Thrown into Royalty [chicklit romance] [REVISING]

VII.

A man, probably one of his staff, probably waiting for us before he handed Noah a vehicle key. "Have a pleasant ride, Your Highnesses." He wished.

"Thank you," Noah murmured before continuing our way out of the entrance. A palace guard opened the doors for us, and I saw what was waiting for us outside.

"Very, very expected because of the jackets, but really unexpected at the same time because I didn't really think you'd ride motorcycles since you're so proper and stuff like that." I commented.

The Harley Davidson motorbike looked like it belonged on posters made out of boys' dreams; something that would stick with them even as they grow up. It was really broad and looked really heavy, with its classic leather seats well-maintained along with the metal finishes. It was probably decades old, but it still looked brand new.

Noah grinned. "Well, whenever I have the time, I get on my bike and I simply ride it around the city. You are the first person I have ever taken out for a ride on my motorbike, ever."

He looked at me and took one of the two helmets slinging on the handbrakes, then secured it on my head for me. He took a step back, his green eyes smiling as he looked at me head-to-toe.

"What?" I frowned, tugging at the ends of the leather jacket.

"You actually look... hot," he complimented me. "Is there by any chance that I can make you wear leather jackets more?"

I rolled my eyes. "I doubt so, unless we're going on your motorbike again."

"More motorcycle rides, alright." He noted, unusually serious about this topic. "Because with the helmet and the jacket... you look like a supermodel."

I raised my eyebrows. "Supermodel?" I scoffed.

"Maeve, you're gorgeous, and I'm not saying that because of how much I'm attracted to you, but I think I'm speaking for all those people who have seen you before." He told me. "You have supermodel looks, has anyone told you that?"

"Well, it's not like you're a talent scout. You can't find me a model agency. I'm too busy with lessons on being Queen of Denmark anyway." I told him jokingly.

"Well, that's true. Come on now," he kissed my forehead before getting on the bike and turning the key, starting up the Harley Davidson. It roared to life, and Noah looked at me expectantly, "time to get on the bike, Princess Maeve."

I giggled, then got on the passenger seat. I immediately wrapped my arms around his abdomen, my chin resting against his shoulder. "Ride on, Prince Noah." I told him teasingly. He looked over at me and gave me his signature dimpled smile before moving the motor.

"To be very honest, I didn't know you'd like motorcycles. When did you start?" I asked him.

He looked eager to respond. "Well, my grandfather, who was the prince consort to my grandmother who was the former Queen of Sweden, always brought me out to a miniature car shop. We'd look at the latest models for the week, and then we'd get up to five miniature cars just from a single visit. We used to do that when I was five, and I took care of my collection with precision. And then when I was eleven, he got for me my first miniature motorcycle. It's the exact same model as this Harley Davidson, and it's a classic; a '77 Sportster. It's a secondhand, and I only changed the engines to newer ones, since the old ones were getting a bit rusty." He told me over the noisy engine. Lucky for him, I was close enough to hear his words.

"I guess I'll have to admit that this is much more favourable than riding on scooters around the city," I admitted, thinking back to Budapest. Scootering around was already quite tiring, and Budapest was a big city— imagine how long it took to cover some of the attractions with the scooters.