Free The Other Side of Anne by Kelly Stuart Page B

Anne, if confiding was the right word with all the cameras and microphones. Bella talked in such a way that made Anne think she did it just so she could continually tell herself: “Look at me! My confidante is Anne Boleyn. Am I not special?”
    “Let’s not talk about my mother right now,” Avery said. “Why didn’t you skate at the rink?”
    Anne stifled a snort. She, the queen of England, fumbling and falling over herself? She would be far from the picture of dignity. “I did not care to skate,” she replied.
    “You want to go? I used to a few times a year. It’s the best exercise. It clears my mind like nothing else.”
    “You went alone?”
    Avery’s nose twitched. “Well, no. My wife and I, we went. She’s dead now. Mandy.”
    “Your mother told me about your wife.”
    “Ah.”
    “I will watch you skate. If the rink has arcade games, I may partake in them.”
    “ Did Benjamin skate?”
    “He did,” Anne said. “He made a spectacle of himself.” And loved it. Benjamin and Nate had laughed the whole time. Laughed and skated, and Bella had been right with them. “Come on,” she had urged Anne. “Have some fun.”
    Sometimes Anne wished she could be more like Benjamin and enjoy life more. But he was a man. He had it easier; he was in charge of his own destiny.
     
    **
     
    At the rink, Anne watched as Avery pulled out his inline skates, a sleek red and black pair with four wheels. Better than her bland skates. Avery had rented a pair for Anne despite her insistence that her mind would remain unchanged. About fifteen people glided—or staggered—around the floor. Fifteen people too many for Anne. She would be mortified if she fell.
    “Sure you won’t join me?” Avery said.
    “I am sure.”
    “Okay. Hey, something’s on your shirt.”
    Anne looked down. “ I do not—”
    Avery flicked her on the chin. “Got you. Made you look.”
    Anne found herself smiling, found herself drawn to Avery’s playfulness, to his charming eyes. She really did miss kissing a man. She wanted to kiss Avery, wanted him to kiss her. She hated the thought of suddenly losing control of her fades and disappearing into nothingness without a last kiss from a man. Without a last frolic in bed.
    Avery skated off, and he moved quickly, powerfully, with grace. He showed no signs of rust. He was sexuality personified. Sexiness personified. Powerful thighs, powerful chest. Anne desired to see him naked. To see his manhood. His long and erect manhood. She desired to feel it inside her. Thrusting. Thumping. Hungry.
    Anne’s face flushed, and she inspected the arcade games. I nserted a quarter into a pinball machine. She made her way through several games, sneaking peeks at Avery all the while. The languishing pair of skates haunted her. She could be out there too. She could be laughing with him. She was no longer Anne Boleyn; she was no queen. She was Anne George, commoner, and she would need to adapt if she were to survive and be happy. If she were to be independent.
    She would have to let herself go and trust Avery Franklin. The prospect terrified her.
     
    **
     
    Avery and Anne got a pizza from the rink’s cafe. “How did you meet Mandy?” Anne asked over a gooey slice of pepperoni and bacon.
    Avery’s expression darkened . “We met in high school.”
    “Tell me more.”
    “She was a cheerleader, a perfect blonde. I was a misfit going through my Goth phase. I told myself I hated the cheerleader types, but inside, I didn’t.” Avery shrugged and inhaled a slice of pizza as if to end the story.
    “What else?” Anne prodded.
    “I liked her, okay? From the first time I saw Mandy, I fell in love with her. I couldn’t help it. The way she moved, the way she talked. Have you felt that for anyone?”
    Anne shook her head.
    “Fast forward to when we’re twenty-five. She’s a cop. She’s called to an environmental protest that is getting out of hand. The police chief wants her to arrest protesters. Lo and behold, who