Page 9 of The Cinderella Prince

CHAPTER 3

A Midnight Date

Cedric

I tappedthe fingertips of my left hand against my left thumb to calm the trembling. It was a trick I had discovered at the age of eight, having to stand in front of endless crowds of people while my parents addressed our nation. The nervousness of public appearances had never gotten easier on me, but it had also never presented itself when I was alone with a single, incredible human being like Tristan.

He was an adventurer of sorts, it seemed. He led the way down the street and away from Neon Nights. “Mama Viv, yeah,” he explained after I had asked him about the drag queen who’d sung at the start of the party. “Her name’s Roger when he’s out of drag, which is less than you’d think. As Lady Vivien, she’s pretty much everyone’s cool aunt.” He glanced at me as if waiting for something to happen or something to show itself. When I simplynodded, he went on. “She owns Neon Nights and sort of collects lost boys that came through.”

“Collects?” I asked, chuckling.

Tristan nodded like it was self-explanatory. “If you need a place to stay, Mama Viv knows someone with a spare bed. If you need a job, Mama Viv will find a vacancy or make one if none exists. And if you just need a shoulder to cry on, she’ll be that person.” He glanced at me with a hint of sadness before looking away.

“It’s very nice to have a person like that in your life,” I said softly.

Tristan nodded and cleared his throat. “Yep. She’s the rock holding this neighborhood together.”

“Are neighborhoods always this self-sufficient?” I asked, switching the topic for Tristan’s sake. Perhaps it was a little too early to dig through his past and find out exactly why his voice cracked when he spoke of crying. “I’ve never seen something like this other than in very small towns.”

Tristan rolled his bare, round shoulders, and my heart leaped before I forced myself to focus on his words, not just his looks. “That’s what you do in life, right? You make your village.”

“You make your village,” I echoed, thinking about it.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a small town or a metropolis,” he said with a bright smile as he gestured for us to cross the street. “It’s a buffet, really. You pick your favorite bar, your hairdresser, your classes, your routes and shortcuts. You pick your favorite people. What else is there?”

A palace and a looming threat of an arranged marriage, I thought. “I think you might be right,” I said. It was asweet idea, though not the idea I could ever entertain with seriousness. A chance birth into a royal family had shackled me, defined me, and doomed me. Élodie waited for me, and Alexander either pursued me or was about to start the chase.

“I didn’t think this way before,” Tristan said. “About having your village. I used to think you had to work with what you got. I thought that life was all about what you were given, and that was the end of the story.”

“It can be that way,” I said. It certainly matched my situation. “It depends on what you’re given, I suppose.”

Tristan gave me a significant look, but I replied with a simple smile that made him change the topic. “I really like your accent, Cedric,” he said, leading me down a narrow, one-way street onto a wide avenue. Even near midnight, cars moved up and down the double lanes like it was the middle of the day. Tristan led us to the nearest pedestrian crossing. Just across the street, the Hudson River moved like a massive body of water that it was, and on the other side was a glimmering New Jersey skyline.

“And I like your way of thinking, Tristan,” I said. It was unquestionably true, even if his thoughts didn’t apply to me.

“Do you ‘just pass by’ a lot?” he asked.

“Around here, no,” I replied with a sneaky smile. He knew what he was doing. It was fair, I decided, that he should ask questions. I hadn’t consumed the truth serum levels of alcohol to have to be on guard. “I’ve visited New York twice before, but I was too young to appreciate it the first time.”

“Andthe second time?” Tristan asked.

The second time, it had been an official visit to the Museum of Renaissance Art when Verdumont lent out its incredible collection for an entire year while our museum was being reconstructed. Alexander led the visit, Maximilian and Sophia were here for the fun of it, and I had joined the trip as the only art history aficionado of the family. My studies revolved around the history of fine arts, especially the booming period from the Renaissance to early Cubism. “It was a work-related trip,” I said lightly. “I didn’t get a chance to walk the streets like this.”

“If walking the streets is what you want, I can absolutely deliver,” Tristan said cheerfully. “When you’re a broke college dropout, you learn how to find entertainment on the cheaper side.”

“Dropout?” I asked. I hadn’t expected him to be so forward. Some small part of me felt pity, but I silenced it. A million people were a million unique stories; not all had to fit the expectations my family had placed on me.

Tristan waved it off. He didn’t appear embarrassed about discussing it. “Business School,” he said. “It took me a year to see it wasn’t for me and another to work up the courage to tell my family. That’s, erm, where things started going south.” He forced a grin to his face, but his eyes no longer glimmered. “It’s a long, boring story not fit for a random first date.”

“Random first date? I like it,” I said. We crossed the street and found ourselves facing a long pier filled with greenery and providing a breathtaking view of New Jersey’s lights chasing away the night from its streets and sky.

“You don’t do dates like this, I think,” Tristan said.

“I don’t get a chance,” I admitted without explaining that being the third most recognizable face of a country made midnight dates with guys like Tristan a little too difficult. “My life’s pretty…structured,” I said. It was the only word I could think of using in place of admitting to having handlers lead me through every waking hour of my life. “And the structure doesn’t precisely leave room for spontaneity.”

Tristan blew a breath of air. “I wish I could have even a shred of structure.”

“At the cost of this?” I asked.

---