They, too, were just like him.
Fooled by her act.
But this time, he wasn’t going to let the past repeat itself.
He felt her hand shake as he took hold of it and led her to the dance floor. The music shifted into another song, giving them the cue to start waltzing. This time, no microphones. Just the two of them, and a regulation six inches of space between their bodies.
Her palm was damp against his. Her other hand rested at his shoulder the way she had been taught—correct position, correct pressure—except her fingers kept almost-closing on the fabric of his coat and then easing off again.
“So...six years.” Her voice was strangled, not at all like the Tiara he knew. Then again, did he really know her?
“I tried to text you.”
“Did you?”
“I tried calling you, too...and that’s how I realized you blocked my number.”
“And that surprised you?”
“I was just thinking. Since you’re older, more mature, you could’ve given me a chance to explain—”
“You let a guy kiss you.”
She shook her head, and his lip nearly curled at this.
“It wasn’t like that—”
“It was exactly like that,” he said pleasantly, “since his mouth was on your fucking mouth.”
He saw her wince at his language, but he didn’t take it back.
“I...I know that’s not...what I’m saying is that I never saw him as a guy.”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“I know this will sound like I’m making things up, but at that time, I was such a mess, and I was thinking...a frog.”
He nearly stopped dancing. Was she really going to keep lying like this?
“That was all he was to me.”
She sounded so damn earnest.
“A frog.”
But it just had him gritting his teeth.
“And I was a girl kissing a frog—”
He was about to cut her off, to just stop it with all the lies—
“—to make the prince jealous enough to give her the words, the only words she wanted to hear.”
—when he realized what she was saying.
“You could’ve just said it,” she whispered.
“You could’ve asked,” he snarled.