He stood awkwardly, feeling out of place in the elegant, ornate ballroom even without his usual denim-shirt-over-a-white-t-shirt combo. The standing around and being ill at ease was par for the course for him when it came to this kind of events, but there was something different this time. Underneath the awkwardness, he felt anxious, more anxious than he ever remembered feeling.
It wasn’t very noticeable; Liam would normally be able to tell if he weren’t so busy being infatuated. He felt a stab of bitterness at that and immediately regretted it. If anyone was in the wrong here it was him. He knew from the very beginning what the situation was, the reason she was even in Cordonia. He had absolutely no business feeling anything other than friendship towards her, at most. And yet…
He spotted her with that laser precision that he seemed to have developed against his will. She looked stunning in a daring red dress, which she had no doubt chosen – the thought made him smile to himself – to spite Olivia.
He shook his head with a mix of amusement and annoyance. Why did she have to be this way? How could she find a way to make him laugh when she wasn’t even saying anything? But it was more than that. He couldn’t get over how brave she always was, how she always took the first step, how she pushed against the walls he’d built; walls he never thought anyone would care enough to try to break down.
At that point he interrupted his train of thought, knowing it didn’t lead anywhere pleasant. Sure, they’d had a few… moments between them, but when push came to shove, Liam would offer her a kingdom, and she would choose him. He couldn’t blame her. Well, a small, petty part of him could, but he tried his hardest to shove it way down deep; neither of them deserved his resentment.
Addams was getting the last word in a classic biting exchange with Olivia, before taking Liam’s hand and letting him lead the way to the dance floor. Drake watched in admiration and jealousy as they danced a perfect waltz. She twirled gracefully and he felt all his worst instincts, his most spiteful feelings bubble up inside him. See? She’s definitely one of them now, you idiot. I can’t believe you thought even for a second that she might choose you.
He’d been so preoccupied with the savage pleasure of giving in, of blaming her, Liam, the whole world, that he hadn’t noticed the song ending. He came back to the moment just as Addams made a beeline for him.
“Riley.” The sight of her in that seductive red dress startled him into calling her by her first name.
“Drake.” She sounded just as shocked as he felt at his slip up. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
He suspected she was only saying that to fill the silence that threatened to form between them; after all, he’d been at nearly every royal event this season. This was, however, the one event he would have given up whiskey forever just to get out of.
“Liam insisted,” he offered. “I guess I should congratulate you.” He tried and failed to keep the bitterness from his voice.
“Oh?” she questioned. He hated her in that moment. Why make this so much more difficult? Why pretend like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, when she knows full well that she’s minutes away of getting engaged to his best friend? It makes him want to punch a wall to see what looks like genuine confusion on the face he’s come to know so well.
“You look exactly like one of them,” he spits out. “I guess you are one of them, now.”
He regrets the words as soon as he says them, knowing they’re not just harsh, but unfair; she hasn’t changed at all. Maybe that’s why he says it, to try to make himself believe that she’s different, that she’s part of that group he despises, to stop feeling this goddamn way about her.
“This time tomorrow, you might be the future queen. And then our lives are going to go in very different directions.” There. He definitely didn’t fix it, but at least he voiced a small part of his concerns, rather than hiding behind cruel comments.
“Drake, if I’m chosen to be the Prince’s bride, you’ll have to start bowing to me,” she jokes in reply.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. Leave it to Addams to lighten the mood.
“Heh. The bowing, I can handle.” You being married to my best friend? Not so much. He settles for a more subtle, “But I’ll also have to attend your wedding…” Even that much crosses the line. He knows that, but he can’t stop himself.
“Drake… Are you saying…?”
You know damn well what I’m saying! But of course, this is not the time or the place. He shrugs a bit, shaking himself out of it. Time to be a grown up for a change. “Forget it. You know what? I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves to live happily ever after, it’s you, Riley.”
