Maybe sometimes you meet the right person while you’re with the wrong person and that’s all there is to it. It’s nobody’s fault—it just happens. But when it does, someone always gets hurt.
Unfortunately, in my scenario, I realized Christian was wrong and Will was right too late. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Will, but I couldn’t have known.
The sound of grass crunching mixes with the soft whirring of the ventilator and I realize I’m no longer alone. My thoughts disperse like heavy fog, and Will’s standing there, watching me with concern.
I give him a half-hearted smile and take in his costume, which is a white tunic with a repetitive black pattern, paired with these awesome black leather boots that must have come from The Bone Needle. I have no idea what he’s supposed to be. He can’t be a badger; that was Grant’s costume. Maybe a weird spotted skunk?
“Okay, you got me. I have no idea what you are,” I say to him.
“I’m an ermine.” When I only blink at him in response, he sighs heavily and explains. “It’s the stoat, a weasel-type thing, and in winter its coat is white with a black tail. They used to sew a whole bunch of the winter furs together to create this pattern, which became a symbol of royalty. It’s very historic.”
I hold back laughter. “You’re such a dork, you know that?”
“A hopeless case, I’m afraid.” He sits next to me on the steps. We’re silent for a minute, then he bumps my knee with his own. “Are you okay? I saw you run away from Christian.”
I sniffle. “He called me a slut.”
Will tenses, and I watch his knuckles turn white. “Want me to go in and beat him up? I mean, I’ve never hit anyone in my life but maybe I could just confuse him with big words or something.”
I laugh, a big rumbling laugh that feels good as it breaks through my tears. “Thanks for the sentiment, but I’d rather you just stay out here. With me. He’s not worth it.”
I open up my hand, extending it out a little so he can see my waiting palm. There’s a split second where I think he’s not going to take it, he’s going to leave me hanging there, but then he slips his calloused hand over mine and we fold them together on his knee.
“Have you seen Kyle?” Will asks. His voice is soft. Cautious.
“Yeah. He’s here with Lacey.”
“Want to go in there with me and make him jealous?”
I smile a small smile at that. “No. I don’t want to go in.”
Will’s hand twitches in mine, but he doesn’t pull it back. “Are you over him?”
I think about it, taking a long moment before I answer. “Kyle broke my heart. And I don’t know that I’m over that. But I don’t want to be with him anymore.” I take a breath, and when I exhale it feels like I’m pushing out some of Kyle with it. “Besides, there’s this other guy who I’m kind of falling for. He’s smart, and funny. Dorky. And he’s got great eyes. He’s always there for me, even when I act like an idiot. And I really, really like it when he holds my hand.”
Will’s eyes are golden and bright, happiness dancing in them just as sure as the reflection of the hundreds of Christmas lights decorating the tavern.
“Really?” he asks. Will reaches toward me slowly, cupping my face. “Well, that guy would really like to kiss this girl right now.”
I nearly pull away from him, I’m so surprised. “But you said ‘some day,’ ” I say, confused. “I thought—”
“Today is some day, Ro. I just wanted you to be sure,” Will says, and then he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.
It’s just as magical as the first time, only this time he doesn’t pull away. He pulls me closer instead, wrapping his strong arms around me so there’s nothing between us except the fabric of our costumes. It feels so right in his arms, and for a glorious moment all I know is his warmth and his lips and his heartbeat against mine.
When we finally do part, it’s with a sigh of regret from both of us.
“Can’t believe I missed out on that all summer, and now there’s only a week left,” I say.
“Yes, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a hell of a week,” Will replies, and we both start to laugh. He stands, helping me up as well. “We should get back in there. Your friends are in there with Suze and Davis. Who knows what debauched, depraved things they’re dragging them into.”
“Who knows what debauched, depraved things we’re doing out here?” I ask in my sauciest voice, and Will makes a whimpering sound before kissing me again.
