Duched (Duched #1)

by Xavier Neal

  Kellan smirks again while watching me swipe my keys off the counter. “Maybe the topic would be less boring if it were coming out of a prettier subject. Like you.”

  “Doubtful.” I open the front door and usher him out. Once I've locked up, the two of us begin down the stairs when I notice a large, tan man with a buzzed haircut lurking just around the corner. Friend of yours?”

  He grouses. “Not by choice.”

  Intrigued, I question, “Meaning?”

  “As per the royal pain in the ass known as my father, a security detail is required at all times. Distance however is debatable.”

  I stop my body on the bottom stair and turn to face Kellan. “Why? Are you...famous or something?”

  The security guard chuckles under his breath.

  Oh shit. Is he? Not that it would've made a difference to my date answer. Between us though, it would be a little exciting to be able to say I turned down a celebrity.

  “Or something,” he mutters. “Which way to your car?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “What's or something? Do you not wanna tell me?”

  “You won't believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  He hesitates before sighing, “I'm a prince.”

  “A prince.”

  “And a Duke.”

  “Because Disney was just handing out titles that day?”

  Kellan fights the urge to chuckle. “I'm serious. I'm Prince of Doctenn and Duke of Rockbridge. Not the only prince of Doctenn, I have an older brother being groomed to represent the crown, but I am the only Duke of Rockbridge. All of it is really just useless bureaucratic titles at this point. A fancy way of saying whose bloodline lasted longer and rose higher than whose.”

  Great. I let a delusional sociopath in for coffee this morning. See. This is exactly what happens when I don't get enough sleep.

  “Sure.” I shrug and turn back around to finish my route to my car. “You don't wanna give me the real reason then fine. It's none of my business.” When I arrive at my car, I open the door, and state, “Thanks again for the coffee.”

  Kellan corrects, “Latte.”

  “God, you're one of those people,” I mumble.

  Thinks Monet was overrated but won't hesitate to call his barista an artist.

  “Have a nice day, Kellan.”

  I shut the door after he gives me one final wave from where he's waiting on the sidewalk. I place my coffee in the receipt filled cup holder, toss my bag in the seat beside me, and start my car. An unusual clicking sound escapes, yet nothing happens.

  This can't be good.

  I repeat the action again except this time I watch the dashboard for signs of life. Signs of hope. Disbelief pushes me back against the seat as I stare on in horror.

  How the hell could this morning get any worse?

  There's a light tapping at my window.

  And that's why you should never ask that question.

  I look his direction with a displeased expression.

  “Problem?”

  “Pretty sure my battery is dead.” Suspicious I question slowly, “Did you kill my battery so I would have to get a ride from you?”

  The sarcastic expression on his face says it all.

  Hey! It could happen. He did show up with coffee out of nowhere. What? Of course I turned my lights off last night. Oh...oh the light I turned on to look for my cell phone. I'm pretty sure I turned it off...

  “Do you need a ride?”

  I let my shoulders drop. “Yes...”

  “I'd love to give you one,” Kellan says sweetly before letting his smile turn villainous, “in exchange for a date tonight.”

  A combination of shock and frustration flood my face. “Extortion? You think the way to a girl's heart is extortion?”

  “I don't know the way to a girl's heart.” He leans his free arm against the roof of my car. “I always end up taking a detour down south.”

  Disgusted and irked, I open the car door, pleased when it knocks into his body in what appears to be a painful way.

  Prince of Prickery. Is that a real country now?

  After collecting my things, I exit my car, and state, “I'll walk.”

  “You'll miss your test.”

  Fuck. He's right. And I know he's right. And he knows he's right, which makes this entire situation even worse. Remind me what I did again to piss off the universe this morning?

  “How'd you know I have a test?”

  “Saw your textbook open and your notes while I was waiting for you to change.”

  “Nosy.”

  Kellan winks. “Come on, Brie. One date. That's all I'm asking for.”

  “Why?” I adjust my shoulder bag. “You've probably got a literal line of women who want to sleep with you. Why are you bothering me? Is this that whole challenges are more fun thing? Is there some sort of wager involved? Just tell me who it is I need to lie to and we can end this now.”

  He lightly laughs and the sound is unexpectedly intoxicating.

  Not cool...

  “No bets. You're just fun to be around-”

  “You mean argue with.”

  “Isn't that what I said?” I twitch a glare, which is when he adds with another grin, “See. I like you.”

  “You don't know me.”

  “Then let me.”

  Don't swoon over him! He's not a real prince!

