Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(22)

Saks.

She might not even know Seb is here, and if I tell her that not only was he here, but he came to my room and invited me on a night out, she might never forgive me. Plus I owe her after she came to my rescue today.

Ugh.

I only hesitate for a second before closing the laptop.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I groan and step out into the hallway. “Hey!” I call out, and Flora and Seb turn, almost at the exact same time. I wonder if they’ve practiced that, stunning people with the gorgeousness of their faces.

“I, uh. I think I’ll come after all,” I say, and then shooting for the ultimate in casual, I prop one hand on my hip. “Is it okay if I invite Sakshi?”

“Saks Worthington?” Seb asks, his face splitting with a lazy grin. “Absolutely.”

Flora raises her eyebrows. “Wait, you and Sakshi are actually friends? I just assumed she’d adopted you as one of her charity cases.”

Lovely. “Believe it or not, real friends,” I reply, not even rising to that bait. “So can I bring her?”

Flora glances at her brother. “Seb—” she starts, but he grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

“The more the merrier, sister of mine!”

Flora’s upper lip curls a little, but she glances over at me and, with a shrug, finally mutters, “Whatever.”

That’s all the permission I need, and I scoot past the royal siblings to jog down to the second floor.

Sakshi opens the door on my second knock, her hair scraped back from her face, a sheet mask on. “Millie!” she exclaims. “What—”

“Sebishereandwantstogoout,” I say in a rush, but, thank god, after just a week of friendship, Saks can interpret Nervous Millie.

Holding one finger out in my face, she says, “Twenty. Seconds.”

The door slams, and I stand there on the other side, gaping at the wood because there is no way—

The door flies open again, and there stands Saks, wearing a perfect pair of jeans, a T-shirt just short enough to expose her toned stomach, and no sheet mask in sight. In fact, she appears to be—

“How did you get a full face of makeup on that fast?” I ask wonderingly, and Sakshi brushes me off.

“Practice. Now where is he?”

“Where is who?”

We turn to see Perry standing in the hall, two pastries in his hand. Honestly, I don’t know how Perry is so thin, given that he eats everything in sight, but now he brushes the crumbs off his jumper—I’ve learned that’s what they call sweaters here—and stares at me and Saks.

“Seb,” Saks tells him. “Seb is here with Flora, and they’re going into the village for drinks.”

Looking around him, Perry mutters, “Well, I’m coming, too, then,” before stuffing his pastries into a potted plant.

One hand on her hip, Sakshi gives him a look. “If you screw this up for me, Peregrine . . .”

He lifts both hands, palms out. “Who’s screwing up? I want to hang with royalty, that’s all.”

I’m not sure Perry’s presence will be as welcome as Sakshi’s, but I nod, gesturing at both of them. “Great, great, we’re all living how the other half lives tonight. Now can we go?”

Seb and Flora are waiting by the front door, and I have a feeling that if we’d been even ten seconds later, Flora would’ve pulled him out and left us behind already, but Seb grins at both me and Saks, and even offers his hand to Perry.

“Fowler, isn’t it?” he asks, and Perry turns pink, nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah. Fowler. That’s me!” When Seb turns back to Flora, Perry gapes at me and Sakshi. “He knows my name!”

“You are so sad,” Saks replies, following Seb and Flora outside.

There are two cars parked in the drive, a shiny Land Rover and a tiny but very expensive-looking sports car. There are boys in the Land Rover, leaning out the window. One has hair nearly as red as Perry’s, and he waves as we approach. “Flo!” he calls out, and I dart a glance over at Flora. Surely she’s not okay with people calling her Flo? Flora is such a—

“Gilly!” She waves, smiling broadly, then drops Seb’s arm to jog over to the Land Rover, her ponytail swinging.

Okay, so maybe she’s a little more laid-back than I thought.

The boy hanging out the window hugs her, while the dark-haired boys in the back cheer, “Flo!”

“Listen, mates,” Seb tells them, striding forward, his hands in his pockets. “You go on to the pub, grab that booth I like. I’ll drive this lot.”

He jerks his thumb at all of us, and I lean forward to ask Saks, “Are we going to get in trouble for this? Leaving school grounds?”

Perry answers me. “As long as we’re not skipping class, and we don’t go any farther than the village, it’s fine for anyone in Year 13. Part of the whole Gregorstoun experience. Learning to make responsible choices.”

I’m not sure cramming into the back seat of Seb’s tiny sports car counts as “responsible,” but that’s what I find myself doing, wedged in with Perry and Saks as Flora takes the passenger seat.

I have a vague memory of passing through the village on my way to the school, but to be honest, that day my mind was mostly full of the bee-buzz of panic and nerves, so I’d barely registered it. Driving down now, shoved in the back of Seb’s tiny car, I have a little more time to admire it.