Page 16 of Prince Material
“Partly.” He shrugged, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “I want one year where I can mess up without itmaking international headlines. Where I can be me. Without the crown, without the expectations. Without having to be perfect all the time.”
The longing in his voice resonated with something deep inside me. How many times had I wished for the same thing? To be free of the guilt, the pressure, the constant need to prove myself? “I get it. Not the royal part, obviously. But the pressure to be perfect? The fear of messing up? Yeah, I get that.”
Our eyes met across the table, and I saw recognition there, a shared understanding that went beyond words. Here was someone else who knew what it was like to live under the weight of expectations, albeit for very different reasons.
“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” His smile was softer now, more genuine.
“I’m not—” I started to protest, but he cut me off with a look.
He leaned forward, those green eyes intense. “So here’s what we’re going to do. This weekend, we’re going to explore Worcester. No studying, no responsibilities. Two guys checking out their new city.”
“It’s not new to me.”
“It is if you’ve never made the effort to do some sightseeing.”
“I can’t?—”
“You can. The world won’t end if you take one day off.” His voice softened. “Trust me, I’m something of an expert on balancing duty and personal life. Or at least, I’m learning to be.”
I should say no. I had reading to do, problems to solve, a perfect GPA to maintain. But something in his expression made me hesitate. Maybe he was right. Maybe I did need to learn how to live a little.
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
5
FLORIS
Worcester’s downtown spread before us. Historic brick buildings stood shoulder to shoulder with modern, glass structures, all bathed in the golden light of a September morning. The Commons buzzed with weekend activity, food trucks lining the periphery while students and locals sprawled on the grass, soaking up what might be one of the last warm days before fall truly set in.
“I can’t believe you actually came with me,” I said to Orson as we walked, still half-expecting him to suddenly remember an urgent study session and bolt. He looked different outside of our dorm room—more relaxed somehow, though still carrying himself with that careful precision that seemed as much a part of him as his wild curls.
And, much to my surprise, he was carrying a camera. A very nice one, even.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” He adjusted his glasses, a habit I’d noticed he had when feeling defensive. “Besides, you wouldn’t stop texting me reminders this morning when I was at the library.”
“I sent exactly three texts.”
“In the span of ten minutes.”
“I was being thorough.” I grinned at his eye roll. “Come on, even you have to admit this beats staring at textbooks all day.”
“I plead the fifth.”
Not wanting to annoy him, I gestured at his Nikon. “I didn’t know you liked photography.”
He let out a little laugh. “I do. It’s a hobby of mine, but I don’t do it as often as I should.”
“Should? Isn’t a hobby something you do because you want to? Because you love it?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, a frown marring his features. “You’re right. I don’t use my camera as often as I would like.”
I bumped his shoulder. “Then I’m glad you brought it today.”
The morning air carried the scent of coffee from nearby cafés mixed with something sweet, probably from the waffle truck that had caught my eye. My stomach growled, reminding me I’d skipped breakfast in my excitement to start our exploration.
“You’re hungry,” Orson observed.
“I’m always hungry. It’s my natural state of being.” I nodded toward the waffle truck. “Want to split one? They smell amazing.”
