Bookishly Ever After Read online

  “Yes,” I said, then scrambled to my feet and tried not to look like I’d just been sitting in the hallway like, well, like a loser. “I mean, yes, I’m fine.” He kept staring and I added, “I just couldn’t deal with any more of the changes they made to the musical. I needed a break.” I tried to push my hair back nonchalantly like Maeve would, but my fingers caught in the curls and I had to shake my hand free.

  He smiled at me as if it were something he did every day, like we were in an alternate universe fanfiction of my life. “I know the feeling. Not to mention I had enough of these songs the million times I heard it in practice. Do you want to hang out in the library until right before the end? I’ve got the code to open up the tech cabinet.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the library doors, which were conveniently located right in front of us. “I can pull out two tablets.”

  My eyes grew wide and my heartbeat sped up the tiniest bit. The parts of me that didn’t want to go back into the theater to see more of the Dev and Lexie show and that wanted to bask in the amazingness that was Kris screamed at me to say yes. But the responsible part of me fought back.

  “That sounds amazing, but I really should go back inside. Alec picked some seats right in front and Em will notice if I’m not there.” The words tripped reluctantly off my tongue, leaving the tiniest bit of a bitter taste.

  To my disappointment, Kris didn’t look too upset. “That sucks. Next time, you need to sit in the back row like the rest of us cool kids so you can avoid actually watching these things like we do.” A brilliant smile spread across his features, lighting them up.

  Ohmigosh. I tried not to break into a little happy dance over his offer and instead tried to return that smile, even though I was seriously contemplating taking back my first answer. “You’re so right. Thanks for offering.”

  “Sure.” He turned in the direction of the library. “Have fun in there. Don’t get hit by a chandelier or anything.”

  “Right.” I watched him walk away, the hall lights catching the faint golden highlights in his hair, and slumped against the wall again.

  I was such an idiot.

  Golden series book 1: Golden PG 130

  Aedan seemed to relax a little bit. “Good.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Tomorrow, you will need to act like you did down in the tunnels,” his tone sounded apologetic, “Otherwise, Connaught and the others may suspect something.”

  Act like she was his little human servant-with-benefits? Her body said yes and beat down the part of her brain screaming about self-respect. “That’s okay,” Maeve tried to sound casual, like he had told her she needed to buy a new pair of shoes for the mission or something. “I think we did a pretty good job acting today.” She almost choked on the ‘acting’ part. She couldn’t believe all of those gentle, guiding touches, the way he kept grazing her hair with his lips, could have all been acting11. Those few moments had convinced her that he felt something for her. But now she questioned even that. If he wasn’t so damn unreadable…

  He nodded at her. “It’s better that way. It’s safest if they keep thinking you’re just an enspelled human.” His hand grazed hers for a hint of a second before he returned to tapping the table and watching.

  That touch had been intentional. Frustration bubbled up in her and she pushed her teacup away. Maeve stood, a little bit of satisfaction rising up at the surprise in his face for her abruptness. “I’m heading back. I’m tired and the chaperones will probably do a check soon.” Before he could say anything, she turned on my heel and tried to make herself disappear into the pub crowd without looking back. Granmom always said that smart women knew how to make great entrances and exits12. Let him wonder about how she felt, too.

  34

  “You’re doing it again.”

  I slammed my locker door shut and looked at Em. “Doing what?”

  “Eye-stalking Kris.” She nodded towards Kris’ locker, where he was talking with a bunch of his friends.

  “Eye-stalking? Is that even a word?” I leaned against my closed locker and watched as Kris did the same against his. I could practically melt into the metal and stay that way forever. “I love that he’s got this whole Victorian-Edwardian thing going on with his hair.” The only thing the moment needed was for Kris to look my way so our eyes could meet. Then, I’d just have to drop my eyes, shyly, and look up again, catching his attention again. Then, he’d push off his locker, make his way across the hallway, and…

  “You make me ashamed to be a girl.” Em grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards my homeroom, popping me straight out of my daydream. “You’ve been even more obsessed with him since January.”

