Page 45 of How to Date a Prince

“Last night,” Thomas echoes. He looks nonchalant, yet I see the vulnerability in his eyes. Like it meant something to him too. And we’ve both been caught being reckless. “They’re obligated to have at least one disastrous confessional, don’t worry. Makes for a good story arc. Anyway, you’re welcome to hide out here if you’re avoiding people. As long as I’m not one of the people you want to be avoiding, that is.”

I fidget with a sleeve of my light linen shirt. I swallow hard, then shake my head. My voice drops to a whisper. “I was, err, getting worried when I didn’t see you this afternoon.”

I take in the sight of him, his dark hair and green eyes. Like me, he looks tired, and he probably hasn’t slept enough either.

“C’mere.” He pats the log beside him. “If you want.”

“Thomas, they’ve recorded us,” I whisper. “They could be recording us right now.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead reddening, dragging his hands through his hair like he’s washing away memories of getting caught together. Meanwhile, I’m light-headed and nauseous at the idea we’ve been filmed and how I—we—we will be exposed literally for the world to see.

At last, he speaks. “They went a bit heavy on your foundation, I think. I like more of what you did in the club, frankly. Your eye makeup was amazing that night. Even with the sunglasses.”

I redden. “Well. They didn’t give me a chance to do my own makeup today.”

A long moment passes while we consider each other. The sun is dazzling, but Thomas more so. His tan has deepened. Mercifully, he’s wearing his shirt, unlike the others I saw a little while ago.

Finally, he replies, his voice low. “I was fucking worried last night.”

I shrug. “Me too, to be honest.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” I murmur, “but my trust level with people is generally not very high. And especially not after what’s happened. Which isn’t your fault. But… well, it doesn’t feel great.”

“If it helps…” Thomas gives me a wry smile. “In this instance, I have as much to lose as you do. So, I’m trusting you with my secrets too. It’s not only about you and yours, by the way. You being a royal and me… very much not.”

I open my mouth, caught out. “Sorry. You’re right. Absolutely right. I’m being an arse?—”

“I didn’t say that. It’s that you don’t need to worry with me. As much or as little as I need to worry with you.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Right? Can we make a deal?”

“Right. Yes. I’m sorry, Thomas.” I shake my head at myself, at last sitting beside Thomas. I consider him, then dare to place my hand over his on the log between us. His gaze falls from mine to our linked hands. His hand is warm, a much-needed comfort. For a moment, I can imagine I’m someone out in the world, living freely in a moment where no one cares who I am. More than that, I’m free with Thomas.

Because of Thomas. Which is terrifying.

He squeezes. And he smiles when he looks at me again.

A few minutes later, after we sit in silence like that for a while, I gently take my hand back. We listen to the birds and watch a squirrel conduct its business.

“Today we talked about my family,” I say at last. “Including my mother. Who I tried baking for. And it was a wreck, as you saw. I never thanked you for the help with separating the egg.”

“It’s no bother.” Thomas shrugs. “I like baking.”

“You’re obviously brilliant at it.”

“It relaxes me, that’s all. Now, tell me. What relaxes you?”

I shake my head slowly. “Hell if I know.”

“You seemed pretty happy with the pottery last night,” Thomas points out. “And… after.”

I open my mouth and shut it. Air huffs out of me.

“What else?” Thomas prompts.

“I don’t know. Walking, I guess. Especially out in the country.”

“And?”

---