Page 12 of Prince Material
Sure, Your Highness. Whatever helps you sleep on your peasant mattress.
The professor started talking before I could respond with an appropriately witty comeback. I tucked my phone away, trying to focus on stochastic differential equations instead of Greg’s teasing or my roommate’s perfectly organized desk.
Speaking of Orson, I needed to get my mess under control before he snapped and murdered me in my sleep. Thoughknowing him, he’d probably clean up the crime scene afterward and neatly sort my remains, labeling each bone.
The thought made me smile. For someone so serious, he had a surprisingly sharp sense of humor when he let his guard down. Now if only I could figure out how to make that happen more often…
4
ORSON
The Vernon Tech library surrounded me like a cathedral of learning, all polished wood and towering shelves that disappeared into shadowy heights. Light streamed through tall, arched windows, highlighting dust motes that danced in the air. The quiet murmur of students and the subtle creaking of old wood created that particular library atmosphere that usually calmed me, but today, even that couldn’t ease my frustration.
I stared at my laptop screen until the words blurred together, the feedback from Professor Chen burning into my retinas.
While your technical analysis is sound, the project management approach lacks practical consideration of real-world variables…
Real-world variables. Because I knew nothing about those.
My hands clenched into fists under the table. I’d spent hours on this assignment, triple-checking every calculation, reviewing every detail. But somehow, I’d still missed something crucial. The weight of disappointment settled heavy in my chest, mixingwith that familiar guilt. How could I ever hope to succeed in the real world when I couldn’t even do it in a college-level assignment?
Project management was a required course, and though I hated it, I could see the crucial importance of it. It sucked that I was so bad at it.
“There you are!”
I jumped at Floris’s voice, nearly knocking over my coffee. He dropped into the chair across from me with his usual grace, all long limbs and easy smile. Today, he wore a soft-looking, navy T-shirt that made his green eyes even more striking. Not that I was noticing things like that.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “You missed dinner.”
I clicked away from the feedback. “Not hungry.”
“Liar. You’ve been here since your last class ended. That’s…” He checked his phone. “Five hours ago.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure.” His tone made it clear he didn’t believe me. “That’s why you’re trying to murder your laptop with your stare.”
I sighed, pushing my glasses up to rub my tired eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Nope.” He popped the “p” sound, settling in like he planned to stay awhile. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Right.” He leaned forward, those green eyes far too perceptive. “And I’m the King of England.”
The absurdity of that statement, coming from an actual prince, almost made me smile. Almost. “It’s…” I hesitated, but something in his expression made me continue. “Got some feedback on my project management assignment. It wasn’t great.”
“Define ‘wasn’t great.’”
When I showed him the screen, his eyebrows shot up.
“That’s what has you looking like someone killed your puppy? These are good comments.”
“Good?” I scoffed. “She said it lacks practical consideration of real-world variables.”
“Yeah, but your technical analysis was sound. So you’re missing some parts, big deal. It’s not like she wants you to rewrite the whole thing. Let me read it.”
Before I could protest, he’d moved his chair around to my side of the table. He leaned in to read, and I caught a whiff of that subtle cologne he wore. It was as distracting as everything else about him. For all the focus I prided myself on, I had a hard time ignoring him, especially when we were in our room. He drew my eyes like a magnet.
