Free Who Made You a Princess? by Shelley Adina Page B

realized Carly and Brett weren’t following, and a second after
     that, I realized why.
    My face heating in a blush, I practically ran through the doors.
    The BGs marched up the staircase, presumably to flush bad guys out of Rashid’s dorm room, which left the two of us standing
     in the reception hall. The normal weekday curfew of lights-out at ten p.m. was suspended on weekends. The only light came
     from a couple of the wall sconces and the upstairs hallway. The stairs were a swath of shadow.
    I paused on the bottom step. “Well. Um. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I’ve never had one like it. Even being kicked out
     of TouTou’s turned out to be fun.”
    “I am glad you had a good time.” He leaned on the banister, one shallow marble step below me. This put our eyes on the same
     level. “I, too, have never had one like it.”
    “Really?” I whispered. He stood close. Closer. “Rashid?”
    His eyes held pools of darkness. “I love the sound of my name on your lips.”
    Oh, my. What a romantic thing to say. But I had no business getting romantic with him.
    You want to.
    I shouldn’t. I told Danyel I liked him.
    Danyel isn’t here.
    “Rashid, did you mean what you said before? That you came to Spencer partly because of me?”
    “Yes. Our families have been connected since the sixteenth century.”
    I blinked. Is that what Mom had meant by “a bunch of history”? The mistress of the understatement, my mom.
    “And you and I played together as children.” He paused. “Of all the schools in this country, I wanted one where I knew a friend.
     School can be a very lonely place for someone in my position.”
    My heart melted. I’d had my own issues with people trying to cozy up so they could get things out of me. I could just imagine
     how it was for him, never knowing if he was liked for himself or for his money.
    “I’m glad we are friends.” Rashid leaned in, holding my gaze. My heart stopped melting and began to pound. I think I forgot
     to breathe. “And possibly—”
    The front door swung open and Carly’s voice called, “Good night” as the limo’s engine started up outside and gravel crunched
     under its tires.
    Rashid jerked back, and I found my guilty self halfway up the stairs before the door had even swung shut.
    “Oh, hi, Rashid, are you still here?” Carly’s light tones echoed in the midnight silence. “Where’s Shani?”
    But I didn’t wait. The sound of my high heels clacking on the marble was too loud for me to hear his answer, anyway.

Chapter 8
    I ROLLED OUT OF BED just in time for brunch on Saturday, but only because Mac was making so much noise trying to be quiet that I finally gave
     up on sleep. Carly and I took turns in the shower and stumbled downstairs, where we gulped coffee and considered the waffle
     maker.
    “Too much work,” I finally muttered, and settled for fruit and yogurt.
    Carly, for whom kitchen appliances will do backflips and spins, had a couple of waffles made in less time than it takes to
     tell about it, complete with raspberry syrup.
    “About time you guys turned up.” Gillian put her MacBook Air on the table and sat across from us. “We were going to send in
     the EMTs.”
    “It’s Saturday. We’ll sleep in if we want to,” Carly informed her around a mouthful of waffle.
    “I heard what happened.”
    “We got to see the Dylan show at Luna’s,” I told her. “It was amazing. Front row seats, and backstage passes. I met Bob Dylan.
     How cool is that?”
    “
Très
cool,” Gillian agreed. “But I meant before that. I heard about the fracas at TouTou’s.”
    “TouTou’s.” Carly made the name sound like a snort. “I’m so over that place. What did you hear?”
    Instead of answering, Gillian flipped open her notebook. SeenOn.com ’s lead article filled the screen.
    Playboy Prince Does More Than Study
    Look out, California fashionistas! Prince Rashid al Amir, who’s spending an exchange term at the elite Spencer Academy