  I tried to shrug free, but that girl had an insane grip. “Have not. I’ve always thought he was cute.”

  “Again, unobtainable fictional romance.”

  I stopped midstep and pinned Em down with a withering glare. “You mean like Dev and your plan to get us together?”

  Em rolled her eyes and broke her grip on my arm. “Please, that was not fictional. The two of you were just too chicken shit to actually admit you liked each other. You know, Kris only noticed you after your makeover—”

  “Which was your idea,” I reminded her. “And, by the way, thanks for that.” I straightened the fairy-tale-like top Grace had convinced me to buy and fluffed my still-perfect hair.

  She ignored me and kept talking. “—while Dev always looks like he just got a starring role on Broadway every time you walk into a room, no matter what you’re wearing.” I tried to break in, but she stuck her hand up in the air to stop me. “It’s the truth, whether you like it or not. Don’t blame the messenger.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t diss the objects of my affection.” I paused at the door of my homeroom and glanced one last time over at Kris. He seemed to finally sense my eyes on him and looked up to give me one of his gorgeous smiles. Real, not like those “I have to pretend to like you” smiles he usually gave to people he didn’t know during election season.

  My heart started doing jumping jacks and I ducked behind the door with a wave at Em. “See you at lunch.”

  Em shook her head one last time and hurried off to her own homeroom. I wove between the desks to my seat and dropped into it, pulling out Hiding. Found was coming out in a week and I wanted to reread some of my favorite parts to prep for the last book in the series. Plus, I wanted that smile still fresh in my head while reading a little more Cyril goodness.

  Even though I babied my books, the broken spine of my hardback fell open to the mirrorfall scene and I dove in. I read straight through the Pledge of Allegiance and roll. When Ms. Marin handed a few of us an orange paper, I just slipped it in the back of my book so it stuck out like a flag and vaguely registered that the paper said something about the sixth grade camp info session in Mr. Cooper’s classroom I had to attend instead of first period.

  I feel a cloud of cold engulf me, colder than anything I’ve ever felt before. My veins freeze, my breath comes out like dry ice shoved into my lungs. And for the first time since all of this started, I scream.

  The bell rang and I stood up, propping my book up in one hand and maneuvering out of the classroom without breaking my attention from the book. Being able to walk and read without bumping into things was a major skill I had developed.

  I pull my body up off the floor and find myself in a place that’s familiar and still not. Like I am in a mirror image of somewhere I know. Instead of a familiar greyish tinge, this place is alive, the vibrant colors of the wood and wallpaper and rugs tugging at my memory. Then, it dawns on me. I’m in the mirror world, the place I saw through the house mirrors. “That bastard.”

  I flipped the page, dodging a freshman and turning down the history hallway instead of my usual route. If I read fast enough, I could probably get in another two pages before the bell.

  I reach out for the giant gilt Victorian mirror hanging in front of me—my room, or at least a silvery flipped version of it, fills the frame, but when my ha
nds touch the glass, I can’t get through. I splay my palms flat and push. Nothing. “Damnit, Damnit, Damnit.”

  A hand touches my shoulder and I whip around, freezing at the sight of a pair of familiar blue-grey eyes set in a healthily colored face.

  “Cyril,” I breathe, and my heartbeat is so loud I’m sure it can be heard even through the mirror. “Please, please tell me this is a dream.”

  He frowns and I notice for the first time the faint purpling on his cheek. “I tried to stop him before he could trap—”

  “So, you’re counseling, too?” Dev’s voice broke through my reading bubble and my head shot up, a mini heart attack happening in my chest. I hadn’t even noticed him next to me. I threw him a confused look and he waved an orange flyer at me. “For camp? You’re carrying one of these.”

  I stared at him dumbly for a second, still half in Marissa’s world.

