Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

“I don’t like where this is going.” I fold my arms behind my head.

She holds out her hand. “Wait, let me finish. He’s asked everyone he knows, and I promised him a solution. You wouldn’t want to make a liar out of me, would you?”

Again she doesn't allow me to respond before going on.

"The hotel is already paid for, the meals taken care of, and the tux shop prepared to size one more. You’ll be there two days tops.” I open my mouth again, but she holds up a finger. “And, wherever you’re headed after, I’ll go with you, if you want.” She holds her hands in front of her, against her chest, in a prayer.

Her going home with me? Not a chance. The thought of putting her in potential danger isn’t an option. I’ve already experienced the panic, and I didn’t handle that gracefully, but she ended up safe. Going through that for real is not on the agenda.

The thought of having more time with her, however, is appealing. What’re another two days? Mom is safe, my sister is safe, and I would be helping Emma with keeping a promise. Extending my fun for a while before having to accept my reality doesn’t seem like an all-out bad option. My family may be mad, but they already are, have been for years. Emma is a new slate, and I’m not prepared yet to see disappointment in her features.

“Fine, but I’m okay to go off after the wedding on my own.” Raising my eyebrow, I wait for her understanding.

“Oh.” Her mouth forms a white line, but she nods. “Thank you. You’ve saved me from more arguments than you know.” She lays back like before. Freeing a hand from behind my head, I run my fingers through her hair.

“Maybe, after the wedding, I can give you a call sometime?”

She bites back a smile. “Only if you’re on your best behavior and make every other girl jealous I brought you.”

“So, I have to earn your number now, too? Is ‘free’ even in your dictionary?”

“Nothing worth having is free. Everything you earn costs something, even if it’s not bought with currency.”

I’ve never heard a more true definition of the concept of free. Nothing, not even love, is free. No one gives up their heart without you giving up something, even unknowingly or by accident. That lesson's burned into my subconscious, and I thought I was alone in knowing the truth.

“There you go making poetry again.”

Her nose wrinkles, already shaking her head. “That isn’t poetry.”

“Parts of it rhymed; that’s good enough for me.”

Snorting, she glances over. “You have an underappreciation for poetry.”

“I appreciate it fine. That’s the beauty of interpretation. Art's made by the artist, yet understood by the individual taking interest. I can call anything art, and hear or read anything like poetry.”

We stare at one another in silent contemplation, but when she sticks her tongue out at me, both our bodies shake with laughter.

“You’re wild and a rebel,” I tell her as I tug on her hair.

“You’re no better.” She smacks my hand, and I release my grip.

“Only since I’ve met you.”

She snorts. “Why do I doubt that?”

Because we’re strangers to one another in almost every sense, yet, I feel you know me better than anyone else I know. When I leave the room silent with no response, it doesn't take her long to fill it.

“Want to go to the pool? We only leave to get food. I’m starting to feel like a hermit.” I must have made a face because she goes on. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m a very satisfied hermit, that loves everything you do to her behind the doors of this hotel room, but let’s exercise other muscle groups for an hour or two.”

“I didn’t bring any swim trunks.”

“Wear shorts; nobody will care.”

“I care.”

“Please?” Her tone flirts with whiny.

I sigh. “An hour, then food.” I raise an eyebrow, and she nods enthusiastically. She sits and bounces off the bed toward her suitcase.

Three days and this is only the second time she’s had to go in there for clothes. I’ve been keeping her out of them most of the time. As she strips to put on the striped bikini she pulls out, I’m tempted to show her how much better it would be to stay in here. We’re safe behind this locked door, and leaving presents all types of dangers. I don’t like it, but when she turns around, showing off that smile, I decide an hour can’t hurt if it makes her happy.

I’m surprised when we reach the pool and see no windows. Most hotel’s I’ve been to have a pool situated close to windows so it cuts the cost of heating and lighting during operation hours. It does explain why every time we leave the room, there are people in swimsuits. It’s the only thing here, besides food, to entice them out of their room and distracts them from the storm.

What I’m not surprised about is how packed it is. My heart rate speeds up, and it muffles my ears as I take in everyone in the room. Dizzy with all the sounds I grip Emma’s hand and manage to weave us to the far corner, and put my back to the wall. Her mouth is moving, and I only grab the last word. ‘Alright?’

No, my mind screams out. I’m not alright, but by some miracle, I offer her a smile. She gives me one in return as she sets the towels we brought from the room on the table and strips her over-shirt.

“You coming?” She asks.

I nod, not ready to use my voice. I take another look around before slipping off my flip-flops. The first step I take must reassure Emma because she skips like a little kid before splashing in. A second later, she surfaces and waves at me with a smile. Carefree, she goes back under the water and swims farther away from me, which has me taking another step towards the