Page 4 of Royally Rivalled

Ole barely said anything, while Amara was talkative. I expected it. Since Rick arrived, we'd had to coexist with a Scandinavian. Ole was a man of few words, and I suspected he'd be quiet and leave us girls alone.

I stepped out, leaving the house Amara had deemed “Nepo-baby Station” for what Brits called the high street. The city centre was filled with Saturday shoppers. I had a week to adjust to Shalestone before term began. Everywhere I turned, pensioners sported warm smiles, and children excitedly skipped alongside their mothers. Shalestone was synonymous with country air, quaint pedestrian rows, and thatched roofs. I ducked into a coffee shop first, needing a wake-up before I crashed this afternoon. I hadn't slept properly in days—too excited to rest.

I ordered a latte and prayed it was adequately strong. I didn’t drink tea and wasn’t about to start. I looked around as I waited for my drink. Students laughed and chatted. University parents fought tears at the thought of leaving their children for the first time. Professors typed furiously, no doubt trying to pack in last-minute work on research papers or syllabi before the autumn term began.

“Astrid!“ A barista called.

The fact that I couldjustbeAstridput a big smile on my face.

I beamed, taking the drink. “Cheers.”

I was trying to fit in, using any British phrases I knew from television. I wanted to assimilate, to be one of these people.

I turned to find a table. But before I could move, a man holding a computer ran into me, spilling my drink all over the floor.

“Oh my God!” I sputtered as I picked up my nearly-empty cup.

“You weren't looking where you were headed!” He protested.

“I am sorry, but you were on your laptop ignoring me!”

“Oh, sorry, I was trying to find a goddamn wifi signal, princess. Sorry to be in your way. Maybe you should have stepped aside?”

Indignant, I debated chucking the remaining coffee at him. No one got to call me princess!

“I hadthe right of way!”

His tone was so awful. He was in the wrong, butIwas the problem!?What a dick!

“You did not. I was paying attention, and you were not.”

“I hope you don’t drive, you know? You’d run into everyone else!”

I didn’t feel the need to say I couldnotdrive—not legally yet. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to look where you are going when you drive, sir!”

With annoyance, he set his laptop down and pulled out his wallet.

“I don't want your fucking money! I want a new latte. I can pay?—”

He ignored me and angrily strode to the till, ordering another latte. I tossed my to-go cup in the trash and cleaned the spilt coffee.

“Happy, Latte Girl?” He picked his laptop up and left.

“What a fucking prat!” I said to myself.

I'd be glad never to run into that asshole again!

four

PARKER

I strode awayfrom Latte Girl. There was little I hated more than entitled princess types. There was a social contract, but people like her ruined it for the rest of us. I found a place with a better Wi-Fi signal and sat down to work on a publication that needed revision. Latte Girl left to do whatever silly thing undergrads did. When I ran out of tea, I returned home—barely making it into the foyer before I heard voices.

My roommate, Niall, asked, “Parker, that you, mate?”

I was foiled.

I entered the living room. “Hello, mate… and… Jeremy.”

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