Page 12 of The Prince and the Double Shot
“Don’t we all?”
“Yes, I guess we do.”
“Secrets are only safe when they’re not shared.”
“Your secret is safe here. Trust me, no one rarely blinks at a royal walking around this place or even working here.”
He caught his breath. “You knew who I was.”
“Nope. I just don’t care. But I can almost always tell. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
He slowly rotated the beer glass on the table as he stared at it. “This is a bit of a surprise. I thought I was doing a good job at blending in.”
“You aren’t doing badly. You also barely speak to anyone. Why are you here if you’re just going to hide up in your room?”
“Have you been watching me?” he bristled. I understood why. When you’re a royal, you learn to be on your guard from people who only want to use you.
“No,” I chuckled. “Not like that. Trust me, this is a… The staff here is almost like a family, I guess. A very fucked, dysfunctional family, but they all actually mean well. But your absence has been noticed. You should give the people here a chance.”
“I’m not… I’m really not sure how long I intend to stay. I thought it best to… I’m not… I have not been the best of company, of late.”
“Why?”
“That would be none of your business.”
“That’s cool. You don’t have to… I was just asking.”
“We all have our secrets. Remember?”
“That I can never forget.” I took a deep breath and grinned. God, he really was a stunner. His eyes were so deep and sad that if you stared into them for too long, you could lose yourself. “So… What do we know. You’re a…” I whispered, “A prince from one of the many and various European nations that are overrun with that kind. You don’t like socializing because you don’t think you’re very good company, and you like to garden.”
“You work in a coffee shop and are a bit of an asshole.”
“I can’t deny that. Your name is Phil, or at least, that’s what you are going by.”
“You’re Zane, and apparently like to play childish games.”
“I like adult games too.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do. I know a good time boy when I see one.”
“I do like to have a good time.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’re hot when you get angry.”
“I… I…” He quickly stood up. “I can’t do this. You look too much like…”
“Who? What?”
“I’m sorry, I… I need to go.”
He started to leave, and I grabbed hold of his arm. “Stay, please. I didn’t mean to…”
“No, I can handle your… flirting and your… It’s not… I just can’t look at you.”
“What? Do I repulse you or something?” I admit the thought of him not finding me attractive made my ego shrink to the size of an egg.
