Chapter 17
Spencer
L
ast night did not go as planned.
Not that I had much of a plan, it turned out.
I’m regretting being so impulsive. There should be no question if I want to be with Lyra. I should have had all that figured out before I set foot on Saint Pierre.
It’s not fair to Lyra, and I feel bad about that.
But in my defense, time was of the essence, so I’ll have to work fast to discover what I want. Lots of self-reflection, internal monologues, and second-guessing myself before I find my true self and what will make me happy.
That’s what would happen in a romance novel, according to my sister Stella. I managed a quick call to her before I got here, and like always, she wasn’t the most positive about the situation.
Today, I’m not feeling that positive about it either and while a lot of that has to do with my conversation with Lyra last night, some of it is the fact that I woke up to a roommate this morning.
It’s been years since I’ve shared a room, and I don’t have great memories of the arrangement.
I was asleep before my roommate returned last night, one of the lucky ones who was on the group date with Lyra. It’s not until I wake up that I get my first sight of the red-haired man as he pulls a shirt over his head.
It takes a minute before I can come up with a name. Rand. “Hey,” I mutter sleepily.
He turns with a smile. “Get up, dude. They’re giving out the flowers in five.”
“Flowers?” I sit up and wish for coffee.
“It’s how we find out who stays and who goes. And who gets a date.” He motions to the door. “We need to be out there and camera ready.”
Camera ready. I wince as I’m faced again with another part of my plan I didn’t think through. I’m about to spend six weeks in front of a camera, my every facial expression visible to television viewers.
And there will be a lot of viewers because people are going to want to see Princess Lyra find her Prince Charming.
Not only do I have to be on screen, but I have to make sure I look good.
In five minutes.
I hit the bathroom.
Thanks to living in the castle and my friendship with the princes, I know how this works. Give them the good profile, make sure I’m standing on a slant, and do everything I can not to be at the end of a group photo.
I’m not vain, but I’m human. Especially being around the royal family—I may not be on their good looks level, but I never want to look like a pauper next to the princes.
In four minutes, I manage to brush my teeth, fix my hair and get dressed, mirroring Rand’s shorts and a polo shirt. I also wake up enough to offer him my hand. “Spencer Laz. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last night.”
Rand grins. “Oh, I know who you are. The ex-boyfriend.”
I shake my head. “Just friends.”
“Damn, I was hoping to do the friends-to-lovers trope.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s where the friend slowly becomes something more. Didn’t you do your research before you came?”
“It was a bit of a quick decision,” I admit.
“I’ll try to fill you in after we see who gets sent home.” He jerks his head to the door. “Ready for this? There’ll be a camera when we open it.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh huh. Try not to seem miserable if you don’t get anything. I saw Lucas’s face yesterday when he didn’t get the date rose and it was hilarious. I hope they save it for the show.”
“Lucas Nyle?”
Rand pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “I’m supposed to play a nice guy, so don’t get me started on him.”
“Noted.” Good to know I’m not the only one with the not-so-great opinion of Lucas.
He gives me an encouraging smile before he opens the door. “A guy like you shouldn’t take too long to get used to the cameras, so don’t worry.”
No one has ever told me not to worry, because that’s what I do. I worry about the royal family, and fix what is fixable.
But I’m not sure how to fix this.
Taking a deep breath, I follow Rand out into the hall, coaching my expression into one of pleasant and mild excitement. He was right—a cameraperson stands off to the side, recording everything about this moment.
This is going to be hell.
The reveal has already started down the hall, with under-the-breath mutters heard as a disappointed man scoops a yellow rose from the floor.
“That’s Mac. Or Max,” Rand whispers. “Yellow means friendship in flower language, so Lyra is sending him home.”
I watch as more doors open. Two more men—Mac this time, and someone named Devon—get a yellow rose, as well as Lucas Nyle.
I guess I didn’t have to share my thoughts of him with Lyra after all.
I watch as the men give those going home one-shouldered hugs and pretend to be upset.
Maybe they really are upset. Odin told me that during the short time he was on the show, he saw friendships develop. Being cooped up in a hotel together would have to be the reason for that, because I don’t think competing for the same woman makes anyone friendly.
Still, the only ones who are truly upset are the ones going home. I’m sure the rest of us feel the same elation that it’s not us.
It’s not me.
There are two pink roses outside the door, one for Rand and one for me. Pink means we can stay.
A red rose outside your door means you get a date.
It’s not me going home, but it’s not me going on the date with Lyra, either.
Rand scoops both of them off the floor. “Looks like we’ll be roomies for another few days,” he says, handing one to me. “You’re the second one I’ve had, so it’s good that I’m not going to be seen as a bad-luck charm.”
“He already went home?”
“Yes. Asani. He didn’t even make it through the first date. I was hoping you’d at least make it twenty-four hours.”
“Hopefully more than that.” It’s very difficult to keep the disappointment from my face, but Rand acts as if he’s used to being the focus of cameras.
Maybe he’s right and it won’t take long to get used to the constant surveillance.
But it will be impossible to get comfortable with the idea that Lyra can send me home at any time. As someone she’s turned to for advice in the past, I know there’s no chance of taking on that role here, because this is about me.
Lyra can decide I’m not worth the effort of keeping me around anytime she wants to, and I don’t blame her. She can do the same for any of these men.
She must love the control aspect of it.
The only thing I can do to convince her to keep me around is to show her I’m all in. There is no time for self-reflection or internal monologues—I have to make sure she knows I’m here for her, for an honest-to-goodness chance at a future with her.
Maybe if I hadn’t spent my life denying it, I wouldn’t be standing in a hallway with a bunch of strangers holding a pink rose.
I take a deep breath, and then another, because this feels like a moment. An epiphany, where I finally pull my head out of the sand.
Or pull it out of somewhere else.
I want Princess Lyra.
And I’m going to do everything I can to get her.
I join Rand as the men stand around and talk. “So, who gets the next date?” I ask.