  Say something, my brain prompted and I sputtered out a barely coherent, “Uh-hrmmm.” I slid the ponytail holder off my wrist and shoved it in the book. My brain turned on again and I snapped the cover shut. There was no way I could let him see the absolutely swoon-tastic first kiss between Marissa and Cyril, made especially hot because of all the insane sexual tension from a book and a half of not touching, and her fear of being trapped. Dev seeing that wouldn’t be embarrassing at all, never. I pulled the book protectively to my chest. Hopefully, the bright new blush Grace forced on me this morning hid my reddening cheeks.

  He didn’t seem to notice my momentary breakdown. “That’s great. I wasn’t going to do it, but Em mentioned to Mr. MacKenzie that I was a scout and he talked me into counseling. Something about how a lot of their senior class first choices had to drop out because of some career fair thing and he had to go with a few junior second picks. He didn’t want to leave the counseling to just you and a bunch of delinquents.”

  I finally snapped all the way back to the non-book world, bringing with me a little bit of Marissa’s sass. “Great, so he’s still sticking me with a bunch of delinquents.”

  We reached Mr. Cooper’s World History classroom and Dev gestured for me to walk in first. I loved this room. It was the only classroom in the school built auditorium-style, with the seats stepping down to Cooper’s desk and the board. When I came here as a freshman, I loved how it made me feel like I was in a college class instead of honors world history.

  I stayed one step ahead of Dev in this weird, everexpanding personal space dance I’d been doing since January. I hesitated, then picked a seat in one of the center rows. Dev followed me, dropping into the seat next to mine. I had to keep reminding myself not to read into anything, and that this was just Dev being his normal, friendly self. He would do the same to Em or any of the other girls in school.

  Dev propped his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him. “At least I’m a requested delinquent. Beggars can’t be choosers, bookworm.” I sat my book on the armrest while digging in my bag for a pen, and he picked it up. “What are you reading now?”

  Fear shot through me. I tried to pull it out of his hands, but he twisted so I’d practically have to crawl onto his lap to take the book back.

  “Hiding. You wouldn’t like it, it’s nothing like the Sentinel series.” It wasn’t like I’d never recommend this series to a guy, but my brain kept bouncing back to what I knew was after that bookmark.

  Dev flipped over the dust cover-less hardcover and studied the spine. “I dunno, you have pretty good taste in books.” Then, his fingers moved to the edge of the cover. Even without the help of my makeshift bookmark, I knew right to where the book would fall open. When you reread a scene a million times, the permanent crease in the binding is impossible to fix.

  I fought to keep my tone light, not like I was trying to stave off imminent disaster. “No, really, this has no action or anything. It’s not your type of book.” I prayed that it would open to another scene, any other scene.

  His eyes scanned the page and I fought to keep myself from sinking through the wood laminate of the chair in shame as his lips quirked up into a wide grin.

  “No action, huh?” He propped the book up, reading from it in a voice that made me want to move to a different country where the sound couldn’t dance across my skin. “‘His lips whisper along my jawline and I gasp just before they skim my cheek and brush against mine. I melt into his arms, my hands reaching…’” Dev looked up at me, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Phoebe Martins, I didn’t know you were into,” he searched for the word, “scandalous books.”

  Forget landing in his lap—I lunged, but he held me back with one hand while holding the book out of my reach with his other hand. He read for another second, then turned to look at me with smirk.

  “Wow. This author needs a thesaurus. She used ‘sigh’ three times in the same paragraph.” He wiggled the book at me while making a tsking sound. “Definitely looks like a lot of ‘action’ to me.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I mumbled, this time succeeding in prying my book from his hands and shoving it none-toogently into my bag. “I read Sentinel Twenty. That’s no different than the scene between Sentinel and Guide.” I narrowed my eyes at him like Marissa when she convinced Dan to stop the exorcism, but that didn’t make the amused look on his face go away.

  “I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a part where Guide pressed against Sentinel, ‘feeling every inch of him.’” He said with air quotes. “What do you think that means, exactly?”

  Damn, he had seen that line. I ducked my head and hoped my hair would swing forward to hide my burning cheeks, but instead ended up pretending I was picking at something on my jeans when it didn’t. “I…” Thankfully, at that moment, Mr. Cooper and a few teachers I didn’t recognize stood up at the front of the room and called for us to quiet down. Saved by the teachers.

