Chapter 3
Dash
Have fun with princy-poo this evening
Just going on record again that I did not tell you who I’m tutoring
It’s not my fault I’m just really good at annoying you with questions until you cave
I didn’t cave! I never said a word!
LOL your mouth didn’t but your face sure did I’ve known you long enough to know that your nose gets all red when you’re trying to hide something. But ok ok prepared to testify in court that you are innocent and I’m the devious one who just knows you too well
I hate you
You love me. Gotta say, if you’d told me a few months ago that Adelaide Levy of all ppl would be hanging out with Prince Oliver, I’d have peed my pants laughing
Har har, you’re so funny. And we’re not hanging out, I’m tutoring him!
Potayto/potahto babe
BYE
I tossed my phone onto my bed, rolling my eyes at Dash as I finished packing my tutoring bag.
Tadashi Hayakawa and I had been best friends since we were eight years old and he moved from Japan to Wexstone with his mother.
We were both scholarship students who felt out of place at primary school.
I had long been ridiculed for my bookworm tendencies, and when the rich kids started bullying Dash for his hand-me-down uniforms from the annual uniform swap, we latched onto each other and formed an unbreakable duo.
Once Dash learned to sew though, it was over for the bullies. He was so talented at restoring worn clothing that you couldn’t even tell they were secondhand. He kept us both looking fashionable and was always down to visit the thrift and consignment shops to see what treasures we could find.
Now, like any good best friend, he was enjoying endlessly teasing me about tutoring Prince Oliver and reveling in my annoyance. The thing was, though, that after a month of tutoring the prince, I found that I was no longer dreading our sessions.
I smiled wryly to myself as I remembered our first session when, flipping through Prince Oliver’s Spanish textbooks, I realized they were used.
I certainly hadn’t expected for him to respond that buying used books was more environmentally friendly. Don’t get me wrong—I absolutely agreed, but I would have assumed that His Royal Highness would require brand-new everything.
I guess that’s what happens when you assume, I reminded myself.
After meeting in one of the library study rooms for that first session, he asked if I’d like to work from his place for our following sessions.
Going to his flat might not have been my first choice, but he was right: I was more comfortable with fewer prying eyes and he did seem better able to focus on our work.
In spite of myself, I had to admit that he was a hard worker—he had been making great strides on his assignments—and had been nothing but a gentleman, never once displaying the arrogance I had expected from someone of his status.
I was getting ready to grab my coat and shoes when I heard my phone ping with a text. I grabbed it, making sure it wasn’t Oliver needing to reschedule.
Theo
We need to talk.
My stomach dropped. I hated texts like this from anyone; they always made me run through the list of things I could have said or done, trying to determine what might be wrong. I dialed his number and was sent to voicemail.
Annoyance flared in me. Why text that we need to talk but not answer when I call?
Theo
Look Adelaide, I don’t want to draw this out. I need to focus on taking over for my father someday and I need someone by my side who will take being the future duchess as seriously as I take being the future duke. I think it’s best if we part ways.
I stared at my phone, my mouth agape, as I read the message twice more before it finally set in: This asshole was breaking up with me over text!
We had been together for a year and half and he was breaking up with me, not even in person, because I didn’t want to quit school and run his future household. What the actual fuck?
I typed out three different responses, each more scathing than the other, before deleting all of it.
K.
If he didn’t respect me enough to break up with me in person, he didn’t deserve a better response from me.
I screenshot the text thread and sent it to Dash.
Dash…
Dash
WTF?! You know what, I never liked him anyway. Good riddance.
I don’t even know what to say.
I’m sorry, babe. That was super shitty of him to do that over a text message. What a piece of shit. What can I do? Need me to come over?
I’m not sure right now, I’ll let you know later. I have to get to my tutoring session
I glanced at the time. I was now officially running late.
I sighed, rolling my eyes at the bad stroke of luck that had me processing a breakup with a lord as I was heading to tutor a prince.
Sure, Prince Oliver had seemed like a gentleman during our previous sessions, but he was probably just another stupid man who thought he was better than me and that my highest calling was to be barefoot and pregnant.
Ugh! Men!