When we finally pull apart, I take off running toward the tent, whooping and laughing as Will catches up and grabs me around the waist, twirling me through the air once like we’re ballroom dancers before he puts me down. We kiss again, swaying a little in the grass, and we have to remind ourselves that we abandoned our friends and need to get inside.
Inside the tent, the revelers are getting serious about partying. Everyone is moving like one body on the dance floor, doing some crazy sort of Renaissance dance that looks a lot like some line dances I know. Suze and Grant are out in front, leading. Suze looks absolutely euphoric as she dances, the flush of exertion in her cheeks and laughter lighting up her eyes. Grant seems to be enjoying himself too, though he’s a little self-conscious about his dancing. When he’s not looking at his feet to make sure he’s doing the right thing, he’s looking at Suze, clearly enthralled.
Kara and Meg are right behind them and they’ve dragged Brian out there with them. Kara and Meg are in hysterics as they try to mimic Suze and keep bumping into each other, and Suze looks over her shoulder, laughing with them before she takes a step back and joins them, exaggerating her moves so they can keep up better.
I watch, completely enchanted as my friends dance together. My two worlds have collided, and blended seamlessly. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d think Suze, Meg, and Kara have known one another for years. It warms me, and I squeeze Will’s hand. He looks over at me, smiling, completely reading my thoughts, and squeezes back.
But when that song ends and a slow one starts, the first couple out on the dance floor is Kyle and Lacey and my stomach drops. They look right together, I have to admit. She fits into his arms like she was made for them. He spins her and pulls her close, just like Will did to me moments before, and when they look at each other, it’s clear how much they care about each other.
“That’s Kyle,” I say, and I don’t have to point. Will’s looking at them too.
“Want to dance? Show ’em up?”
Although dancing with Will would be incredible, I shake my head. “Nah. I don’t need that.”
It’s then that my friends notice I’m back, and they all come over, panting from their shimmying on the dance floor. Suze, Kara, and Meg all look down at Will’s and my joined hands. There’s a moment, a calm before the storm, in which they exchange glances, then they jump in with questions.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Kara asks.
“Yeah,” Meg says, jerking her head at Will. “We need to meet the whip-cracking hottie.”
Suze merely smiles for a moment and then says, “Congratulations, you two. Finally.”
“You can say that again,” I tell her, then I look straight at Will. “We need to make up for some lost time.”
Will pulls me closer and his voice lowers to a purr. “Want to start now?”
I nod, half giggling, half breathless, and turn back to my friends. “I’m sorry, guys, but I’m going to take off. I, um . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Go lock it down,” Suze says. She grabs me by the shoulders, turns me around, and practically shoves me toward the door. “Have fun you two. And don’t worry. I’ll entertain Meg and Kara.”
I turn to wave to my friends, but Will and I can’t make it to his tent fast enough. We’re out of breath by the time we peel back the tent flaps and tumble onto his air mattress.
I don’t know how much time passes after that because it all feels like a dream, like an out-of-body experience. Maybe it’s because
my head can’t accept that this fabulous life, a life with art and beautiful dresses and strange characters and a wonderful guy, is really mine.
But it is. At least for another week, it is.
I pull away from Will, breathless, about to tell him my thoughts, when Davis stumbles into the tent. From the look of him, I’d say someone broke into the mead again. He stands there, swaying, his bleary eyes roaming over me and Will cuddled tight in Will’s sleeping bag, our lips all swollen, and mutters, “Finally!” before walking back out.
Will cracks up, then plants a kiss solidly on my mouth. “Sorry, what were you going to say before my smooth roommate so rudely interrupted?”
I look into Will’s brown eyes, studying the flecks of gold. “Just that I’m happy.”
“Me too.”
I give him a fake pout. “Good, but don’t stop kissing me. We only have a week!”
“Yes, my lady,” Will says, and obeys my command.
