My Royally Cute Enemy: A YA Sweet Romance (Sweet Mountain High, Year 2: A Sweet YA Romance Series Book 3)

by Lacy Andersen

  “Right.” She smirked, her red lipstick looking harsh against her pale and freckled skin. “The NHS. How could I forget? Every high schooler’s dream.”

  Erin didn’t understand what making it into the NHS meant to me. She couldn’t. We were just too different. There’d been a time way back in third grade when Erin and I had tried to convince everyone we were twins. It didn’t work. Her light complexion and curvy figure next to my dark, Italian looks and rail-straight body weren’t entirely convincing. Not to mention our completely opposite personalities. It was a wonder we were friends at all. But for some reason, we’d stuck together like glue all these years.

  She was the closest thing I had to a sister.

  “You know I love you, Tori . . .” Erin said, smacking her gum loudly. I winced. This statement was usually followed up by something that would have me churning for hours. And sure enough, Erin sighed heavily and lowered her voice to deliver the final blow. “But going to a party isn’t going to turn you into your mom. I hope you know that.”

  “Yeah . . . sure.”

  I nodded mutely, even as my insides twisted. Erin’s mom was a beloved kindergarten teacher, and her dad was a loan officer at the bank. Both had sterling reputations. She had no idea what it really meant to grow up in the shadow of a woman like my mother. Everyone was expecting me to fail. I couldn’t give them any reason to suspect that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Not even for one measly parking lot party. And making it into the National Honors Society was one sure-fire way I could show them all how different I really was.

  With a last pitying look, Erin lugged her purse over her shoulder and marched out of the backyard. Stabbing my trowel into the ground, I took out my frustration on the dirt. Each thrust should’ve left me feeling better, but it just couldn’t untie this knot that had formed in my gut.

  “You know, kiddo, she’s right.”

  Looking up, I spotted a head of wild brunette curls leaning over the wooden fence. Olive, our longtime neighbor and friend, was watching me. She’d been close friends with my grandma for many years and had taken good care of us when Grandma passed away. Tall, fit, and fond of flowy skirts and blouses, Olive didn’t look like someone in her early sixties. She was a hippy child—a woman who’d married young, gone through one awful divorce, and was determined to live out the rest of her years relying on her own strengths.

  Apparently, that also meant eavesdropping on her teen neighbor’s business. I could feel the judgment coming off of her in waves. Her dark brown eyes narrowed slightly when I put down the trowel and dropped a bulb into the hole.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You don’t want to keep living that way, either,” she countered in a matter-of-fact tone.

  I sighed and looked up at her. If it wasn’t Erin giving me a hard time, it was Olive. In their eyes, I was some kind of recluse, hiding away in my grandfather’s house, abandoning all humankind, with only books for friends and a serious need to shave my legs.

  I had news for them. Just because I didn’t go out each weekend and get into trouble didn’t make me a freak. And I knew how to use a razor just fine, thank you very much.

  “What’s new today, Olive?” I asked, changing the subject.

  A grin worked its way onto her heavily rouged face. She set down her pruning sheers and sighed. “Oh, girl, let me tell you, there’s been some drama in my mahjong club. Apparently, ol’ Betty’s been flirting on the side with Hector. But Ivy shared an ice cream with him just last week. You should’ve seen the darts they were throwing during the game today. Could’ve started a fire with all of that old-folk tension snapping in the air.”

  She giggled maniacally, and I just laughed. Other than her part-time job, Olive spent a lot of her time down at the nursing home, visiting with the residents. She was at least twenty years younger than most of them, but she got a kick out of their lives and relaying the stories to me.

  “Sounds like a reality show,” I said, covering up my bulb with dirt.

  Olive snorted. “Kid, reality is so much more interesting than any TV show. You’d know that if you got out once in a while.”

  My gut twinged. There we were—back to me. Again.

  Luckily, it seemed that my rescue was on the way. I pulled my gloves off and stood as the familiar roar of a rumbling engine sounded down the street. A beat-up blue pickup pulled into my drive, parked, and then out popped the best man in the whole wide world.

