American Royals

“You might finish in time for the party if you tried to work, instead of procrastinating,” Nina reproved gently. “It’s only seven.”

Rachel reached up to ruffle her curly hair, making it stick up as though she’d emerged from an electrical storm. “I just wanted to hang out with you before winter break. I missed you last weekend.”

Nina shifted uncomfortably. She hated lying, but no way could she tell Rachel that she’d missed the Queen’s Ball watch party so that she could actually go to the Queen’s Ball. She especially couldn’t tell her about what had happened afterward, on the balcony.

“Besides,” Rachel went on, “I like working in here. It makes me feel like a VIP of the library.”

“I know, it’s totally glamorous,” Nina deadpanned.

Rachel laughed, tipping her chair up onto its back legs, then letting it clatter down. “Remind me, you’ll still be in town on New Year’s Eve, right? I was thinking of organizing something.”

Before Nina could answer, her phone buzzed with another incoming call. She started to decline, assuming it was Samantha again—but then Nina saw who it was, and her heart leapt into her throat. She stepped out of the small workroom and into the hallway, lowering her voice.

“Nina! Please tell me you haven’t had dinner yet,” Prince Jefferson said warmly.

“No—um, I’m working,” she stammered.

“Does that mean you can come meet me at Matsu?”

“You mean Matsuhara?” It was one of the most expensive white-tablecloth restaurants in Washington.

“I’m craving sushi,” Jeff said simply. “Come on, please? Don’t make me eat that crispy tuna rice all by myself.”

Nina swallowed against a flurry of conflicting emotions. Was he asking her on a date?

“I’m wearing jeans and sneakers,” she said, evading the question. “Besides, I’m not sure …” I’m not sure it’s the best idea.

“Oh,” he said slowly. “Um—that’s okay. I understand.”

The words were casual, yet threaded with a distinct note of disappointment. For some strange reason that changed Nina’s mind.

Why shouldn’t she go to Matsuhara? Was she so afraid of Jeff that she couldn’t handle a single sushi dinner across the table from him?

“Actually … okay. I’ll meet you there.” Her throat felt very dry.

She swore she heard his smile on the other end of the phone. “That’s fantastic. Should I send a car for you?”

“No. It’s okay.” The last thing Nina needed was to be seen getting into one of the royal town cars here on campus. She’d barely gotten away with it last time.

She ducked back into the staff room, trying not to reveal how suddenly flustered she felt. “Hey, Rach, I need to go. If anyone asks, will you tell them I’ll come back tomorrow morning to reshelve those?” She nodded at the books stacked on the metal wheeled cart. “And just make sure that the door locks behind you when you leave.”

Rachel stared at her, not bothering to hide her curiosity. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

“Sort of. I mean, yes, it’s okay, but I need to go.” Nina considered saying that her mom had called, but decided it was better to be vague than to tell a flat-out lie. She’d seen enough of the royal family’s PR operations to know that it was a safer policy.

Rachel nodded, her eyes scouring her friend. “Sure thing. See you soon.”

Tossing her bag over one shoulder, Nina headed out the library’s main doors and trotted down the steps. The iconic carved lions that stood on either side of the stairs bared their teeth at her in perpetual growls.

Matsuhara was empty when she got there. Empty, that is, of everyone except the security guards stationed at the entrance, their arms folded impassively over their chests—and Jeff, who was seated alone at a central table.

“What is this?” Nina breathed, halting in her tracks. “Where is everyone?”

Jeff stood to pull out her chair. Numbly, she sat in it. “It’s just us tonight,” he told her, as if a complete restaurant buyout were no big deal. “I know you don’t really like the spotlight, so I thought it might be better if we kept a low profile.”

“Um … okay.” Nina glanced around the rest of the dining room, at the round tables with their empty banquettes of buttercup-yellow leather. Behind a sushi bar of sanded hinoki wood, a pair of chefs worked in coordinated silence.

“Why did you do all this?”

Jeff leaned his elbows onto the table. He was wearing a button-down, its creases crisply ironed. “I remember your parents used to always take you out for sushi on special occasions,” he said. “And this felt like a special occasion. I mean, I did consider flying us to Tokyo, so we could get it directly from the source,” he went on, “but my parents have both of the planes today.”

“Jeff …”

He burst out laughing at the expression on her face. “I was kidding, Nina.”

Oh. With the royal family, sometimes it was hard to tell.

She was saved from further talk by the arrival of a Japanese man in a white chef’s coat and oversized glasses. “Your Highness, it is an honor to host you this evening. May I present the first course?”