Nina kissed him again, because she didn’t know how else to explain what she felt—that it wasn’t that she didn’t like Jeff; it was that she liked him too much.
For a split second Nina thought she heard a noise from the door. She glanced over, panic spiking through her system, but no one was there. And then all thoughts were driven from her mind as Jeff pulled her close and kissed her again.
When she woke the next morning, he was gone.
She lay there for a while in sleepy confusion, blinking into the early-morning light. He was leaving for his royal tour this morning, but surely he wouldn’t go without saying goodbye? Maybe he’d just left to check on something.
Eventually Nina slid out of bed and began hunting for her things. She tiptoed into the hallway wearing last night’s dress.
“Miss?” One of the palace security guards stood outside Jeff’s door, his expression carefully bland and professional. “We have a car waiting to drive you home.”
“Oh” was all Nina could say, her entire body hot with mortification. The pleasant glow of last night rapidly melted away. She knew she and Jeff hadn’t made each other any promises; it wasn’t as though she was expecting a handwritten love note, but she’d thought she would at least hear from him in the morning.
Maybe he was annoyed with her for putting on the brakes. Maybe he’d only invited her upstairs because he’d assumed she would sleep with him, and once she told him no, he’d rushed off the first chance he got, leaving his security to shuffle her away like a dirty little secret. Well then, thank god she hadn’t slept with him after all.
Nina angrily clicked onto her phone, determined not to think about Jeff—only to find that the internet was flooded with a single news story. JEFFERSON’S GREAT MISTAKE, one headline proclaimed; another ROYAL SPLIT: BUT IS IT FOR GOOD?
Apparently, after almost three years of dating, Jeff and Daphne had mutually agreed to break up.
In article after article, the columnists seemed to share the same opinion: that Jeff would regret his decision. Daphne Deighton was the best thing to happen to the monarchy since Queen Adelaide. She is relatable, intelligent, and kind, and she brought out the best in the prince, proclaimed a staff writer at the Daily News. In losing Daphne, the Crown has lost one of its most forceful and vibrant assets. Whoever Jefferson decides to date next, she simply won’t measure up.
Nina felt sick to her stomach. Of course she wasn’t Daphne. Daphne was the type of girl who could walk for hours in heels without complaint, who knew which fork to use at a formal dinner, who could tell a joke that was funny without being crass—probably in four languages.
Daphne was the girl Jeff would marry, and Nina was the girl he’d snuck upstairs at a party, then sent home in a hired car before anyone found out. The knowledge made her feel cheap and tawdry, and oddly hollow.
She had been so elated when they kissed, but it had only been the product of good, or rather bad, timing. All last night meant was that Nina had happened to run into him before anyone else did: that she was there, and apparently stupid enough to hook up with him. Like every other stupid girl in America.
Now the light of the last firework dissolved into the velvety darkness of the sky.
It was getting colder; the wind lifted the hair on the nape of her neck. “I should go,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself.
Jeff wordlessly slid out of his jacket to drape it over her shoulders. It was heavy, jangling with various medals and pins.
Against her better judgment, Nina slipped her arms through the sleeves. The jacket smelled like him, warm and a little bit sweet.
When Jeff leaned forward to brush his lips against hers, she didn’t pull back.
She felt a sizzle of shock as the kiss ricocheted through her body. This was what she’d been chasing, when she’d kissed those boys at school whose faces receded into a blur. This was how a kiss should feel—electric and pulsing and smoky all at once, like you had discovered a new source of fuel that could warm you from within.
Then her senses snapped abruptly back into focus, and she remembered everything Jeff had done.
Nina put her palms on his chest and pushed him violently away.
Silence fell like a curtain between them. Nina stumbled to her feet. Jeff blinked up at her, his face twisted in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Neither could she. Oh god, wasn’t it treason to strike royalty?
“I’m sorry. I misread the situation,” Jeff said hesitantly. He stood up, his features still etched with confusion.
No one ever tells him no, Nina realized. Not anymore. That was the curse of royalty.
Well, there was a first time for everything.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she snapped, though she knew it wasn’t entirely fair. She had been sitting close to him, out here in the cold in a thin gown. Wearing his jacket.
Jeff’s hair fell forward; he reached up to push it back with an impatient gesture. “I know I didn’t handle things well last time—”
“Didn’t handle things well? Do you have any idea how it felt, waking up in your bed after that?” Her voice broke with suppressed emotion. “And then I never heard from you, not once in the past six months!”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, as if to remind her that he’d said it already.
“Sorry isn’t a magic eraser that undoes whatever wrong thing you did! You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be the way it was, not when people have been hurt!”