Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(9)

It’s a weird thought, graduating somewhere else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about finishing my high school experience in another country, but it still felt bizarre, looking at everyone’s First Day of School pics on social media last week.

“Have you talked to Darcy?” he asks, and I turn away, shrugging.

“A little.”

That wasn’t really true. She’d finally responded to my text with a HEY GIRL! Sorry, been CRAZY BUSY! but that was about it. True, she and I have never been as close as me and Lee (or me and Jude, or Darcy and Jude), but it still stung, and I can’t escape the feeling that she might be a little happy to have been right. I’ve seen more pics of her and Jude hanging out on Instagram and Snapchat over the past two weeks than I have in over a year.

Now that Jude and I aren’t friends—or More Than Friends—anymore, it seems like Darcy has taken back Her Rightful Place.

“And have you talked to Jude?” Lee asks, pulling me from my thoughts, and I point at him.

“You know all Jude talk is still forbidden.”

Usually, my Pointy Finger of Justice is enough to dissuade Lee, but now he just grabs it, pushing my finger out of his face. “We’ve had a two-week Jude-Free Zone,” he says. “I think the statute of limitations is up. Have you talked to her?”

Sighing, I pull my finger out of his grip and flop into the chair at my desk. “No. But why should I? Did you miss the part where she broke my heart?”

“A, that rhymes,” Lee replies, “and B, no, I didn’t. I am very Team You in this, trust me, I just . . . don’t want you to leave feeling unresolved. You deserve your big country-song moment where you tell her how much she sucks and then commit felony vandalism on her property.”

I laugh at that, shaking my head. “Right, because me and confrontation are BFFs.”

“You could stand to be a liiiiittttle bit more confrontational, it’s true,” Lee says, holding his thumb and forefinger apart. “How you can be so competitive, but still hate arguing—”

“I’m not that competitive,” I interrupt, and Lee makes a rude noise.

“Okay, tell that to my neck. You know that game of Red Rover in fifth grade is why I can’t turn my head all the way to the left, right?”

“It’s been nearly seven years, Lee, let it go,” I joke, tossing a pair of socks at him. “And why are you so worried about me dealing with Jude anyway? Don’t you have your own romantic life to fret over?”

Lee throws the socks back at me with a snort. “My dating life is fret-free at the moment. I have a date with Noah this Friday, thankyouverymuch.”

“Chicken Finger Place Guy?”

Lee wrinkles his nose. “Y’all have got to stop calling him that.”

Laughing, I turn back to my packing. “Sorry, you called him that first, and now it’s stuck. I look forward to you one day becoming Mr. Chicken Finger Place Guy.”

With a groan, Lee flops onto his stomach on my bed, sending a few pillows thudding to the floor. “Miiilllllllllliiiiie,” he whines. “Why do you have to leave me? What’s Scotland got that Texas doesn’t? Other than discernible seasons, I guess.”

“All kinds of things,” I tell him. “Kilts.”

“I can wear a kilt.”

“Bagpipes.”

“I’ll learn those.”

“Cool geology.”

“Texas has so many damn rocks, Mill.”

Grinning, I put another sweater in my suitcase. “It’s different,” I say. “And I’m ready to be somewhere different for a little while.”

“Just promise me you’re doing this because you really want to go have fun, exciting new experiences,” Lee says, picking at my comforter. “Not because you’re running away.”

“I am only mildly running away,” I tell Lee, holding up my thumb and forefinger close together like he did earlier. “The teensiest bit of running. Every girl is allowed that.”

I can tell Lee wants to argue with me over that, but in the end, he just sighs and says, “Fine. Then at least use your time wisely by hunting the Loch Ness monster.”

“That,” I say, giving him finger guns, “I can definitely do.”

There’s a knock at the door, and my stepmom pokes her head in. “Everything going okay in here?” she asks. Her red hair is pulled back from her face, and she’s got Gus balanced on one hip.

Seeing me, he gives a happy shriek and reaches his arms out, so I cross the room to the two of them, taking one of those chubby hands and pressing a smacking kiss to the back. “Going great,” I tell Anna. “I’ve almost finished making a Gus-sized cubby in my luggage.”

She smiles, bouncing Gus a little as he continues to babble. “I’m sure he’d love that,” she says. “And then I’d get to raise a kid with a Scottish accent, which could be fun.”

I laugh and cross back over to the closet, pulling out a sweater. “You promise to smack me if I come back all ‘aye’ this and ‘bonny’ that, right?”

Anna nods, shifting Gus to her other side. “Stepmother’s honor. Now, do y’all want pizza or Chinese for dinner?”

“Pizza,” Lee and I say in unison, and Anna gives us a thumbs-up, which Gus mimics before they head back out into the hallway.