Protect Me Not

Protect Me Not Tangled Web series Copyright © 2023 by Danielle Keil All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author. Also By Danielle Keil The Parkdale Series The Pact Series The Ainsworth Royals: Next Gen Series Love Notes Series The Tangled Web Series To my daughter, Cassidy: may you always remember that Queens help fix each other’s crowns, not knock them off. But may you always know how to fix your own crown as well. Just in case. Contents Also By Danielle Keil Jessa 4 Months Later Jessa Jessa Jessa Jessa Adam Jessa Jessa Adam Jessa Jessa Jessa Adam Jessa Jessa Adam Jessa Jessa Adam Jessa Adam Jessa Jessa Adam Adam Jessa Jessa Adam Jessa Jessa Adam Adam Jessa Adam Jessa Adam Adam Jessa Adam Adam Jessa Adam Also by Danielle Keil Acknowledgements About the Author Prologue Jessa Don’t pick me, don’t pick me, don’t pick— “Jessamine Hatem and Adam Martin,” Mrs. Stratworth announced. I sighed, trying to ignore my heart, which dropped to the floor the second she said the first syllable of my name. Putting on the biggest fake grin I possibly could, I looked up at her and shrugged. “It seems like Adam still hasn’t made it to class yet, Mrs. Stratworth,” I said sweetly. “Maybe someone else—” “Present or fail, Ms. Hatem,” she barked back, looking at me from over the top of her glasses. I clamped my lips shut and nodded. Beads of sweat popped up on my forehead. Adam needed to get on this side of the door within the next thirty seconds or else my entire GPA was about to go up in flames. Our final project was a partner project. We had split the work evenly half and half. At no point over the past month did we meet and discuss each other’s portion. There was a level of trust that we would each do our jobs. I did mine. Swiping my notecards off the desk, I stood and straightened my blouse. I had been ready to present yesterday, as we were originally assigned. When Adam failed to show up, Mrs. Stratworth agreed to push our final presentation back to today. The last chance. It was present or fail, as she said. My heels clacked on the linoleum flooring as I made my way to the front. I stood behind the podium, thankful for its coverage so no one could see my knees knocking into each other, and cleared my throat. “Our presentation is on eighteenth century France and the class differences of villagers versus the royal court,” I said, staring at my notecards even though I had memorized my entire portion. My sweaty palms made them wrinkle, the ink smearing in a few places. “I will be presenting on a day in the life of a villager, and Adam will be speaking on the royal court,” I continued, desperately trying to stall for as long as possible. Tucking a lock of dark hair behind my ears, I glanced at the door. Mrs. Stratworth did the same, her pencil tapping on top of her gradebook. The door remained shut. Come on, Adam. Please, please do not let me fail, I thought. I had put my trust in him, hoping he would come through and do his part. That he would show up. That he would want to not fail as much as I did. The project was sixty percent of our grade. I had a solid B in the class so far, it wasn’t enough to save me from failing if I came out of this with a big fat zero. “He has five minutes, Ms. Hatem,” Mrs. Stratworth said. Five minutes? She was going to make me stand up here alone for five minutes? I gulped and nodded. “Maybe I can start with my portion and—” “Was that how you prepared your presentation?” she interrupted me. Her fake eyelashes fooled no one as she blinked at me from over her glasses again. I shook my head, my gold hoops brushing against my neck. “No ma’am, but maybe—” “We will wait,” she answered with finality. And so we would. After the first minute, the whispers started. The giggles behind hands, the pointing, the cracked jokes. All soft enough so Mrs. Stratworth didn’t stop them. But I heard them. My cheeks turned pink after the second minute. I watched the clock over the door, watched the seconds as they ticked by one after another. The door stayed shut. He wasn’t coming. He ditched me twice now. “Maybe another group could go first? Maybe we could go last. I could text him and—” A sharp shake of her head had me shutting up again. It wouldn’t have even worked, anyway; I didn’t have Adam’s phone number. No one I knew did. Adam kept to himself mostly. Except when he was using his fists to talk for him. “Who would have thought the Beast would make the Queen embarrass herself in front of the whole class?” someone whispered. “Bet the Beast did this on purpose,” someone else said. Mrs. Stratworth cleared her throat. “Two minutes more.” “Mrs. Stratworth, please, let me present my portion. I have it—” “It will be presented in its entirety or not at all, Ms. Hatem.” I tucked my lips in to both keep myself from retorting and to stop them from quivering. Whether it was nerves, anger, or distress coursing through my body right now, I wasn’t sure. Maybe a mixture of all three. Did he do this on purpose? Did Adam ditch class and the presentation just to make me look bad? There was no way he would pass the class either if he didn’t show up in the next minute. Someone threw a wadded-up piece of paper at me, whispering, “Get off the stage!” before Mrs. Stratworth spoke again. “You may sit, Ms. Hatem,” she said before announcing the next