Cruel prince

He has got to be kidding me. 

“Seriously?” I point to myself. “I’m Dylan.”

He tilts his head to the side, like he’s having trouble understanding why my name would have any significance to him. 

“Your cousin,” I grit through my teeth and he blanches. 

Eureka. 

I breathe a sigh of relief as he pulls up his pants. 

“You’re not supposed to be here until Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday,” I inform him, and his eyes widen. 

“Well, shit.” He places the blunt between his lips and inhales. “This stuff is better than I thought.” Coughing, he holds it out to me. “Want some?” 

I give him a sardonic smile. “I appreciate the peace offering and all, but I’ll pass.” 

He doesn’t look offended in the least. “That’s cool.” His expression turns serious as he snuffs the cherry of the blunt on a can of soda. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the parental units I tried to bang you, okay? They’re on my case enough lately.” 

Oakley doesn’t have to worry. I won’t be telling anyone he tried to bang me. 

I give him a nod.  

He nods back.

And then it’s nothing but uncomfortable silence. 

Quite the riveting exchange we’re having here. 

“It’s Saturday night,” he declares unexpectedly while stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “Christian’s throwing his big end of summer party before school starts.” 

I don’t know who Christian is, but I wouldn’t mind going to a party. In fact, meeting a few people and reco

My heart does a little flip. Maybe Jace will be there. 

There are so many things I want to tell him. 

And even more things I want to ask him. 

Like why he blocked my number. Or why he never returned any of the dozens of messages I sent him on social media after I left. 

“A party sounds like fun. I can be rea—”

“Don’t wait up,” Oakley utters, brushing past me. 

Well, that settles that then. My cousin is a bigger tool than the one contained in his pants. 

“By the way,” he calls out from the stairs. “The school admins are assholes. I doubt they’ll let you keep that blue crap in your hair.”

Highlights. They’re called highlights. 

A smile touches my lips. I hope they hate my blue hair so much they refuse admission and I have no choice but to attend Royal Manor High instead.