“Sanderson and Althorp,” I heard the stuffy professor say loudly. It was so loud that it seemed to ring out through the entire room giving off a slight echo. He must have realized it because he grimaced slightly afterward. As soon as the students were down front, I tiptoed up to Drew.
“Hey,” I whispered as I sat next to him.
“Hey, you,” he said in return.
“I was a bit disappointed that you were gone when I got up this morning,” I said in as low a tone as possible so that no one would hear.
He grinned. “Did you get my note?”
I smiled inside and out. “I did.”
He looked at me then quickly turned his attention from me down to some guy who was staring up at us.
“What's wrong?” I asked, concerned.
“Nothing. I just can't really talk about all of this here in class. Can we meet later at your flat and discuss things?” he asked as if he needed permission to come over and see me.
“Sure,” I answered. “Is something wrong?” I added.
“Not at all. I just need to discuss things about my life and how things work for me,” he said reassuringly. “For now, here in everyone's eyes and minds, we are just project partners.”
I felt a tad stung by his comment. Drew was being ever elusive and short, when last night he seemed to be an open book. Had I read his note wrong? Why was I suddenly feeling like he was rejecting me? Oh well, I would find out soon enough.
“Sure,” I agreed.
I knew that he cared for me, so I tried my best to let it go and concentrate on the other students who were speaking.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” I said as I leaned over to him. “How are we going to divide up our topic paper? What part do you want to read?”
He took the paper from my hand and scanned it. “I'll read this here, since those were my points and you can read from here down,” he said as he handed it back.
“That sounds great,” I said with a smile.
I saw him look down and noticed the guy below was still staring at us, and I knew that something was wrong. Oh shit. That was Clayton, from the café yesterday. I couldn't let it go until later. I had to know right then what was going on.
“Why is that guy looking at us? Is he upset about something?”
“No, I don't think so. Who knows why he's looking at us. He's always been a little odd.”
He smiled at me and took the paper back. I knew that he was only doing that to make it look as if we were discussing the project. What was Drew hiding?
“Noble and Harrington,” Haddish announced. “You're on.”
Drew and I walked down front and turned to face the large classroom that was still almost half full of students. He began to read aloud the ideas that he'd come up with. “Social media and its impact on cultures outside of England is a most fascinating subject,” he said.
He seemed to be a regular teenager at times, but in the classroom he clearly knew what he was talking about, and school was not just a pastime. He was there to truly learn and get an education. He wanted a career where he could make a difference in the lives of others, and that was something to be admired. I too wanted to be someone who made a difference in this world. I knew that together Andrew and I could do anything we set our minds to, and this project was only going to be the beginning for us.
I took the paper from him after he was finished, and I began to read my part. I could hear my voice echo throughout the room, and it had a nervous quiver in it. I wasn't accustomed to being in front of that many people at once and having to speak on a subject I knew very little about. I could tell that Drew was used to giving speeches by his demeanor. He'd probably been doing it for most of his life. He was comfortable in the spotlight; I, on the other hand, was not. I managed to get through it, and I welcomed the applause from our classmates when we were done.
We both smiled then and headed up the steps to our seats.
“Miss Noble, Mr. Harrington, you may leave if you'd like, but you are welcome to stay and listen to your classmates,” Haddish said, sounding as if he had something stuck in his throat.
He was the stuffiest of the stuffy. He was upper crust, and he knew it. He was an elitist who wasn't impressed at all by Andrew or his family; or at least that was how he had come across to me. Maybe he was only acting that way so as to make Drew feel more at ease in the class. Maybe Professor Haddish was just as enamored as the rest of the world with young Andrew and his future heir to the throne as King. It would certainly be a feather in Haddish's cap to say that he once taught Andrew, King of England, during his time at Whitby University. Now Haddish was making more sense to me. I would be sure to watch him closely in class the next time we met to see if I could spot any traces of him being in awe of Drew.
9
Drew
“God, I'm glad that's over,” I said to Eliza once we were outside of the classroom.
“Me too,” she said as she waved her hand in front of her face, perspiration beading her upper lip.
“You were wonderful, by the way,” I told her.
She smiled. “Thank you, but I was so nervous that my voice cracked once or twice. But look at you, Mr. Big Stuff,” she said as she swatted me on the bicep. “You didn't even appear nervous at all.”
I remained stoic although I loved feeling her touch me again, even if it was just a quick swat. “Well, I do this quite often.”
“Yes, I've seen you a time or two on the telly.”
Her smile melted my heart as she spoke of hearing me give speeches the few times I had done it publicly. Her words made me feel quite proud of myself.
“So why was that guy staring at us, really?” She pressed me for an answer again.
I knew what Clayton’s problem was, but I couldn't very well tell her. How could I say to her that my best friend didn't feel as if she was good enough for me because she grew up poor and was from the wrong side of town? None of that was her fault.
“I really have no idea. I'll have to ask him and find out,” I said, hoping she would drop the subject.
She accepted my response and changed the conversation to that of us getting together again.
“What time do you think you'll be over tonight?”
“Same time as last night?” I asked her.
