She walked toward me and stopped just in front of me. She stared up at me. I was towering at six-feet-one, and she couldn't have been more than five-feet-two. The look in her eyes said that she wanted to be kissed, but I was afraid to. It was too soon.
She stood there, body pressed to mine, looking into my eyes.
Damn, Drew! The signals were there. Kiss the girl.
I bent down slowly and put my lips on hers. She didn't move. Instead, she pressed hers into mine, and her tongue found its way into my hungry mouth. I kissed her passionately, almost angrily as she pressed her firm tits against my chest.
Oh damn, they felt so good against me. I would come soon if we didn’t stop. Drew, get a fucking grip.
She giggled against my mouth, and I looked down, knowing what had happened. She had felt my engorged cock against her stomach. “Wow, someone is happy,” she said without taking her mouth from mine.
I was dying to take her pick her up and lay her across the bed and have my way with her, but I wouldn't allow myself.
“Yeah, about that…” I pulled my mouth from hers and backed away. “I don't want you to think that I came here with these intentions. I didn’t expect that we would kiss.”
“Drew,” she whispered. “It's okay. I kissed you first.”
Technically, she had, so I didn't need to feel bad. I was, however, embarrassed that my Johnson had poked her in the belly.
“You're a great kisser,” she said as she moved in for another. “And your cologne is so intoxicating.”
I knotted my fingers through her hair and tilted her head back, methodically kissing her. I drove my tongue deep within her mouth, imagining it was my dick she was sucking. I got so carried away that I could feel myself about to unload in my boxers.
I quickly let go and pulled away from her. “No,” I said forcefully. “We can't do this.”
She looked confused. “Okay, but if you want to, it’s alright with me,” she said in a voice so sexy that I almost changed my mind right then and there.
“I do, trust me, Eliza. I want nothing more right now than to have you, but I respect you too much for that. I can't allow it.”
She smiled as if I had passed some sort of test. “Andrew Harrington, you are one of a kind.”
She walked toward her room and then turned to me. “Do you know that most guys would have taken me to bed and not thought twice about it?”
“I'm not most guys,” I said as I met her in the hallway. “I am the one guy who is different. You'll see.”
8
Eliza
As I snuggled into my warm bed, I caught a whiff of Drew's cologne that lingered on my face and hands. He smelled divine, like fresh citrus with a touch of spice and musk. I had no idea what it was called, but it was very sexy, just like him. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost five in the morning, but I wasn't sleepy. Instead, I was elated, and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to sleep even if I tried.
I smelled my hand again and smiled as I took in the fragrance of a Prince. Would I ever wash my hand again? That was a question I wasn't sure how to answer. I giggled slightly thinking of how schoolgirl-ish I was acting, but I was smitten and I couldn't help myself. After all, I was a schoolgirl; one in university, but a schoolgirl, nonetheless.
After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I decided to get up and write in my journal. It was what I did when my mind was heavy with thoughts or my heart was weighed down with emotions too strong for me to carry. My journal was my place of escape, my best friend who never dared spill any of my deepest secrets. My journal was the one whom I knew I could trust when I couldn't tell a living soul what I was feeling. That was precisely the case at the moment.
No one could know that the Prince had spent the night in my flat. No one could know that he was fraternizing with a poor commoner such as me. No, he would be the headline of every newspaper and tabloid across the world, and so would I for that matter. It was something of which I wanted no part.
I had watched my father report on things that Edward had done throughout puberty, and I hated every second of it. I didn't like that my dad was in the business of making money from other people's public failures or falls from grace. It disgusted me, actually. I had always been ashamed of his work and when asked by my teachers or friends, I would lie and say that my father was disabled and couldn't work. I would sometimes make up outlandish tales for my peers in elementary school that I knew would make them say, “ooh” and “aah”. Once I told two of my classmates that my dad had gotten attacked by a shark off the coast of Australia while he was surfing, rendering him unable to ever work again.
I remembered the looks of complete horror on those two boys’ faces when they heard it, and then I fretted when they asked if they could come to my house and see the scars. Needless to say, I never made up anything quite as gory as that again. When you were in the sixth grade and children were bringing their mums and dads to school for Career Day, you had to find a way to make your father unavailable. I thought my dad knew that I was embarrassed by his line of work because he'd asked me one day if I wanted him to come and speak to the class, and I let out a scream and flung myself onto the floor where I had a tantrum. After that, he never spoke of work around me again. I saw his name in the byline whenever I was brave enough to pick up one of the trash magazines, and I was disgusted every single time.
After getting out of bed, I turned on the small lamp on my desk and grabbed my book and pencil and began to write.
Dear Journal,
I can't believe what is happening to me. I met Prince Andrew Harrington in the parking lot at the café, and he offered to fix my broken down shotty car. I refused and acted like a complete ass to him. I pushed him away out of fear.
