Page 52 of How to Date a Prince

“My nan says I have people skills.” Travis laughs, and so do the others.

“Well, points to you for good conduct. Not sure if that goes in the house tables or what.” I pause over my sandwich. “Thomas is safe in the lead, though.”

Thomas shrugs. “It’s only after week one. Let’s see who’s still here in week nine.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got the most competition right now,” Travis says to him. “And listen, this doesn’t make sense. Like, if anyone was going to get sabotaged right now, it ought to be you, mate.” He glances at me. “Like—no offense, Your Majesty, uhh, Your Royal Highness—you’re more or less a goner after last week. Like you need any help on the way out. Sorry.”

I can’t help it: I laugh.

“Well,” Travis continues, nodding to himself, “it’s kind of like kicking a puppy in the cold, innit? Like, it’s already cold. Why bother?”

Running a hand through my hair, I lean back in my chair. “Exactly. I’m no kind of threat at the minute. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless the lead is so insecure he wants to eliminate you?” says Wilson coolly.

“Hey,” says Thomas, frowning as he turns to face Wilson. “It wasn’t me.”

“Well, it wasn’t me either,” says Wilson, defiant. He folds his arms across his chest. He pushes his chair back, looking at me. “Good luck starting over. That’s quite the motherfucking handicap.”

“Thanks. I look forward to it.” I brush my fingers clean on a paper napkin.

Travis gets up, too, with his empty plate, setting it back on the tray. “Catch you boys later.”

Once they’re gone, Thomas moves a seat closer to me.

I lower my voice ever so slightly. “I might’ve thrown you under the proverbial bus.”

He gives me a sharp look.

“For the show.”

“Ah.” He nods, then works on the second half of his remaining sandwich.

This game has suddenly become a lot more interesting.

“And you’re going to start over?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows.

“Have no choice, really. Or leave? That’s not an option.”

“I mean… that’s so much work. Throwing a table set or whatever for how many?”

“Eight, I guess. I was going for twelve, but I don’t think I have time. Not with serving ware and other things I was planning.”

“Well… why pottery?” Thomas challenges, cleaning his fingers off on a cloth napkin. “Why tableware, anyway?”

“Because I like making it?”

“And you’re good at it. But do you love it?” Thomas smiles ever so slightly. “You know they’ll ask.”

“I don’t know if I love tableware per se, but I do love working with clay,” I admit. “Anything else is more of a risk.”

“How do you feel about risk?” He holds my gaze.

My lips twitch. It’s a thrill, playing this game with him. Except we’re alone together in a prime video recording area. “It depends on the risk.”

“Mm. What about a different strategy?”

“Like what?”

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