“And you should know that I’m entitled to wear anything you can wear. I outrank you,” Sam shot back, then blinked at her own words. She’d said nearly the same thing to Teddy last year—I outrank you, and I command that you kiss me. And he had.
“I can’t argue with that logic,” Marshall replied, chuckling.
Sam’s pulse quickened. Her blood seemed to have turned to jet fuel, her entire body buzzing with recklessness. The pain of seeing Teddy with Beatrice felt muffled beneath this new, sharp emotion. “Let’s go back inside.”
Marshall set the bottle down with deliberate slowness; Sam noticed that it was nearly empty. “Right now?” he asked. “Why?”
Because it was fun, because she wanted to stir up trouble, because she needed to do something or she felt like she would implode.
“Think of how furious it’ll make Kelsey, seeing us together,” she offered, but something in her tone must have given her away.
Marshall’s eyes lit on hers in a long, searching look. “Which of your exes are you trying to make jealous?”
“He’s not my ex,” Sam replied, then immediately longed to bite back the words. “I mean, not technically.”
“I see.” Marshall nodded with maddening calm, which somehow made Sam even more defensive.
“Look, it’s none of your business, okay?”
“Of course not.”
Silence fell between them, more charged than before. Sam wondered if she’d revealed too much.
But Marshall just held out an arm. “Well then, Your Royal Highness, allow me the pleasure of being your distraction.”
As they headed back into the party, he let his hand slide with casual possessiveness to the small of her back. Sam tossed her head, her smile blazing, relishing the low hum of gossip that arose when people saw them together. She forced herself to look up at Marshall, to keep herself from searching the crowds for Teddy. She didn’t want him thinking that she’d spared him a moment’s consideration.
If she spent the rest of tonight with another future duke, Teddy would see just how little his rejection had hurt her—that he’d never really mattered to her at all.
Nina shifted on her stomach, turning the page of the book that lay open before her.
She and Rachel were out in the Henry Courtyard, the vast lawn around which most of the freshman dorms were clustered. Everyone seemed determined to take advantage of the sunshine: sprawling on picnic blankets, blasting music from portable speakers. A few yards away, Nina saw a group of students eating brownies straight out of the pan. She had a feeling that they contained a little more than sugar.
“Are you seriously trying to read right now?” Rachel demanded from her neighboring beach towel. “Jane Austen can wait.”
Nina shook her head in amusement, but marked her page and sat up. “Actually, it’s Jane Eyre.”
“Austen, Eyre, they’re all full of tortured romance and you love it.” Rachel bit her lip as if unsure whether to continue. “Speaking of which, I noticed you didn’t go to the museum event last night.”
The whole premise of the gala, the opening of a new exhibit on royal weddings, felt strange to Nina. As ridiculous as it was to pity the Washingtons, she did feel a little sorry for them, that their lives were so shamelessly commercialized. That their personal milestones—their birthdays, weddings, funerals—were never private, but instead became a media frenzy. And then all their clothes and invitations were displayed in museums for public consumption, so that everyone in America could feel like those moments belonged to them, too.
“I didn’t really want to go.” And run into Jeff again, she didn’t need to add.
Nina hadn’t known what to expect when she saw the prince at the races last weekend. Half of her still wanted to slap him across the face for defending Daphne that night at the engagement party, and the other half wanted to pull him into a hug and murmur how sorry she was about his dad.
Of course she hadn’t done either. The only way to survive that kind of encounter was to keep it as civil and short as possible.
She’d seen the confusion on Jeff’s face when she’d greeted him like a near stranger. But Nina needed that emotional distance for her own protection. She wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend that she and Jeff were “just friends” again.
Instead Nina had followed the court formula for surface-level conversations; she certainly knew it well enough, after all these years of being Sam’s best friend. When Jeff said hello, she’d bobbed a curtsy, murmured her condolences, and made polite conversation about the weather and the races before excusing herself and walking away in relief. The whole exchange had taken two, maybe three minutes.
Yet she’d spent hours replaying it in her mind. No matter how determinedly she told herself that she was over Jeff, her heart hadn’t quite gotten the message yet.
A series of gongs echoed through campus: the Randolph clock tower, which famously marked noon and midnight with thirteen chimes instead of twelve, the result of a senior prank that had never been corrected.
“That’s my cue.” Nina stood, brushing stray bits of grass from her cropped jeans.
“You’re leaving?” Rachel protested.
“I have Intro to Journalism in twenty minutes.”
Rachel reached across the blanket to grab her friend’s copy of Jane Eyre. “You can’t go, I’m holding your homework hostage!”
“No worries, keep the book. You could even try reading it,” Nina teased.
Rachel flopped dramatically back onto her towel and placed the novel over her face. Her curls formed an unruly pillow behind her. “I’ll just nap instead. This makes a nice sunshade.”
“Good thinking,” Nina agreed. “Now the story will sink into your brain through sheer osmosis.”
She heard Rachel’s answering laugh, muffled beneath the heavy book.