  My Grandpa Richard.

  “Hey, what’s shakin’, bacon?” Olive called loudly, cupping her mouth with her hands.

  Grandpa perked up, his gaze snapping to us. With a wave, he tossed his suit jacket over his shoulder and began to walk toward us. People often told me he looked too young to have a seventeen-year-old grandchild, and I had to agree. He was only fifty-two, and he rocked a three-piece-suit, a shiny bald head, and a neatly trimmed, gray goatee. We shared the same tanned skin, the same brilliant-blue eyes. But Grandpa’s smile was something that no one could replicate. It touched every part of your heart. And when he smiled at me before wrapping me into a tight hug, all of my anxieties washed away.

  “My granddaughter, have I got news for you.” He steadied me as he released me, making sure I didn’t lose my balance.

  “Did you finally get that promotion?” I asked, biting my lower lip.

  He’d spent eight years slaving away at the Valtanese Winery in an executive assistant position that was beneath his skills and talents—all in the hope that they’d finally recognize his potential. Personally, I didn’t understand how he could still come home every evening and be so cheerful. It would’ve sucked the life out of me.

  “No . . .” The only sign of disappointment on his face was the slight dimming of his eyes. But he covered that up a second later with a bigger grin. “But my boss has asked me to do something very important. A task so important that it could only lead to that promotion I’ve been asking for. This is it, my darling. The big one!”

  He danced around the mulch I’d just displaced, swaying his hips to the music in his head as I shook my head in embarrassment.

  “So what’s this big project, Dickie?” Olive asked, leaning again on the fence. Her eyes sparkled with interest.

  “We were contacted by our company headquarters in Valta. Apparently, they specifically asked for me to host a royally important guest. I guess someone up the chain finally recognized my potential.”

  My excitement for my grandpa dimmed. Immediately I pictured a round, balding European man taking over our house with his disapproving grunts and scrutiny of our shameful American ways. It was safe to say that I wasn’t thrilled, but one look at the excitement in my Grandpa’s eyes had me shoving that disappointment down deep.

  He was so hopeful that this was going to be the thing that caught his boss’s eye. Never mind that he had carried this company on his back for years while upper management took credit and got to take amazing trips to Europe to visit the headquarters. This was my grandpa’s ticket to finally getting recognition. And I wasn’t going to spoil that.

  “Sounds great, Gramps,” I said, shooting him a smile. “Should I get the guest room downstairs ready?”

  His smile faltered slightly, and he stopped dancing. “Actually, I was thinking the spare room next to ours would be better for this particular guest.”

  I blinked hard. We’d just built bookcases in there, and I’d started filling them with the huge collection I kept under my bed. It wasn’t exactly set up to host an important business guest. Granted, my old twin bed was still set up in there, but it didn’t make sense to pack this person in the tiniest room in our house. And in the tiniest bed. Surely, we wanted to make a better impression than that.

  “Are you sure?” I asked him. “Don’t you think the guest room is better? It’s got its own door to the garden and everything.”

  “Well, actually, that’s the problem.” He squirmed slightly, suddenly refusing to meet my eye. His attention stayed glued to
the ground. “I know I promised you could turn it into a library this fall, but I thought that this might be a more appropriate place to host a teenager. You know, right under our noses? So we can both keep an eye out?”

  Red alarms went off in my head at that moment.

  A teenager?

  “Wait . . . what?” I pulled my cardigan tighter around my waist, my fingers gripping the soft material that I’d meticulously ironed smooth this morning. “I thought this was a guy from work. Not a kid.”

  “Actually, we’re hosting a seventeen-year-old,” Grandpa answered, his cheeks reddening under his dark complexion. “And it’s going to be until the end of the school year. It’s like a student exchange program, and we’re the hosts. Doesn’t that sound great?”

  Olive cackled again, slapping the top of the fence post. She winked at me and then waved dismissively at Grandpa. “That’s a good one, Dickie. No one in their right mind willing agrees to host two teenagers under the same roof for months at a time. You must’ve been under some pretty major pressure to take this one.”

  His face turned even redder. “No one pressured me, Liv. I volunteered.”

