Princess

“Your boyfriend has a vicious right arm.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I folded my arms. I had been generous enough to hand Owen a couple of ice cubes to nurse his bruised face but my generosity had its limits. “What are you really doing here, Owen? I doubt that the little show you put on just now was for my benefit.”

“How can you say something like that?” Owen dropped the towel with the ice cubes and studied me. Of course, the effect was ruined by the fact that he was in my room at SITT and depriving me of the sleep I needed to get through the day. “I missed you.”

“You might have but I don’t think you missed me enough to get back together the way you pretended just now.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “There’s something going on around here and I don’t appreciate you hiding it from me.”

He shrugged, as though figuring that things couldn’t possibly get any worse. “Calloway sent me.”

“Why?”

“She’s concerned that you’re taking too long. She thought that introducing me as the third player in this relationship it’d help move things along. I’ve got to say that she’s right. After the way loverboy punched me tonight, I’d say that he’s got it bad for you.” Owen smiled slightly, satisfied with the role that he’d played well.

If anything, this made me detest Calloway even more. Of course nothing escaped from her so she knew that I did have had real feelings for Owen and yet, she sent him here to make things even more convincing.

And Owen, of course, being the great agent that never messed up as I did, knew how exactly to push my buttons and piss Dylan off at the same time…and took advantage of that fact. If there was any flaw in Owen, I would say that his unscrupulous way of handling cases was it. When I remembered how I felt after killing the man at the Fuller mansion, I would always wonder how Owen managed to do it without any hesitation or self-doubt, like I did.

I didn’t admire him for it though. I kind of thought he was far too callous for it.

“Now that you’ve screwed me over, would you please leave? I don’t care if you stay here, and surely you would enjoy your stay, but get out of my room.”
He shook his head. “Nope, I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Calloway’s not the only one with connections. I’ve managed to pull a few of mine…”
I stared at him. Then I understood what he meant. “Hell no.”

“Hell yes.” He smirked at me. “Hi, roommate.”

I wasn’t supposed to injure my fellow agents but I couldn’t resist. Clenching my fist, I punched Owen in the nose. Or rather, I tried to. He’d managed to see my punch coming and caught it but refused to let go of my hand.

Instead, he drew small circles on it. Circles that only reminded me of what we were before and how much I truly hated him, hated how he’d broken up with me, hated how he was so freaking perfect.

Hated how he seemed to be taking over my case.

I wrenched my hand away from his grasp. Trying to speak so that my voice didn’t shake, I said, “Keep out of my way, Owen. I have a lot of things I need to do, things which I really wouldn’t appreciate your help in.”

“Please don’t tell me that you actually like that Fuller kid now.” He scoffed and nursed his face with the ice again.

My face like it was on fire. Now I understood what Tia meant when she said that she became the nine year old who couldn’t control her emotions around Luke, because I was the same around Owen. He reminded me of the kid I’d been, the innocent, stupid me. “No.”

“It’s all over your face, Kristen. You had the same look…before.” Sensing that he’d crossed the line, he chose not to say what he really meant.

But I knew what he meant. He meant how I had looked when I was with him, how I’d really seemed happy. And I thought that I really had been…until I realized that he’d only been part of some sort of ‘therapy’ after Jeanne Ingrid left, a sort of mental test to see if I was truly mentally stable and able to let others in. According to the Agency, it was so that my mental health wouldn’t get affected, that if I ever left, I would be able to function, emotionally, like a human being.

But if you asked me, I would say that by doing that, it only impaired my trusting skills even more. How could I ever trust anyone after all the people I thought were trustworthy weren’t? It only told me that my judgment of who was genuine and who wasn’t sucked.

And that I was better off not trusting anyone at all.

I tried to remember where I was and what Owen had said, figuring that those memories were better left alone. “I don’t care what kind of look I have, Owen. I’m doing my job and I wouldn’t get in the way of yours as long as you don’t manipulate me like you did just now.”
“You mean the way I hugged you?”

I flinched unwillingly. “Yes. You may have been my ex-boyfriend but you don’t need to bring up memories of our fake relationship into this.”

“How would that make your reactions real then?”

“I’m a good actor.” I smiled humourlessly, recalling his words.

“Uh…hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re not.” Owen said all that with a straight face. He was right, of course. I wasn’t. If anything, Dylan had seen through me faster than I had for him. “You’re good at all the physical stuff but acting requires a little more than that.”

Owen was good at the acting. But I would never ask him for help, my dignity didn’t allow me to. So instead of doing what I should’ve (by asking for tips), I shoved him off my bed and crawled into it and pretending to fall asleep.

***
There were a few knocks on the door a few moments after my alarm went off.

Cracking open my eyes, I tried to sit up but found that everything was spinning slightly. So I gave up on that and laid back down, hoping that whoever it was (and I was leaning towards Dylan) would give up.

But of course, they didn’t. Instead, Owen had to wake up and answer the door. (I hadn’t actually considered it but it looked like he was going to have to bunk on the floor. Was it wrong for me to take great pleasure in that?)

“What the hell?”

I peered at the door and saw both Luke and Dylan there. They looked kind of blurry though. Strange. Why would objects spin around and people look blurry? Lifting a head to my forehead, I jerked it back. I was scorching hot.

I was sick.

“Hi, I’m Owen. I don’t think I’ve met you.”

“Oh. Um. I’m Luke. If you don’t mind me asking… What are you doing in Christina’s room?”I heard the discomfort in Luke’s voice.