19
WEEK 4—SUNDAY
I wake up with my head on Will’s chest, rising and falling gently with his breathing, and snuggle closer to him. He stirs but doesn’t wake, simply drawing me tighter against him. I press my nose to his skin and inhale, not caring how strange that is. His smell is masculine but sweet, and so deeply Will. I try to memorize it so I can recall it next week when we’re in different cities, and all the weeks after that.
“Ro . . .”
I lift up my head to look at Will’s face, but he’s only mumbling my name in his sleep, and when I lie back down his hand winds itself in my hair.
I curse myself for probably the thousandth time that I didn’t get to do this sooner, and I’m sure that by the time this week is over, I’ll curse myself at least a thousand times more. But there’s nothing that can be done now. We have to enjoy the time we have, which is only a few short days. It’s already the last Sunday, which means tonight will be the last bonfire and—
I sit up, swearing loudly. Will bolts up too with a snort that’s cuter than it is undignified, and blinks at me. “What? What happened?”
“It’s Sunday. The last Sunday,” I say.
“Mmm hmmm,” Will mumbles.
“My parents are coming to visit today! What time is it?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“Dunno,” Will says. He starts to lie back down, his eyes falling shut. “Everyones sleeps in after the Revel.”
“Will,” I say in a tone that lets him know I mean business.
Will harrumphs and turns on his side to reach for his pocket watch. He squints at the tiny numbers and hands. “ ’s eight thirty.”
I swear again. Then once more for good measure. Then I start to get up, gathering my shoes and mask.
“Where you going?” Will drawls. “Stay s’more. Sleep.”
“You’re not a morning person, are you?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Sorry, I have to go,” I say, slipping on my flip-flops. I’m still in my phoenix dress, which means I’m a little overdressed for the walk back to my tent.
“So? The gates don’t open until ten.”
“No, but the Duncans will be here before the gate opens. To be on time is to be late,” I say, quoting my parents, who use that expression nearly every time we exit our house.
Will groans. “Too early . . .”
I sit back down on his mattress and lean over him, my hair creating a tent around our faces. “It’s not too early. It’s the usual time. Maybe someone shouldn’t have kept us up so late.”
Will groans again, and this time it’s not a sound of displeasure, but something far sexier. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“Not at all.” I lean down and kiss him, and he wraps his arms around me, the weight and warmth of them nearly persuading me to linger for a few minutes.
Nearly.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. If I’m not at the gate to meet them, I’ll get some kind of lecture, I’m sure.”
“Fine. Ditch me for your parents.” He gives me a lazy smile, and I decide then and there that it’s his second best smile. Almost as great as the smile he gave me after we kissed last night.
“Duty and honor and all that.” I stand, and our arms slide away from each other as if they’re the last part of ourselves to surrender to separation. “And now to do the Ren Faire, Post-Revel Walk of Shame.”
Will chuckles sleepily, and before I can even say good-bye, he’s drifted back off into dreamland. I give him one last look, just a visual to keep in my memory for later, before slipping out of the tent.
I keep my head down and scurry like some woodland creature toward my tent, which proves to be harder than I predicted because my skirt is huge. It didn’t feel so big and heavy last night when I had all the energy in the world, but this morning it’s dead weight. I hike it up as best as I can and run, unladylike as can be.
I’m only a quarter of the way back to my tent when someone falls into step next to me.
“Suze!”
“Ah, I love that I have someone to slink back to the tent with in the wee hours of the morning. What a glorious day this is going to be!”
I gather that Suze also had a wonderful evening. By the time we reach our tent, we’re both breathless. I sit down, gasping, and she collapses next to me.
“Why are you up so early?” I ask her.
“Because your parents are coming, silly. If you weren’t back in the tent yet, I was going to wake you up.”
“Such an awesome friend.”
“I totally am,” Suze teases. “When will they be here?”
“When the gates open.”
“Oy.” Suze makes a face that looks like she’s about to hurl. “Okay, well, we’ve got to make you presentable. Your eyeliner’s doing the raccoon thing, and your hair . . .”
