Page 34 of How to Date a Prince

“We bring beer.” Thomas goes into the walk-in fridge and retrieves two bottles of ale, opening them. He pauses. “That is, if you drink beer?” He looks curiously at me. “Do princes drink beer?”

“I do. That is, I haven’t consulted with all the other princes globally for their drinking habits, however. It’s a skewed sample. I’ll ask next time I’m on the royalty group chat.”

Which makes me think Prince Theodor and my cousins and a group chat would be a collision of worlds best kept separate. Or they would egg each other on until the scandal brought down both our monarchies. Whatever.

Thomas laughs, a thrilling sound. He passes a beer bottle to me. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how I find myself walking with Thomas Golden out on the grounds of the estate in time to watch the sun lowering towards a spectacular sunset. We walk in silence with matching long strides along the dirt track. We go by a paddock with horses. Their tails swish in the fading light. We walk along the edge of a wood, over rolling hills, till we reach a good viewpoint at the top of a hill in a meadow. And then, we sit to finish our beer amid the wildflowers.

“I thought you hated me,” I say at last, glancing over at him. “Along with everyone else.” He’s stunning in his white shirt and tan. “Since you’ve made it quite clear you’re opposed to the throne and all. I understand that’s a Golden family tradition.”

We watch the sun sink low towards the trees. The clouds overhead turn pink and gold.

He’s quiet for a long time before he responds. It’s long enough for me to dread his response.

“I don’t hate you, Auggie. I hate what you represent.” Thomas gazes at me over his drink. “I mean it when I said I’m an abolitionist.”

“Aren’t you American? I don’t see how you have a horse in this race. Or, if you’ll forgive me, why you would be interested.”

He grins, a sight that thrills me. A tingle runs up my spine. Behind him, pink clouds drift lazily across the sky. “I’m half English. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Top or bottom half?” I ask archly. “And which part is the abolitionist, so I can give that a wide berth?”

And he laughs again, and my God, it’s the most incredible sound. Warm and rich, and the fact that I made him laugh again makes me ripple with hope. My arms are covered in goose bumps, and I have no idea why. At least he doesn’t notice. I ignore them and do my best to refocus.

I sip my beer, unable to keep from smiling. Maybe it’s the warm early summer night or the way the grasses give off a faint scent in the heat. Or just maybe it’s his unexpected company tonight.

“Now, that’s my business.” Thomas’s eyes sparkle before he takes a drink. “Seriously, though, I’m English from my dad’s side of the family. He’s a recovering Londoner. His words. But as for me, I was raised in America, American through and through in my outlook. And yes, American passport. Technically, though, I’m a dual national.”

I frown slightly. “Then… why are you here? As an American. And an American abolitionist, at that. I mean, the dual nationality kind of explains how you landed onRenaissance Man, at least. Or your eligibility for it. But… why would you care about a reality show in the UK? Especially one that has a royal on it?”

“I could ask the same of you, why you would want to be on a reality show instead of ruling people by Divine Right.” He lifts the damned eyebrow again.

Something flutters inside me when he gives me his pointy, intense look. Yes, please.

“I asked you first.”

“Fine.” He swigs his beer, watching the lowering sun brush the dark silhouette of the treetops. “It’s for business. At least my portion of it.”

“Oh?” I scratch my jaw. “According to the internet and my friend Katie, your business is a vast multinational hotel empire. How does reality TV help with that?”

He chuckles. “Yes, the hotel’s the family’s main portfolio. But the show’ll help raise my profile for content creation. I’m actually looking to diversify. I’m designing a social media platform. That’s my own gig.”

“Social media platform?”

“You might have heard of social media, even in Buckingham Palace, I bet.”

“You don’t even know the half of it, I’m afraid. We royals message each other by using carrier pigeons. Social media platforms are far beyond us—it’s very next millennium.” If only he knew about my father’s TV addiction. For all I know, my father moonlights under a handle and goes on these forums that Katie told me about, something called the Bravoverse. “Do we—British or Americans—need more social media?”

Thomas laughs. “Well, mine’s different. My platform’s about becoming your best self, like a glow-up app. A positive social media platform with photos and videos and where you can connect with people with similar lifestyle interests. And optional life coaching or training in whatever interests you, and you can build a community. Everyone could use that, I think.”

“So, basically Grindr, then.”

He cracks up with delight, shaking his head. “Yeah.” He finishes his beer, looking intently at me instead of the spectacular sunset in front of us, all pink and orange and gold. And the way he looks at me, it’s like he sees me for the first time. “Tell me: do princes go on Grindr?”

“Princes, I’m afraid, don’t kiss and tell. It’s part of our royal pact.”

“Fair enough.” He laughs again, his arm resting outstretched over his knees drawn against his chest. His body language is relaxed, languid even. Thomas tilts his head ever so slightly, watching me in that way that sends another ripple up my spine and, to my alarm, sparks signs of life somewhere lower. Heat rises in my face. But I’m privately basking in the attention. It’s been such a long time since Theo, and that was meant to be meaningless sex, like many of my other hookups. But the end hit harder than expected.

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