Accidentally on Purpose

Chapter Seven

He takes off his shoes and rolls his pant legs up high enough to stand in the water.

I hold his hand as I get in the boat and makes sure it doesn't tip over as I get situated. I sit cross legged with my dress covering my lap carefully. He gets in, and I grip the sides in hope it won't tip.

He grabs the paddles and starts to move the boat out into the water. We sit facing one another, and it's hot. I want to put my hair up, but with the stitches on my neck, I'm not allowed.

For a few minutes, he says nothing, and I don't either.

I reach out to put my hand in the water, my fingertips cutting through the surface like glass. I don't mask the frown on my face, and I don't think he expects me to.

I glance at him as he paddles, his muscles rippling against the force.

"That looks hard." I say quietly.

"It's not bad," he responds.

"Do you need me to do some?"

"No, I'm okay," he says.

After a few more minutes, we're in the middle of a huge lake, far away from prying eyes and ears.

He pulls the paddles into the boat, splattering water around us. A few droplets land on my dress, but I couldn't be bothered enough to care.

"So?" he says.

"So what?" I ask.

"I told you a little bit about my past last night. Now it's your turn."

I look at him, confused.

"You already know."

"No, I don't. I know what the media tells me, but the media doesn't know what happens behind closed doors."

"Normally when strangers ask me about what happens inside the palace walls, they're planning to use it against me."

"And you think I'm one of those people?" he questions.

I study him. His blue eyes are looking gently at me, his left-hand rests on his knee, and his right is moving around in the water surrounding us. He's at ease, like he always seems to be when I see him.

"No," I decide.

"Tell me about you, Emelie."

The way he says my name with his Australian accent gives me chills.

"Well..." I look down at my hands. "Um, I don't know. My grandmother taught me how to play piano when I was young. I began writing music. You know those things. I paint," I look at him.

"You paint?" he repeats. "Like what?"

I shrug.

"Sunsets, memories, things I want to happen, things that can't happen." I frown. "The media controls my entire life. One false step on my part can result in a lack of trust. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be normal. I love being royal, and I have a lot of things and basically want for nothing, but my life isn't ever really mine unless I'm alone. And the person my father picked for me to spend all of my alone time with...I can't stand him. He's my cousins' best friend and he gives me weird vibes. I think he's targeting the crown. I've had a theory since I was twelve that he's planning to overthrow the government."

He doesn't say anything, but I know he's listening because he's watching me intently.

I find it nice, to be able to talk about this openly with him with no judgement. So I keep going, and I start telling him things that I only say in my head.