Page 53 of Forbidden Heart

It’s time to take matters into my own hands, and that begins with reclaiming my hand. Carefully, I reach up over my head and grasp the frying pan from its perch. Once I’ve gotten it down, I pull my hand free with ease. Phew.

I put the frying pan back and take off the bracelet. Then I set it down safely on the couch where it is far away from all metal objects. Resting on the cushion, it looks quite regal. This seems like a fitting place of honor, but now all that songwriting inspiration I felt while wearing it is gone.

Maybe I should try writing the song outside. That way I won’t risk getting stuck to anything.

I grab a pen and paper—not willing to risk taking my expensive laptop outside—and slip the bracelet on. I lock up the door and manage to take the elevator down without getting stuck again.

There’s no sign of Marcus the RA as I make it outside without incident. There’s a quiet bench next to a nearby building, and I settle in and wait for inspiration to hit.

The sun feels great on my face. I look to the sky and take in the background of brilliant blue. A few wisps of cottony clouds trail through the otherwise clear sky. In the distance, students talk amongst each other or into their phones as they walk by. The only other sound is the quiet buzzing of the soda vending machine to my right. Its motor and vent sit near the ground and send a breeze up toward me.

The air on my face, coupled with JJ’s bracelet, renews my creativity. I close my eyes and start to hum, then open them again as the first few words of a song take shape. I scribble them on the piece of paper when a dark shadow towers over me. Silas!

He stands directly in front of my bench and stares at me. His lip piercings reflect in the sunlight and a small cut runs across his forehead, a reminder of what happened at the jewelry store.

He looks unimpressed as he takes me in, and I try to project the same amount of nonchalance. I’m not sure it works.

I don’t like how small I feel sitting on the bench while he’s standing over me, so I abandon my pen and paper and get to my feet. Then, I sidestep around the Dark Prince and lean against the soda machine. I try to look casual, but then... snap! My bracelet sticks to its surface, pulling my hand behind my back. Great, now I probably look stupid.

“You didn’t tell anyone I broke the shelf,” Silas snaps, his tone filled with accusation.

“You wanted me to?” I ask, so surprised that I suddenly find I’m able to talk around Silas. That, or kicking him in the balls did the trick.

“Of course I didn’t want you to tell anyone.” Silas glares at me.

“Okay.” I nod, still not sure why he’s so mad.

“Who wrote our audition song?” he demands.

“I did.” He knows I did. The guys told him they were using my song. He rehearsed with them, at the apartment, while I was there. Did that jewelry box landing on his head mess with his brain?

“It was supposed to be my job,” he snaps. “Writing the competition song is supposed to be my job.”

He sounds almost whiny, like a petulant child, but I’m too busy trying to make sense of his words. Does that mean he already wrote the competition song? If he did, I’m of absolutely no use to the guys. If I can’t even give them a song, why would they want me around?

Then I remember what Charles and JJ said about Silas singing the same verse, over and over. He hasn’t written a song all semester. If he had, the guys would have used it—they wouldn’t have asked me. Which means Silas is upset because he hasn’t been able to write a song, just like me.

“Maybe we can write it together?” I suggest, my voice shaking. The thought of writing a song with Silas—of spending time with Silas—terrifies me. But maybe we could use each other’s help.

“Together,” Silas repeats, scowling at the ground.

I nod, even though he can’t see it. Then he looks up, and my heart starts beating a mile a minute. So I shrug, hoping I come across as casual. Maybe even indifferent.

Silas sighs. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a handful of coins, and reaches past me. Completely ignoring that I’m standing in front of the soda machine, he starts feeding coins into the slot.

He’s so close that his long black hair brushes my shoulder. I can smell a dark scent that’s all him. I can feel his breath on my forehead. Then, his body grazes mine.

“What do you want?” he demands, and my cheeks flush.

I need to get out of the way, but I’m frozen in place, unable to move. Not just because my bracelet is stuck to the soda machine. But because the Dark Prince is so close, too close, whispering the word “soda” against my ear.

“Soda?” I repeat, dumbfounded.

He smirks. “Which soda would you like, Roonie?”

“Oh.” My cheeks flush.

Silas is offering to buy me a soda? Is this his way of being nice? And why is he mad at me one minute and... well, still mad at me the next? And now he’s buying me soda?