  Knowing the time is ticking for me to get to class, I shrug. “Fine. One date. And I get to pick where and when.”

  He surrenders his free hand. “Name it.”

  “Get me to class first.”

  “Swiss,” he yells at the man who has been waiting. “Go ahead and start the vehicle, please. We'll be headed to Ashwin University.”

  The man nods at the instructions while we make our way his direction.

  “Swiss? Like the cheese?”

  Kellan shakes his head. “Like the army knife.”

  “That's a little more threatening than the dairy product.”

  “Let's hope so,” he chuckles. “Can't imagine my father would be happy paying his retainer if he couldn't do more than go well with roast beef.”

  “His retainer? Do you use him often?”

  “Every time I step foot in the states.”

  “And you're from Doctenn? Which is where again?”

  “It's an island country in the Atlantic. Bit to the right of the UK. We're more of a mash up of them and Americans. Everything from cultural to language. It's a running joke we're the best of both worlds.”

  “I thought jokes were supposed to be funny.”

  He opens the SUV door for me, smile just as prevalent as always. “Clever.”

  Inside the vehicle, I slide to the other side, and buckle my seat belt. Kellan on the other hand doesn't bother with mimicking my safety action. His phone seems more important.

  Great date material...Can't even spend the ten minutes in the car with me without pulling out extra entertainment. He seems like a real catch.

  All of a sudden, he extends the phone my direction. “Proof that I'm not the psychopath you think I am.”

  “Sociopath.”

  Kellan cocks a grin. “Semantics again.”

  I reach for the device surprised to see the numerous articles waiting to read from the Google search he did on himself. Stunned, I scroll through the images, shocked at the numerous labels assuring he is indeed some line of royalty, but not surprised by the countless photos with women whose names I highly doubt he can recall.

  This explains the pretty playboy arrogance and insistence on having whatever he can get his manicured fingers wrapped around. Uh...no joke. His nails are manicured. And cleaner than mine. I can't believe I'm gonna go out with a guy who probably spends more time in the mirror than I do. What? Yeah...It's much easier to focus on that than the outlandish truth about the man in the SUV next to me being an actual real life prince.

  With a crooked smirk, I snidely remark, “Your brother's hotter.”

  Kellan snatches
his phone from my hands. “He's married.”

  “Good ones always are.”

  He begins to scowl, which only causes mirth to flood my eyes. At the sight, he immediately looks away in a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. The crimson color coating his cheeks causes minor guilt to cultivate.

  Didn't know it was a touchy topic. Just thought it was typical sibling rivalry bullshit.

  There's a long, sullen lull before I question, “So besides stalking art students and making fun of paintings, what do you do for a living?”

  The change in subject dissipates the red color with his natural golden one. “I find various ways to occupy my time.”

  “From the looks of those photos I would guess you spend most of your time slut hunting.”

  Swiss tries to hide his laugh but fails.

  Rather than scolding him, Kellan states to me, “I don't have to hunt for women like that.”

  “Just women like me? The ones who tell you no?”

  “Don't hunt for them either.”

  “So just me?”

  He leans over and quietly reassures, “Just. You.”

  To be flattered or freak out....that is the question.

  “Outside of enjoying my thriving social life, I actively avoid as many royal engagements as possible, run a non-profit organization, and volunteer my time to supporting various charities centered around children.”

  My bottom lip drops in surprise.

  “See.” He lifts his eyebrows at me with a playful smile. “I'm full of surprises.”

  “And hot air,” I sneer in an attempt to mask my growing interest.

  Kellan wets his perfect lips yet the rest of his body retreats back towards the window. “Our date. When and where?”

  “We're not to campus yet.”

  “Almost,” he informs quickly. “On a good day ten minutes. On a great day seven.”

  The retort receives a glare, which I assume he enjoys by the smug smirk I get in return.

  Why does it seem to be every punch we exchange is entertaining? That he's thriving on the fact I'm not just rolling over for him? This is totally ‘the challenge is the only thrill’ concept in full effect. Only way to kill it would be to throw myself at him like every other woman.

  Kellan's blue eyes pierce mine with question.

  But where would the fun in that be? Yeah, I kinda want him to go away, but I also want him to realize he's barking up the wrong tree. I'm too wrong for him and not because he's too perfect in comparison to me.

  “You can meet me at my apartment at 6:30 tonight,” I state at the same time Swiss stops the SUV. “Obviously, you'll need to have him drive.”

  “Attire?”

  A fun scheme to prove this is a terrible idea pops into my mind. “Dress to impress.” Instantly a suspicious look appears, which causes me to quickly end the conversation. “Thanks for the ride. Gotta go.”