Nina headed down the paved walkway toward the center of campus, passing dozens of people as she walked: sorority girls in printed T-shirts, prospective students on a campus tour. To her relief, none of them spared her a second glance. The afternoon sun filtered through the filigree of leaves overhead, dappling campus in a green-gold light.
For some reason, her eyes kept drifting to a dark-haired boy ten yards before her. She could only see the back of him. But something—his sculpted calves, the bold, brisk way he walked—intrigued her. She found herself oddly curious to see his face.
Her heart picked up speed as the mystery guy turned toward Smythson Hall, which was so overgrown with ivy that it looked like it had sprouted organically from the ground itself. He was headed toward the same first-floor classroom that Nina was. She quickened her steps to catch up. He reached for the door—
Nina skidded to a halt, nearly biting her tongue in shock. It was Ethan Beckett. Jeff’s best friend.
She felt her face turning a mottled shade of red. Why hadn’t she recognized Ethan? They’d spent plenty of time together over the years, though it was always around the royal twins. Their paths had never crossed at school before.
“You’re in journalism class?” she blurted out.
“Nina. Nice to see you, as always.” He flashed his usual cavalier smile and held open the door for her. She avoided making eye contact as she slid past him to head inside.
Facing the whiteboard were at least thirty desks, arranged in rows. The room hummed with the overlapping conversations that always came after a school break.
Nina settled into a desk on the far right. Maddeningly, Ethan ignored all the empty chairs to take the one next to her. He nodded at her short hair. “I like the new look.”
“It was time for a change.” Nina tried to inject the statement with an air of finality, to indicate that he shouldn’t feel obligated to keep chatting, but Ethan didn’t take the hint. He leaned forward, bracing an elbow on his desk and angling toward her.
“So, Intro to Journalism,” he mused. “To be honest, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I’m surprised you’ll go anywhere near journalism, after what the media—”
Nina hissed through her teeth, cutting him off. She glanced furtively around the room, but everyone else was absorbed in their own discussions.
“I’m trying to put all that behind me,” she said tersely. The last thing she wanted right now was to revisit what the paparazzi had done to her family.
When she saw that Ethan was still looking at her, Nina sighed. “I’m taking this class because I’m trying to get a minor in creative writing, and this counts as a departmental credit. I want to be a writer someday,” she added, feeling oddly self-conscious at the admission. “Not that I’ve composed anything longer than a high school newspaper article.”
“Give yourself some credit. You used to write all those plays that you and Sam would perform out on the lawn by the pool.” Ethan’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Some of them were actually kind of funny.”
Nina couldn’t believe he remembered those. “I’m going to pretend that was a compliment,” she replied, with a touch of sarcasm.
The door swung open, and a woman with deep brown skin and a bright smile entered the room. Lacey Jamail: the youngest staff writer ever hired by the Washington Circular.
“Welcome to Intro to Journalism. Your first assignment will be done in pairs,” the professor said without preamble.
Everyone instantly broke out in conversation. Nina cast a quick glance around the room, but Ethan had already turned her way.
“Partners?” he asked.
“Sure,” Nina agreed, with less reluctance than she would have guessed.
Professor Jamail began explaining the assignment, waving her dry-erase marker like a baton as she spoke. Nina hurried to scribble down her words.
When class ended forty minutes later, she closed her spiral notebook and tossed it into her shoulder bag, only to find that Ethan was lingering near her desk.
“Are you headed to the library?” he asked.
“Actually, I was going to the student center for lunch.”
“Sounds good.” Ethan fell into step alongside her.
“I—okay.” Why was he suddenly acting like they were old friends? Sure, they’d known each other for years, but they’d never spent any time together without the twins there, too. Had Jeff asked him to check on her?
Nina used her meal points to pay for a sandwich, then found Ethan at a table near the window. As she sat down, he slid a bag of peanut M&M’s toward her. “These are for you.”
Now she definitely thought Jeff was involved. How else could Ethan have known about her love of M&M’s?
“You aren’t going to eat?” she asked, grabbing the M&M’s. It looked like Ethan hadn’t purchased anything except the candy.
“I had lunch in the dining hall earlier. But I’m happy to get a pizza if you’re one of those girls who feel self-conscious about eating alone.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Based on the way you used to put down waffles at the ski house, I don’t think you are.”
Nina rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get started. Do you have any ideas about who we should interview?” Their assignment was to coauthor a profile piece about someone on campus.
Ethan draped an arm over the back of his chair. “Can’t we talk about something else, at least until you’re done eating?”
She took a slow bite of her turkey sandwich. “If you think I’m going to do all the work on this project, you’re wrong.”
“You do all the work?” Ethan flashed a cheeky grin. “I thought I was the one doing all the work. I’ll have you know my GPA is a three-nine.”
Nina felt guilty for assuming he was a slacker. “Then why did you want to be partners with me?”
“You thought I wanted to be partners just so I could mooch off your assignment?”
