Page 94 of Royal Fling
August and I were over, and I just had to move on with my life.
Although how possible that would be was another matter entirely. Especially when the press wouldn’t stop writing about us, although admittedly, after four weeks, if they did write about us, it was just a slow news day.
I guess our whole affair was old news now.
Even if my walking out on August’s proposal went viral. Some assholes had even camped outside our family home trying to get an exclusive.
The Talk, The View, Wendy Williams, and God knew how many more talk shows had tried to snatch a tell-all interview with the man who walked out on a prince.
But since August and I had parted ways and gone to our respective homes, everyone had slowly forgotten about me.
That was exactly how I liked it.
It was almost like it never happened. The operative word being almost.
I was still connected to him via Fisayo, but no matter how lonely or depressed I got, I never asked her about him.
Our fling was good while it lasted, but that was it. We were over. And that was the end of that, even if I wanted him to come after me. To tell me he loved me. To prove to me he really wanted me.
“Come on, Luke. Stop being so damn melancholy. School’s starting tomorrow, and you still need to help me with my wedding preparations,” Charlie said, sitting down with me at the Beer Residency, Rohan’s bar on Main Street.
Although describing it as a bar was being generous. It was more like… what did they call it in London? A watering hole?
Rohan’s bar was more of a storeroom. A square space with a window up high that did little to offer any of the scenic view outside—it was smack dab right on the beachfront after all—and had barely five tables in it.
“Do I have to, Charlie? You know I'm not in the mood,” I said.
Charlie put his hands on his hips and glared at me.
“I'm sorry. I'll just go tell Adam and all our guests that RSVPed that we’ll postpone the wedding until my brother’s broken heart has healed, shall I?”
“That’ll be grand. Thanks,” I said.
As expected, I got a smack on the head. Both from Charlie and Rohan at the same time.
“Hey! I was just kidding,” I said.
“No, you were being a dick,” Rohan said and sat down at our table.
It was Sunday afternoon, so it wasn't all that busy. In fact, it was empty. Frankly, I didn't know how Rohan and his brother even made any money. But that was a different conversation.
“Hey, you're supposed to be my friend,” I whined.
“Exactly. I am your friend, and that's why I speak the truth. Did you know he hasn't fucked me once since he came back?” he turned to tell Charlie.
“Du-ude! Too much information,” Charlie screeched.
I slapped my forehead and rolled my eyes.
“Rohan, you're being an idiot.”
Yes, Rohan was my best friend. With benefits. Until, of course, I left for London. And while usually his friendly touchy and submissive nature could cheer me up, this time he couldn’t. Nothing could.No onecould.
No one but August.
“Well, what? Do you think you’re the only depressed gay around here? I used to have my steady supply of dick and now… he won’t even get it up for me,” Rohan said in an over-dramatic tone.
Charlie smacked his head on the table in despair, and I pushed Rohan off his chair.
