Page 28 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)

“I remember seeing some pictures of you online on horses, but I didn’t realize the extent of your training.

Princes trotting by on polo ponies is a niche I could really get into,” Thomas teases, then frowns.

“But wait a minute. I know you’re talking about jumping and stuff.

But I’m pretty sure I would’ve heard about a prince competing at the Olympics. ”

Flustered, I glance away. “Because I didn’t. I had to make a choice after my gap year. My father told me it was either uni or royal duties.”

Thomas’s expression darkens. “Hang on. Neither of those options involves horses.”

I hold his gaze for a long moment. Finally, I clear my throat, my voice soft. “Some of us don’t get to have the same chance at choices, I’m afraid.”

“Fucking hell.” Thomas scowls. “Like, it’s not exactly easy—or shameful—to qualify for the Olympics. I can only imagine how much that effort meant to you too.”

I don’t say anything and let my expression drift to royal default neutral as I think of it.

“My duty is to our subjects, not my personal ambitions. I can’t separate myself from what I represent, Thomas.

I will be King one day. It’s a big responsibility, a duty that I bear.

And yes, was born into, for better or worse, problematic history and all.

One day, I hope to address some of that history and the problems of colonialism and start making amends.

This life wasn’t something I asked for. But I think of all the sacrifices my ancestors made before me.

My sacrifice is small, giving up horses. ”

“That sounds way more like King James and not you.”

I return to studying my fingers, fidgeting with my ring, like if I spin it enough times around my fingers, it’ll decode the path forward in my life, and Thomas will magically land in it, along with my personal dreams. “In the end, I sold my horse and went to uni. I refused to take political science or economics. I ended up in art history, which my father hated. I possibly should have taken something more useful.”

Thomas’ gaze burns. I feel the tension in him as he struggles to take in what I’ve told him. “We need beauty in the world, Auggie. It gives people hope. Joy. Meaning.”

“I guess,” I say finally, “this is why I can’t sleep at night, in part. To go back to your earlier question.”

“Fucking hell.” He shakes his head again.

Heat rises in my face under his close scrutiny. All of this vulnerability isn’t something I’m used to. “Don’t feel bad for me. I have many privileges few have?—”

“Auggie, that ought to be criminal, losing your dreams like that. And your connection to your mother.”

My lips press flat. I glance at him. “I wanted to bring home gold for her. It wasn’t about me. Not really. It gave me something to focus on. Because when she died, I lost my father too. He shut down. We aren’t close. He doesn’t understand me on a fundamental level.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Fuck.”

“I ride now and again, but not like I did. It’s too hard,” I confess. “Facing what I’ve given up and then keeping who I am hidden away. All of this privilege comes at a price, believe me.”

“It’s too much, Auggie. It’s not reasonable.”

I shake my head too. “It is what it is.”

Thomas rubs his face with his hands. He gives an easy shrug, his shirt pulling across his muscled shoulders. “I guess I’ve taken a lot for granted. I know I’ve been lucky. Supportive family, being out since I was a teenager, following my dreams.”

I smile. “I’m glad. You deserve all that and more.”

Thomas frowns at me. “It’s still not right, what’s happened to you.”

It’s a wound to see him looking like that, so upset on my behalf. I want to smooth the frown away with my fingertips, to tell him it doesn’t matter, to kiss him into distraction where we wake up in different lives. But we both know it does matter. And that these things leave a legacy of their own.

“I don’t know any different. And… I need to focus on the present. Not the past. Which, at the moment, is here with you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across all intense.”

“It’s kind of hot, actually.”

“Hot.” He shakes his head but at last relents into a smile, and I thrill at the sight. “More on that later, please.”

“What about you?” I ask. “What’s your family like?”

“Well, like you, my parents want me to go into the family business. But we’re close, me and my mom and dad.

I’m their only child. But I have lots of cousins and friends, growing up.

I was always cooking with my mom and my aunts, her sisters.

With my dad, I got my love of the outdoors and eventually into mountaineering. ”

“That sounds brilliant.”

“It was,” Thomas admits. “I ended up at Harvard Business. I had great friends, like my best friend, Chip, growing up and into adults together. We went on so many adventures, covered for each other, backed each other up. It was a shame he wasn’t into men.

” He smiles, but it doesn’t warm his eyes like it did earlier.