“Not to brag, but I kick ass at assignments.”
Ethan let out an amused breath. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you, Nina. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were kids, but we don’t actually know each other well at all.”
She set down her sandwich and leaned her elbows forward onto the table. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m curious what really happened between you and Jeff,” Ethan said carefully.
Nina didn’t dignify that with a response—but she didn’t look away, either. She held Ethan’s gaze, her eyes blazing, until he was so discomfited that he glanced down at his lap.
“Sorry. That was out of line.”
“It was,” she said flatly.
“It’s just that I’m worried about Jeff. And he won’t talk about your breakup with me. He won’t talk about anything, really, since…”
Nina tried to grab hold of her anger again, but it had warped and mutated beneath a sudden wave of sympathy. When she thought of Jeff, her mind no longer went automatically to the night they’d broken up. Now all she saw was the look on his face at the Royal Potomac Races: a bewildered, searching look that had quickly faded, as if he’d been about to smile at her, then remembered that he’d lost her, too—on top of losing his dad.
The truth was, Nina had been longing to talk about Jeff for weeks, but there was no one she could really discuss him with. She didn’t want to worry her parents; they were still shaken after that whole paparazzi nightmare. Rachel had only met Jeff once, so she didn’t have any real insight into the situation. As for Sam—it had been hard enough to begin with, talking to Sam about her own brother. Now it seemed the height of selfishness, to bring this up while Sam was grieving. Nina’s romantic dramas felt small and unimportant next to everything her best friend had been through.
It felt a little strange, talking about this with Ethan, but he did know Jeff better than anyone. Maybe he would understand the strange paradox of Nina’s feelings.
“Things were never simple with me and Jeff after the news of our relationship got out,” Nina began. “It was fine when it was just us. But once everyone knew, so many things kept getting in the way.” Primarily, Jeff’s ex-girlfriend.
“The media really put you through hell, didn’t they.”
The usual sarcasm had evaporated from Ethan’s tone, and to Nina’s surprise, he seemed the handsomer for it. A bit of earnestness added depth to his brown eyes, smoothed away his careless smile.
“The thing is, I didn’t realize how much our breakup would impact my relationship with Sam, too.” Nina sighed. “I should have known better than to date my best friend’s brother. Clearly you know better,” she added, glancing back toward Ethan. “You never made a move on Sam, all these years.”
He scoffed at that. “Trust me, Sam isn’t my type.”
“What is your type?”
The question had come out oddly flirtatious, but to her relief, Ethan didn’t seem to notice. “It’s complicated enough being Jeff’s best friend. I don’t need to add another Washington relationship to the mix.”
“I know what you mean,” Nina admitted. “Honestly…sometimes I wonder why Sam and I are still friends.”
She felt a stab of disloyalty, saying this to Ethan. But then, who else could she talk about it with? Ethan was the only person who understood how it felt, being inextricably bound to the royal family without actually being one of them.
“Why do you say that?” Ethan asked. Not judgmental, but simply curious.
“We just don’t make sense as best friends.” She paused, searching for the right words to explain. Nina’s parents had taught her to be skeptical, and practical, whereas Sam hurtled forward without ever asking questions. Nina hardly dared to want things, and Sam always seemed to want enough for two people.
“We have next to nothing in common, except the fact that we’ve known each other since we were six.”
“But that’s just it—you’ve k
nown each other since you were six,” Ethan argued. “You don’t need to be similar to your friends, not when you have so many years of shared history. Besides, your friendship is probably stronger because of all the ways you’re different. Jeff and I aren’t all that like each other, either.”
“Really? You seem pretty similar to me.”
“In some ways, sure.” Ethan shrugged. “But Jeff is actually as easygoing as he seems, while I’m just pretending. Also”—he lowered his voice conspiratorially—“I secretly hate the way the royals travel.”
Nina raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You don’t like staying at five-star resorts, with a small army of staff?”
“I’ll admit there are perks.” Ethan waved away her words. “But I’d rather travel without the royal press pack, without even an itinerary. Just wander around with a backpack and a passport.”
“Is that why you’re taking Intro to Journalism? To be a travel writer?” Nina asked, curious.
“I thought we’d agreed that I took Intro to Journalism so I could hang out with you.”
Nina laughed and took another bite of her sandwich, wondering why she’d always been so irritated by Ethan’s sarcasm in the past. She was beginning to sense that Ethan wasn’t the type of person you could get to know at first glance. You needed a second glance, and then a third.
Which she had never given him. Because he’d always been standing next to Jeff, and when Jeff was around, she’d never had eyes for anyone else.
Nina winced at the realization that she’d treated Ethan as dismissively as everyone had always treated her—when they’d stared through her as if she were a pane of glass, to focus on Sam.
She held out the bag of M&M’s as a peace offering. “Want some?”
“Careful what you offer; I might eat the whole bag,” he warned, reaching for the candy.
“And—Ethan? Thank you. For talking about all of this, I mean.”
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