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He made me laugh when we danced. He’d seemed very determined to do so and very pleased when it happened.
Tonight, he looks determined. But not in a mood to laugh necessarily.
Still, the look in his eyes makes my stomach flip.
“Hi,” he says simply.
“Hi.”
“You’re not leaving, I hope,” he says.
I want to leave so badly the soles of my feet tingle at the thought of walking away.
But other parts of me are tingling for other reasons standing this close to Torin. Alone.
“No. I have to…” I swallow and the reason I’m out here comes rushing back. “Give a speech in a minute.”
“Oh. Good.”
Actually, it is the complete opposite of good. Speeches and me are…so very not good. With the reminder, my palms get damp, and I feel my breathing pick up.
“Then we’ll dance again after that.”
He doesn’t phrase it as a question. I get the impression Torin rarely asks people for things. I’m sure he’s used to just telling people what to do.
“I, um…don’t know.” That might have been my answer even if I wasn’t distracted by my racing heart rate and the sudden queasiness in my stomach. But I am, so my attention is not fully focused on him.
I’m sure he’d be appalled to know that.
“We will,” he says confidently. And almost…soothingly?
I don’t know why he seems to be reassuring me about that. Dancing with him is the second of the three problems I have right now.
My social anxiety.
Him.
Getting the fuck out of here.
Those are my problems. In that order.
“I can’t really think about that at the moment,” I tell him. I need to get rid of him before I puke. “Can you…go back inside?”
Of course, if he’s inside when I give the fucking speech, he’ll know very well that there’s no way I rehearsed what’s sure to be a jumble of words and nervous laughter, fidgeting that makes everyone in the audience uncomfortable as well, and the reddest face he’s ever seen.
He moves to lean against the railing next to me, definitely not leaving. “You can practice on me.”
Oh. Fuck. No.
“That’s a terrible idea.” Those words aren’t self-deprecating. They’re a warning.
“I give a lot of speeches. I can give you pointers.”
I hadn’t known who he was when we first met, but I do now.
He’s a prince. The leader of a country. He gives speeches to presidents, prime ministers, parliaments, and other world leaders. And I bet he’s never once puked because of it.
Those thoughts are not comforting.
