Page 43 of The Underachiever’s Guide to Love and Saving the World

COURTNEY

I couldn’t focus on saving the world, not with Bryce standing before me looking like this. I should tease him about his frilly shirt, tall boots, and gold-stitched black coat and pants—but those pants were tight in all the right places, and if I opened my mouth, I worried I might up and say so.

I blamed the head injury.

The song that had been playing ended as we reached the middle of the dance floor. In the silence, the words hanging unsaid between us roared.

As the music started up again, I shifted forward.

My knuckles brushed Bryce’s palm, and his fingers closed around mine, quickly, before they could slip away.

Before we could slip away. His skin burned through the thin fabric of my silk gloves.

His eyes dropped to our conjoined hands, and he visibly swallowed.

Other dancers scooted to the edges of the room to accommodate us, smiling for once instead of glaring.

I was too preoccupied to be annoyed with their superficial approval.

Too preoccupied to even care about my aching ankle and head.

Bryce curved one hand over my hip, the other tightening around my fingers.

As he took the first step toward me, my breath caught.

For a moment, I was frozen, then my foot fell away from his, barely managing to land on beat.

Again and again, he advanced, and I retreated.

All it would take was one of us to stop.

We would either crash together or fly apart. Instead, we kept up the dance.

Ever since Bryce’s story about his past, I understood him. He wasn’t uptight. He was careful, and no one had been careful around me in a while—the girl with the lip ring and the bad attitude.

“We should be saving the world, not dancing,” I said, letting my steps grow tighter. Our bodies moved with the music, closer with every measure, every spin.

“We can save the world tomorrow,” he said.

Procrastination looked sexy as hell on him.

“It’s not like we can go monster hunting in the dark.

” His hips pressed against mine, his breath hot down the side of my neck as his temple brushed my hair.

Even when he spun me, he was never far, hand skimming my waist, shoulders relaxed, anchoring me to him.

“Besides, you have a head injury.” Bryce brushed a knuckle over the tender skin covering my temple.

“You can’t just ask the world to stop ending because I have a headache.”

“If you had a paper cut, I would let the world burn until you recovered.”

I wanted to tell him to be so for real, that he was just an accountant and couldn’t stop the world from burning even if he wanted to.

But scorching heat rushed through my veins, pooling in my lower belly.

I should not be pleased that Bryce was willing to sacrifice an entire world for me, but I wasn’t a hero, and my impure soul liked impure things.

I thought I’d gained control of my puppy-dog heart, but a faint blue halo of light glimmered to life over Bryce’s skin. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, his gaze never leaving me. My pulse pounded to the rhythm of the music like my common sense was trying to beat its way out of my skull.

The music faded and my heart crescendoed. Anticipation mixed with apprehension rushed to my fingertips.

As the last note drifted away, Bryce stepped closer. Twined his fingers with mine. Dipped his head until our mouths hovered an inch apart.

Would one little slipup really hurt? What happened in the bonkers-lighting-department-pocket-universe stayed in the bonkers-lighting-department-pocket-universe, as the saying went.

Yes, it would hurt.

“I need a drink,” I blurted, and then I ran.

Champagne dulled the pain in my ankle and softened the throbbing in my head, but I still stumbled, my feet feeling bigger and heavier than normal thanks to the alcohol. My thoughts spun, trying to catch up with my body, but mostly drowning in bubbles.

There was only one advisable thing left to do after catching undesirable feelings: self-medicate. I swiped a glass off a passing tray and downed it, teeth clinking against crystal in my haste.

“Hello there.” The visiting princess, Clementine, sidled up to me. “Have you made any progress with the kidnappings?”

“The king was a dead end,” I said distractedly.

“I heard you went into the city the other day,” Clementine went on. “Our last Chosen One loved spending time with the people too. Some might say too much time.”

I looked at her sharply. “By ‘some,’ do you mean Amy?”

“No, I heard he was quite supportive of Edna’s fraternization,” Clementine said cryptically. “I only mean that, if some of the good citizens didn’t enjoy Edna’s company, they couldn’t exactly say such a thing about a Chosen One, could they?”

I focused my full attention on her. “What are you trying to say?”

She sighed wearily. “So many things.” Then a plate of hors d’oeuvres caught her eye, and she drifted away.

