Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(24)

The pub is basically everything I’ve ever imagined a Scottish pub would be—and believe me, I have spent a lot of time imagining Scottish pubs. I have a Pinterest board and everything.

There’s a dark carpet, pattern too faint to make out after so much time (and, I’m guessing, so many feet and spilled pints), cozy booths, and a bunch of mirrors that also act as whisky and beer ads, the brands painted around the frames in chipped paint. I also spot a few paintings of the Highlands, complete with stags and the occasional kilted dude.

But I barely have time to take it all in because Saks is already pushing me toward a circular booth in the corner while simultaneously pointing Perry toward the bar.

“Get the first round,” she hisses at him, and Perry scowls.

“Why do I have to do it?” he whispers back. “They’re the rich ones. Well, the richer ones.”

“Perry!”

I’m not sure exactly what it is about just saying his name like that that’s so effective on Perry, but he sighs and heads for the bar as instructed.

“I’ll have a soda!” I call after him, but I don’t think he’s listening.

The boys who accompanied Seb to Gregorstoun are already in the booth. Well, the blond guy is. The other two dark-haired guys, who look like twins, are playing darts, and Saks and I slide in. Flora and Seb sit on either side of all of us, like royal bookends.

Clearing her throat, Saks leans forward a little, tilting her head down. “So, Seb,” she says, “do you miss Gregorstoun?”

He grins at her. “Not particularly, but then, the scenery wasn’t as lovely when I was here.”

Sakshi smiles back, playing with her hair, and Perry chooses that moment to come back to the table, somehow managing to hold multiple glasses at once. Must be a skill they teach boys up here.

“Millie,” he says to me, and I take the glass of soda from his hands. Apparently he heard me, because everyone else has a beer. Well, everyone but Saks, who has a pear cider, the sweet smell wafting over to me as she spins her glass in her hands.

Seb takes a swallow of his beer and cringes. “Jesus, mate, what is this?” he asks.

Perry slumps into the booth. “Local specialty, they said.”

“Sheep piss?” Seb asks, then shakes his head, getting out of the booth. “Going to see if they have a Stella or something.”

As he walks off to the bar, I watch Saks watch him, a glint in her eye.

“He doesn’t seem like quite as much a mess as he once was?” she offers, and Flora snorts, picking up her own glass of dark beer.

“He’s just getting better at hiding it,” she says, and Saks gives a cheerful shrug.

“In any case, still worth a shot. And then,” she adds, patting my hand, “we’ll find you a cute local boy.” She winks, long eyelashes fluttering. “Haven’t you always wanted to learn what’s under a Scotsman’s kilt?”

I turn my glass of lukewarm soda around in my hands, giving Saks a weak smile. “Intriguing as solving that mystery might be, I am actually not interested in dating anyone right now.”

“She didn’t say dating,” Flora pipes up, leaning forward so that her jumper falls off her shoulder, revealing a hot pink bra strap. “But there’s no harm in sampling the local wares on a more casual basis, Quint. Live a little.”

I fight the urge to glare at Flora, because I feel like I do that so much, my face might get stuck that way. Instead, I say, “Not interested in sampling, either. I just broke up with someone.”

Technically, Jude and I didn’t break up, since we technically never “went out,” but it’s the easiest way to explain what happened between us.

Hi?

I can still see it sitting there on my laptop, but I push the thought away.

These people don’t need to know all about that sad story. I’m just hoping it’s an acceptable excuse for enjoying my soda in peace and quiet rather than playing Tumble in the Heather with some random local.

But Saks makes an exaggerated sad face at me, corners of her mouth turning down, lower lip poking out. On anyone else, I’d think she was making fun of me, but everything Saks does is a little outsized, so this seems sincere.

“Poor lamb,” she says, patting my hand again. “What was his name?”

Ah. Here we go. I did spend some time thinking of this moment before I ever left for Scotland. How I was going to talk to people about the whole bi thing. I wasn’t out or in in Texas, really. I mean, Lee and Darcy knew, Jude obviously knew, but it wasn’t a thing that had come up. Before the whole thing with Jude, I’d only dated a couple of boys before, Matt Lawrence freshman year (for a whole two months), and Diego Lopez my sophomore year (four whole months). But in Scotland, I decided that if it came up, I was going to honest about it. Casual, even. Like this was my chance to fully start being me, I guess.

So I just shrug. “Her name was Jude,” I say, and Flora’s gaze flicks over to me for a second before she goes back to studying the other patrons with that carefully schooled bored expression she’s so good at.

“Oh, so when you do decide to get back out there, we need to find you a lass instead of a lad, understood.” Saks is cheerful now, grinning as she sits up, and I can’t help but laugh a little as I shake my head.

“Lads are good, too,” I tell her. “I am pro both lads and lasses in the general sense, but not interested in either at the moment. I came here for school, not romance.”