  “I’m sure all of you know by now that you have been selected to be counselors at the sixth grade camp in a little over a month. This camp offers a wonderful chance to prepare these now fifth graders for their transition to sixth grade and middle school in the fall.” Mr. Cooper looked around the auditorium and I took the time to do the same. Counting Dev and me, there were about twenty of us. Some of the glitterati sat near the front and outdoor club members were parked in a clump near the middle, sharing a bag of what was probably granola. All juniors, and half of them I wouldn’t trust to watch each other, much less groups of eleven year olds. “Thank you all for offering to be role models for five days. We’ve already spoken with all of your teachers to ensure that you will be able to make up the course work from the week you will be missing.” A groan came from some of the people in the lower rows. “All of you knew that was part of the bargain when you signed up, right?”

  One of the heads up front looked familiar and, as he turned to say something to the person behind him, I caught Kris’ profile. Dev and my attempts to avoid him combined with the only other swoonworthy guy in the school? This was bad.

  Dev leaned onto our shared armrest. “’Strong hands running down my back,’” he said out of the corner of his mouth. Damn, the jerk had some sort of photographic memory.

  I sunk lower into my seat, sneaking a glance to the front of the classroom. If Kris heard that, I would melt into a puddle of one-hundred-percent mortified goo. “Shh, they’ll hear you. Delinquent.” Our row shook with his silent laughter.

  Mr. Cooper ignored the drama playing up in our rows, looking instead at the groaners. “Obviously, you should know that this isn’t an excuse to slack off from school for a week. You will each be responsible for a cabin of about eight to twelve students and will be paired with a cabin of the opposite sex for meals and events. You and your partner counselor will also be asked to run the camp team-building challenges throughout the week and to assist in some of the camp activities based on your skill sets and certifications. For example, Marcus will man the rock climbing wall,” one of the guys up front high-fived another, “and Phoebe,” I froze at my name, “is running the archery field.”
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br />   My stomach turned when every head in the room turned to look at me. This had been a majorly bad idea. Dev nudging me with his elbow didn’t help.

  “It will be a lot of work, but you can ask anyone who has been a counselor before—it’s a very rewarding experience.” He started going on about what we’d need to bring and then listed all of the middle school teachers who would be “managing” us during the week, closing with, “Remember, this isn’t a chance to party in the woods. I expect you all to do Pine Central proud.”

  Dev elbowed me again and I shot him a death glare. His teeth practically sparkled, like in a toothpaste commercial. “This is going to be so rewarding. Like when Cyril buried his hand in the girl’s hair.”

  Part of me wanted to laugh. The rest of me wished I was safely in Zhdanova’s class and had never heard of this camp or Dev or Hiding.

  35

  Reaching out, I touch Dan’s elbow with the lightest of touches, pretending to be shy. My lips turn up the tiniest amount that I keep inching up as I talk. “Let’s go to the conservatory.” Letting my voice grow softer, I add, “Unless you want to hang out in my room for other reasons?” The tips of his ears turn red and he quickly shakes his head. Success. –Marissa, Hidden

  “Score! This sleeping bag is rated to negative twenty degrees,” Alec said, holding up a thick, bright red roll, tossing it into my shopping cart, basketball-style. His voice echoed down the sleeping bag aisle of the camping supplies store.

  I checked the tag and nearly had a heart attack. “Holy cannoli, and it’s almost five hundred dollars. My dad said he’d cover reasonable costs.” Alec opened his mouth to speak and I cut him off, pulling the bag out of my cart and shoving it back on the shelves. “There is no way this will ever be considered reasonable.”

  Em was further down the aisle, squinting at a sales sign. “This one is fifty dollars on clearance.” Much to Alec’s dismay, I maneuvered the cart away from the expensive bags and towards Em. “Oh, and it comes in teal.” She pulled one of the bags off of the shelf and handed it to me.