Page 27 of Prince Material
“Wasn’t sleeping,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Was waiting.”
I pushed myself on one elbow, our faces only inches apart. I could just see enough with a glimpse of moonlight peeking in from between the curtains. “Waiting? For what?”
“You.” He blinked owlishly at me. “Wanted to make sure you got back okay. It got so late, and…”
Warmth filled me. “You were worried about me?”
“No.” He adjusted his glasses, a sure tell that he was lying. “Just… Campus isn’t always safe at night, and you’re never back this late. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t gotten yourself into trouble.”
“Right.” I couldn’t help smiling. “So you stayed up wearing your glasses in bed because you weren’t worried at all.”
He scowled, but there was no heat in it. “Shut up. I was reading.”
“Of course you were.” I straightened up, immediatelymissing his warmth. “Well, I’m back safe and sound. No need to worry—I mean, no need to not worry anymore.”
Even in the dim light, I could see his cheeks flush. “Whatever. Just… go to bed.”
But as I reluctantly removed myself from his bed and climbed into my own, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. He’d waited up for me. Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling this… whatever this was.
Though that thought was probably more dangerous than any late-night campus walk could ever be.
8
ORSON
The bass from the frat house speakers vibrated through my bones as we approached, and I already regretted letting Floris talk me into this. Halloween parties weren’t my thing. Too many people, too much chaos, too many opportunities for things to go wrong.
But he’d looked so excited when he’d asked, those green eyes lighting up as he described the “quintessential American college experience” we needed to have. He’d been almost giddy to discover that VTC did, in fact, have frat parties. The fact that I’d survived three years here without ever attending one was apparently not convincing proof it wasn’t all that quintessential.
It was getting harder and harder to say no every time Floris invited me to do something. My almost consistent rejections didn’t seem to deter him from asking again, which somehow made me feel guilty.
Plus, I liked spending time with him. He was funny and kind, caring and smart, and he had this aura about him, this charm that drew me to him like a damn moth to a flame. And he was so,so freaking hot. Sharing a room with him had become the sweetest kind of torture.
“You okay?” Floris asked beside me, his hand brushing my arm. He was dressed as Han Solo, because of course he was. The costume suited him perfectly—that casual confidence, the way he carried himself like he owned any room he walked into. Meanwhile, I’d cobbled together what passed for a Luke Skywalker outfit, mainly because Floris had insisted we needed matching costumes and I’d been too flustered by his enthusiasm to argue.
“Fine,” I lied, adjusting my glasses. “I’m processing.”
His smile was knowing. “We don’t have to stay long. Just long enough to say we did it, yeah?”
The fact that he was already offering an escape route brought such warmth inside. Two months ago, I would’ve sworn the “Party Prince” wouldn’t understand my discomfort with crowds. But Floris had proven to be full of surprises.
Inside, the party was exactly what I’d expected—too loud, too crowded, and definitely violating several fire codes. Red cups littered every surface, and the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and cheaper cologne. Fake cobwebs draped the ceiling, and someone had arranged plastic skeletons in questionable poses throughout the room.
Floris’s face lit up as he took it all in. “This is brilliant! Look at that skeleton doing a keg stand!”
I couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. Everything about American college life seemed to delight him, from the dining hall’s mysterious “meatloaf surprise” to the ancient washing machines that ate socks. His joy was infectious, making even this chaos seem almost bearable.
“Prince Charming!” A voice called out, and I turned to see aguy from Floris’s calculus study group approaching. Mike? Mark? Something with an M. “You made it!”
“Matt!” Floris’s grin widened. Of course he remembered everyone’s name. “Nice costume!”
Matt was dressed as what I assumed was supposed to be a zombie frat boy, though he mostly looked like someone who’d lost a fight with a make-up kit. “Thanks! You guys want drinks? We’ve got this stuff called ‘witch’s brew’ that’ll knock your socks off.”
I opened my mouth to decline, but Floris beat me to it. “Maybe later. We just got here, want to look around first.”
Matt nodded, already distracted by someone else calling his name. “Cool, cool. Catch you later!”
As he disappeared into the crowd, I gave Floris a look. “Prince Charming?”