“Hi, sorry I’m late,” I apologized as Prince Oliver ushered me past the security guard by the front door and into his flat.
I had expected him to live in a luxurious penthouse, so I was surprised when I found that, while he did live on the top floor of his building, the apartment was far more modest. Though furnished nicely and easily twice as large as the garden-level flat I shared with my friend Colette, it was in no way flashy or ostentatious.
Despite having a housekeeper, Theo and his friends’ flats had always had a faint undertone of sweaty socks and cologne that cost more than my rent and yet still managed to smell cheap.
Prince Oliver’s place, on the other hand, always smelled like clean linens and a whisper of something homey I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Now, I let the welcoming scent wash over me, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders loosen instinctively.
“No worries,” Prince Oliver said, shutting the door and motioning to take my coat. “Is everything all right?”
I kept my eyes down as I set my bag on the kitchen counter and began to pull out my laptop. While there was a dining room, it housed a pool table instead of a dining table, so we most often worked from bar stools at the counter instead.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I answered, the honorific slipping out.
“Adelaide. Please, I’ve asked you to call me Oliver.” His voice was kind but brooked no argument.
“Sorry. Oliver,” I mumbled.
Oliver stepped toward me, bending down to peer at my face. His voice softened as he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
I bit my lip, shaking my head, as I tried to keep the tears from resurfacing.
I had spent the walk to Oliver’s cycling through the myriad emotions vying for attention.
I was angry, annoyed, and most maddening of all, disappointed in myself for having stayed in a relationship that was going nowhere for longer than I should.
I had allowed Theo to string me along and treat me poorly instead of standing up for myself and ending things at the first sign of being with a partner who didn’t value and respect me in the way I deserved.
I knew I shouldn’t blame myself, but that was easier said than done in the moment.
“Come here.” Oliver placed a hand on my arm, guiding me to the overstuffed couch in the living room.
He took a seat beside me, far enough away to give me space but close enough to offer comfort.
Tipping his head so we were face-to-face, he said, “Clearly something is wrong. You don’t have to share, but I’m here to listen if you need to talk about it. ”
My heart twisted at his kindness. He barely knows me and he’s being more thoughtful than my own boyfriend. No, ex-boyfriend.
The thought made me lose the hold I’d had on my tears. “It’s really nothing. I just…my boyfriend and I broke up today. Actually, he broke up with me. Via text message.” I sniffled pitifully, rolling my eyes at the ceiling.
Oliver’s hand covered mine, warm and large with the fingertips lightly callused. “Then that’s his loss and he never deserved you to begin with,” he said, a hint of protectiveness in his tone.
I swallowed and dipped my chin in a nod, not sure what else to say.
Oliver squeezed my hand once before letting go. “What do you say we skip tonight’s session? Some of my friends are meeting up at our favorite bar—how about we join them? Maybe it can take your mind off things for a bit?”
I glanced at my laptop and the stack of textbooks on the counter. “I mean, I don’t want—”
“Adelaide, I promise that missing one session isn’t going to make or break my grade. Besides, the professor cancelled class for Thursday. We can meet this weekend to make it up if you’d like.”
I could hear Dash’s voice in my head. “Girl, go have some fun. He’s hot! You’re hot! Just because you hang out with him doesn’t mean you have to marry him.”
“Okay,” I agreed, wiping my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. “I’m not exactly dressed for going out, though,” I noted, gesturing to my worn-in RCW sweatshirt and jeans.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. You look great. You’ll fit right in.”
I followed Oliver into the dimly lit pub, the sandwich board outside reading, “Trivia Tuesday! €2 pints!”
I guessed at some point I would stop being surprised by the ways that Oliver continually subverted my assumptions of everything a prince was “supposed” to be, but it seemed that point was not tonight.
I had figured we would end up at a club full of students, not doing quiz night at an off-campus dive bar frequented by locals.
Cadence, while smaller than Altborn, had become a vibrant cultural hub thanks to the university students, faculty, and staff who populated the area.
In contrast to Altborn’s historic neighborhoods, Cadence’s downtown had a more urban feel that reminded me of a miniature London tucked among the mountains.
Even though it was only a forty-minute train ride from the capital, it felt like it was a world away in some respects.