Chapter 4
BASH
Two weeks later, we’d fallen into a routine that felt dangerously normal, like a well-oiled machine, anticipating each other’s moves.
I slept on the couch, which was surprisingly comfortable.
Then again, I’d grown used to sleeping on the ground in the Marines, so the soft cushions were a luxury, especially wrapped in my mummy sleeping bag.
At six on the dot, I woke up for my workout, which consisted of a five-mile run around campus followed by bodyweight exercises in the fitness center while Eddie slept in.
He emerged from his bedroom around eight, hair sticking up in every direction and adorably rumpled and mussed, mumbling, “Good morning,” as he stumbled toward the bathroom.
Clearly not a morning person. I had coffee ready by the time he finished his morning routine, and we headed to breakfast together.
We attended classes, had lunch, did assignments and study groups together, spent time in the library studying, then shared dinner and retreated to our mini-apartment for quiet nights in.
Rinse and repeat. Together all day, every day.
It should’ve felt intense—24/7 protection detail for a member of the British royal family. Instead, it was starting to feel like the most natural thing in the world.
“You know,” Eddie said, looking up from the textbook he’d been highlighting with scientific precision, “I never expected American university libraries to be so democratic.”
We were settled in our usual spot on the third floor of the main library, a corner table that gave me good sight lines to all entrances while providing Eddie with the quiet study environment he seemed to prefer.
It had taken me one day to figure out his study habits.
He needed absolute silence for reading but liked having background conversation for writing, preferred natural light, and had a tendency to mutter British curse words under his breath when frustrated.
“Democratic how?” I asked, looking up from my own reading.
Yes, I didn’t have to pass any exams as an auditing student, but only my professors knew that.
As far as the other students were aware, I was just like them, so I would have to keep up appearances.
International Relations coursework wasn’t exactly light material, and my own degree was in criminology, so there wasn’t a lot of overlap.
At least it kept me busy and able to focus on academics rather than on the way Eddie absently twirled a pen between his fingers when he was thinking, or how his accent got more pronounced when he was tired.
“Well, at Oxford, the libraries are rather more… hierarchical, I suppose. Certain areas are restricted to certain years or certain colleges. Here, it seems anyone can sit anywhere.” He gestured around the space, where graduate students, underclassmen, and professors all shared the same study areas. “It’s quite refreshing, actually.”
“You sound surprised.”
Eddie’s cheeks colored slightly. “That made me sound like a terrible snob. I don’t mean to be. My entire educational experience has been rather exclusive. This is the first time I’ve been somewhere that operates on merit rather than legacy or connections.”
There it was again, that unexpected self-awareness that kept catching me off guard.
The Eddie York I’d gotten to know so far bore no resemblance to the entitled playboy prince I’d been expecting.
He was thoughtful, curious about everything from American slang to campus politics, and surprisingly humble for someone who’d been born into unimaginable privilege.
He was also becoming dangerously easy to like.
“Merit’s a good system. Means everyone’s here because they earned it.” Then I chuckled. “Well, everyone except me. Here we are, talking about a merit system when I cheated my way into this university based on falsified records.”
He studied me for a few beats, as if deciding how to respond. “I’m confident you would’ve gotten in based on merits, if you had wanted to,” he finally said.
That was not the answer I’d been expecting at all.
The compliment shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.
But hearing genuine respect in his voice, knowing that he saw me as more than hired security did something to me that I wasn’t entirely comfortable examining.
“Thank you. I’m glad I won’t actually have to pass the exams, that much I’ve already discovered. ”
“I’d be happy to help you study or tutor you.”
How had this guy been labeled Prince Playboy? Literally nothing about him suggested he was even remotely into partying and hooking up. Hell, I hadn’t even seen him look twice at girls so far. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Eddie went back to his studies, and after a thorough inspection of our environment, I tried to focus as well.
College hadn’t been easy for me. I’d always been more of a hands-on guy when it came to learning, but I’d known I needed a degree to become a federal agent.
It had been hard work, but it had paid off.
I’d made it into the Secret Service, and now this assignment was supposed to set me up for life.
If I did well here, it would honor Glenn’s memory and make my family proud.
But sitting here in this library, watching Eddie discover American university life with the excitement of a kid in a candy store, I was starting to wonder what I actually wanted my future to look like.
Dangerous territory, Puller. Stay focused on the job.
Eddie closed his textbook and stretched in a way that drew my attention to the lean lines of his torso. “It’s time for a break, and I believe you promised to introduce me to the wonders of sweet tea.”
“I did, and I made a pitcher this morning before breakfast, so that’s ready and waiting for us.”
His face lit up. “You did? I wasn’t sure if you had all the necessary ingredients…”
“The ingredients are tea, water, and enough sugar to put half the campus into diabetic shock. It’s not complicated.”
His delighted laugh drew looks from nearby students. He was so easy to talk to, like a friend rather than a protectee.
The ten-minute walk back to our dorm gave me time to process how much Eddie had opened up.
While I kept scanning our surroundings, he was talking freely, asking genuine questions about my background instead of the polite small talk we’d started with.
It was dangerous territory and I was fixin’ to walk right into it.
The more I got to know him as a person rather than a protectee, the harder it became to maintain professional distance.
Back in our suite, I busied myself with pouring us both a glass of sweet tea while Eddie settled on our couch with his laptop. The domestic normalcy of it should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like walking a tightrope.
“Right,” I said, setting a glass in front of him. “Fair warning—this is going to be nothing like what you’re used to.”
Eddie picked up the glass and took a cautious sip. His eyebrows shot up immediately. “Good lord,” he said, though he was smiling. “That’s essentially liquid candy, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much. What do you think?”
