Page 13

That was the quiet little mantra I repeated to myself as I collected my things and did my best to escape before running into anyone who wanted to talk. I needed a piss since I’d downed four water bottles during the read and neglected to go during the breaks.
The hallway was quiet, and the three-stall bathroom was empty when I got in. Or I thought it was. I skipped over the urinal for a stall so I could have a moment of privacy, but the moment I put my hand on the wall and started to let go, I heard a squeak in the one beside me.
Then, something small and hard hit the floor with a loudtapbefore a familiar voice began to curse under his breath.
“God fucking damn it. This is all I fucking needed right now.” It was the prince.
I glanced down to see a small blue thing that looked a bit like a pen cap rolling toward me.
“Fuck my life,” Camillo said. He took a breath, then said, “Sorry, is there any chance you could hand that to me?”
I stared at it for a beat. “What is it?”
“Oh God, of course it would be you.” He sounded so thrilled to hear my voice. “It’s my catheter cap. It’s not dirty, so could you please pass that over?”
If it wasn’t dirty before, it was now, I thought as I shook my dick, then tucked myself back into my boxers before bending down. The automatic toilet flushed, scaring the bejeezus out of me, and my attempt to awkwardly kneel was thwarted as both knees hit the tiles.
Hard.
“Motherfuck.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Camillo said dryly.
I shoved my hand under the stall, the cap in my palm. “This is probably pretty nasty now.” I held my hand there, but nothing happened.
After a beat, Camillo sighed. “I can’t reach you.”
I groaned, then did the only thing I could do. I shoved half my body under the stall. I was met first with the wheels of his chair, then his body. He was facing the toilet with a tube hanging over the lip. “Uh. What’s happening here?”
“I’m taking a piss,” he said, snatching the cap from my hand, then shoving my head back under with the heel of his palm. I jumped up and suddenly felt disgusting. God knows what I’d been kneeling in.
“I didn’t know you used a catheter,” I blurted out, trying to fill the awkward silence. I knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say. The second my hip touched the sink, the disabled stall door opened, and he rolled out.
He looked like he wanted to shoot fire out of his eyes. “That’s why you shouldn’t be playing this role.”
I snorted as I started to wash my hands. “Right. For all those catheter scenes they’re going to be showing?”
“They fucking should,” he snapped. “And forgive me for assuming how you do your job, but I figured you’d at least try to know the ins and outs of someone with a spinal injury like mine since, you know, you’re going to be playing me.”
My throat felt all hot again. I grabbed a couple of paper towels, then turned to watch him wash his own hands. I couldn’t see the catheter now, but I could see a lump under the left leg of his jeans, and I had a feeling I knew what that was.
He met my gaze like he was about to challenge me to a duel. Did they do those anymore? The royals?
“You looked like you had a lot to say at the table read,” I finally said.
He blinked like he was shocked that was my response. I moved aside so he could reach the towel dispenser, and for a moment, I thought he was going to leave without another word. Instead, he turned his chair and stared at me, though still didn’t say a word.
“I don’t mind criticism,” I murmured. The silence was way too awkward for me. “I prefer it.”
“Do you? Because I just gave you some right now, and you acted like I was a moron for pointing out that you should know how your character’s body functions.”
He wasn’t wrong, as much as I wanted him to be. My defenses were so fucking high I’d come out the gate swinging like a drunk frat boy.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Uh…does it hurt?”
He stared at me for a long beat. “Does what hurt?”
“Any of it? All of it? I actually did a bunch of reading, but it seems like every single person with your—ah?—”