Page 16

“Thank you, for everything,” I say quietly as I look awkwardly up at Auggie. I have no idea what I should do. Should I hold out a hand, too? Should I bow? Should I kiss his cheek? I don’t recall anything in the cultural customs handbook for formal goodbyes following a night of drinking and passing out in a royal’s bed and then vomiting in their trash can the next day. I decide being me is the best possible approach, so I lean up and kiss his cheek.

I feel him kiss mine and my mind freezes. His lips are soft but firm against my skin and his five-o’clock shadow is rough and makes me want to feel it all over my skin. I internally roll my eyes at myself. I need to not think these things. Auggie and I might as well be from different planets.

His hand grips my upper arm and he pauses there, his lips against my cheek for the briefest of moments before pulling back.

“You’re very welcome, Kate. I’ll see you later this week at the Summer Palace,” he says.

I nod and turn toward Terrance and Harriet, who is waiting by the door. Terrance and I are quiet as we follow her until she pops in to get our dry cleaning, leaving us in a hallway alone.

“Did you sleep with him? And now you are going to the Summer Palace?!” he asks way too loudly.

I roll my eyes. “First, no, I didn’t sleep with him, you asshat. I’d have to get him checked for diseases before I’d ever consider that, he’s pretty much labeled as Europe’s Playboy Prince. And second, the king invited me to the palace this week, not Auggie. I can’t exactly turn down the royal leader of the country where I’m studying.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Terrance doesn’t say much as we drive to his apartment first. When he goes to get out, he turns to me.

“I was serious when I said I’d love to hang out. I’m attending a party this weekend. You should come. I’ll text you the deets,” he says as he leans in and kisses my cheek.

“Cool, I’ll see you later, then,” I reply as I lean my head back and close my eyes the rest of the way to my apartment.

CHAPTERSEVEN

August

Two-a-days.That’s the answer. I pound my fists against the weight bag.

“Rough night?” Gerard asks as he leans against a pillar in the gym.

“You could say that.” I don’t have a therapist. I probably need one. Gerard isn’t just my trainer, he’s my shrink.

“What’s her name?”

And he knows me well.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s off-limits if I want to keep my balls.”

“Sounds like you found yourself a live one.”

I sigh and let my hands fall to my sides. Sweat runs down my body and I wipe it from my forehead with the back of my arm, which is also sweaty, thus the sweat just runs down different parts of my face. Gerard throws me a towel, and I promptly wipe the moisture away.

“I…don’t know. She’s…different.”

“Core time. Burpees, go,” Gerard says without missing a beat. I groan and start on burpees.

“Maybe you need different.”

“Not. This. Different,” I manage in between burpees.

“Switch. Walking planks. I think you like this girl.”

I groan and get to it. “She’s. Not. A. Girl. And. No. Not. My. Type,” I huff out while planking.

“Augs, man, you haven’t found your type yet. Trust me. If you had, you’d be with her, right now.”

I pause mid-plank and look up at him. “OK, Yoda, what side of the bed did you sleep on last night?