  “Right.” She grabbed her pruning shears and turned toward her home. “Whatever you say, handsome.”

  Grandpa’s eye trailed her as she walked away. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed by her comments or feeling guilty for springing this on me. Either way, it couldn’t stand. Not if we still had time to take it back.

  What if this kid was a total slob? Or a massive mean girl? What if she killed us all in our sleep? What was he thinking, agreeing to host a complete stranger? It just didn’t make any sense.

  “Please tell me you’re going to call them and tell them you changed your mind,” I said, drawing his attention back to me. “We can’t host a teenager in this house. And I definitely don’t want anyone to be in the room next to mine. I don’t even have a lock on my door.”

  “You know, I figured this might be especially nice for you, Tori. Someone else around who can keep you company at home. This could be a built-in friend.”

  He shifted his stance into what I recognized as his stubborn-old-man pose. It was a pose specifically saved for me, and he only brought it out during the most important of arguments. Like the time he’d used it when he’d insisted I learn how to drive, even though I was determined never to set foot behind the wheel again if I could help it. Driving and me just didn’t work. The world was safer with me in the passenger seat.

  Still, I scoffed at Grandpa, feeling both insulted and called out. “I have plenty of friends.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “The same friends hanging out at the mall without you this afternoon?”

  Again, I scoffed. But this time, I had no rebuttal.

  With a smile, he walked toward me and took hold of both of my upper arms. The same hope I’d seen a few seconds ago filled his face. “Tori, this will be good for you. For both of us. Trust me. If we nail this, my boss is going to see how truly dedicated I am to this company, and you might just get a friend out of the deal. I know you can handle this. You are far more mature than any other kids your age. I trust you.”

  Any other seventeen-year-old girl would’ve brushed him off, rolled her eyes, and marched straight to her room, slammed her door, and ignored her family for the rest of the day. But I didn’t have that luxury. Grandpa was my only family. And I couldn’t do that to him.

  “Fine.” I shrugged, feeling the battle leave me. “When does she get here?”

  He stepped back, dropping his arms awkwardly to his sides. “Actually, there’s one more thing I should clarify.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What?”

  “It’s not a she. It’s a he.”

  For the second time in only a few minutes, my eyes nearly dropped out of my head. “Wait. We’re hosting a boy?”

  He sheepishly grinned and then nodded slightly. “Yep.”

  “A teenage boy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In the room next to mine?”

  “Which is also right next to mine, so I’ll be able to keep a close eye on him,” he shot back defensively. “I’ve been entrusted with keeping him safe and out of trouble.”

  I wanted to believe Grandpa had thought this all through, but I had a sinking feeling that he’d just invited a vampire into our midst. Only this vampire wasn’t scared away by garlic and holy water. This one probably came complete with athlete’s foot and smelly BO.

  And more importantly, how bad was this kid that he had to come all the way to America to attend school? Had he been kicked out of every school in Europe already? That didn’t bode well.

  Not to mention the fact that having a teen boy in the room next to mine was just asking for trouble. Wasn’t it bad enough that the whole town was expecting me to follow in my mom’s footsteps? Now Grandpa was practically asking for nasty rumors to start. I’d never even kissed a boy—not unless they counted a quick little peck on the lips with a kid in kindergarten. But no one cared about the facts. They only cared about gossiping. Still, that wasn’t Grandpa’s fault. He always had the best intentions.

  “Okay, fine,” I said with a reluctant sigh. Rolling my shoulders, I prepared myself for the answer to my question. “When does he get here?”

  Grandpa’s grin grew wider. He looked over his shoulder and pointed at the sleek black vehicle that had just pulled onto our street. “Looks like now.”

  And as I followed his gaze, my stomach dropped right into my feet. Teenaged boy alert! All the time I’d spent carefully crafting my reputation in Sweet Mountain High to avoid being compared to my mother was about to be put to the test. Would it survive a seventeen-year-old boy in the room next to mine?

  I could only clutch the pearl buttons on my cardigan and pray.

  3

  August

  Sweet Mountain was . . . most definitely not what I had expected.

