“Forget it, he moved.”
“Think he was taking photos of us?”
“I’ve just spotted him looking our way a few times.” I grabbed my snow-colada and took a long sip through the paper straw. The sweet taste of strawberry and coconut mixed with pineapple and rum hid how drunk I was beginning to get. I could see Nick suddenly go tense in his chair, sitting up straighter, both hands on the table, eyes looking somewhere behind me.
It broke my heart. He was so scared of getting caught just being himself. It was a tragic existence. Like he was a caged circus animal, trained to act in the way that appeased his captors, ignoring the way he was born to act. He looked younger to me then, the sadness subtracting years from his twenty-three.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “even if they get photos, it’s just two guys chatting at a themed holiday party. That’s it.” I tried to reassure him but felt like I missed the mark. The way he half-heartedly smirked at me only verified that.
“One of those guys who happens to be the prince of Spain, and who happens to be drooling over the other guy in front of him. Yeah, that won’t end up trending.” Nick’s sarcasm was welcome. I enjoyed a little back-and-forth teasing.
“Drooling over me?” I batted my lashes. “Here I was thinking you just wanted another serving of that pizza.”
“Are you calling me out for eating five slices?”
“I’m just impressed,” I said, tilting my head, smiling. “And honestly, I’ve never had someone make me wish I was a slice of cheese-and-pepperoni pizza before.”
Nick laughed at that, the sound coming as a sweet relief. I enjoyed the sound of his laughter, even if I’d only just become acquainted with it yesterday. It didn’t feel like his laugh was anything new in my life. I felt like I’d been hearing it for years and years.
“All right, so since this is just ‘two guys chatting,’ let’s chat.” Nick leaned back in his chair, but his leg moved forward, brushing against mine. The table was covered in a thick white tablecloth that rippled to the floor, making me positive the crossing of our legs was hidden.
“Let’s,” I said, moving my leg up and down, rubbing it on Nick’s. My jeans bunched up my ankle, feeling tighter around my crotch. “So, Nick, what’s your daily life like, then? As a prince?”
Loud pop music filled the room, and the tables surrounding us had been emptied as people got up to dance, drinks high in the air, so I was sure no one could overhear us.
“Should I give you the real version or the dressed-up one?”
“What kind of question is that.” I arched my brow. “The real one.” Nick’s leg pushed against mine, pressing my legs together, adding pressure to my growing bulge.
“Well, it depends on the day and what era of my life we’re talking about. When I was in my late teens, all I’d do was sleep and go out to party, with very little school on the side. Somehow, I managed to pass everything I needed to and went on to university, where I think my professors were terrified of flunking a prince, and so they let me skate on through. Those days had me drinking even more. I was definitely hiding my pain, stuffing it down with bottles. I never let anyone see, and for the most part, I don’t think anyone cared. They all wanted the next story, and a drunk prince could deliver a story much better than a sober one. So I did.”
“So you’ve never talked to anyone? About how you’ve felt?”
Nick shook his head, his eyes turning down at the glass of vodka cranberry in his hands. “It was pretty lonely. I almost broke and told this one girl I’d been seeing. She made me feel absolutely terrible, every single day. And not because of anything she did. I just saw her falling more and more in love by the day, and meanwhile I was drifting further away. So I almost told her what was really going on.”
“What happened?”
“I broke up with her instead. Moved on to someone else—a girl who was clearly in it just for the throne. For the money and the paparazzi and the designer jewelry. That was easy for me. Being with someone who had no real connection to me, because I knew I could never connect with them.”
“You protected yourself by surrounding yourself with monsters.”
“Basically. Yeah.” His gaze dropped. “Except for my last girlfriend, Cristella. She was a good one, too. It broke my heart breaking hers.”
I wanted to reach across the table and put my hand on his. Wanted to draw his eyes up with a kiss, one that told him he no longer had to be scared.
Of course, it was a fragile dream that shattered moments after it formed. I couldn’t reach over. I couldn’t kiss him. I couldn’t do anything that I wanted to for fear of someone seeing. Our connection had to be hidden by a tablecloth.