Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Easy, right?
Hah.
“You look really nice, Hillary,” I say finally, the words feeling out of place with everything else rattling around in my head, but very much needed to cultivate her trust.
“Thanks,” she says graciously, accepting my compliment. “I tried, but I’m not exactly a dab-hand with makeup. My mom hired a makeup artist for me yesterday, who came before I left the house. All I had to do last night was a few touch-ups, so I did the best I could.”
I laugh a little. “Mine did too. But not because I can’t do it myself. She just knew I wouldn’t if left to my own devices.”
I present my face as evidence, but instead of laughing, she tilts her head thoughtfully to the side. “Why do you think you’re so opposed to this whole thing? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand the hesitation. I’m undecided too. But I’ve kind of…” She shrugs. “Been trying to get used to the idea, I guess. You don’t really seem like you want to, but for me, I feel like it’s the best thing I can do. I don’t want to resent my life. Especially preemptively. I mean, what if it’s great?”
“Yeah, I don’t think this is the kind of idea I can get used to.” I shake my head, trying not to drag her into the pit of despair before she has to go out there and put on a happy face. I want her to doubt—not put herself in real danger by outwardly objecting to the fucking vampires. “My mom and dad have been prepping me for this for years. So, it’s not as if I haven’t had time, but I don’t know… I just pictured something more…romantic for myself. I don’t want to settle. Why should I have to settle? Why should any of us have to settle?”
She nods, lowering her voice as we slow behind a group of other girls at the door to the ballroom. “Meet a guy, be courted, fall in love.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Exactly. This is a great group of women. The best of the freaking best, purportedly. And we’re supposed to be cool with having everything picked for us instead of having any say?” I scrunch up my nose. “Seems weird.”
I think about Cal scaling the building last night to climb in my window like some kind of unhinged superhero and telling me we’re freaking fated mates.
The same Cal I used to follow around like a shadow when I was a little girl. The one I chose before I even knew what choosing meant.
It’s not my choice either, but somehow, it feels different.
Irrational or not, deep down, I feel like something in me has been waiting for him all along. And the second he kissed me, something inside me…clicked into place.
In a weird way, it seems as if being here is my path to romance. As fucked up as it is. And that Cal is fated to me because I chose him so early on.
I can’t say that to her without exposing Cal or betraying him by putting his trip to my room at a statistically higher chance of being revealed, though, so I settle for the next best option—saying nothing at all.
“I get that, Romy. I do.” Her smile is soft and thoughtful—hopeful in a way that stings. “But maybe…maybe being this adored…this useful…this powerful for someone else, so much so that these men are basically fighting over us… Maybe it could be good too?”
Good? Yeah, somehow, I don’t think anything good for women includes the loss of free will and having to be locked and guarded in their rooms at night just to sleep, but I don’t bother explaining that. I’ve already said it. She already knows. She just needs time for the doubt to fester.
“Yeah. Maybe,” I say instead, trying to comfort her with a small smile.
She snorts. “Wow. You really shouldn’t ever play poker, okay?”
I shrug. “I’m sorry. Really.”
“It’s okay,” she reassures with a shake of her head. “It’s a wild thing, coming here to be selected by a vampire and giving up your entire life as you’ve known it. We’re all handling it the best we can.”
Okay, that clinches it. Her sweet nature is too good to ignore. The friendship with Hillary is a solid plan, and if and when I find a way out of this mess, I’m taking her with me.
“You’re so right,” I confirm, squeezing her hand as we take our turn through the door to the ballroom and fan out to the side where waiters are standing with trays of champagne. I grab a glass for me and a glass for Hillary, handing it to her.
She takes it gratefully, and we both down a quick sip before working our way to the side of the room where an immensely intimidating crowd of men is waiting. The sight is overwhelming, and our newly found silence only confirms it.