He said this last part fervently, surprised at how much he meant it. It was nice to know that underneath all his shitty, selfish feelings, he still cared more about others’ happiness.
“If I get too cocky, just remind me that the first time we met, I was taking out the garbage and waiting tables.”
“Feels like so long ago, now. Can’t believe it’s only been a few months.” To think he’d just seen her as “the waitress” at first, and then Liam’s suitor…
“Yeah. But after everything that’s happened, it feels more like once upon a time…”
“Hey, Drake! Are you ready to go or what? Drake? Drake? Draaaake?” Each time his name is called is punctuated by a shake of the mattress he’s sitting on as Maxwell bounces up and down in an attempt to get his attention away from his phone.
“Will saying yes make you stop doing that? Forever?”
“No way, man! What if someday we’re in a life or death situation that requires my bed-jumping skills and I can’t do it because I promised you, huh? What then?”
“Okay, if we’re ever in a ‘life or death’ situation that requires your… skills, you can break your promise.”
“What about party-related–”
“FINE. Just stop it NOW.”
Maxwell catches a glimpse of Drake’s phone from above him. He’s been staring at a contact with the name “Mom” for 10 minutes. He plops down next to him.
“Hey, is everything okay? You look…” Drake glares at him. “Thoughtful?”
“I’m fine,” he replies shortly, hastily pocketing his phone.
It’s the truth. Kind of. He’s not not fine, at any rate. Sure, he wouldn’t mind talking to someone about his complicated feelings towards his mom, but Maxwell was definitely not that someone. Ordinarily, Liam would be, but he was not about to ruin his best friend’s bachelor party with his unnecessary family drama. Besides, what use was rehashing it? He’d made his decision and that was that.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Tariq’s pompous voice shakes him out of his reverie.
Drake didn’t bother answering.
They arrived at the dive bar that Drake remembered from his brief college experience ahead of Liam. That pretty boy look he had going on wasn’t effortless. Oh, he made it seem that way, but Liam took almost at long as Tariq to get ready; the only reason the latter had been ready on time was they’d told him they were leaving half an hour earlier than they actually were.
Still, Drake couldn’t blame him: the way the Crown Prince looks matters, and no one can argue with the results; Liam’s dark eyes and charming smile had men an women positively swooning wherever he went.
“Waitress, there you are. We need your best table!” Drake cringed a little at Tariq’s self-important tone and shot the waitress – a cute, but average girl who seemed a few years younger than them – an apologetic smile.
“Forget the table. Just bring us whiskey, and lots of it.” She smiled back and started to reply when her coworker waved her over. She gestured for them to give her a moment. As the colleagues talked, the manager came up to them and obsequiously showed them to what he assured them was the best table.
In fact, every table looked pretty much the same. Some of them were booths and others had stools, but they all had identical cracked, brown pleather covers. The walls were covered in generic sports paraphernalia; team posters, jerseys, black and white team photos. There was a dartboard hanging on the back wall. Funnily enough, all the tables, including the “best” one seemed to be perpetually sticky.
The waitress from earlier came up to them. “Hello, gentlemen. I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”
“Waitress, steaks for the table.” Drake rolled his eyes. Leave it to royals to be so out of touch… and Maxwell was supposed to be one of the good ones!
“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a béarnaise sauce?” Okay, so maybe Maxwell was one of the good ones, but was Tariq really a good comparison? The bar had never been lower.
“The closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger.” He thought he could detect a hint of amusement in the waitress’ voice. He had been about to jump in and save her from his clueless companions, but now he was curious.
“Dare I ask for your wine list?” Tariq plowed on.
“We’ve got an excellent vintage house red…” The waitress offered with twinkling eyes.
“House red?” spluttered Tariq, as if being offered boxed wine.
“It also comes in white,” she replied unruffled.
Drake sniggered at Tariq’s scandalized expression. “We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey… and four deluxe burgers.”
“Four?” Drake nodded and waved at Liam, who had just entered the room behind the waitress. She turned and Drake saw Liam’s already charming smile widen.
