Page 48 of The Problem with Princes
His eyes widen slightly. “Are those bad numbers?”
I shrug. “Maybe for Chloe or Calliope.” I smile innocently at his creased brow. “Three city names, please.”
He taps his chin. “Hmm. Any cities?”
I nod.
“Kaysariyyah, Paris and Washington, DC.” He gives me a smile, challenging me to tell him he can’t add DC to his list.
I scribble it down and move on. “Okay. Last ones. I need three occupations you would like to have.” I list Prince on the top line. “That one I can add myself.”
He hands the cone over to me to lick. “Hmm. Are these realistic occupations or dream occupations?”
“Whatever you want.”
His mouth twitches to the side. “Okay. How about one dream and one realistic?” He pauses and glances around us. “Rock star.”
I snicker. “Yeah, I can totally see that.”
As if to prove he can, indeed be a rock star, he leans in and sings a few lines fromSister Christian.
I lean forward, our noses almost touching. “I loveNight Ranger,” I whisper to him. “But that song doesn’t really scream rock star. It’s more of a ballad.”
He holds his cone up to his mouth, and I grin stupidly. It looks ridiculous, but also incredibly hot at the same time.
“I just haven’t gotten to the rock part.” He keeps singing until he gets to the chorus where he stands up and puts his foot up on his chair, holding his cone up in front of his mouth. He looks very much like a rock star.
The ice cream lady’s eyes widen.
I turn on the flashlight on my phone and wave it around as I sway to the song. I would totally be a groupie for him.
He finishes the song and drops down into his seat.
“I love that song.”
His brows tick up. “I’m not surprised. All the cool chicks do.” He has a good voice; it isn’t hard to envision him on a stage. He sits back and taps the paper again. “And king. That is to be my real occupation.” There is much less enthusiasm in his voice.
I gape at him. How had I not realized he would ultimately become king? It is obvious, as the heir to the throne, but for some reason, I’ve never thought past him being a prince.
I look over at him. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”
“What am I to be excited about? It’s been my duty since I was born. I have no say in the matter. Just expectations to fulfill. I’ve had so many lectures on deportment I can’t even keep track of how many there have been.”
“But once you are king, you can make changes that you want for your country.”
His brows flick up. “It’s not like the old days where the king’s word was law. We still have a chancellor and a parliament we must work with.”
I close my mouth and hurriedly write it down, not wanting to think about it.
“What does this mean?” He points to the P.A.S.H. written across the top.
I point to each letter. “Palace, Apartment, Shack and House. One of these is your future living accommodations.” I should give him one last out. “Hey, if your life goes to heck in a handbasket because this changes your future, don’t come crying to me.”
“Didn’t I already say I would risk it?” He grins. “But I still don’t get these letters.”
“Just wait.” I count the spirals I had drawn earlier and write the number twelve down on the bottom of the paper. Starting with the P, I count to twelve, crossing out things as I land on them. I cross out Jaguar and frown, but then when I circle Ferrari, it seems like an okay compromise.
I land on Calliope and then Chloe and cross them out. My heart accelerates as I circle my name.Oh, stop it dumb heart. This isn’t real.I have a plane ticket to Washington, DC in an email on my phone.
