AllFreeNovel
Share Us
six
It’s going to have to be him.
I mean, let’s be honest. If I am going to ask anyone to run away with me, it should definitely be the hottest person on campus, right? In the universe, probably. Especially since my dad is going to incarcerate me in my room for the rest of my life, after this.
Well, Marco is the most gorgeous person in the universe. But his hotness, sadly, barely comes into it.
Here is what comes into it:
I need transportation that will leave no paper trail, so a bus or a plane are out. I also need something faster than a car. (He has a bike, I’ve seen it, and almost swooned on the spot. I hate myself.)
He is a dude, which means I have something to trade in exchange for his help. (Not my virtue, but pretty close. I have no money, not allowed, because I’m a public servant, so I have nothing else to offer him. It will have to be me. Great.)
Last night. The way he rescued me, but looked annoyed and disgusted doing it.
This last part is what actually makes me decide that he is the one. I would much rather have asked Bianca, but I don’t want to drag her into this. She doesn’t have a car, for one, and for another, I have caught her looking at me strangely from time to time, with something between pity and admiration on her face. I don’t need any of that if I am about to do what I plan to do. I don’t think there will be any real danger, but on the off-chance, I’d rather not risk her either.
I wouldn’t want to risk Marco either, but I honestly don’t think there is any danger involved. Everything will happen really quickly at any rate.
Besides, Marco doesn’t know me as well as Bianca does. He doesn’t like me; he barely cares that I exist. He did not act like helping me was his obligation, which I would have hated.
My last reason: I don’t have time to think of anyone else. So yeah, I’ll ask him.
***
I ask around, my need greater than my embarrassment at asking for a boy’s dorm.
Besides, no one looks surprised when I say that I’m looking for Marco Vale. It must happen to him a lot, having girls chasing him to his dorm. Nice. But if anything, somehow that knowledge solidifies my decision. He is so the guy to ask for this.
I find his building opposite the Arts. Its bricks match the color of the gray-white sky today, and Marco’s tall, lean silhouette is standing outside, in only a pair of cargo pants and a thin white T-shirt, God help me. He is talking into his phone, his arms bare, glistening with sweat.
He’s just been to the gym. There is a bite in the air, but it’s not as cold as it was last night yet. The sky is white with clouds.
“What do you want, Q?” Marco says as soon as he notices me walking up to him, quickly turning off his phone and pocketing it.
That’s always a good sign, if he won’t even bother to say my full nickname, let alone my name. A good sign that he is already in a bad mood.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask.
“What’s wrong?” he asks at once, his beautiful mouth curling into a sneer. His fitted tee clings to the bulging muscles of his arms, and I am having trouble keeping my eyes off them.Get a grip.“Your tiara too tight or something?”
Well, he is being outright cruel right now, which is weird. He has never been like this before. Rude and abrupt, yes. He has even ignored me on occasion which I found refreshing, like an absolute idiot. But now that I actually need him, it’s not so cute that he is being an absolute ass, is it?
That’s the problem with rude people, I suddenly realize. They will treat you rudely with their actions as well, not just with their words. I, of course, have been subjected to the empty, false politeness of a royal all my life. I have not been treated with either kindness or rudeness. Only politeness. I have not ever been seen as myself, but as a Crown Princess, whatever that means.
Is it too late now to start learning how people really act behind the scenes? And what it means? What if I find out that everyone, with very few exceptions, is actually rotten underneath?
Wait. Rotten. Rotten Royals. I need to—
“Hello!” Marco clicks his fingers in front of my face. “I’m sure that whatever my biceps are saying, my lips can say it better.”
Wait, wha—I blush so fiercely, the roots of my hair hurt. And to think that I used to think I did not blush before now; apparently my skin, even as brown as it is, can still be lit on fire. I have simply never been subjected to such raw, sensual, se—
“I need to ask you for a favor,” I blurt out abruptly. “And don’t flatter yourself. I have seen the biceps of a Hemsworth up close.”
Where did that come from?Honestly, Liv.
His mouth fights a smile, and I regret saying anything. His eyes travel down to his own arms with a satisfied smirk and my knees turn to jelly. If his cockiness turns me into a buttery mess like this, then I can’t even begin to imagine what it would ever do to me if he were to be kind.