Dylan interrupted. “Let’s talk about that later. What’s wrong with her?”

Three heads swung towards my direction. I smiled weakly, lifting my hand and waving slightly. Opening my mouth to speak, I could only manage a slight croak, “Hi.”

Even my voice was betraying me. There was absolutely no way I could go to class now.

Dylan barged into my room and felt my forehead. I tried to tell him that there was no point because I knew that I was having a fever but couldn’t speak. Closing my eyes, I wondered what I was supposed to do in this situation.

“I think we should she needs the doctor.” Dylan’s voice seemed quieter than before.
Owen sounded like he was stifling a laugh. It was kind of ridiculous, I supposed. Agents could suffer from fevers but it wasn’t a deadly disease so you were still supposed to be able to carry out your missions…so doctors were usually not needed.

“I have medication.” The words came out slightly slurry but I managed them. “In the top drawer.”

There was the opening and closing of the drawer but nobody handed me the medication. Opening my eyes, I saw the three of them huddled at the door, in fierce discussion.

Attempting to hear what they were saying, I could only catch a few words. “Not a good idea…doctor…fever.”

Then I blacked out.
***
When I woke up again, it was much later…and Luke was sitting next to me.

I felt my forehead. It was much cooler but I didn’t remember taking any medication. It had to be my immunity system recovering, since I had finally had enough rest. Speaking this time was much easier as well. “Hey. What time is it?”

“Around lunch time. Are you hungry or thirsty? We’ve orange juice and water. Dylan went to grab lunch. He kind of refused to go until I made him actually.” He grinned as though that was the cutest thing he’d ever heard.

“Water please.” No need to reply about the Dylan thing.

He handed me a glass of water. “If you’re still running a fever, the school’s doctor swung by and prescribed some medication.”

I managed a small smile before sipping my water. “That’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

We sat there for a few moments and I half wondered why Luke was even here in the first place. Having him here and not having him here didn’t seem to make much difference. But then, he said, “I noticed something interesting yesterday.”

“Oh?” I didn’t mention that I realized that he wasn’t at his own engagement party.
“Owen seems to be pretty close to you.”
“What difference does that make?”
“It makes Dylan uncomfortable.”

I snorted. I’d practically made my whole life (well…almost) making life difficult for the Fullers and even then made my distaste for him pretty obvious before I found out who he was and Luke was concerned that I was making him ‘uncomfortable’?

Now that I’d actually considered it, Luke was more than Dylan’s bulletproof jacket. He appeared to be his very best friend as well. After all, Luke had Dylan’s back the entire time. He had helped to speak up for Dylan each time I said something about him and he ensured Dylan’s wellbeing. This wasn’t his first time. He’d been equally concerned the time when Dylan had skipped dinner only to embarrass me later that night with his stupid rendition of ‘Crush’.

Dylan really was right the other day. Life was unfair. How could it be that anyone who could hide his real self as well as I did manage to have a real friend while I could not?

“I don’t care if it makes him uncomfortable! …He makes me uncomfortable but I don’t see anyone speaking up for me.” My voice had disappeared halfway through so I took another gulp of water.

Luke rolled his eyes. “I get the idea. Jeez. Stop speaking if you’re not fully recovered yet.” In a softer tone, he muttered, “He’d throttle me if he found out that I was doing this.”

“What’d you get Tia for her engagement present anyway?”

His lighthearted expression vanished. His eyes averted from me, he stared at the floor and said, quietly, “I didn’t.”

I frowned at him. “How could you, Luke? I thought you were getting something for her that day. What happened to that?”

“I got her something but her… Her parents made it clear that they would prefer it if she didn’t get anything from me,” replied Luke, flatly. His eyes were filled with some unnamed emotion, something to the effect of disappointment and resentment. “Apparently, if I wasn’t sincere, if I didn’t really want this…thing to go through, I shouldn’t bring Tia’s hopes up by giving her something when I clearly didn’t want to.”

“But you did want to…”'

Luke blinked. All the emotion that I thought I had seen was gone. Shrugging, he said, “No. Not really.”

“You did!” I didn’t know why I suddenly felt that it was of vital importance for me to get this across, to point out to Luke what he refused to admit. I’d even mentioned his present to Tia…and she’d seemed so happy last night, as though she’d finally gotten what she wanted. How could things have gone so wrong? “I could see it.”

The door had opened and Dylan entered. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there but he entered the conversation as though he’d been there the whole time. “Maybe you didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe you just needed to believe that there was someone out there who would benefit from your actions. Or maybe you wanted to believe that it was love happening right before your eyes.”

I know what I had seen and I was absolutely certain it wasn’t what Dylan had said but I could see that some of what he had said for Luke’s benefit, to pretend that I was wrong because he could tell that Luke didn’t want to broach this topic, which would kind of explain why he seemed to be hiding it out last night. It would probably suck to be stuck in a room where your in-laws, who already hated your guts and made it evident.

So I dropped the subject even though I didn’t want to.

Dylan brought the food to my study table, smiling as though we hadn’t been talking about something terrible, and opened the food packets. Then he frowned. “Shoot. I forgot the cutlery.”

We watched Dylan leave in silence.

“I know you don’t like me talking about Owen.” Luke had finally managed to look at me but I would’ve preferred it if he hadn’t since now it was my turn to be uneasy. “But there’s something you do need to know about him.”

“What?”

He looked at me straight in the eyes and said the next few words as though my life depended on it. “You can’t trust him.”