Later that day, Professor Haddish assigned us as partners on a class project that is going to take four months to complete. At first, I was furious, afraid, and nervous. I was super scared that he would find out who Dad is and turn on me. I was afraid that he would tell my classmates whose daughter I am and they would all shun me. But that didn't happen. No, just the opposite—Prince Andrew, or Drew as he likes to be called, is here, sleeping on my couch tonight.
There is something else before I go to bed. We kissed … a long, slow, passionate kiss. I must admit that I have zero experience with kissing boys, but as far as I'm concerned, he's the best! I wanted more tonight, and I felt as though he did as well, but he refused me, which makes me happy. He said that he respects me too much to just take me to bed. It's a good thing he did that, given that I am still a virgin. I would have probably given in and slept with him out of sheer desire, but I am exhilarated that he wants to wait.
Stay tuned, Journal… I have a feeling this is just the beginning of my fairy tale.
With that, I put my pencil down, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. I smiled as the memory of us kissing and embracing kept playing on repeat in my mind until I finally fell asleep.
When my alarm buzzed at eight am, I felt as though I'd been hit by a bus. My head ached from lack of sleep, and my body was tired. I didn’t feel like getting up for my shift at The Pour Pauper. Then I remembered that Drew was on my couch, and my eyes suddenly sprang open. My heart fluttered, and I wanted nothing more than to see him before leaving for work. Jumping up, I nearly tripped over my duvet when it caught my big toe. I laughed as I wiggled free from it and ran into my bathroom to brush my teeth before Drew had a chance to wake up. I threw on a little eyeliner and mascara, trying to deter attention from the dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep.
After giving myself the once over and approving the end result, I opened the door and tiptoed to the living room. I was anxious to see the handsome guy laying on my couch. As I rounded the hall, I could see the blanket folded neatly and placed on the chair along with the pillow. Andrew wasn't there. Was he in the kitchen? I stepped through the door to find it empty as well. Where did he go? I walked to the window and looked outside to find that there were no
cars parked along the street.
My heart sank. What happened? As he lay in the dark, did he finally put two and two together and come to the conclusion that my father was James Noble, tabloid reporter extraordinaire?
Oh my God!! I had to find out what happened and why he left.
I quickly turned to gather my books and noticed a note on top of the pillow and blanket that were piled on the chair.
Eliza,
I had a great evening with you.
See you tomorrow.
—Drew
My eyes welled with tears as I read the short note. Even though his message was simple, I could feel the meaning behind every word. Drew wasn’t your typical eighteen-year-old guy. He had the opportunity to take me to bed, but it was obvious he wasn’t a hit it and quit it kind of guy. He was interested in getting to know me before we took that step in what I hoped to be a relationship. This guy was a keeper and I knew it. He was kind, gentle, respectful, and honest—everything that a woman wanted in a man and more. I was euphoric that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
I took the note to my room and dated it then slid it into the pocket on the back cover of my journal. One day I’d be able to read it and remember the exact date I realized that I was falling for the Prince of England.
The morning shift at The Pour Pauper was always hectic. Businessmen, university students, and commoners alike all stopped by the café for their morning fuel. This morning was extra frustrating, because I couldn’t get my head out of the clouds long enough to focus on any task that I was doing. I’d burnt the batch of blueberry muffins, knocked the carton of milk off the counter and spilled it all over the cabinets and floor, and currently—my most horrid incident of humiliation—I’d fallen face first into the high-top table when delivering a coffee order to two young men.
Typically, orders were called out and customers would come to the counter to pick them up. But, for whatever reason, Ariand had told me to take this order out to the customers who were seated in the far counter. Laughter rang out all around me, and I hurried to my feet and picked up the cardboard cups and pasties. Coffee was splashed all over the floor, so I pulled a rag from my apron pocket and cleaned the liquid up the best I could. I’d have to get a mop and clean the floor properly.
“Clumsy, wretch, what the hell is wrong with you?” the husky voice chided, pulling my attention away from the mess on the floor. I looked up at the preppy guy sitting with his back ramrod straight, a rotten sneer on his face. I felt like all eyes were on me, and I was horrified.
“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I tripped.”
“Sorry? Listen, pauper, your pathetic apology means nothing to me.”
“What did you bloody trip over? Your tattered wretch skirt or your own two feet?” the other guy, a lean chap wearing a rugby jersey, asked, laughing. “There wasn’t a damned thing in your way, wretch!” The two idiots roared with laughter, but I didn’t understand why they were being so cruel and ugly to me. Something had tripped me, causing me to spill their drinks and burn myself as well.
“I-I’ll remake your drinks. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”
I hurried back behind the counter, fighting back tears. I quickly made their coffees and added extra pastries to the tray before I brought the order to their table—without any obstructions along the way.
I placed a coffee in front of each man and the pastries between the two. “I apologize again for the inconvenience. If there’s anything I can get for you, please let me know.”
I turned quickly to go to the back to get the mop and bucket, when I heard one of the guys yell, “You’d do yourself well to run back home to Luton. London doesn’t need filth like you here.”
“Excuse me?” I questioned, ire in my voice.
