Arrogant King

AMY

There’s a tangled ball of yarn in the pit of my stomach.

“I could talk to you forever, Amelia.”

A pleasant ache radiates in my gut every time those words replay in my head, and I hate myself for it.

“He’s playing you,” Cody says, snapping me from my thoughts. When I glance up, he’s staring at me with a bland expression, his phone in his lap. He must have finished the video.

Cody came to my room to watch my date with Tristan. He was ecstatic when I told him how I “confessed” my crush on him to Tristan. He had the biggest grin when he watched the beginning of the video. The editors cut up the footage for even more drama. But as the video progressed, his delight faded. He could see how affected I was by Tristan.

“I know he is,” I mumble, pushing my glasses up my nose.

He frowns. “I think you’re starting to hope he isn’t. I think you’re starting to believe him.”

I scowl at him. “Leave me alone. You don’t know what it’s like to be filmed when someone says something like that. It’s very disconcerting.”

He looks like he wants to roll his eyes. “Only because it’s Tristan Wolfe. If it was some average-looking dude, you wouldn’t give a shit.”

I raise both hands in the air. “No shit, Cody. He has the face of a fucking angel. Never in my life has someone that hot shown me this much attention.” I narrow my eyes. “If you were in the same situation, and some bombshell was saying things like that to you, you’d be out buying engagement rings right now.”

“No,” he stares steadily at me. “I wouldn’t.”

The sudden buzzing of my phone startles me. My heart skips a beat when I see Tristan’s name light up the screen.

Cody scoffs, and self-conscious heat washes over me. Fuck. Why can’t he just leave already? I’m sick of being criticized for being horny.

“A text from your man?” Cody asks.

“Yes,” I say blandly, determined to ignore his sarcasm. I swipe the screen to read Tristan’s text.

My pulse races, excitement simmering in my veins, but I keep my face carefully blank under Cody’s scrutiny.

Tristan said when we started this whole thing that he wanted us to spend time together on campus outside of the game. This is only to make Harper jealous.

I take a deep breath. I can do this. Hanging out with Tristan outside of the game isn’t going to fuck with me. He won’t be nearly as charismatic without cameras around us. He wouldn’t make the effort.

***

The sun begins its descent, casting an orange glow on the campus library. My palms are slick with sweat, and I wipe them on my jeans. I push open the heavy glass door and enter the library, my footsteps echoing off the high ceiling.

Cody left my dorm a few hours ago, and he wasn’t happy. He fully believes that I’m falling for Tristan.

It hurts that he thinks I’m so pathetic.

I’m not going to fall for Tristan. This whole competition will be the reckoning I’ve always needed. I will take Tristan down, if only by sheer will. He’s not going to see me as the spineless, nerdy girl he, for whatever reason, decided to extricate from Harper’s life years ago.

I’m the woman who’s going to show him he’s not invincible.

I weave my way through the aisles of books until I reach the long row of study rooms. Through the door’s window, I catch a glimpse of Tristan leaning back in a chair, his posture as languid as a cat’s.

Fuck, this man is sexy doing anything. Even sitting in a chair. So much beauty wasted on such an awful personality. If I had his good looks, I would rule the fucking universe.

When I walk into the room, his blue eyes lock onto mine, sending shivers down my spine. That familiar smirk makes its appearance.

I try to affect nonchalance as I take a seat across from him. “I was about to start a really juicy chapter, so you’d better not keep me too long.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “Your fanfic, you mean?”

I tilt my head, smiling wickedly. “Oh, did you know that I write Pride and Prejudice fanfic?”

He flinches. “I really meant it when I said I was sorry about that.”

I shake my head. “Let’s not talk about it. I need to forget that I hate you if I’m going to pretend we’re in love.”

His head jerks up. “So you actually hate me? Because of our whole…history?”

I lean forward. “Wouldn’t you hate someone who cut you out of your best friend’s life? Wouldn’t you hate someone who mocked you for something that really mattered to you?”

He shuts his eyes. “I figured you blamed me for ruining your friendship with Harper, which is stupid. Harper and I had barely started dating when she cut you out of her life. She should have had more loyalty than that.”

I wave a hand. “It’s in the past. Let’s not talk about.”

