Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,70

I can hardly stand it.

“Are you going to sing this time, Quint?” Flora teases, turning to jog backward, and I nod at her.

“Maybe. If you fall and bust your ass, I’m definitely going to sing a song about that and the perils of hubris. Like an Oompa-Loompa.”

“What is it with you and the Willy Wonka references?” she asks, turning back to jog like a normal person, and I slow down a little, Flora falling into step with me.

“Maybe ‘Veruca Salt’ can be our always,” I joke, and she laughs.

Then, as we approach a rise in the path, she reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me behind a rock formation to press a quick but heated kiss to my mouth, and yeah.

Maybe I haven’t forgotten what this feels like, because I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything like this.

Pulling back, she studies my face for a long moment, then runs her thumb over my lower lip, sending a shower of sparkles through my blood.

Then I lean in to kiss her, and this time, there’s nothing quick about it.

I happen to think Flora and I are being very discreet about this new thing between us, but I’m immediately disabused of that notion at lunch as Sakshi and Perry sit on either side of me, almost simultaneously. They’re good at that, so good that I sometimes wonder if they’ve practiced.

“Spiiiillll,” Saks sings out, opening her bottle of mineral water while Perry reaches over me to steal the roll off Sakshi’s tray.

“Or don’t,” he tells me, glaring over at Saks, “because it’s none of our business.”

Saks rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Perry, don’t be such an old lady. Millie is our friend, and we support her happiness, which means we need to learn all about it. So. Spill.”

Blushing, I roll my shoulders and continue pushing beans around my plate. “There’s not much to spill,” I say, and Saks heaves out a huge sigh, ruffling her hair.

“Not much to spill? Millicent—”

“It’s Amelia, and you know that.”

“You’re dating a princess,” Saks goes on like I didn’t even say anything, fluttering one hand by her face, and I’m surprised by how much hearing those words feels like a punch to the gut.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not what—”

“That’s absolutely what’s happening,” Sakshi argues, and even Perry nods, his mouth full of bread.

“It really is, Millie,” he says, and I look back and forth between them.

“I like Flora,” I say in a low voice. “And she likes me. But what that means is . . . still something we’re figuring out.”

Saks wrinkles her nose a little. “Oh, darling,” she says. “It doesn’t work like that. Not with this crowd.”

I see Flora walk into the dining room then, and there’s that silly little trip in my chest at just seeing her.

Saks follows my gaze, then giggles, nudging me with her elbow. “Oh, you smitten kitten, you,” she teases, and I shove back at her.

“Staaaahp.”

“She doesn’t deserve you,” Perry says, but he’s smiling, too, and Saks reaches across me to pat his arm.

“That’s so loyal, Peregrine,” she says, and he grins back at her, and I suddenly realize I’m not the only smitten kitten at this table.

But then Saks shifts in her chair, picking up her fork and adding, “You know they found out who was telling reporters about Flora, right? It was Elisabeth! My former roommate turned Flora’s roommate, can you believe it?” She shakes her head. “Of all the people it could’ve been, it was a horsey girl.”

She lowers her voice. “Apparently she found out the papers paid well for Flora tidbits, and she wanted some fancy new . . . what was it, Perry? A saddle?” She shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t like horses, much to my father’s horror.”

“Isn’t she, like, twelve?” I ask. “Some sixth grader was selling gossip?”

Picking at her own beans on toast, Saks glances at me. “I told you, darling,” she says. “Whole other world.”

Later that afternoon, I’m sitting in my room with Flora. Sakshi has cleared out to give us some privacy, and I’m on my bed while Flora sits at the desk, both of us working on our papers for Mrs. Collins’s lit class, but every once in a while, we peek up over our laptops at one another until finally, Flora puts her computer down with a thump and launches herself across the room to lie on my bed.

Giggling, I close my own laptop, leaning down to brush her hair back from her face. It’s still a