Page 35 of How to Date a Prince

It’s definitely a warm night, especially for England. I blame the heat. That’s the excuse I’m going with. Not that I’ve been caught in some accidental, misplaced flirting with Thomas Golden, of all people. An abolitionist, for God’s sake. Get a grip, Auggie. Queen Victoria is going to haunt me for real.

And it’s easy, being in Thomas’ company, something I never would have bargained on. Which is when I belatedly realize my tactical error: I’ve let my guard down. I shouldn’t’ve. I’ve made a dreadful mistake.

I’ve outed myself to Thomas. Shit.

“I mean—you have a girlfriend. And I have a girlfriend, sort of,” I say hurriedly.

“Friends with benefits?” he asks lightly. “And by the way, I don’t have a girlfriend. Where did you get that idea from?”

“Wait. What?” Something in me sinks. “You don’t?”

Shit.

Now I’ve really messed this up. Even though it’s pointless even to let myself daydream about Thomas because I’m still a prince, and he’s still opposed to everything I stand for. And, worst of all, he thinks Katie is my girlfriend.

“Nah. What gave you that idea?” Thomas looks curiously at me. “I didn’t say anything about a girlfriend.”

“I… well, I thought you had gone on a holiday with a woman.”

“Auggie, are you actually following me on social media? Don’t you have more important things to do with your time as a future monarch?” Thomas teases, giving me a sly look I’m very much into.

“No,” I say hurriedly as the sun at last starts to dip into the trees. “I mean, my friend Katie follows you online. Not in a stalker way—she only follows your accounts. She told me about your holiday in the Med. Not that I don’t have more important things to do with my time. I do all sorts of things with my time. I don’t have any social media accounts myself.” I make myself stop talking before I become even more scattered under his close attention.

“Oh. I went to Italy with a friend. That’s all.” He shrugs a shoulder easily, setting the bottle down beside him in the grass. “We have things in common. But it’s not romantic. Mostly business. Ten percent hijinks. No benefits. I’m gay.”

“Oh.” I nod, not sure what else to say. So, I chew my lip instead.

“Oh,” he agrees, gazing at me a moment too long till I look away. The sun has gone, and it’s fallen into dusk. I look back at him, swallowing hard. Even though we’re surrounded by fresh air, it’s hard to get some oxygen into my lungs right then.

“I think we should go back.” I break the silence when I have pulled it together enough to speak in a convincing enough way. I’m not sure what’s going on in the sultry summer air that hangs between us as his gaze lingers on mine. His pupils are dilated in the low light. And I want Thomas to keep looking at me like that.

As if he wants me.

“As you wish. Your girlfriend is probably waiting for her good-night call from her prince.” Thomas nods, smiling, and we collect our bottles.

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Err, something like that.”

Together, we walk back to the house mostly in silence. And me with a million thoughts for company too. The stars start to come out in the twilight, overlooking us. Like they also want to know if Thomas has his own friend with benefits. Or if he’s looking for another such arrangement. Which is a silly thought on top of a heap of silly thoughts.

Which is also about when I see the sunset reflected off the glass of a video camera lens in the tall grass on the side of the trail near where we paused in the meadow. Inwardly, I die. Outwardly, I keep my expression smooth and glance over at Thomas. Judging by the way his eyes also dart over and back again, he sees the glint of the camera too.

When we reach the house, we pause in the back mudroom to wipe our shoes of trail dust. I shut the door after us, as well as the door leading into the country house.

“Did you want to watch something together—” Thomas begins.

“Absolutely not.”

His eyes narrow at me as the mood instantly shifts. “Not this again?—”

“I don’t know how much they recorded out there.” My voice is low, urgent, wild. “I can’t be seen alone with you.”

Thomas’ frown reveals incredible frown dimples. It’s everything I can do from getting distracted by them. “What? Why not? We just went out for a walk?—”

“You don’t understand,” I cut him off, impatient, folding my arms tight across my chest as I pace the glass vestibule. The air is still and close and hot. I scan around again. There’re no cameras in here that I can see.

“Start talking, then,” Thomas growls, eyes flashing. His intense gaze burns. “Right now so I can understand what’s exactly wrong with being seen with me. We went for a walk, which as far as I’m aware isn’t a crime?—”

“If I’m seen with you, people might think—they might think I’m gay too,” I hiss.

---