His eyes grow intense. “But the fanfic thing… You’ll never forgive me for that, huh?”

“Again, no need to talk about it.”

He frowns. “No, I want to talk about it. Tell me why. Why was it such a big deal? Harper already knew you wrote erotic fanfic. Why do you care if other people know?”

Heat breaks out over my skin at the memory of that day in the quad. The visceral humiliation.

“It wasn’t that. It was mostly that… It’s something I care deeply about. I love writing. I want to be a professional writer someday. You ridiculed me for it.”

His jaw ticks. “I didn’t ridicule you. Harper did.”

“And how did she find out my pseudonym? I wasn’t posting online when she and I were friends.”

He doesn’t answer, probably because it would be pointless. Tristan was the only person besides Cody who knew my fanfic pseudonym back then. He runs the palm of his hand over his forehead. “I actually really like Pride and Prejudice. I’ve read it a few times now.”

My stomach does a little turn. I did see a copy of Pride and Prejudice in his room, but I assumed he hadn’t read it. Or maybe only read parts of it for class.

Maybe this is part of his game. He knows I love Pride and Prejudice, and he’s trying to disarm me.

“Bullshit,” I say. “You’ve never read it once. You didn’t even know it took place in the Regency period.”

His lips quirk. “Try me.”

“What do you mean? You want me to quiz you?”

He nods once. “Go for it.”

“What’s the name of Mr. Collins’s noble patroness?”

His eyes grow unfocused as he narrows them. “Do you mean the aunt? Lady Catherine De Burgh.”

A chill skates from my nape down the entirety of my spine. “Holy shit.”

The smile that overtakes his face is nothing like the smirk I usually see. His chiseled face looks almost boyish. “Told you.”

I clench my jaw. “You might have just seen the movie.”

“No way,” he says. “They don’t call her the noble patroness in the movie.”

“Yes, they do. In the 1995 version, at least.”

He snorts. “No way in hell I’d ever watch that one. I tried, and it was…boring. And so long.”

I burst into laughter, unable to help myself. “It is a little long, I’ll admit. A maximal approach to film adaptation, but I still love it. I love everything Pride and Prejudice. It’s…my happy place.”

He grins. “What about it do you love? About writing your fanfic, I mean.”

I let out a long sigh. “I love that it allows me to spend time with the characters I love in a setting that feels like home. Sometimes I get so into writing that it’s like…almost a dissociative experience. I disappear from the world I’m in—I even lose track of my body—and I’m totally in the story.”

“That’s kind of like football for me.”

I lean forward. “Really? You get that into…throwing the ball? Or whatever.”

He laughs, a deep rumble of a sound that makes my tummy flutter. “I’m a corner, so I don’t do a lot of throwing. But I’m always deciphering the offense, trying to figure out their next move. I have to read the body language of the quarterback. His facial expressions. It takes so much focus that I forget everything else. It’s liberating.”

“Damn,” I mutter. “I don’t know what any of those words mean, but it sounds so similar to what I feel. It’s like an out-of-body experience.”

His smile is so big that his eyes have twin creases at the edges. “Well, I’m very much in my body because I need to use it, so it’s kind of more like…my mind expands and becomes part of the game.”

“Yes!” I slap my thigh. “I get that too. My mind becomes the whole story. I get to be in every character’s head at the same time.”

He reaches out his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The warmth of his fingers makes my skin tingle. “Maybe that’s why your fanfic is so good.”

I jerk back. “You’ve never read it. I mean, besides…what Harper read aloud.”

“Yes, I have read it. On more than just that day.” A rueful smile rises to his lips. “I’d never read fanfic before. I used to think it was so nerdy, but I actually liked what you wrote. It’s why I bought Pride and Prejudice.”

Something warm and soft fills my chest. To fight it, I shoot him my best attempt at an Elizabeth Bennet style saucy smile. “Were you in love with Mr. Darcy?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No, Amelia, I was not. I actually think Lizzy let him off too easily. He was such a dick to her.”

I scowl. “He was only a dick at first. He has the best transformative character arc of all time. That’s what I love about the book. And he was hot even when he was a dick. I would have said yes to his first proposal.”

“So you like dicks, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Your double entendre just ruined everything. I was actually enjoying this conversation.”

