Nobody in Particular(74)
“Is it—” She breaks off just before it becomes a question, but I answer it anyway by bringing my hips up toward hers. Until I found this friction, I had no idea how much I wanted it. It gives instant relief to the aching feeling I’ve become familiar with recently. More than relief, even. Something way better than that.
I try to press into her harder, and she responds by leaning her weight forward to meet me more firmly, kissing me deeply as she does, and I make a sound I’ve never made before. She takes both of my hands in hers, threads her fingers through them, and then rests them both on the mattress above my head, so all I can do is arch my back and kiss her harder as she starts to move forward and back. Every time she pulls away from me, the ache returns, heavier and more insistent than last time.
At first, it makes every time she rises back up better than the last. But eventually, it stops being enough. I grab at her as she goes to move away and pull her back in, shaking my head. She’s happy to oblige, and she closes her eyes, lips slightly parted, as I pull the full weight of her down on me. “Danni,” she whispers, letting go of one of my hands. “I want to…”
When I realize what she means, it’s like being slammed by a hurricane wall. So many things are true at once. I want her to as well, so badly, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, because her knee isn’t enough to subdue the ache anymore. And my heartbeat is going crazy, and I can barely breathe, and I can hardly even think. But the part of me that can think is coming up with lots of very scary thoughts. Like, how will I know what to do? And, what if I’m really awkward and horrible, and it makes her not like me anymore? And, what if she hates what she sees under my clothes?
She studies my face, and swallows. “We don’t have to,” she whispers, and no, no, I definitely—
“Want to,” I breathe, and it’s not even a proper sentence, and I don’t even care. “Please? But I haven’t done it before.”
“Me neither,” she says, dropping her knee back down. “But I’ve thought about it. Quite a lot.”
Her chest presses against mine, and I can feel her heart racing, too. And I guess somehow I’d forgotten that this is as new to her as it is to me, but remembering that makes me feel much more confident. Enough that I slide my hand between us without wasting any more time worrying about it. Unlike me, she hasn’t had a bit of friction this whole time, and when I find her over her underwear she lets out a strangled gasp that turns into a series of shallow, shaking breaths. It makes me feel powerful, and wanted, and so turned on I feel like I might pass out if it goes on for much longer.
When she undresses me, I stop worrying altogether, because it’s not possible to see the way she’s looking at me and be self-conscious. She drags her eyes and her fingertips down from my collarbone to my hips in sync, and she tips her head to one side and shakes it slowly, and I feel—
“Just so fucking beautiful,” she murmurs, and it’s the last thing she says to me before she finally gives me what I asked her for.
THIRTY-TWO
ROSE
By Monday afternoon, the Valentine’s Day photos are everywhere. And not, unfortunately, the quite convincing couple photos of Alfie and me. Rather, other photos, taken by the public, from their area across the traffic cones. Between the dozens of people filming us at any given moment, they’ve captured every slipup. From Danni and me meeting eyes across the ice, to the look of fear on my face when she fell, to me lifting her head off the ice. And though most of these moments lasted a second or two at most—a longing glance, a micro-expression—when captured in still-frame, they last a lifetime.
It’s not only one or two accounts posting these ones, either. It may have started out that way, but while the last round of speculation online failed to take off, this time multiple people are starting to listen. It’s the subject of multiple forum discussions, and theory videos, and personal essays, and trashy tabloid articles.
PRINCESS ROSEMARY’S PRIVATE SCHOOL PASSION
WHO IS DANNI BLYTHE? HERE’S WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT PRINCESS ROSEMARY’S RUMORED LESBIAN LOVER!
“DANNI SLEEPS IN PRINCESS ROSEMARY’S BED AT THE PALACE”: ROYAL INSIDER SPILLS ALL
People are talking on social media, too, now. Quite a lot of them. Danni grimly passes her phone to me while we wait outside history class to show me the dozens of notifications and message requests she’s received since lunchtime alone. Even Molly pulls us aside to show us the barrage of comments on her posts asking about Danni and me.
The rumor is finally sprouting roots now that it has ideal growing conditions. It’s one thing for the princess to be a little too close to a girl from her school. But the princess being a little too close to Danni Blythe—a name that both Molly’s fans and royalists are starting to recognize? That is rather more interesting.
It’s beginning to feel as though the universe itself is conspiring to complicate my relationship with Danni.
William calls me during class, and I return his call the moment I leave my Italian tutoring session.
“Rose,” he says, picking up on the first ring. “It’s time to be honest with me.”
I would really rather not. “What about?” I ask innocently.
“Enough people are speculating around you and Danni Blythe that the papers want to pick up the story.”