The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

30

19 March

Hartesfield United Stadium

“Are you sure we can be here?” Juliana asked, following Rowan as he cruised through the tunnel toward the pitch.

He’d gotten quite adept with his crutches, and she found she had to walk at a clip to keep up. It was late, and her blood hummed with the buzz of the alcohol they’d consumed. As she waited for Rowan’s answer, she tried to recall how this idea had taken root. One moment, they’d been laughing at the bar, and the next, they’d been pulling up to the stadium, Rowan’s face lit up like the proverbial kid on Christmas morning.

“S’all good,” Rowan assured her, walking confidently toward his target.

“Because,” Juliana teased, “this would be quite a headline. ‘Princess Infiltrates Pitch.’”

Rowan chuckled. “Well, you were hoping for some distraction.”

“Yes, but not breaking and entering.”

“I was under the impression you were a bit of a rule breaker.”

“No, not really,” she said. “More of a boundary pusher.”

“Is there a difference?”

“I don’t much like getting into trouble. I get this pit in my belly when I know I’m doing something untoward. It’s uncomfortable.” She didn’t know where all this unfiltered honesty was coming from. Maybe the bottom of the bottle of cava she and Ele had gotten into.

Rowan paused at the threshold, where the concrete flooring gave way to the green of the pitch. He studied her for a moment, and every sip of alcohol she’d drunk seemed to dance with jazz hands, reminding her they were there. Her face heated under his passing scrutiny.

“Fair enough. But I texted the grounds manager. I have permission.”

Her hands found her hips, and she gave him a cheeky grin. “What a rebel you are!”

With a wink, he walked onto the pitch.

After the frenzied haste to get here, everything progressed in slow motion as Rowan paused and took a deep breath. Juliana closely watched him. Rowan had walls. Every time Juliana thought she might have breached one, he threw up another like a reverse Wack-A-Mole game. Today, he’d been unguarded, loose, and approachable. His smiles easy, his laughs—well, he’d actually laughed.

As he stood in the middle of the deep green pitch, the crisscrossing pattern of grass his background, she realized how relaxed he looked. She remembered the lucid, drug-induced moments of silliness and the stone-cold sober times when his reality seemed crushing. All her other experiences with him were centered around his anger and impatience with her. She liked this version best.

When he completed his worship of his holy ground, he made his way back to her. With a tilt of his head, he guided her to the plush seats for the players. He sat with a sigh, and she followed, leaving a chair between them.

“You enjoyed the game today,” he said.

She nodded, and then realizing he was looking out into the distance, she said, “Yes.”

“And you understood it.”

“You’re such a Neanderthal,” she rebuffed without any heat.

He chuckled. “I just meant you knew what was going on, and it surprised me. Not because you’re a girl, just because I didn’t know you had any interest.”

“Jamie loves it,” she explained.

He turned to look at her. “I’ve heard that.”

“Ele never did. Well, until recently.” She smiled.

Ele’s transformation never ceased to amaze her and fill her with happiness.

Rowan’s head cocked in question and perhaps confusion. “Okay,” he drawled.

“It gave me and Jamie something to talk about.”

Rowan scoffed. “Why are you so concerned about pleasing them?”

Juliana looked out onto the pitch, wanting to get this explanation correct. It felt disloyal to paint her brother and sister in any unflattering light. Jamie and Ele hadn’t done anything wrong. They hadn’t purposely excluded her. In fact, she imagined most of her feelings were hers alone, born of insecurity and projection. But how did she explain it to him without throwing them under the bus or making herself appear ridiculous? The stupid, nervous giggle bubbled in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She thought of their fight and realized this might be an area they would have to agree to disagree.

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said.

She was surprised to feel his hand on her face. He gently nudged her head in his direction.

“It does matter,” he said softly. “I can tell it matters a lot.”

“You and I have already argued this point,” she reminded him.

His thumb caressed her cheek, and Juliana’s insides glowed with warmth.

“We have,” he conceded. “But tell me again.”

She rolled her eyes.

He smiled. She shook off his hand and looked away, knowing she was about to bare a bit of her soul.

“There’s a gulf between me and them.” She giggled and hated how much the sound gave away. She knew Rowan got it because his hand landed on her shoulder, and he squeezed. But she refused to meet his gaze. “Ele and Jamie, the twin thing. It’s real and sometimes exclusionary.” She didn’t wait for his assent. “They have this bond. Some secret wonder-twin thing, cemented by Jamie’s illness and Ele’s trauma.”