Suze touches my hair, and just from the slight pressure I can tell that it’s tangle city on my head. I grimace, realizing what that means. “I can’t believe Will saw me like this . . .”
Suze looks like she’s biting back a laugh. “Too late to worry about it now. At least your parents won’t have a clue. I have makeup remover. And don’t shampoo, just condition. A lot. Like. Twice.”
I take her advice and ten minutes later I emerge from the shower, all traces of last night’s fun times and adventures gone, with the exception of a small hickey right in the valley of my collarbone. Suze disguises it with some industrial-strength concealer, all the while grilling me for details of the night.
“There was a lot of kissing,” I say, trying to keep it vague, as opposed to Suze’s detailed descriptions. “A lot. Then we fell asleep in his sleeping bag, tangled together.”
“So . . . you didn’t . . . ?”
I’m sure all the industrial-strength concealer in the world can’t hide my blush. “No!” I squeal.
“What? I’m just asking. It’s not like I can judge.” Suze swipes some concealer under my eyes for good measure. “That’s cute. Going to really get to know him first?”
“Yeah. Well, that and . . .” I draw in a breath and force myself to say the next words. “He’s going to MIT soon. Maybe he won’t even want to see me then.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Suze says. She looks into my eyes, giving me a really convincing look while she also sizes up the circles under my eyes.
“I hope you’re right,” I say, but shove the hope down deep. “But today I have more important things to worry about. Like my parents coming. And I’m going to tell them that I want to major in art.”
“You are?” Suze doesn’t wait for me to answer and pulls me into a hug so tight that I’m wheezing for breath when she lets go. “I’m so proud of you! It’s about time you listened to me. And my mom, I guess.”
“It’s about time I listened to myself,” I say, but then shrug. “They aren’t going to be happy . . .”
“They will be,” Suze promises, then wrinkles her nose. “But just in case, better use some waterproof mascara.”
I end up wearing the forest green Renaiss
ance gown, which has become my favorite since the troubadour performance. With the lush green material and the gold trim at the edges, this one definitely stands out as the most romantic of them all. Plus, as a bonus, it has a higher neckline, which is never a bad thing when it comes to the Duncan clan. Proper and dignified, after all.
When I see Louise and Ted Duncan walk through the front gates of King Geoffrey’s Faire and gape at the Renaissance village around them, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The expression “fish out of water” comes to mind. Mom’s wearing jeans and new blazing white sneakers, and clutches her large purse to her side as if afraid one of the Renaissance hooligans will snatch it. I see my father look at the signs that point in the directions of all our main events, and see him frown as he reads. No doubt he took in the words “belly dancers” and “sword swallowers.”
“Mom! Dad!” I call, and my parents turn, doing a double take at their own daughter, who looks like a respectable Renaissance maiden. When I reach them, just for dramatic effect, I drop into a curtsey. “My lord, my lady.”
Mom gives me a fluttering laugh and brings her hand to her chest in surprise. “Rowena! We hardly recognized you. You look so . . . so . . .”
“Old-fashioned?” I venture. “Mom, you can let your purse go. This is a Renaissance Faire, not a Dickens novel.”
“Oh, of course.” Mom lets her purse hang by her side, but her hands hover over it, just in case. “We’re so glad to see you.”
“Me too,” I say, and it catches me off guard how much I mean it. “I took the day off, so I thought I could show you around a bit, take you to all the shops and the craftsmen. Then after, I’ll take you to some of the coolest performances you’ll ever see.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan, sweetheart.”
“Good.” I turn and wave for them to follow, which they do while they gawk at everything around them. I feel just as overwhelmed because I don’t quite know where to start, but then I remember the way my first day at the faire started: Will introduced me to Ramón’s sticky buns.
I turn and give my parents a huge grin. “I hope you guys are hungry . . .”
My Faire Lady Page 23
