Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

27

Bella ended up calling Friday morning to confirm the play was canceled.

I spent more time than I cared to admit staring at my phone after she hung up, oddly numb. I didn't think the words would affect me so much, but they did. On the one hand, it meant my weekends were free again, that maybe I could catch up on sleep or study, but on the other it kind of sucked. And for one glaring reason. No more Spencer.

Or at least, the play being canceled meant that I had lost the one common ground between us. A stable environment that I could always fall back on when situations got awkward. What if when we caught up in the halls now and found out we had nothing to talk about. Would our friendship just die, or was I reading too much into it? And there would be no more kisses, my brain supplied, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

My phone didn't leave my hand as I went through the motions of getting ready. The screen stayed off, a black mirror staring out at the depressing state of my room as I tugged on my jeans and lazily shoved my feet into sneakers I didn't bother to untie first. Flemming was already out of the shower by the time I was finished getting dressed, face as bright as his hair as he strode into the room without a glance in my direction. Slugging a still wet towel onto my bed he dropped down on his mattress with a sigh, wriggling into his uniform's slacks.

"Seriously?" I groaned, picking the towel up and draping it over the closet door. Running a hand over the sleeve of my lighter raincoat I cast a look outside to deem whether or not to take it with me in case the weather took a turn for the worst. "Do you have to do that every morning?"

"It gets you to clean up after me, doesn't it?" Flemming beamed, pushing me to the side to root around my clothes. Squeezing a tight white undershirt over his watermelon head I tried not to frown at the stretched neckline, moving to pack my bag. Given that he'd only packed a couple of weeks worth of clothes, I'd begrudgingly agreed to let my cousin use my own since Thomas was too broad in the shoulders for Flemming to get away with wearing his stuff.

"When are you guys heading back home again?" I asked, glancing up from my desk long enough to catch Flemming applying my deodorant to his armpits. That, however, would always gross me out. The guy had his own, now he was just trying to push my buttons.

"Not sure. Mom always avoids the question when I ask her," He shrugged, tugging on some socks while I slung my bag onto my shoulder and threw open my bedroom window. Dad was stood on the front lawn, chatting to one of the neighbors by the mailboxes. It was always so weird seeing him do that, to see my Dad be a social person.

There was a firm knock on the door frame before April swung her head inside, grinning around her toothbrush.

"You woke up early enough that Mom's made breakfast," She all but gargled, bouncing on her heels as she added, "There are pancakes on the table."

Fletcher and I shared a look at that and I wracked my brain for the last time my Mom had made pancakes. Maybe when Thomas had graduated, I wasn't entirely sure.

"Quit looking the gift horse in the mouth," Flemming said, grabbing his shirt and shaking my shoulder as he followed April out the room. I glanced back outside but Dad was heading over to the house so I grabbed my stuff and walked downstairs.

Thomas was already sat at the table but rather than stuffing his face he had his nose buried in a bent spine copy of Anna Karenina. I eyed the book warily, taking a seat beside April as Mom placed a glass of orange juice before me, unprompted.

"Thanks," I smiled at her trying to ignore the sudden pit forming in my stomach.

"Is it okay if I go see a friend tonight?" April asked Mom as she handed her a glass.