Page 75 of Prince Material
Diana opened it before I could knock, pulling me into a warm hug. “You wonderful boy,” she whispered. “He’s going to be so happy to see you.”
“Where is he?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“In his room, studying of course.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “Some things never change. Go on up.”
I took the stairs as quietly as possible, my heart pounding against my ribs. The door to Orson’s room was partially open, and I could see him sitting at his desk, wild curls falling over his forehead as he bent over what looked like a textbook. The sight made my chest tight with emotion.
God, I loved him. Every careful, brilliant, overthinking inch of him.
I knocked softly on the doorframe. “So this is what civil engineers do on their Christmas break? Study more?”
Orson’s head snapped up, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Floris?” Orson stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “How… What are you…”
“Surprise?” I managed, drinking in the sight of him. His hair was even wilder than usual, like he’d been running his hands through it while studying. He wore that soft, green sweater I loved, the one that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes, and his glasses were slightly askew in that way that always made me want to reach out and straighten them.
He stood up so quickly, his chair nearly toppled over. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”
“I couldn’t stay away.” I stepped into the room, letting my bag drop to the floor. “Not after yesterday. Not after what you said.”
“What I…” His eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You flew all the way here because I said I love you?”
“Because you said you love me, because your uncle was an ass, because I needed to see you.” I moved closer, drawn to him like gravity. “Because I love you too, and saying it over the phone wasn’t enough.”
Orson made a soft sound, something between a laugh and asob, and then he was moving too, meeting me halfway. His hands came up to frame my face as our lips met, and everything else fell away: the journey, the press, the complications. None of it mattered except this, except us.
I pulled him closer, one hand tangling in those wild curls while the other wrapped around his waist. He tasted like coffee and something sweet, probably the remains of Christmas cookies, and his body fit against mine like it was made to be there.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, I rested my forehead against his.
“Hi,” I whispered.
He laughed, the sound warm and real. “Hi yourself. I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“Where else would I be?” I brushed a curl from his forehead, savoring the ability to touch him again. “The second you told me you loved me, staying away became impossible.”
His eyes searched my face, those beautiful, brown depths full of emotion. “But the press… Won’t they notice?”
“They might, yes.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Orson’s hands tightened slightly on my shoulders. “With them finding out about us?”
“I’m more than okay with it… if you are too.” I traced his cheekbone with my thumb, memorizing the way his skin flushed at my touch. “Let them see. Let them write whatever they want. You’re worth any headline they could come up with.”
His breath caught. “Floris…”
“I mean it.” I pulled back enough to meet his eyes properly. “I’m done hiding how I feel about you. I’m done worrying about what people might say or think. I love you, Orson Ritchey, and I want the whole world to know it.”
“Even if I’m not…” He swallowed hard. “Not what they expect for someone like you?”
“You’re exactly what I want. Who I want.” I kissed him again, soft and quick. “And anyone who can’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth our time.”
He smiled then, that rare, unguarded smile that transformed his whole face. “Thank you.”
“So you’re in? You’re okay with the possibility of this leaking?”
He pulled up his nose. “That makes it sound dirty.”
Fair point. “With the possibility of the whole world finding out about us?”