“Sounds great. Is there anything special I can get for you to drink? I hate to give you another beer since it made you sick.”
“No, just whatever you have is fine,” I said.
“Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you later.”
“Alright, I'll be there,” I replied with a smile.
I watched her walk away, and all I could think of was her ass in those yoga pants the night before. I knew if she put those things on again, I was going to have to steal away to her bathroom and jack off just to relieve some of the pressure. There was no way I could be in her flat all night and not frig her. Maybe I would give myself a good hand job before I got there, so that the general wouldn't want to do battle with me again.
“What the hell, man?” he said, giving me a start that caused me to almost shit my pants.
“Bloody hell!” I screamed. “What do you mean, scaring me like that?”
“I’m just curious what the Queen would think to hear you’re slumming it, chap.” He went straight for the jugular.
“Have you gone bloody mad? If I expect to be treated like a commoner, I have to associate amongst them. You act as if I’ve considered asking for her hand in marriage.”
I tried my best to throw him off our scent, but he wasn't going to let up. He was a dog on the hunt for his prey.
“Drew, you can't fool me,” he said as he popped a couple of cashews in his mouth. As long as I could remember, Clayton always had cashews with him.
“I'm not trying to fool anyone, Clay,” I said, anger evident in my tone.
“Listen, man, all I'm saying is that you seem to be infatuated with that girl. She doesn’t belong amongst our kind. She's not your type. So hit that ass if you want
to, but for God's sake, don't fucking fall in love with her.”
I detested Clayton's mindset and snobbery. It was something that my mother had always taught against. She had tried her best to make us aware of the less fortunate in the world and that they were not to be looked down on nor judged. She said that man was dealt a hand in life, and it was up to him to make the best of that hand. Some win and some lose, but those who lost were every bit as good as those who won. She stressed that they were the ones to whom we should show the most kindness.
Clayton had been taught the same thing until Antonia, that Rich-Bitch fucked it up for him when she used her power of influence to mess up his mind and his beliefs.
“Clayton, do you even hear what you're saying?” I asked him angrily.
I could tell he knew I was mad because he shrank back a tad.
“You know that your father and mother did not raise you to look down on others. You were raised the same exact way I was, so why all of a sudden have you converted to being the snobby bastard you have become?”
His eyes widened, and he took a step back.
“Drew, come on!! You have a reputation to uphold. A civic duty to your people, yet you find it acceptable to shit upon your namesake for the likes of common trash like Eliza fucking Noble? The noble thing for you to do is cut your losses now and try to recover what little dignity you have left.”
He started to walk away but then turned to me once again. “Listen, it’s gonna be a bloody long semester with the two of you paired to work on the project. Fuck her hard and fast then get the hell away from her. She's not good enough for the King of England.”
“I'm not the bloody King!!” I yelled in his direction as he headed down the hall.
It felt as if my blood was boiling. I could feel my whole body shaking from anger. I wanted to hit him, hard. I wanted to shake some sense into his thick head. And I wanted to tell him that his girlfriend was a bitch who was turning him into one as well. I didn't. Instead, I went home, back to my condo. I missed all of the rest of my classes that day, but I didn't care. I needed to cool off. If I’d stayed at school, I’d see Clayton later in history class that afternoon, and I probably would have knocked the shit out of him.
I could feel the tension being released as I bench-pressed the heavy weight. I loved lifting; it gave me an outlet where I could put all of the shit life handed me. Not that my life was really bad or anything. But let's face it, everyone had shit they dealt with.
“Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty,” I said as I moved the bar up and down before allowing it to rest on the cradle. I sat up and wiped the sweat from my face with the towel on the floor next to the free weights.
Having a home gym was very convenient, especially for someone like me who couldn't always go out in public. It meant no paparazzi would be able to catch me in a moment of sweaty ugliness and post it universally. It meant that no one could write, “Prince Andrew barely able to bench press at all.” God, I hated those lying arseholes. Anyone who worked for the tabloids was trash, in my opinion.
After my workout, I hoped in the shower before going over to Eliza’s flat. Thinking of her heaving cleavage as I stood in the shower and feeling the warm water run over my body caused my dick to harden. I looked down and chuckled. It seemed as though it had had a mind of its own since I had turned thirteen years old. I couldn't control when it got hard and when it went down.
I washed my body and slipped my hand around the head of my hard cock. God, it felt good. I closed my eyes and pictured Eliza's ass in front of me. I gripped my dick a little tighter and began to stroke it up and down, from shaft to head. Reaching down with my other hand, I tugged my balls as I pictured Eliza doing it for me. “Mmmmm,” I groaned as I began to slide my hand a little faster.
I reached up and got the body wash and poured a little along the length of my cock and massaged it until I had worked up a nice lather. Shit! It felt so good. I was harder than a steel rod and dying to slide into Eliza's pussy. That wasn't an option at the moment, so my hand was going to get the job done. I closed my eyes again and thought about how sweet she smelled. I pictured her as she leaned over to get the paper from the table and how her tits almost fell out of the tank top. I could see her hard nipples in my mind as I stroked my cock faster and faster.
