Chapter Forty-Six: The Seventh Move. Day Seven – Trouble on Repeat.
Felicity's POV.
My bike ride home was nothing but overthinking. What should I do? How do I stop this before it gets too far? My life was a mess. Seriously.
I couldn't sleep that night. Penelope, of course, slept like a log — snoring like some tiny chainsaw. Meanwhile, lying awake, I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, counting regrets instead of sleeping until I finally drifted off—and then my alarm went off barely an hour later.
I didn't get much sleep last night, and now my alarm was blaring. Groggy. Dead-eyed. Emotionally unstable. That was me.
"Morning, sunshine!" Penelope's voice pierced the room like a trumpet fanfare. She was already up, brushing her hair with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't spent the night tormented by boy drama.
"Don't," I groaned, dragging the blanket over my head.
"Oh, I will," she sang, yanking the blanket off me. "Because I know that look. That face. That guilty, 'I've-been-kissed-and-now-my-brain-is-mush' face."
I sat up, glaring. "Pen, please. It's too early for this."
"It's never too early for tea, gossip, and tormenting you." She plopped onto my bed. "So, how was Night Six with Lover Boy? Did he serenade you? Write your name in the stars? Or just swoop in with another kiss?"
Heat crept up my neck. "Neither! He didn't—well, he tried."
Penelope gasped like I'd just confessed to murder. "Again? Felicity Paddington, you sly minx!" She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest dramatically. "Meanwhile, poor Christopher is probably pacing a dungeon somewhere, growling like a jealous dragon."
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "Don't remind me."
Penelope smirked. "So what's the plan today? Another date with Alex? Please say it's horseback riding, because I need to watch you fall off dramatically while he swoops in like Prince Charming."
"Ha. Ha." I narrowed my eyes. "He texted me at 6 a.m. Said he has a 'surprise I won't regret.' Translation: probably tennis."
"Of course he did." Penelope flopped backward on my bed, her hair spilling like a halo. "That boy's got a PhD in persistence. Honestly, I almost admire him. Almost."
Day Seven. You'd think after six days of Alex's relentless charm offensive, I'd be used to it by now. But nope. The boy had a bottomless pit of ideas and an energy level that made me want to both strangle him and well, maybe kiss him again.
Penelope shot up, pointing at me like she'd just cracked a case.
"Aha! So you do like kissing him. Don't lie, Felicity—I bet you're already daydreaming about having him in your mouth again. Your very own Prince Charming."
I gasped, cheeks flaming. "Penelope!"
"Felicity!" she shot back in my exact tone. She grinned wickedly. "What? I'm just saying what you're too shy to admit." Then she wiggled her eyebrows like an annoying cartoon character. "Girl, you're in trouble."
I slung my bag over my shoulder, cheeks flaming. "Story of my life."
Right on cue, a too-familiar voice rang down the dorm hall.
"Rise and shine, Felicity!"
Alex leaned against my doorframe, smug as ever, holding up a giant paper bag that smelled suspiciously like fresh pastries.
"Day Seven," he announced grandly. "Your carriage awaits."
"Carriage?" I blinked, squinting at him. "Alex—it's eight in the morning."
"Exactly," he said, wiggling the bag. "Breakfast by the river. Croissants, orange juice, the works. You're welcome."
Behind him, Penelope popped her head out of her room, hair in messy curls, eyes gleaming. "Oooh, romantic breakfast picnic? Don't mind me, I'll just… not be jealous at all."
"Pen," I groaned.
"Bye, Felicity," she sang, ducking back inside. "Have fun with your boyfriend."
Alex smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "See? Even your best friend approves."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight the flutter in my chest.
By the time we reached the riverbank, the sun was already painting gold across the water. Alex had laid out a blanket, arranged the pastries like some Pinterest picnic, and even pulled out a tiny Bluetooth speaker softly playing jazz.
"This is… a lot," I admitted, sitting down cautiously.
"A lot of awesome," he corrected. He poured orange juice into cups like he was hosting royalty. "I told you, Felicity. Two weeks. I'm not wasting a second."
I bit into a croissant, warm and buttery. Okay, fine. Maybe I was impressed.
But just as I was beginning to relax, a shadow fell over us. Mia. Of course.
"Ohhh, what's this?" she purred, hands on her hips. "Alex, darling, pulling out the picnic charm card? Bold." Her eyes flicked to me, sharp as knives. "Careful, Felicity. He gets creative when he wants something."
"What are you doing here? Who invited you, huh?" I demanded.
"Oh, darling, I came all by myself. Just needed some fresh air," she said with a mocking laugh.
Alex shot her a warning look. "Mia."
"What? I'm just being honest," she replied innocently, though her smirk betrayed her. "Good luck, Felicity. You're going to need it."
"I don't need your pity. I'll be just fine, thank you."
"Whatever." And just like that, she sashayed off, leaving the taste of butter suddenly bitter in my mouth and my entire morning soured with it.
I stared at Alex. "What did she mean by that?"
"Nothing," he said too quickly. "Don't listen to her."
But in the pit of my stomach, something whispered otherwise. Because I knew Mia. And Mia never said nothing.