I couldn’t decide if she was trying to tell me there was something suspicious about Edna Johnson, or if Clementine was just tipsy and spreading gossip. Her last lead hadn’t exactly been eye-opening either.

Besides, I knew who the Evil One was, and it wasn’t a long-dead Chosen One.

Feeling a prickle on my neck, I looked over my shoulder and found Bryce watching me from the other edge of the room. Did he think I couldn’t see him there? Eyes half-lidded, head lolled back against the wall.

My heart gave a painful twang. He’d stuck by me this whole time, and now I knew enough about him to know he would never be the one to leave. He might have tried to push me away, but he couldn’t even leave me when I was his enemy.

I needed to let him go. I’d tell him to turn me in, which would effectively rid the world of the Evil One. Maybe without their leader, the dragons and the skeletons would leave, and the kidnappings would stop, and Bryce could go home.

Across the room, Bryce pushed off the wall, giving me one last long, lingering look before disappearing into a doorway. The skin between my shoulder blades prickled. His smoldering look had come hither written all over it.

The alcohol was not doing its job. I was not getting over him. It shouldn’t have been this hard to not fall for Bryce.

Finishing my second drink, I passed my champagne glass off to some dude wearing a crown and strode after Bryce.

I expected Bryce to let me catch up so he could grab my hand and pull me into the nearest room, but I barely kept up with him.

The hall was dark. I skimmed a hand along the wall to keep my footing.

My vision wavered like I was trying to look through a pool of the very champagne currently making my thoughts spin.

He kept glancing over his shoulder and peeking into rooms like he was looking for something and didn’t want to be caught. Suspicion spiked in my gut. I fell back a bit so he wouldn’t see me.

At last, he stopped in front of a guarded door. A murmured word to each of the soldiers had them nodding and leaving their posts—the power of being the Chosen One, I supposed.

When they were gone, Bryce opened a door and, looking pleased, stepped inside the room, pulling the door shut quietly behind him. The suspicion faded. He wasn’t up to anything, just finding us a secluded spot.

When I reached the door, I paused and readied myself for what needed to be said. He’d probably protest, but I couldn’t back down. It was a sacrifice that had to be made. Setting my face into a mask of solemn serenity, I pushed open the door.

My look of solemn serenity slipped.

My jaw dropped.

“What’re you doing?” I slurred.

The room was some kind of treasury—weapons, armor, and jewels locked in glass cases. One of those cases was open, its red velvet insides bare. Before it stood Bryce, and in his hand was a fancy-ass sword.

Bryce looked from the fancy-ass sword to me. “This,” he slurred back, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

My heart pounded, skin hot, alcohol-muddled brain firing on all cylinders. He hadn’t led me here for a romantic romp. He’d sneaked here to claim the Chosen One’s sword. But why? Had he thought of the same thing I had—that he could embrace his title, betray me, and go home?

“It looks like you’re holding the Chosen One’s sword.” My cheeks felt fiery, whether from the champagne or the confusing mix of hurt and resignation curdling in my gut. It was one thing for me to tell him to turn on me. It was something else for him to have come to the decision on his own.

Shutting the door behind me, I made my way forward, setting my shoulders and hiding my heartache. In the end, I guessed it didn’t matter if it was my idea or his. It was time for me to accept my fate.

“I can explain.” Bryce backed down an aisle flanked by tall shelves full of glittering jewels. Massive arched windows took up the end of the aisle behind him, displaying an endless view of stars and city.

“No, you’re right.” I reached for him. “It’s better this way. I won’t hold it against you.”

His face went ashen. “What?”

We neared the end of the aisle now where the shelves butted against the wall, leaving no escape.

“I get it. It makes the most sense.” I couldn’t think straight.

Tears blurred my vision. It would be enough to know he would be out of danger, even though nothing with him felt like enough anymore.

“Why should we both have to stay when it’s my fault we’re stuck? ”

Bryce gave me a weird look, lifting the sword between us, eyes hazy and unfocused.

“I didn’t steal this for me.” He gave the blade a little shake and took a step forward right as fireworks exploded outside the window behind him.

A resonating boom rattled the panes as blue sparks erupted into crackling fountains, bathing the room in flickering light.