Majesty (American Royals, #2)(17)
Nina shook her head in amusement, but marked her page and sat up. “Actually, it’s Jane Eyre.”
“Austen, Eyre, they’re all full of tortured romance and you love it.” Rachel bit her lip as if unsure whether to continue. “Speaking of which, I noticed you didn’t go to the museum event last night.”
The whole premise of the gala, the opening of a new exhibit on royal weddings, felt strange to Nina. As ridiculous as it was to pity the Washingtons, she did feel a little sorry for them, that their lives were so shamelessly commercialized. That their personal milestones—their birthdays, weddings, funerals—were never private, but instead became a media frenzy. And then all their clothes and invitations were displayed in museums for public consumption, so that everyone in America could feel like those moments belonged to them, too.
“I didn’t really want to go.” And run into Jeff again, she didn’t need to add.
Nina hadn’t known what to expect when she saw the prince at the races last weekend. Half of her still wanted to slap him across the face for defending Daphne that night at the engagement party, and the other half wanted to pull him into a hug and murmur how sorry she was about his dad.
Of course she hadn’t done either. The only way to survive that kind of encounter was to keep it as civil and short as possible.
She’d seen the confusion on Jeff’s face when she’d greeted him like a near stranger. But Nina needed that emotional distance for her own protection. She wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend that she and Jeff were “just friends” again.
Instead Nina had followed the court formula for surface-level conversations; she certainly knew it well enough, after all these years of being Sam’s best friend. When Jeff said hello, she’d bobbed a curtsy, murmured her condolences, and made polite conversation about the weather and the races before excusing herself and walking away in relief. The whole exchange had taken two, maybe three minutes.
Yet she’d spent hours replaying it in her mind. No matter how determinedly she told herself that she was over Jeff, her heart hadn’t quite gotten the message yet.
A series of gongs echoed through campus: the Randolph clock tower, which famously marked noon and midnight with thirteen chimes instead of twelve, the result of a senior prank that had never been corrected.
“That’s my cue.” Nina stood, brushing stray bits of grass from her cropped jeans.
“You’re leaving?” Rachel protested.
“I have Intro to Journalism in twenty minutes.”
Rachel reached across the blanket to grab her friend’s copy of Jane Eyre. “You can’t go, I’m holding your homework hostage!”
“No worries, keep the book. You could even try reading it,” Nina teased.
Rachel flopped dramatically back onto her towel and placed the novel over her face. Her curls formed an unruly pillow behind her. “I’ll just nap instead. This makes a nice sunshade.”
“Good thinking,” Nina agreed. “Now the story will sink into your brain through sheer osmosis.”
She heard Rachel’s answering laugh, muffled beneath the heavy book.
Nina headed down the paved walkway toward the center of campus, passing dozens of people as she walked: sorority girls in printed T-shirts, prospective students on a campus tour. To her relief, none of them spared her a second glance. The afternoon sun filtered through the filigree of leaves overhead, dappling campus in a green-gold light.
For some reason, her eyes kept drifting to a dark-haired boy ten yards before her. She could only see the back of him. But something—his sculpted calves, the bold, brisk way he walked—intrigued her. She found herself oddly curious to see his face.
Her heart picked up speed as the mystery guy turned toward Smythson Hall, which was so overgrown with ivy that it looked like it had sprouted organically from the ground itself. He was headed toward the same first-floor classroom that Nina was. She quickened her steps to catch up. He reached for the door—
Nina skidded to a halt, nearly biting her tongue in shock. It was Ethan Beckett. Jeff’s best friend.
She felt her face turning a mottled shade of red. Why hadn’t she recognized Ethan? They’d spent plenty of time together over the years, though it was always around the royal twins. Their paths had never crossed at school before.
“You’re in journalism class?” she blurted out.
“Nina. Nice to see you, as always.” He flashed his usual cavalier smile and held open the door for her. She avoided making eye contact as she slid past him to head inside.
Facing the whiteboard were at least thirty desks, arranged in rows. The room hummed with the overlapping conversations that always came after a school break.
Nina settled into a desk on the far right. Maddeningly, Ethan ignored all the empty chairs to take the one next to her. He nodded at her short hair. “I like the new look.”
“It was time for a change.” Nina tried to inject the statement with an air of finality, to indicate that he shouldn’t feel obligated to keep chatting, but Ethan didn’t take the hint. He leaned forward, bracing an elbow on his desk and angling toward her.
“So, Intro to Journalism,” he mused. “To be honest, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I’m surprised you’ll go anywhere near journalism, after what the media—”
Nina hissed through her teeth, cutting him off. She glanced furtively around the room, but everyone else was absorbed in their own discussions.