Page 46 of Prince Material
I was still grinning by the time we got back.
14
ORSON
In one of my project management classes, my professor had talked about a well-known phenomenon called the curse of knowledge. It basically means that once you know something or are able to do something, it’s hard to remember what it’s like not to have that knowledge or that skill. That’s why help desk people are trained in asking the most basic questions, like,Is the computer plugged in?or,Have you tried turning it on and off?
For the first twenty-four years of my life, I hadn’t known Floris, hadn’t stared at him when he smiled, hadn’t felt his lips against mine. For twenty-four years, I’d lived in ignorant bliss… and now, barely twenty-four hours after that kiss in the bathroom, I couldn’t remember what that had been like. How did it feel not to want him? I had no clue.
The curse of knowledge indeed.
We were on our way to the bayou for a swamp tour—his idea, of course. He’d been fascinated by the concept ever since I’d mentioned it casually at breakfast, and his enthusiasm had been impossible to resist. Then again, most things about Floris were impossible to resist.
“So we might actually see alligators?” He bounced slightly in the passenger seat, reminding me of an excited puppy. “Like, real ones? In the wild?”
“If we’re lucky.” I couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. “Though they’re less active this time of year. The water’s getting cooler.”
“Still. Actual alligators in their natural habitat!” He turned to me, green eyes bright with excitement. “That’s so cool. The wildest thing we have back home are some really angry geese.”
“Geese can be pretty terrifying.”
“True. There’s this one at the palace that I swear has a personal vendetta against me. Chased me across the garden once when I was twelve.” He grinned at the memory. “The tabloids would’ve loved that headline: ‘Prince Flees from Angry Waterfowl.’”
I laughed, the sound surprising even me. It was getting easier to laugh around him, to let my guard down. Maybe that should’ve scared me more than it did.
The drive to the bayou was peaceful, the morning sun painting everything in soft gold. Floris kept up a steady stream of commentary about everything from Dutch wildlife to the time he accidentally caused an incident my mispronouncing the German word for humid.
“You did not,” I said.
“I absolutely did. The difference was an umlaut; that’s what the Germans call those two dots on a letter, in this case a u.Schwülwith an umlaut means humid or sultry.Schwulwithout one means gay. So I basically told the ambassador the weather was gay. He took offense.”
“Only you could accidentally offend an ambassador with weather talk.” I shook my head, unable to suppress my smile. “Though I’m surprised he was offended by that.”
“Oh, he wasn’t offended by the gay part. He was offended I’d mangled his beautiful language.” Floris stretched in his seat, and I definitely didn’t notice how his shirt rode up slightly. “Germans take their grammar very seriously.”
The bayou appeared ahead, misty in the morning light. Spanish moss draped the cypress trees like ghostly curtains, and the air grew heavier with that distinctive swamp smell—earthy and ancient.
“Wow,” Floris breathed as we pulled into the small parking area. “It’s like something out of a movie.”
“Wait until we’re actually out on the water.” I led him toward the dock where our tour boat waited. “The bayou has its own kind of magic.”
“Speaking of magic…” He caught my hand, tugging me to a stop. When I turned to look at him, his expression was soft but serious. “Are we okay? After yesterday?”
My heart stuttered. The memory of that kiss flooded back—his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, the way everything had felt simultaneously terrifying and absolutely right. “Yeah,” I managed. “We’re okay.”
His thumb traced circles on my palm, sending shivers up my arm. “Good. Because I meant what I said about taking it slow, about figuring this out together.”
I squeezed his hand, gathering courage from his steady presence. “I know. Thank you for… for understanding. For being patient.”
His smile was warm enough to chase away the morning chill. “Though you’re making it very difficult when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me again.”
Heat rushed to my face. “I?—”
“All aboard!” The tour guide’s voice saved me from having to respond. “Tour’s starting in five minutes!”
