Page 194 of Bad Prince
“But,” Isa continues, and now there’s something thoughtful in her voice, “I think she underestimated how much I actually like him.”
“Are you falling in love, girl?”
“Maybe…”
Silence.
A soft silence.
No giggles now.
“Maybe? Or Alrady are..?”
“Yeah,” Isa says quietly. “He’s loyal. Smart. Sexy. The complete package. And his kiss makes my toes curl.”
There’s no performance left in her voice now. No pageant charm. No audience.
Just a girl talking.
A real one.
And somehow that makes the whole thing worse.
Because now I can’t even write her off as some gold-digging Barbie in cleats.
She wanted him.
Her mother encouraged her.
She went after him.
And somewhere in all that strategy, she actually fell.
One of the girls asks, “Do you think he feels the same?”
The room goes very quiet.
I hold still.
Isa doesn’t answer right away.
When she does, her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“I think…”
She stops.
Starts again.
“I think part of him is with me.”
That sentence lands like a bruise.
Part of him.
Not all.
Even she knows.