“Sorry I’m late. Thank you for you patience, Miss…?”
“Uh, Riley.” He realized he hadn’t even bothered asking for her name. I’m such a jerk. I guess that’s why Liam gets the ladies.
“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Riley.”
“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine. It’s nice to meet you,” she said this in quick succession, with a nervous smile. “Now let me go put your order in. Be right back!”
She scurried away to the kitchen and Liam took a seat next to Drake.
“Hey, man, what took you so long?”
“Honestly, I was jet-lagged and my 20 minute nap turned into an hour and 20 minutes,” he admitted guiltily.
“Smart, you need all your energy to TEAR UP THE DANCE FLOOR!” Maxwell complemented this last part with wild arm movements that threatened to knock the salt and pepper shakers over. Drake moved them out of harm’s way.
Liam chuckled. “I’m not sure we’re going to a club, actually.”
“WHAT?!”
“Great! My outfit will be all wrong!”
Maxwell and Tariq’s respective complaints came at the same time as the waitress – Riley, she just said it, dude – with their drinks. They all thanked her and waited until she left to resume what was quickly going to become an argument unless Drake intervened.
“Look, shut up, you two. In case you forgot, this is Liam’s bachelor party, so we’re doing whatever he wants, got it? Besides, we went clubbing yesterday.”
“Drake, thank you, but it doesn’t have to be about me. If everyone else wants to go to a club, we can go.”
Maxwell looked like he might be about to agree, but reconsidered when Drake gave him a meaningful look. Liam never really got to do anything he wanted; he deserved this.
“No, no, Drake’s right! I’m uh… all… partied out?”
Drake and Liam snorted at Maxwell’s unconvincing lie, which Liam was nevertheless thankful for.
“Me too! And I’m sure this outfit will be more than acceptable for whichever activity you choose, Liam.”
Riley came back with their food. Drake noticed Liam thanking her much too warmly for his fairly mediocre burger.
“So, Liam, who do you think you’re gonna choose, huh?” Tariq asked, waggling his eyebrows. Drake tried to make eye contact with him and shake his head, to no avail. He felt Liam tense next to him.
“I really don’t know, Tariq. They’re all charming ladies, but there’s so much depending on my decision.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Well, that’s what the season is for, huh? So don’t worry about that now, man.” Drake calmed him.
“Right, okay, but if you had to choose someone now…” Maxwell trailed off under Drake’s glare, then changed his question, “Not one of the suitors necessarily, just what kind of qualities are you looking for?”
“That’s a great question, Maxwell. I think I’d want someone who’s not afraid to stand up for herself, someone who knows when to be diplomatic and when to be brave, someone I can feel free with…” His eyes were far away, but his gaze had fallen on Riley, Drake saw.
“Yeah, but what about physically?” Tariq interrupted. “Because, for me, Lady Hana–”
“Ooh yeah, Lady Hana’s got it going ON!” enthused Maxwell.
“She’s very beautiful,” agreed Liam.
“Yeah, she ain’t bad, but personally, I think Lady Kiara’s hotter.” Drake jumped in.
“Hotter than Lady Hana?! Are you insane?” Tariq practically yelled.
Liam watched his friends talk about his suitors with a small smile, happy to see them having a lighthearted conversation, for once. Not wanting to think about those particular ladies too much, he excused himself. Drake watched him talking to the waitress and, to his surprise, felt apprehensive. The way Liam was looking at her… he’d never seen him so engaged with any of the ladies in court.
They were waiting for Liam, again. He came out of the restaurant and, oddly, asked them to wait a bit longer. After about 5 minutes, Riley came out, wearing a plain black shirt and jeans.
“Hang on… The waitress is coming with us?” The words had left him before he’d had a chance to think about how much like a dick he sounded.
Liam shot him a questioning look. He definitely wasn’t the only one who thought he came off as a dick, then. “Actually, we’re going with her. She’s picking our next destination.”
