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I think there’s also a healthy dose of awe concerning the fact that Cal and I are friends. He’s still rarely seen around the park, and his celebrity has rubbed off on me to some extent. For better or for worse, I’m oddly popular. Middle School Whitney would be very happy about this turn of events.
The familiar faces I pass give me the confidence boost I need. By the time I’m done with makeup and hair and have been zipped into Princess Elena’s dress, I feel ready to tackle the situation with Derek. I won’t come close to reacting the way I did on Friday. No siree.
Then Julie ushers me into the great hall for my shift and I spot Derek and stop on a dime.
The sight of him dressed as His Royal Highness is arresting. Slam-you-down-on-the-hood-of-a-squad-car, You have the right to remain silent kind of arresting.
It actually infuriates me that he looks so good dressed up in costume. He’s supposed to look absurd and unsure of himself, like Ryan. Instead, he’s a king among peasants. Knee-high black leather riding boots give way to snug khaki-colored breeches, carefully cut to accentuate his legs. An emerald green coat is tailored to perfection and hides most of a long-sleeved white cotton shirt tucked in at the waist. A muslin cravat is folded crosswise into a band and knotted around his tan neck.
His chin and jaw are clean-shaven. His hair is recently trimmed and styled with swoon-worthy perfection. His straight, white smile is aimed at a girl dressed up as a lady’s maid. I think she’s the hostess upstairs in the restaurant and what is she even doing down here and why is Julie trying to get my attention?
“Are you okay?” Julie says, leaping into the air in front of me.
“Fine. I was just thinking about how I might have left my stove on.”
“You don’t have a stove.” Julie used to live in my residence hall. “You look pale. You’re not going to pass out are you?”
Her assessment is a slap in the face. Get it together, Atwood! I came to work with a goal, and that goal is staring me in the face.
I smile and assure her all is well before I beeline straight for Derek.
He spots me as I approach, a dark brow lifting in obvious amusement. A knowing smile follows suit. It appears we’re going to pick up right where we left off on Friday. I don’t get it. He never used to act this way toward me. Old Derek was courteous and respectful, chivalrous even. New Derek would sooner back me into a dark corner than save me from one.
“It was really nice to meet you. And thanks for the picture!” the girl says to Derek before turning to head for her post. Her cheeks are flushed with color. Excitement bubbles from every pore.
“Enjoying the spotlight already?”
Bad Whitney!
“Ignore that. Let’s start over. Hello, Derek. Nice to see you. You look well. Have a nice weekend? That’s great. Listen, I’d like to apologize for my behavior on Friday. It likely confused you, and seeing as how we’ll be working together for the time being, I’d like to set the record straight. The truth is, when I was a teenager, I had a harmless schoolgirl crush on you.”
His brows rise with an intrigued air.
“You probably don’t remember, but I even sent you an email asking you out to dinner—”
His smile is disarming. “I remember.”
Residual embarrassment fills my veins, no doubt coloring my cheeks for his amusement. “Oh. Well. There you have it. Your presence caught me off guard, and well, there’s no reason we can’t be cordial, right? All of that is in the past. Though honestly, would it have been so hard to address the dinner invitation? To decline my offer politely rather than let it dangle there forever unanswered?”
He’s studying me carefully. “Are you still upset about it?”
I rear back. “Upset? No. Merely…curious. Call it unfinished business.”
He’s completely unperturbed. In fact, he seems delighted by this turn of events. “I’m happy to discuss this with you another time. Say, over coffee?”
I’m aware that we’re starting to gather an audience. Ryan just entered the room and is heading our way. In a few moments, the area will be swarming with families.
“I don’t drink coffee anymore.”
I had three cups just this morning while pacing in my dorm room, shooting the dark liquid back like an alcoholic chugging Listerine. Maybe that’s why I’m acting so crazy now.
A whisper of a smirk transforms his face into something entirely too pleasing. Every nerve ending inside me sighs in bliss.
“Lunch then?”
“I don’t have time…this century.”
He laughs, a rich sound sourced from his broad muscled chest. “I’m confused. You’re upset with me because I turned you down for a date a decade ago, but just now, you declined me twice. Maybe I should be the one upset with you.”