  The flight into America had been entertaining enough. Skyscrapers galore. Starbucks and McDonalds in every airport. More people than I’d ever seen in my life. Flying under the radar was a refreshing new take on my life as a prince. People didn’t stare at me. They rudely bumped me in lines, cursing when I accidentally cut in front of them. And no one even blinked when I filmed myself doing a viral dance while I waited for my ride outside the airport terminal.

  This was incredible.

  But my father had left out a few details in his offer to me. The first was that Sweet Mountain High was located in a town so small, I couldn’t spot a single skyscraper for miles. It was definitely not New York City or Los Angeles. Not even close. Still, I was ready to make the most of it. That was until my town car pulled into the drive of my new host home.

  Now, I’m not an unreasonable guy. I wasn’t snobbish enough to be expecting a mansion or castle. Some of my friends from Valta lived in what were considered oversized-cottages, and they were perfectly happy. But this home was certainly no cottage. It was a small four-by-four shanty with electric-blue paint and a porch in desperate need of repair.

  The driver put the car into park and went to retrieve my luggage as I stumbled out of the door and gazed up in disbelief at my new locale. Surely, this was a joke.

  Henry would be in stitches if he knew.

  “Welcome, Augustus,” a tall, bald man in a suit cried as he came around the house with his arms spread wide. He reached his hand out, taking mine with a firm grip, and gave it an energetic shake.

  “It’s August,” I said quickly.

  The only person who called me Augustus was my father, and that was plenty enough. It was still awfully strange to be addressed without my title, but I couldn’t wait to see what life was like without a title hounding my every move.

  The gentleman’s smile grew wider. “August, perfect. I’m Richard Thorpe. I hope you’ve had a pleasant trip.”

  “It was pleasant enough.”

  I looked down the block, hoping to steady myself in my new location. Most of the homes were in a similar state as
this blue monstrosity. They could’ve all fit inside the great hall of the palace in Valta, and there still would’ve been room to dance. Still, this was America, which meant wild fun was just around the corner. It really didn’t matter where I lay my head at night, as long as I was here.

  “You’re going to love Sweet Mountain High,” Richard said, taking out his wallet to tip the driver and send him on his way. He grabbed my bags and lugged them up to the porch. “The basketball team is actually pretty good. There’s also debate, chess, and all kinds of clubs to get involved with if you’re interested in those things.”

  Clubs. The only kind of club I was currently interested in was one with pulsating lights and bodies dancing to the beat. There had to be one around here somewhere. And with the club . . . came girls.

  Even a small town like this had to have girls.

  I threw my host a grin and ran a hand over my head. “Exactly how many females go to my new school?”

  I didn’t miss the flicker of unease in the twitch of his jaw. He covered it up by rubbing his goatee. “Not sure, actually. Maybe my granddaughter, Tori, can fill you in. She lives with me and will be in your class, too.”

  Father hadn’t mentioned that I’d be living with a girl my age. It was almost scandalous. I imagined if he knew, he’d have had second thoughts about this student exchange idea. The fact that this had slipped his notice was hilarious. I could only hope that she could keep her cool. The last thing I needed was a girl who’d go running to the tabloids that moment I showed up, looking for her fifteen minutes of fame. I’d had enough of those experiences to practically swear me off of girls for life. They were good for dancing with at a club or keeping my flirtation skills alive, but not so great for actual romances.

  Not when it came to my life as a prince.

  “Unfortunately, I’ll have to look those numbers up,” a feminine voice said, approaching from behind me. “I’m not in the habit of memorizing how many females attend my school.”

  I spun on the heels of my trainers and immediately drank in the sight of Richard’s granddaughter. She was everything an American girl ought to be. Her sleek, brown hair slid over her shoulder like a sheet of rippling silk. Her clear and sun-kissed complexion was upstaged by a pink set of full lips and a pair of bright, blue eyes that carefully scanned me up and down. She was slender and tall, nearly standing eye-to-eye with me. I took an automatic step toward her, and she took a step back, clutching the painfully demure purple cardigan that clad her slender frame.