“So she’s our tour guide now?” What are you doing?! Stop it! He knew he was being childish, but this was their last night with Liam before everything changed and it was supposed to be a bachelor party, for God’s sake! Of course, everyone knows it’s not a bachelor party till your waitress shows up and tags along! He rolled his eyes.
“Riley was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favor, so play nice.” Liam chided. Drake felt his cheeks heat up with shame and nodded. Riley, however, seemed completely undaunted by his attitude. He took that as a chance to stop acting like an idiot.
“Fine. So, where are we going, then?” He asked this in the general direction of Riley, without directly addressing her, still embarrassed.
“A secret cove,” she replied with a wide smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Maxwell and Tariq’s expressions fall; clearly, there would be no dance floor involved in the night’s activities. He, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised. A night outdoors, off the beaten paths of New York? Sign me up!
Riley delivered. Drake grudgingly said as much when they arrived. The cove was intimate, peaceful. A small piece of beach was surrounded by cliffs and bordered by a cave. They all automatically looked skyward in awe at the hundreds of visible stars. Under all the twinkling lights and enveloped by the whoosh-ing of the waves, New York could not feel further away.
Drake knew right away what he wanted to do. “We should build a bonfire.”
“I’m not doing manual labor,” Tariq sounded insulted by the very idea.
“Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. What I meant was, I’ll go build a bonfire.” He preferred doing this sort of thing alone anyway; other people only slowed you down. He looked around for driftwood.
“This place is awesome! SKINNY DIPPING!”
Tariq gasped and averted his eyes. “Keep your pants on, Maxwell.”
Maxwell ignored him and stripped down to his boxers, keeping his shirt on. What a weirdo. He ran to the water, yelling for Drake to join him.
“Not gonna happen.” He went back to looking for driftwood. He found a big pile near the cave and before long, he had a big bonfire going. Maxwell immediately got out of the water, shivering, and warmed himself up, giving Drake a sheepish smile.
Drake heard splashing and turned just in time to see Liam and Riley running into the ocean. He hoped, not for the first time that night, that Liam knew what he was doing. He’s a grown-ass man, dude, relax. He took off his shoes and socks and headed towards the water. The other two followed; Maxwell with a grin, Tariq with a grimace.
“I thought it was ‘not gonna happen’, Drake?” Maxwell asked smugly.
“Shut up, Maxwell,” he replied, though maybe for the first time in this trip, he didn’t mean it.
He splashed Maxwell, which triggered a fierce splashing battle between them, until Maxwell winked at him and directed his biggest splash yet towards Tariq, who was standing at a careful distance.
“Got ya, Tariq!” Drake doubled over laughing at Tariq’s outraged face and even clapped Maxwell on the back.
“I told you, these shoes are leather!”
“Aw, lighten up, Tariq. You’ve got, what, a hundred pairs?” he asked, wiping tears from his eyes.
The night winds down to a close and, after putting out the bonfire, they start the long walk home. At a certain point, wordlessly, they separate; it’s obvious Liam wants some time alone with Riley. That doesn’t mean he can dodge his friends’ questions when he gets back, though.
“So? Did you kiss her?!” Maxwell could not sound more excited if it had been him kissing a pretty girl.
“Forget about that! Did you make love?” asked Tariq suggestively, swinging his hips.
“Okay, first of all, I think I speak for all of us when I say: ew,” deadpanned Drake. “Second of all, it’s been barely 20 minutes, dude, so unless it was the fastest – and probably most terrible – sex in the history of humankind, I highly doubt it.”
Liam laughed and shook his head. “Drake’s right, we didn’t… you know,” he cleared his throat. “In fact, we didn’t even kiss. To be honest, I’d thought maybe we would but…” he shrugged, “I guess I misread the signals.”
“Well, maybe it’s for the best, you know?” Drake put an arm around his best friend. “You don’t wanna get hung up on some girl you’re never gonna see again.”