“You heard me, pauper. How did you manage to get into Whitby? Filth like you can’t afford tuition, and you certainly don’t have the social standing to get in on clout alone.” He raised his brow in question, and just as I was about to rebut, he cut me off with, “Or does dear old dad have a juicy story on the headmaster? Is that it?”
No… this couldn’t be happening.
“Clayton, Riley, is there a problem?” Ariand asked, rounding the counter.
So I had names to go with the faces. “Ariand, dear, your wretched little pauper here has made a mess of our breakfast. Completely embarrassing for her.” He shook his head in disgust, but there was a condescending laughter in his tone.
“I’m sorry, Clayton. She’s new, but she’s a great worker. She replaced your order, yes?”
He nodded, his eyes trailing from Ariand’s lips to the tips of her toes. “She did.”
“Good, all’s well then. I hope you enjoy.” Ariand placed her hand on my arm and guided me to the back. Shit! I’d likely get written up or worse—fired.
“Are you okay, Eliza?” Ariand asked, reaching me a cup of water.
“Yes, just shaken up.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know really. I was taking their order out like you had asked, when I tripped suddenly. Then both of those guys started calling me names and yelling at me.”
Ariand nodded, understanding. “You don’t know them?”
I looked at her in disbelief. “No, should I?”
“Well, you attend Whitby, so I assumed you’d likely seen them around university.”
“It’s likely, but I don’t mingle much.”
Ariand’s face fell from concerned to sad. “I understand. It’s a different world there.” She leaned in close and muttered, “Be careful, Eliza. Clayton and Riley are royal assholes, and once they set their sights on you, a target will be on your back.”
“A target? What do you mean?” I didn’t understand what Ariand was getting at.
She sighed. “You’re an outsider. That’s how these guys see you. You’re working class barista, and your worlds should never collide. But they have. These guys don’t like that.”
Oh. It was becoming clear now.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Ariand. It really was a simple accident.”
“I understand, and one of them likely even tripped you just to bully you. They have clout and can turn the tables to look as if you were at fault. I would hate to see you lose your job because of those jackasses.”
Wow. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I didn’t even know these guys.
“I’ll mop the floors. You go ahead and do the dishes. Stay in the back until they’ve left the café,” Ariand directed as she grabbed the mop and bucket.
“Thanks for looking out for me, Ariand. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“Don’t mention it, Eliza.”
My stomach was tied in knots as I walked through the huge doors of Ashby Hall knowing that I would see Drew again a few minutes later. I hadn’t talked to him since he’d left my house yesterday morning. I wondered if he was feeling the same way as well. What should I do, though? Should I sit next to him or go to my usual seat two rows down? Should I allow him to come to me and speak first or would it be appropriate to go up to him and talk? Oh God, I hadn't considered all of those questions. I didn't want to come on too strong and seem like a girl who was needy. But I didn't want to ignore him either because we had become friends ... well, more than friends, but no one knew about that except us. Hell, even I wasn’t sure how to label us. In limbo?
My hands started to tremble as I reached for the knob on the door that led into our classroom. My heart was pounding hard inside my chest, and I was beginning to dread the event I had just been happily anticipating.
Calm down! Just go in and take your seat, listen to the lecture, then present your paper along with Drew when your name is called.
I felt as if I was talking myself off the ledge, but it worked. I walked in, glanced around to see that Drew was not there yet, and I took my seat. I was sort of relieved that I was the first to arrive. It took the pressure off of me as to what to do, where to sit, and how to behave around him. Now the ball was i
n his court. I would let him take the lead, no matter what he did or didn't do.
I was beginning to calm down when I glanced over and saw him come in the door. Seeing his gorgeous eyes and sandy hair caused my heart to feel as if it did a flip-flop in my chest. He looked over at me, and I smiled slightly. He returned the gesture, nodded, and took his regular chair two rows back—right beside of Poppy Abingdon. I was a little disappointed that he didn't sit with me, but I decided to let it go. I was sure that he had a good reason, and I was still on cloud nine after reading his note to me.
I swear I didn't think that Haddish was ever going to stop talking and allow us to present our topic papers. He seemed to drone on and on endlessly about some boring junk that I had no interest in whatsoever. I remembered being so upset when I found out that the class was one of my requirements for my degree because I wasn't into Anthropology. But once I met Andrew, I was glad that fate had brought me to Ashby Hall, room 229.
“Okay, class,” Haddish said in his usual stuffy tone. “I'll call out the first two names. You will proceed down here, stand beside of my desk and read your paper aloud to the other students. I want both partners to read from the paper. However you choose to do it is entirely up to you, but please have that worked out before you get down here; I haven't got all day to waste until you figure it out.”
It was show time, as they said, and I couldn't wait until everyone got started so that I could move back to Drew's row to discuss how we would do ours. My palms felt clammy, and my mouth was suddenly dry. But why? I had just been with him last night alone at my flat, and it wasn't this bad. Why was I starting to sweat just now, here at school? Maybe because we had to get up in front of the class and speak. Maybe because I wasn't really sure how it was all going to pan out.
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