American Royals

The moment she stepped through the front door, Nina heard the whispers: She’s prettier than I expected; she’s not all that pretty; do you think her boobs are real; look at what she’s wearing. People held up their phones to take very unsubtle photos of her, which they probably hoped to sell to some tabloid or gossip site.

“Nina! How are you?” A girl from her English class—Melissa? Marissa?—stepped forward with an eager smile. “Is Jeff here?” She glanced around Nina’s side, as if Nina might be hiding the Prince of America on the fraternity’s front porch.

“He isn’t,” Nina said tersely.

“Bummer! Hopefully next time,” Melissa-or-Marissa replied, in the eager voice of someone who thrived on gossip. It shattered Nina’s already tenuous self-control.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, and brushed past the girl into the party, Rachel close on her heels.

The fraternity house’s two-story living room was filled with other undergrads, many of them clutching red Solo cups. A music video played on the massive TV. In a nearby room, clusters of students gathered around a plastic table, lining up their cups of beer for a drinking game.

It might have been Nina’s imagination, but she thought the noise of the party dipped a little at her arrival, as people nudged their friends and pointed her out. The moment she passed, little currents and eddies of whispers rippled out in her wake.

She came to a halt near the door to the backyard and tipped her chin up, daring people to say something. Eventually the noise level in the room recalibrated toward normal.

“Promise you’ll stay at least an hour. You look too good to waste this outfit on moping around in your room,” Rachel begged, as if reading her thoughts.

Nina managed a half smile. “I’m glad you dragged me out. Even if you did bring me to a frat party.”

“Nothing wrong with a frat party every now and then,” Rachel said evenly. “Besides, if you leave right away, the haters have won.”

Some of those haters were probably here now. Nina stared around the room, full of overt stares and glossy fake smiles. She wondered which of these students were the ones who’d sent in photos from lecture halls, poking fun at her outfit choices or so-called lack of class. How many of them had logged on to the comment boards to call her an ugly name?

She had never realized how hard it must be for the royal family, to know where to place their trust.

Rachel let out a breath. “You know they reached out to me.”

“‘They’?”

“Magazines, blogs. I don’t know how they found me, but they figured out that we’re friends. They offered me a thousand dollars in exchange for information about you, compromising pictures, anything. I told them to go to hell, obviously,” Rachel said quickly. “But I thought you should know.”

Nina recoiled from the shock. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“As if I would sell out my friend. Not to mention my hookup for my VIP library status.” Rachel smiled, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms. “Now, will you please tell me why you still refuse to talk to Jeff?”

A few people inclined their heads toward them, trying desperately to eavesdrop without being obvious about it. Nina deliberately turned her back on the rest of the room. “I’m just not ready for … whatever that conversation is going to be.”

“It’s been almost two weeks,” Rachel said baldly. “And I know he’s been calling nonstop. Or should I say, your imaginary friend Alex has been calling.” Rachel’s eyes glinted with amusement. “That was kind of obvious, Nina. Next time you’re hiding a secret relationship with a prince, don’t label his contact icon with one of his middle names.”

This was the problem with having smart, observant friends, Nina thought wryly. She let out a breath. “I know it’s not completely fair, but part of me feels angry at Jeff. This whole media firestorm is exactly why I didn’t want to tell anyone, and the story still got out anyway.”

Rachel tapped one chunky heel absently against the floor. “Jeff didn’t take those pictures. Doesn’t he at least deserve the chance to tell you he’s sorry?”

“Are you saying this because you really think he’s blameless, or because he’s the prince?”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both,” Rachel said glibly, and her grin loosened some of Nina’s resolve.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed with an incoming call from Jeff. She started to ignore it, but Rachel’s skeptical look stopped her. “Fine, you win,” she muttered, and answered.

“Um, hey. It’s Jeff.” He sounded nervous, as if he hadn’t expected her to pick up—and now that she had, he was terrified she might hang up again. “I came to your dorm room, but you aren’t answering.”

“You’re on campus?”

“Yeah. Where are you?”

Nina was startled into answering. “A party at one of the frats.”

“Which frat?”

“Sigma something? Listen, Jeff—”

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.” There was a crackling on the other end of the phone, as if he was moving quickly and needed to say everything in a single breath. “I just want to apologize for all the madness that the press has put you through. You should have every expectation of privacy. I’m so sorry.”