“I lost him a couple of years ago. We were mountaineering together… and there was an accident. An avalanche. He didn’t make it.

I still blame myself, that it was my fault.

We were always so careful about safety, did all the right things.

Except that day, it wasn’t enough to save him too. ”

“I’m so sorry.” I interlace my fingers with his, as it’s his turn to look downcast. His shoulders sag.

“Thanks. After he died, I wanted to do something positive, you know? I worked a lot on myself. Which is why I really got into content creation and made this new social media app about helping people be the best they can be, about watching out for each other. About renewal and I guess redemption too. I suppose I’m still trying to find a way for Chip to forgive me. ”

“I’m sure he’d forgive you, petal.” I search his eyes. “After all, it was an accident, right? It doesn’t sound like it was deliberate or negligence.”

Thomas shakes his head. “We were always so careful. We had safety plans, did training and practiced, and still it wasn’t enough.

” He gazes at me. “Last year, I summited Kilimanjaro with my father, for Chip. We’d always talked about doing that together.

And I’m glad I could share that with my dad, at least.”

“You sound like you have a great relationship with your father. With your family. I wish I had that.”

Thomas searches my eyes. “Maybe one day, you will.”

I kiss him then, searching and soft at first, till everything heats up all over again, urgent hunger and want and need as we sink together into the sofa.

Our clothes soon fall to the floor in a tangle of fabric.

We’re all limbs entwined, endless kisses and gasps, as the city lights twinkle below us in our own make-believe world.

Later, I wake up in Thomas’ sleek bed, looking over at the silhouette of nighttime London painted in a million lights in the rain.

The soft black sky is balanced off with the yellow-orange glow of city lights, with the traffic lights below changing to empty streets.

A hint of orange peeks to the east. I suppose when you’re on the forty-fourth floor, there’s no point in drawing the blinds shut for modesty or fear of the paparazzi.

He murmured earlier in my ear that the windows are tinted anyway.

A moment later, we hadn’t cared about tints or anything other than each other.

I roll over to my other side and gaze at Thomas, sprawled out on his back, an arm flung overhead against the pillows. He’s out cold, his mouth slightly open. Totally hot, even so.

It would be terribly easy for me to slip out right now, unnoticed.

It would be so much easier. My stomach tightens.

Because being together like this is far too tempting.

Too easy to grow into something more, too difficult to guard my heart from falling in love.

It would be way too dangerous. And yet I crave him beyond reason.

Reluctantly, I get out of bed long enough to text for a car to come get me. Then I slide in beside him and trace his shoulder.

“Thomas…” I murmur at last, savoring the moment, the touch of his skin beneath my fingers.

His eyes open a fraction, and a sleepy smile crosses his lips. “You can call me Thom now. After that.”

“Thom,” I whisper, loving the intimacy of his nickname.

I smile and brush my mouth against Thomas’, hot against my lips. He reaches for me, but I shake my head and pull away, barely out of his reach.

Thomas frowns slightly, opening his eyes. He shifts in bed. The cotton sheets rustle. He tries again. This time, I give into the temptations of his arms and sink into his body. My heart thunders so loudly he must hear it too.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” I whisper, my voice caught in my throat. “You know why.”

“It’s 4:00 a.m.”

“Exactly, gorgeous. It’s the perfect time for me to leave. Exit stage right. But I didn’t want to go without telling you.”

He reaches out to trace my jaw, then my lips. “I’ll miss your face at breakfast. Your mouth. And everything else.”

I lightly bite his fingertips, a smile spreading across my lips despite myself. “That’s what memories are for.”

“Well…” Thomas frowns as I sit up. “When will I see you next?”

“About that.”

His frown deepens as he searches my eyes.

“Why did I have a feeling this was coming?” Thomas sighs.

I’m holding my breath.

“You know this can’t last, petal,” I say so quietly even I can barely hear my voice. It even sounds as raw as I feel. “The longer this goes on between us, you know the worse it’s going to be when it ends. You can’t forget who I am. Or who you are. And where we come from.”

“That’s what frequent-flyer points are for,” he teases, and then his smile fades. He interlaces his fingers with mine, his head bowed for a moment. “Fuck, Auggie.”

“You’ll see me next week, anyway. All the more reason to call me names, in earnest maybe next time. I don’t mind. Call me everything awful.”