His Royal Highness(21)
I’m already stepping backward.
Her jaw drops. “Are you kidding?”
“I never kid around about these matters. We don’t want you tarnishing that custom gown on account of me.”
“Mr. Knightley! You’re not going to tell me? There are only so many roles for employees that aren’t In Character. Unless—” Her eyes widen at the thought. “Surely you wouldn’t.”
I cock a brow, silent. I pause before turning, only because I want to see her face as realization dawns.
“Cal said he was going to place someone here In Character. I assumed it would be someone like Ryan. Someone less”—her hand sweeps down my body and then back up—“important.”
I’m not sure if important is the adjective I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.
“See you Monday, Whitney.”
I don’t turn around again to see if she’s still standing there staring at me. I know she is.
A laugh escapes me once I’m back outside.
This whole thing is utter lunacy and yet I’m going through with it. I’m going to accept my fate as Fairytale Kingdom’s new prince, and Whitney will be my princess. We’ll work on the happily ever after part come Monday.
Chapter Six
Whitney
Employees don’t have to live on-site at Fairytale Kingdom. In fact, most don’t. However, there are housing options for those of us who prefer it. Everything from modest one-bedroom efficiencies to luxury four-bedroom condos can be ours for a price. The twelve housing complexes are open to the Knightley Company staff only, and discounts are available when employees hit milestones. Lasted two years? Congrats, here’s a 5% decrease in your monthly rent. Carrie loves it. She moved into a small apartment near the Costuming Department right after college. Because of its location, all of her neighbors are also her coworkers—artists, designers, seamstresses. I imagine in the evenings they lounge in the common room smoking, sipping kombucha, sketching nudes. Sufjan Stevens plays on vinyl as someone reads their newest slam poetry entry. I don’t know. My nights are very different.
After college, I opted to stay in the dorms—an unusual choice by anyone’s standards. I tell everyone I stayed because there was a part-time position as a residence hall manager that I couldn’t pass up. The real reason is less clear.
Along with a small monthly stipend, I get to live for free while I help incoming freshman girls navigate the complicated world of dorm life.
Best of all, I didn’t even have to leave the dorm room I used in college. I live in the same cube I shared with Carrie. It’s charming, said no one ever.
I’ve retrofitted the place somewhat since I live alone. Instead of a second twin bed, I have a long desk. Half of it is used for normal desk functions. It houses pens, books, and a desk calendar I thought I needed but never use. The other half contains a state-of-the-art kitchen…if you squint your eyes a little. I have a coffee pot and a drying rack. A shelf, hung at eye level, stores two plates, two bowls, and two mugs—two of each just in case I have company in the form of Carrie. There’s a small sink, a mini fridge, and a microwave, and instead of one minuscule closet, I have two.
The rug (thrifted) and art (also thrifted) on the walls try hard to dress up the dwelling but mostly function like lipstick on a pig.
I would move out, and I will, eventually. Just…not right now.
Right now, this room is a safe haven, a place where problems don’t exist outside of “Jessica stole my Pringles!” and “Candace used my towel again!”
This morning especially, I don’t want to leave the safe confines of my dorm, but I have work. With a woe-is-me sigh, I grab my bag and make for the door, walking right past a photo of my family. I glance at it wistfully, like I would if they were all deceased and I was staring in a Hallmark movie. But nope, they are alive and well in New York City with Avery.
I spoke to them last night.
“Your sister is busier than ever, rehearsing nonstop!”
Eight years of hard work has paid off. Avery has managed to land a starring role in a Broadway musical. (I now know the difference between “on” and “off” Broadway, thank you very much.) Opening night is only three months away, and I’ve agreed to take time off and fly up to see her perform. It should go the way of all my other visits. I will suppress my deep-seated resentment toward my parents while putting on a brave face for Avery, who most of the time isn’t there anyway because of her demanding schedule. After a few days of strained family time, I’ll fly back to Georgia with a bad taste in my mouth and a stomachache that lingers for a few days.
But now’s not the time to worry about that.
I have bigger, hunkier issues to deal with today.
Derek Knightley and his grotesquely perfect features await me at Elena’s Castle.
It’s cruel the way time decides to play favorites. Before, he was so handsome I could barely look at him. In the eight years since, time has decided to bestow even more genetic gifts unto him. Cheekbones? Yup, let’s go ahead and hone ’em even more. Jawline? Sharper! Smirk? We want panties dropping, boys!
It’s why I behaved like a perfect asshole on Friday. Well, part of the reason. I was actually tired and I did, in fact, need to use the restroom. But, I was also shocked he’d come to see me, shocked he was there in all his glory. I didn’t have time to prepare myself for the battery of emotions that assaulted me upon seeing him again up close, smiling at me.