The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 145

Liora’s POV

The morning after my father returned to the palace, I woke to the sensation of someone shaking my arm. Groaning, I cracked my eyes open to see Mia kneeling on my bed with a grin.

“Wake up!” she announced. “School is canceled for the day!”

“Hmmm?” I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “Why?”

“Look outside.” Mia jumped off the bed and padded over to the window, where the glass was spiderwebbed with frost. Pressing her nose and hands to the glass, she said, “Ice storm!”

Curious, I climbed out of bed and joined her. Indeed, the entire campus seemed to have turned to one big ice skating rink in the middle of the night; the walkways were slick and shiny with ice, long icicles hung from the tree branches, and I even watched as one of the custodians slipped and nearly fell on his ass while trying to spread salt on the sidewalk.

“So,” Mia said, turning to me, “we’ve got the whole day to ourselves. What do you want to do?”

I stifled another yawn. “Go back to bed.”

“Orrrr…” Mia grinned and opened the trunk at the foot of her bunk, pulling out a large, fuzzy blanket and a DVD for a romantic comedy movie that I hadn’t seen in years. “We could make the most of our day off?”

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, we found ourselves curled up on the sofa of the common room. I’d hastily thrown together some microwaved hot chocolate, and the scent of frozen cinnamon rolls in the communal oven was already filling the space.

Mia snuggled up to me under the blanket and flicked on the TV. It was just the two of us—everyone else seemed to have chosen the “stay in bed until hell froze over” option.

But not for long. Within minutes, students were coming out of their dorms, oohing and ahhing at the icy wonderland outside and sniffing the air.

“Someone made cinnamon rolls?” a boy asked, reaching for the plate in front of us. “Can I have one?”

Mia smacked his hand away. “Nuh-uh! Those are ours,” she protested, but he grabbed one anyway, making her stick her tongue out in frustration.

Zane prepared a large punch bowl of what was potentially the most heinous concoction of whatever liquids he could find in the fridge: orange juice, cranberry juice, ginger ale, and, of course, the vodka he’d brought.

The furniture was pushed away from the center of the room, music was blasted from someone’s bluetooth speaker, and snacks were pilfered from every hidden corner of every dorm. Before I knew it, I was standing pressed against the wall with a cup of that awful drink in my hand, cringing at the sound of music that was way too loud for my ears this early in the morning.

“Look,” Mia said, nudging me with her elbow, “Zane’s starting up a game of spin the bottle!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Zane brandished the empty bottle of vodka like it was his trophy. A group of girls had already gathered around him, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he explained the rules.

Mia tugged on my hand. “We should join.”

I looked at my friend with dismay. “Do we have to?” I whispered. But the pleading look on her face made my resolve crumble. I really didn’t want to play, but I had made a promise to help her get closer to Zane. This very well could be her chance to finally get a kiss in.