Princess (American Princess #1)(9)
Author: Courtney Cole

And Four:  She was 17 and he was 24.  She knew he would never look at her in any way other than friendly.  

He was also an alien-creature with strange habits.  He was easy-going, laid-back and creative.  Three things that Sydney knew very little about.

In her world- well, her old world, everyone was driven by schedules, meetings and Blackberries. They were on time for appointments, they went to bed recapping meetings in their heads and they got up the next morning with goals for that day in mind.

In fact, almost everyone she knew had a Ten Year Plan. They were driven to succeed by blinding ambition so that they could maintain their lavish lifestyles. So they could be better than the next guy.  They were also superficial, back-stabbing and fake. Stephen was none of these things.  It was a refreshing change.

Her stomach suddenly let loose with a loud, unladylike growl.  Her hand flew to her stomach as if to muffle it, while Stephen laughed. She let the sincere sound of it roll over her like music.

“Sydney, no offense, but you’re a bottomless pit.  Do you want something to eat?”

It was almost a rhetorical question because she was always, always hungry these days.

“None taken.  And do we have anything?”

She only asked because food wasn’t important to him.  Half of the time he didn’t care if he ate or not.  He was definitely an eat-to-live kind of guy. She would never utter one word of complaint, though. He had saved her.

“Um, I’m not exactly sure.” He seemed to ponder the current state of their typically empty cabinets. “There must be something in there, though. If not, we can go get something.”

She had $3.73 in her purse. She knew because she had checked before she went to bed. She would rather not have to spend it on food because she could get an extra-large blueberry slush at the 7-11 for a dollar. As hot as she was, the icy deliciousness of a 44-ounce Big Gulp sounded like Heaven. But her growling stomach reminded her that she definitely needed to eat. The baby needed food. It couldn’t thrive on ice and sugar alone.

She shoved her feet into the flip-flops sitting next to her bed. It wasn’t hard to choose which shoes to wear anymore.  These were the only ones that still fit. She even had to wear them to work. Her tennis shoes cramped her swollen, sausage toes. Thank God it was summer or she would be screwed. She had no idea what she would do when it snowed… she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

As she attempted to push herself off the bed, Stephen leaned forward with his hand extended.  She took it and he hoisted her off the bed with an exaggerated groan. She rolled her eyes. She had only been 103 lbs to start with.  So even though she had gained twenty, she still wasn’t all that heavy. She only felt like a bowling ball. She didn’t look it.

“How are you feeling today?” Stephen asked, giving her the once-over, looking doubtful.  He always said that it was hard to tell with her because she never complained.

“I feel good. Why? Don’t I look it?” she teased. “Dang! I was planning on entering the Miss America pageant this afternoon!” She grinned widely.  He appeared to consider that for a moment, smiling a little, before he changed the subject.

“Have you heard from your parents?”

He was hesitant, almost cautious.

He didn’t usually ask, which was a gesture that Sydney appreciated. It was a sensitive subject and she never, ever brought it up on her own accord.  But for whatever reason, maybe to change the subject, he chose to go there now.

“Of course not.  Have you?”

She asked the question slightly defiantly, her chin jutting out.  She knew that it would be just like them to try to ferret information from him behind her back. The thought pissed her off, but she was pretty certain that he wouldn’t tell them anything.

“Nope.  I’m sure they’ll call, though. One of these days.”

He was confident.  In his world, parents didn’t turn their backs on their kids.  Not permanently, anyway. He just couldn’t quite comprehend her world.  In hers, mothers said things like Can’t you keep your legs closed, you little slut?

“It doesn’t matter to me if they do. They burned that bridge.  Actually, they laced it with C-4 and blew it up.” She almost smiled but didn’t, trying to be blasé. He was intuitive enough to see through her, however.

He shook his head.  “Don’t do that, Sydney. Don’t pretend that it doesn’t matter and nail shut doors that you might want to reopen someday. I know your parents love you even if they don’t show it sometimes.” As she stared at him, her expression turned into one of uncontained exasperation. What did he not get?

“Um, Stephen.  Do you not remember the day I showed up on your doorstep?  Of course you do—I fainted at your feet.”

And he had been taking care of her ever since, even if dinner was sometimes cold Spaghettio’s from the can.  Her heart suddenly warmed at the thought.  Stephen was a really good man. Gentle and good-hearted through and through.

And the feelings that she had been having for him lately were far from cousinly.  She had tried to explain them away to herself a few weeks ago by pretending that it was because of her changing hormones.  But the feelings wouldn’t go away.  She quickly pushed them out of her mind for the time being and continued her rant about her parents.

“What part of my parents trying to force me to get an abortion paints a picture of wholesome, unconditional love for you?  Don’t believe my father’s campaign platform bullshit for a second.  My parents are definitely not Family Values First.”  Her voice was cold and adamant.  “They aren’t going to call unless I call them first and trust me, that’s not going to happen.”

While there was an icy edge to her voice, even she could hear the painful undercurrent that flowed heavily under the surface. And it made her sick that she was still so affected by her parents’ betrayal.  It had been four months since she had left. Four months without a word from either of them.  They had no idea if she was in a homeless shelter or on the streets.  And if it hadn’t been for Stephen, that very well might have been how it turned out.

She had been brushing her hair as they talked and it now fell between them like a thick caramel curtain, hiding her delicate, angular features.  As she raised her slender arms to wind it into a knot, the movement stirred her baby within. It reacted with another swift roundhouse kick to her bruised ribs. She cringed in response.