  On my way out, he asks, “Do you need a ride after class?”

  “No dad, I'll catch a ride from one of the other kids.” My smile meets his seconds before I shut the door. After one final wave, I fix my shoulder bag and hustle into the ocean of students.

  About half way to Lancaster building, my eyes spot the two people who could have helped prevent the situation I stumbled into this morning. I snake through the crowd quickly and bump brashly into Merrick.

  His attention drops from his girlfriend to me. “And where the hell were you two this morning?”

  “I was studying.”

  With a sarcastic expression, I ask, “First thing in the morning?”

  “No better time to study anatomy.” Merrick's comment is followed by a chuckle that receives him a swat from Jovi whose face is beginning to change colors.

  “Yeah well, while you were finally learning where the clitoris is, I was stuck with a car that wouldn't start.”

  “Aw, I'm sorry,” Jovi rushes to apologize. “I'm glad you found a way here! We totally would've given you a ride if-”

  “I know where the clit is,” Merrick interrupts loudly. “I've never missed it! Hell, in fact I,,,”

  “If you finish that sentence you won't be seeing and definitely not studying it again anytime soon,” my roommate threatens as we enter the building.

  The two of us giggle while he pouts.

  I was totally kidding about the clit thing. What can I say? Guess I'm still a little wound up from poking the prince all morning.

  Stopping outside our lecture room, Merrick tugs her into him closer and sighs, “Just a few more months and then I can spend every morning with a chemistry lesson.”

  I give him a questionable look. “Switching subjects to avoid trouble?”

  He gives me a proud nod.

  “Well can we avoid that topic too? I'm not quite ready to face the fact in five months I'm going to be jobless and homeless,” I sigh deeply.

  “You're not going to be homeless. We're not going to kick you out,” Jovi insists. “And we don't even know if Merrick is going to move in with us or me with him or exactly how any of that's going to work.”

  “But it is going to work,” he states firmly. “This not living together bullshit has reached its end. Thank fuck.”

  Rather than continue the conversation or mock him for his being so in love with his girlfriend that to be away from her is some Shakespearean tragedy, I spin on my heels, and say, “Grabbing our seats. See you later, Merrick.”

  “Later, Brie.”

  I take a few steps down and slide into the first seat.

  They are adorable. I'll admit it. They have this whole timeless love affair romance you read about in a New York Times Best Seller or really hopeful indie writer. It's so perfect it almost seems too good to be true, but that's not the worst part. It's having it flashed in your face. Having a constant reminder of how you've spent the last few years of your life so caught up in trying to graduate that there's a good chance you bypassed all the roads that could've led you to have more than a degree to keep you warm at night. A degree in a subject you love yet may never love you back. A subject that may never earn its keep for all the money you've thrown at it. Well on that depressing note, wish me luck. Art History with an emphasis on the Renaissance Era sounds easier than it actually is. Let's wish for an A on this test so I can actually enjoy flunking Prince Kellan out of his date tonight.

  Kellan

  I adjust the collar on my navy-blue suit jacket once more. “A date, Kris. It's the thing you used to take your wife on before sitting in front of the tele with a bottle of wine did the trick.”

  “Fuck off,” he huffs. “We still go out.”

  Perhaps they do. I'm not typically around to actually know their day to day schedule. I'm not usually around longer than I ever have to be.

  “Who's the unfortunate victim this evening? Actress? Model? Prime Minster's great niece?”

  “The states don't have a Prime Minster, idiot.”

  “Oh I'm the idiot? When we were in school you could barely name five states in America let alone remember they had a President and not a Prime Minister.”

  What can I say? Geography became my favorite subject the minute I was allowed off the island unsupervised.

  “By the way my comment was a joke-”

  “Not a good one,” I whisper.

  “But the way you redirected the conversation has me curious. That's not the way you typically handle that question.”

  Instead of denying his accusation, I slide my wallet into my pocket, grab my watch to put on, and motion my head for Swiss to know it's time to head out.

  “In fact, you normally can't wait to brag about who you're about to bag,” he continues on as if he's actually deducing something.

  Which you and I both know he's not. There's nothing there to sort out. She's just not one of the types he's listed, and it's more fun to picture his brain running on a squeaky hamster wheel than to let him rest easy. Ha. Of course I'm an asshole. I'm the younger brother. It's what we do.

  “What's wrong w
ith her? Does she have an extra nipple or gold teeth? Perhaps six toes she hides poorly in her high heels?”