He took another, longer sip, considering. “It’s absolutely dreadful,” he said solemnly, then grinned. “I love it.”
I laughed and had to remind myself that this was supposed to be work. Professional distance, Puller. Remember why you’re here.
But then Eddie started asking questions about North Carolina, about my family, about growing up in a military town, and I found myself sharing stories I hadn’t told anyone in years.
How Mama made the best biscuits on the planet according to a family recipe no one but her knew.
How Daddy taught me to change a tire before he taught me to drive.
How the whole town turned out for high school football games like they were the Super Bowl.
How we all mourned when a uniformed member of the military showed up on someone’s doorstep because we knew what it meant.
“It sounds wonderful,” Eddie said quietly. “All of it. The sense of community, the traditions, knowing your place in something larger than yourself.”
There was something wistful in his voice that made me look at him more carefully. “You didn’t have that growing up?”
“Not exactly.” He was quiet for a moment, staring into his sweet tea like it might hold answers. “My upbringing was rather more… isolated. Lots of people around, but not many genuine connections. Everything was about protocol and appearances. It’s hard to make friends that way.”
The raw honesty in his admission hit me harder than it should have. Here was a guy who had everything anyone could want—wealth, title, privilege—and he was envying my small-town childhood. “But you do have close friendships with some other princes, right?” I’d read that in his file.
Eddie’s face lit up. “Nils, Tore, and Floris? Yes, they’re my best friends. We understand each other in ways that most people wouldn’t.”
“Because you’re all in similar situations?”
He glanced at me, seeming to weigh how much to reveal. “We’re all trying to figure out who we are outside of the expectations placed on us. It’s harder than you might think, discovering your authentic self when you’ve spent your entire life being told who you’re supposed to be.”
The vulnerability in his voice made something twist in my chest. He was just trying to figure out his place in the world, like anyone else. The only difference was that his family expectations came with crowns and constitutional obligations.
“Well,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “you’ve got a year to figure it out. No pressure.”
Eddie laughed, but it was softer this time. “Indeed. Though I suspect it might take longer than a year.”
We fell into comfortable silence after that, both of us returning to our respective work.
But I kept stealing glances at him as he typed, noting the way he chewed his bottom lip when concentrating, how he unconsciously straightened his shoulders every so many minutes, as if he’d been trained to keep a correct posture at all times, how he let out these small, wishful sighs from time to time.
Small details that I definitely shouldn’t be cataloguing.
Eddie announced he was taking a nap, so I took the opportunity to get an extra run in, hoping it would clear my head. It did, but as soon as I got back, I was right back where I started.
As I showered, the problem was becoming increasingly clear.
Somewhere between helping him navigate campus dining and listening to him laugh at cheesy American sitcoms, I’d stopped seeing Prince Gregory as a job and started seeing him as simply Eddie.
A guy I genuinely enjoyed spending time with.
A guy who was thoughtful and funny and surprisingly down to earth despite his background.
Sweet baby Jesus, it was starting to sink in how complicated this year was going to be for me.
Not because of external security threats or logistical challenges, but because of the internal battle I was fighting every time Eddie smiled at me like I’d said something clever, or when he was genuinely excited about something small, or when he asked questions about my life like my answers mattered to him.
I’d never been pegged as bisexual, had always worked hard to be straight-passing.
One had to in the Marines, where homophobia was unfortunately still alive and kickin’, and the Secret Service wasn’t all that better.
I’d swapped hand jobs twice with a guy while on leave, but both far from home, and I’d made sure not to give my real name.
After that, I’d become too scared of being found out, and I had stuck to women.
Look, I liked women well enough, so I reckoned I’d be fine with hooking up with girls until I found the one I wanted to settle down with. I’d squashed that bisexual side of me like a bug, and that had been the end of it.
Until now.
Until Eddie.
But no matter how I turned it over in my head, I couldn’t figure out how to stop myself from liking him, from being so attuned to him, from being so attracted to him. My only saving grace was that he was straight and hadn’t seemed to notice. But what if that changed?
I finished rinsing off and reached for my towel, no closer to a solution.
I toweled off quickly, then wrapped the towel around my waist. I hadn’t heard a peep from Eddie, so he was still asleep.
Good. That meant I could sneak into the living room without having to put my sweat-soaked shirt and shorts back on since I’d forgotten to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with me.
My hand was on the doorknob when the bathroom door suddenly opened and Eddie stood in front of me. We both froze. His eyes dropped, traveling lower and lower and lower still as I held my breath. This wasn’t weird unless I made it so. Just two guys sharing a bathroom.
But Eddie’s eyes still weren’t meeting mine. Instead, they were fixed somewhere around my waist, right where a trail of hair disappeared under the towel, which, I will admit, was slung rather low on my hips, showing off the deep V of my hipbones.
Which shouldn’t have made a difference, but somehow, it did.
Eddie’s face was rapidly turning a shade of red that clashed spectacularly with his sandy brown hair as he kept staring at my body.
Like he’d never seen a half-naked man before.
Like he was mesmerized by the sheer sight of me.
Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Except that wasn’t quite right, was it? Because the look on his face wasn’t shock or embarrassment or even simple surprise. It was something else entirely. Something that looked an awful lot like…
Interest.
Appreciation.
Want.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie stammered, finally dragging his eyes up to meet mine. “I thought you were… I didn’t realize… I’ll just…”
He backed away, then rushed into his bedroom and shut the door with slightly more force than was necessary, leaving me standing in the living room with my worldview quietly rearranging itself.
That hadn’t been the reaction of a straight man accidentally walking in on his roommate. That had been the reaction of someone who liked what he saw and was mortified about being caught looking.
Eddie wasn’t straight.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.