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I heave in a shaky breath, turn, and yank my sweater off over my head. My skirt follows. I turn her shower on the hottest setting it’ll go. Carrie tells me she’s going to go make us some hot chocolate before she closes the door and leaves me in peace. I finish stripping before stepping under the hot stream then I wash off the night, wiping the lipstick and Ryan’s kiss from my mouth. I close my eyes and shudder when an image of Derek comes to mind. I’ve imagined him so much over the years. When I’m alone in my dorm, tucked in bed, he’s the man I picture when my hand slides under my nightgown. It’s never a specific scene as much as a feeling, a warmth—no, scalding heat.
Tonight, I have something new to imagine: his hand wrapped around my forearm in that kitchen. I could feel his strength. I could feel him catch and restrain himself so he wouldn’t hurt me.
I wonder if he ever thinks about me, if he imagines me like this. Me in the shower. Me in his bed. Me pinned underneath him. I wonder how far he lets himself get carried away.
These new thoughts make my stomach flutter, and my hand covers it as if I can will it to stop with just a touch.
I want to slide my hand lower, but I won’t. Not in Carrie’s bathroom. Not when I can still feel Ryan’s kiss on my lips.
I turn off the shower and wrap myself in a towel. Carrie’s left me an oversized t-shirt, folded on the counter. I slip it on and join her in the living room.
I know my face is probably splotchy from my tears, but I don’t think any new ones will spring up now that I’ve settled my emotions.
Besides, I’m done thinking about myself for the night. I’m eager to hear what she and Thomas discussed all through dinner.On Monday, I feel lighter. Friday’s shower cry-fest means I probably lost half my body weight in tears, but the rest of the weekend wasn’t spent moping around. I took a group of freshman girls from the dorm out to a movie on Saturday and then we spent the evening decorating our floor for fall. We went a little overboard. Bats hang from the ceiling, poking unsuspecting eyes. Pumpkins and fake skulls litter the ground. There’s a good chance I will trip over a seasonal gourd before the week is out.
Carrie and I spent Sunday reading at the park. Autumn has settled here, and though it’s still warm in the afternoons, in the shade and in the evenings, temperatures drop low enough that it’s actually tolerable to be outside for more than five-minute stretches.
It’s my favorite time of year.
The air isn’t quite as heavy, which means I’m not either.
Ryan and I texted back and forth a few times.
I think I’m even prepared to face Derek again during my shift, especially with Ryan there as a buffer, but when I arrive in the great hall, it’s to news that Ryan has been relocated to another section of the park. The information comes straight from Julie’s mouth, so I know it’s accurate. Still, I’m half-convinced it’s a rumor.
It has to be. Right?
My stomach is knotted when Derek strolls in with confident steps. His boots echo around the quiet room.
He doesn’t even have time to greet me before I pounce, tone accusatory. “Did you send Ryan away?”
He tugs at the collar of his emerald green coat, straightening it. When he speaks, he has the authoritative tone of a real prince. “Send him away? You make it sound like he’s left the country. No. He’s been transferred.”
“Why?”
There’s a coolness about him this morning, almost like he’s irritated by my line of questioning. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been placed here to play your prince. Last week, I was training. It was a temporary arrangement. You saw how confusing it was to the guests to have Ryan and me both standing here in costume.”
“Right, but Ryan wanted this job.”
“Yes, and I’m only tolerating it.”
Tolerating me, he means.
I look away, stung.
“For the time being, I’ll play His Royal Highness.”
“And for the holiday parades? Surely Ryan will be doing those.”
He clears his throat. “Unfortunately not.”
The news is shocking to say the least. Last week, I felt suffocated by my residual feelings for Derek and he was only here a few hours a day, standing in the background. Now he’ll be by my side during every shift? Rehearsing for the parade? I gulp.
“If you’re disappointed that I’m here instead of Ryan, take it up with Cal. I had nothing to do with it.”
To say my first day working alone with him goes deplorably is an understatement. Word of Derek’s placement as His Royal Highness spreads like wildfire through the park. Whether the guests know who he is or just find him particularly handsome, it doesn’t matter. My meet-and-greet line doubles. For every picture I take with a child, he takes one with a teenager or a mom. They fan themselves and make little quips. Derek stays quiet, his brown eyes as sharp as knives each time our gazes meet.
