Page 61 of Royals
One corner of Miles’s mouth kicks up. “Royalty,” he says, and I think of Sherbet, telling me that a monarch could just take anything they wanted out of his house.
“You’re all insane,” I say, and Miles, to my surprise, doesn’t get all huffy and offended. Instead, he nods.
“More or less.”
“Monters! Lady Daze!”
Sherbet is heading toward us, grinning, his eyes bright and his face flushed, Galen following in his wake.
When I’d first heard about Sherbet’s Greek shipping heir boyfriend, I’d assumed he’d be as blindingly handsome and glamorous as Sherbet. Instead, he’s a good head shorter than Sherbet, kind of chubby, and so shy that he blushes any time he has to make small talk.
And Sherbet is totally nuts about him.
“Why aren’t the two of you dancing?” Sherbet asks, and Miles nods at him and Galen.
“Could ask the two of you the same thing,” he says, and Sherbet laughs, throwing his arm around Galen’s shoulders.
“Didn’t want to show everyone up, old man,” he says, then turns his eyes to the dance floor, where the dance is wrapping up. Seb leads Tamsin away, his head bent low as he talks to her, and Sherbet heaves a sigh.
“So that’s on, then,” he says, and Miles nods. “Seems so.”
Turning his hazel eyes back to me, Sherbet nudges my arm. “We’d all hoped Seb might settle on you since you’re such a laugh.”
I shoot him a wry look. “I don’t think ‘a laugh’ is what Seb needs.”
That makes Sherbet chortle, and he shakes his head, dark hair flopping over his brow. “True, true. But it’s good for Monters here, at least!”
He slaps Miles’s arm, and I try to keep the surprise off my face. So Miles hasn’t told them that we’re not the real deal?
The music changes suddenly, going from sedate background music into something wild and raucous.
Sherbet’s whole face lights up, and he grabs my hand and Miles’s. “Strip the Willow!” he yells, tugging us both toward the floor, and I yell back, “What?”
But it’s clear as soon as we’re in the crowd that Strip the Willow is a dance, not some kind of potentially perverted Brit slang.
I dig my heels in, coming to a stop. “Whoa, I don’t know that,” I say, watching as men and women begin to form twolines. My parents are in there, as are Ellie and Alex. Even the queen is in the lineup now.
But Sherbet is not taking no for an answer. “Neither does Galen,” he says, “so you can both learn. Me and Monters will teach you!”
Shooting a panicked glance at Miles, I lift my eyebrows and mouth,Help,but he only smiles and shakes his head.
“If you can get this, you’ll survive anything,” he says.
And the next thing I know, I’m standing next to Sherbet, facing Miles, Galen at his side, and my sister a few people down.
What happens next is... chaotic.
Strip the Willow is an enthusiastic dance that involves clasping hands, swinging, moving down the line... And it’s complicated enough that only a few people really know what they’re doing, so there’s a fair amount of colliding into each other, stumbling, and I’m dizzy within about thirty seconds.
I’m also laughing.
It’s hard not to, with the general chaos, the Royal Wreckers stealing partners from each other, the loud fiddle music, and for the first time since I came here, I’m not thinking about people watching me or judging me. I’m just... having fun.
Miles’s hands catch mine as I’m still laughing, his fingers squeezing, his skin warm, and our eyes meet as we spin.
He’s grinning, too, his face shiny with sweat, his hair escaping whatever gel he used to slick it down this evening, and this flutter starts up in my chest that has nothing to do with the dance.
It’s so startling that I let go of his hands, which is a bad ideabecause momentum nearly sends me crashing into the people near us. Luckily the dance is so wild that no one really notices, but Miles frowns a little, a trio of wrinkles popping up between his brows.