His face sobers. “I didn’t mean it as a double entendre. I’m asking you if you like dickish guys.” His lips quirk. “Like me.”

“No,” I say immediately and fight the smile tugging at my lips. “In real life, I like sweet guys. Guys who listen.”

Like you’re listening right now.

We stare at each other for a long moment. With Tristan’s soft smile and his eyes crinkling at the corners, he looks almost affectionate.

I can’t help but be affected by it. He just spent the last ten minutes buttering me up talking about Pride and Prejudice.

Tristan clears his throat. “So I was thinking…we should probably practice getting physical. We don’t want it to seem awkward or forced when we do it on camera.”

My heart skips a beat, and I swallow hard. “What? Like holding hands and stuff?”

He looks like he wants to laugh. “No, I was thinking a little bit more intimate than that. I’ll need to kiss you at some point during this competition.”

I nod slowly. The thought of being publicly touchy with Tristan makes heat pool in my lower belly.

“Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We can try.”

“Great.” He shifts closer to me, his muscular arm brushing against mine, sending shivers down my spine. “Let’s start with something simple. Put your hand on my thigh.”

“Wh-what?” I stammer, staring at him in disbelief.

He laughs heartily, but it doesn’t sound like ridicule. Those eyes are still soft and warm.

“You can do it.” His voice is gentle but firm.

After taking a deep breath, I reach out and place my trembling hand on his thigh. The heat of his body sears through my fingers.

“Good,” Tristan murmurs, reaching over to cover my hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I shake my head, trying to ignore the way my heart hammers in my chest.

Tristan adjusts his position on the chair. “Alright, now lean against me.”

My cheeks are so hot they must be as red as an apple. I hesitantly lean against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around my waist in a firm yet gentle hold. The scent of his musky cologne surrounds me, and I can’t help but take a deep breath, letting it fill my senses.

Fuck, he smells so good.

“See?” he whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “It’s kind of nice, huh?”

“Sure,” I mumble, trying to ignore the way my body reacts to his closeness. My heart races, and my palms become clammy.

Tristan chuckles softly. “You don’t have much experience, do you?”

My cheeks burn. I have much more experience than he seems to think I have, but nothing like this.

My body has never felt so…ignited by the touch of anyone else.

I don’t like it.

He brushes his fingers down my arm. “Nothing wrong with that.” I hear the smile in his voice. “We all have to start somewhere.”

I nod, swallowing. The warmth of Tristan’s body against mine is both comforting and unnerving.

“Alright,” he murmurs, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. “Let’s move a bit closer, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, the word barely audible as I slide closer to him until our bodies are pressed together.

Tristan leans in and brushes his mouth against my cheek. It’s so brief, but the sensation sends shivers down my spine, making me gasp.

His eyes lock on mine, and they’re a molten blue, like the heart of a flame. He moves closer and kisses the corner of my mouth.

His lips press hard against mine, and the heat of his touch sears my skin. I’m being consumed by fire, every pass of his lips leaving me struggling for breath.

I want to give in, to become part of him, but something distant tells me to pull away. Not him. Not Tristan.

But I can’t pull away. Not when his delicious tongue is massaging mine. Not when the deep groans that vibrate from his chest send electricity from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes.

He pulls away, gasping. Immediately, his lips return to my cheek. He presses soft kisses down to my neck. “Oh, Amy,” he mumbles between kisses. “You’re so soft. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Amy. My nickname. He never calls me that.

I nearly leap away and back into my own chair. His huge eyes search mine, as if gauging my reaction. There’s the faintest hint of vulnerability in them, a softness I’d never expect after such a passionate kiss.

I can’t be fooled by it.

He’s a fuckboy. He’s done this dozens of times.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I repeat. “What was that? What game are you playing?”

His expression shutters. “They’re just words.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like words that aren’t true. They don’t work on me. They don’t turn me on.”

Two strips of pink burnish his cheekbones, and he clenches his jaw. He stares at me for a long moment, his breathing heavy. “It’s not that deep, Amelia. We’re just practicing for a competition.”

“Yeah,” I say, standing up. “And I’m done practicing for now. See you later.”

His eyes flash with an emotion I can’t quite read, but I don’t wait a moment longer. I rush out of that library as if I’m on fire.