Letters from a Prince: The Royals of Heledia (Book 1) by Hart Victoria

Author:Hart, Victoria [Hart, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maplewood Publishing
Published: 2016-11-08T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

I didn’t have to wait long for him to come and find me, and to this day, though he denies it, I’m still convinced that he was pacing outside the door to my bedroom waiting for the moment to look like he casually happened to stroll my way as I opened the door.

I’d stayed in my room most of the day. I talked to Jess and Jennifer some more when both were awake and alert back in their time zone. I did my reading because, international event or not, I was still expected to get the outline for my term paper on Beloved done by the time I got back. I took another nap as well, trying to get myself as rested as possible so I wasn’t trying to go to sleep at 4 p.m. It was the only way to deal with time zone shock: force yourself into it.

By 6 p.m. the call came that we were all gathering for dinner out in the Fountain Plaza again since the early fall weather was holding up and the flowers were still thriving.

“How fancy are we talking here?” I asked my mom as I leafed through my clothes. My best dress, the one I’d worn for junior prom, was reserved for the coronation.

“Church clothes.”

“We never go to church.”

“Use your best judgment then.”

That was easy for her to say. She was a regular fixture at all sorts of state events and fancy galas. She knew how to rock even the most mundane dress with the variety of jewelry and shoes she had at her disposal. I was more of a “is it clean? wear it” kind of girl.

In the end, I pulled out a blouse that probably could have used a turn under the iron to sort the wrinkles but I was out of time. With that came a pair of nice black pants because my mother expressly forbid me to wear jeans to dinner, and some ballet flats. I looked like a secretary at a pharmaceutical company. But it could be worse.

And then, when I stepped outside, he was right there.

“Hi. Hey. Hi,” he said quickly, clearing his throat and taking a breath. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, shrugging and giving him a tight-lipped smile.

He nodded a little too vigorously and shoved his hands into his pockets. I heard the sound of him nervously cracking his knuckles and he seemed intent to look anywhere but at me.

“Good trip then?” he asked.

Why was that everyone’s go-to question in awkward situations?

“As good as a nine-hour plane ride can be.”

I started walking down the hall, ignoring the fact that I didn’t exactly know how to get back out to the gardens from my bedroom but I wasn’t about to ask him for help. I heard the sound of his shoes on the marble as he began to walk behind me, and I figured I must be going in the right direction.

“I—um—happy birthday. Well, belated birthday,” he said.

“Thanks. Big one eight,” I said with mock enthusiasm.

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