I tightened my grip as I slid my soapy hand up and down the length of it. “Oh fuck! Oh, oh!!” I yelled. I gave it one last jerk as I felt my knees almost collapse. I had come all over my shower wall and floor as I jerked back and forth.
“Fuck!!” I yelled. God, I was out of breath, and my arm was tired, but I was less tense and more relaxed. Now maybe I could go over to Eliza's flat, talk about the project, and not want to fuck her brains out tonight. Hell, after what I just did, I could probably sleep next to her naked body and not be able to do anything. I laughed. “Yeah, right. Who are you kidding? You'll have another hard on before she gets the damn door open.”
It was true. I had gotten accustomed to having at least four erections a day as a teenager. I counted eight in one day when I was sixteen and Mum had hired a sexy new tutor named Mona. She was blonde with blue eyes and the biggest, bounciest tits I'd ever seen. She wore tight mini-skirts, and I was pretty sure she was opposed to wearing underwear because I thought I saw her bare pussy one day when she was sitting in front of me and Abigail. Needless to say, that night I jacked off so hard I thought I'd pass out. She didn't last long as our tutor, though. Mum had requested that she dress in a uniform, as was customary of all school staff, but Mona had refused, stating that she felt too confined in it. I was on Mona's side; I wanted her to keep wearing those tight blouses and short skirts. In my young mind, I actually thought I could somehow end up fucking her one day, or at least I had hoped I would.
After getting dressed and putting on the cologne that Edward and Maggie had gotten me for Christmas a month ago, I took one last look in the mirror and headed out the door to Eliza's place.
Wanting to thank her for being a good hostess, I stopped at the local florist and got her a bouquet of flowers. I made sure the florist wrote “To Mum,” on the card so that anyone who was watching and wanting to sell a story to the tabloids would be disappointed to find out that the Prince was buying flowers for dear old mother.
As I got back into the car, I motioned for my security detail to go. I hated having them around me at all times. I had gotten used to them, of course, and most of the time I didn't really notice that they were there. Times like this, when I wanted to just go to a girl's place and be a regular teenager, I couldn't. It bothered me that this was my life, but what was I to do about it? There was no escaping it for me.
I had always heard Edward say when he counseled me on the ways of royalty, that celebrities were in the spotlight because of choice, but we, on the other hand, were born into it. We had no choice, but papers and news outlets didn't respect that fact. God, how I wished they would just leave us be.
Arriving promptly at seven, I waved to my team as I entered the building, and they went back to their cars. I rang her apartment, and she buzzed me in. When she opened the door, I thought I would faint. There stood the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was wearing a white blouse that had small pink flowers all over it and pink capri pants that fit her like a glove. Her hair was up again, but some pieces of it were down and resting on her delicate neck. She was breathtaking.
“Hi,” she said with a perfect smile.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I said confidently. “These are for you.”
“Aw, thank you so much. They are so beautiful. Pink is my favorite color.”
I smiled. “I know. I saw the things in your bedroom last night and kinda figured it was.”
I prided myself on being observant as it was a necessary trait for success. Or in this matter, making Eliza pliable to my charm.
“How sweet,” she said as she tiptoed and planted a kiss on my cheek.
“Thanks.”
“Well, come on in and take off your coat. Dinner is
almost ready.”
“Dinner?” I was confused. “Who is cooking?”
“I didn't want to order another pizza, so I am cooking for us tonight.”
She smiled and walked back into the kitchen. I took a seat on the couch and looked around at the small flat. It was decorated so beautifully that I thought there was no way this girl could be as poor as Clayton said she was.
Clayton. Shit! She was gonna want to talk about him tonight, and I didn't have the foggiest idea what to tell her about him and his issues.
“Here you go,” she said as she returned with what appeared to be champagne.
“Champagne?” I asked, a little confused.
She giggled. “Nope, white grape juice,” she said with a smile. “That stuff last night made us both sick, so I wanted to steer clear of that tonight. We really need to work on our project. You know four months is going to fly by before we know it. I would rather have it completed and waiting on the last day of class than to leave it until the last minute.”
“I agree. I hate putting things off. I prefer to do things right away and have breathing room, so to speak, to relax.”
She raised her glass, and we clinked them together and had a sip. The way she looked at me in that moment nearly brought me to my knees, and I knew then I was falling for her. Everything she said made perfect sense to me. I knew that I had found my Miss Right, just like Edward had many years ago with Maggie. He once told me, “When it's right, you just know it.” Well, I could feel it in my entire body. Eliza Noble was going to be my Miss Right.
Dinner was wonderful. She fixed roast, potatoes, and gravy. She was a great cook, a skill I was sure she had learned from her mother. It was one more thing I could check off my list of what she did well.
We chatted over meaningless topics over dinner and even after when we cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen—a task I wasn’t acquainted with. It amazed me how carefree I was around Eliza, and even more so how she didn’t put on a front like most girls would have when in the presence of a Prince. She was herself, and I appreciated that.
Royally Loved: The Royal Romances Books 1-5 Page 22
