “I’ll call you.”

  “Do that,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  He backed up and put his phone back into his pocket. His smile exploded across his face. I couldn’t help myself when I laughed. He turned and strolled out of the building.

  A few minutes later, my phone chimed with a new text.

  You have a beautiful laugh.

  Yeah, I definitely didn’t have to think about this.

  Chapter Four

  I followed up with my doctor on Friday. She quickly waylaid my plans to take Quinn go-karting.

  “Give it a few more days,” she had said. “Other than that, you’re perfectly healthy. I’m going to release you to resume dancing on Monday. Just take the weekend, okay?”

  I left her office and couldn’t help my disappointment. Quinn and I had sporadically chatted the last few days. I hadn’t asked about the shelter yet, but I really needed to, especially since my efforts to expose the lacrosse team’s cheating had been fruitless.

  No go-karts per the doctor. I sent to Quinn.

  He didn’t respond, but I had gotten used to waiting. He still hadn’t told me what he does for work during the day. I figured the getting-to-know-you phase was in full swing, it was just swinging slowly. When Colin and I started dating, it was full speed ahead. This was a slow burn. But I was getting ahead of myself. We had one date planned, tentative as it was.

  I strolled across campus to the Dispatch’s offices. Max and I had a meeting in a few hours, and I still had revisions on the story I’d turned in plus a book review to write. Our staff had dropped dramatically since my freshman year, and the paper was more like a magazine coming out once a week. One sports reporter to cover everything. One photographer, along with two other writers and a lone freshman who wrote filler. Max wrote editorials and filled in when things fell apart, which wasn’t often but often enough.

  The air conditioning froze the thin sheen of sweat to my skin. I shivered at the sudden change of body temperature.

  Max leaned against my assigned desk as I walked in. He narrowed his eyes at me. I knew that look. It screamed “we need to talk right now.” I didn’t even bother heading toward my desk, instead turning toward his at the front of the room. Max wasn’t far behind.

  I sat in the crappy plastic chair that had a crack in it, which pinched my leg if I moved wrong. “What’s up?”

  “You don’t have it, do you?” he asked as he sat down.

  My shoulders fell, and I shook my head.

  He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “We’re dropping it.”

  “You’re getting pressured, aren’t you?” I asked as the realization dawned on me. Why didn’t I think of it before? Of course, the athletic director would’ve known I was pursuing this story. Stupid concussion.

  “It’s not like that,” Max snapped.

  So much for journalist integrity.

  “You’ve been on this since last semester, and you can’t prove it. I told you today was the deadline.”

  “Fine,” I said, trying to put as much defeat into my voice as I could. Even if Max killed the story, I wasn’t giving up so easily. This needed to be told. “What else you got for me?”

  Max’s eyebrows wrinkled, but whatever was on his mind wasn’t going to be verbalized. He shot forward in his chair and picked up a folder. “The ball’s coming up in a couple weeks. It’s always a popular issue. So, go to the organizers and find out what we can expect this year. Have it on my desk by next Friday.”

  I closed my eyes before I rolled them. The ball was a huge event, no doubt, but every year it was the sam
e thing. It was held in the same spot. The theme changed and that was always the angle of the story. I wondered for a moment how much money the school spent on the ball. What if that money went to scholarships instead?

  Max would never go for it. He was pro-Camelot and anti-everything that might bring the school some shame.

  But every school had a shady side.

  I stood and headed toward my desk, crappy assignment in hand, and sat down to write the best damn book review of Witches, a Comprehensive History of Salem’s Darkest Hours by our very own Dr. Mueller.

  My phone chimed a message. I pulled it from my pocket and smiled at Quinn’s response.

  Damn, I’ll have to impress you some other way. My driving skills are legendary.

  I responded, So are mine. Do you have any suggestions?

  There’s a trail about an hour north of here. Do you like to hike?

  That wasn’t my first idea of fun, but what the hell? I hadn’t really hiked since I was ten, and ballet became my life. I don’t know. The kid in me used to. I haven’t been in a while.

  We’ll have a picnic lunch. Trust me.

  I did. For some reason, I trusted him completely. It wasn’t just how he chased off Colin either. There was something else, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I do. It’s good to try old/new things.

  Great. I’ll pick you up at nine.

  I sent him a smiley emoji and put my phone down. There was work to do, and I started typing.

  Delilah sat on the couch with yarn and fabric swatches everywhere. That wasn’t unusual. The fact that she was crying was totally out of character. I dropped my back on the chair and knelt beside her.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” I asked gently as I removed the knitting needles from her hands along with the fluffy red yarn.