A few days later and it's time for date number two. Joy. Excuse me, the Royal PR, Lucy, insisted we call them public outings. Something about not wanting to make things too official just yet. I don't think she's aware of Gus and my's timeline. Oh well, she'll figure it out eventually.
I knock on Gus's door. He appears sporting a tailored tux. Appropriate for our outing: a high end rooftop restaurant. I, too, am dressed for the occasion, wearing a flashy dress. We stiffly greet each other and exchange the expected formalities. How are you? Well, thank you. And the like.
"For some reason this was left at my door. It has your name on it." Gus says, interrupting the routine pattern of exchange. He holds out a small package addressed to me. My most recent online order.
"Oh. Thanks." I open my door again and chuck it inside.
"What's in it?" he asks.
I cringe as I remember what I ordered. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."
"I see you're wearing practical shoes this time."
I glance down at my sparkly flats and sigh. "August."
"Sorry." He apologizes, holding the door open for me.
A quick drive later, and we arrive. A friendly server seats us towards the edge of the balcony, giving us a beautiful view of the twinkling lights of the city. A quick glance at the table adjacent and I almost roll my eyes. The approved press is here to observe how the night goes and photograph this momentous occasion in history. They will go home and tell little Timmy I saw the future queen take her first steps in her relationship with Prince Augustus. Later I'll go home and be able to rewatch my night on the television.
The waitress comes back to ask for our drink order, her name tag displaying the name Rachel. I assume she will also be telling little Timmy at home about this night.
I ask for a lemonade. I raise my eyebrows in surprise when Gus orders alcohol.
"Nervous?" I tease.
"No." He replies.
I just shrug and smooth out my skirt.
The waitress brings us our orders and we lapse into silence.
Gus sips his drink as I tap my fingers on the table.
I decide now would be the perfect time to test Gus again for potential partner points. I mean, I might as well seeing as he's not even trying to make conversation.
I stretch in my seat. "Ooh, the cramps are pretty bad today," I say, rubbing my abdomen.
"Oh," he replies shifting, and after a beat apologizes and tells me he's sorry to hear that.
Yeah, he doesn't pass.
Once again, the conversation lulls.
The silence stretches on. I tap my fingers on the table as I glance around the room. Everyone else in the restaurant is engaged in their own conversations. I watch as a reporter points a camera at us. I fake a yawn as he presses the shutter button. I hide my laugh with a fake cough.
Gus is just batting his silverware around, avoiding my eye contact.
Finally, I can't stand the silence anymore. "You know what? Let's play 20 questions."
"Alright, you can start." Gus takes a sip of his drink.
"Let's start simple. What's your favorite color?"
"Green."
Ugh, this guy. "Light green, dark green," I prompt.
"Dark green. It reminds me of the greenery of the beautiful mountains in my kingdom."
Ok, now we're getting somewhere.
"Mine is yellow. Like the color of fluffy bumblebees."
"Ah," he nods.
"Ok, so it's your turn to ask a question."
"What's in the package?" He asks.
My brows furrow. "What package?"
"The one that was delivered to my room by mistake. What was in it?"
I roll my eyes. "You're supposed to ask questions regarding my personality, not my shopping habits."
"And I will, by learning what you got. I can use my turn to ask whatever I want. Again, what's in the package?" He responds, doubling down.
I cross my arms. "You don't want to know."
He snorts. "Yes I do. What is it?"
"What if its something regarding my health?"
"You would've said something vague about it at this point, to change the subject. Just answer already."
I frown. "Fine. Its a blobfish mug that says hugs not thugs. I thought it was funny. Happy?"
Gus snorts. "And what are you going to do with it?"
"Leave it on a shelf and laugh at it every time I look at it. So next question. When were you born? Please tell me it was in August."
"No. October 16, 1997." He answers flatly, shaking his head.
"Dang. Missed opportunity. May 8, 1998. Your turn."
"What other stupid things do you buy online?"
"Is this entire game just going to be you asking about everything I order for myself?" I snap.
"You don't like that question? How about a different one. Why did you break up with Prince Christopher?"
"Not better." I grit out. "How about my question? How'd you get your terrible reputation?" I counter.
He scoffs. "What reputation?" A flash of light goes off behind him. I ignore it.
"It's always said that you're in a bad mood and it rubs off on everyone."
"Oh, so I have to match your irritating moods to be a people pleaser?"
"Maybe that would help."
There's another flash of lights in my eyes and I squint away. What is wrong with the lights?
"So, what are we getting today?" The waitress, Rachel, interrupts.
"You may go first, sweetheart," Gus responds, sarcasm dripping off his tone. I cringe at the nickname.
"I'll have the risotto with extra onions on top." I tell her.
"Disgusting." Gus mutters.
"Your turn, my little honey melon," I say, smiling sweetly at Gus. If he's going to call me stupid nicknames, then this will be my declaration of war!
"The lobster, please." He answers, ignoring me. "Could you make sure there's no peppers in it? I have a bad reaction to them."
"Picky," I huff under my breath.
"Of course. I'll tell chef." She gives a quick bob and rushes off.
I click my tongue as I look around. "Ok, things started to get a little heated there so let's start again. What's your favorite holiday?" I ask.
He glances at me with with a look that is half-irritated and half-ashamed. "Thanksgiving."
Once again no explanation. Having insight into your thought process would be nice. "Mine's Christmas."
He raises an eyebrow. "Really? I would have expected April Fools."
I scoff, "That would be too predictable. Besides, I like presents."
He shakes his head. "Of course that's the reason," he mutters. "I think I already know the answer, but are you a clean or messy person?"
I snort. "Messy."
"As expected."
"And let me guess, you're a clean person. As expected." I mock, deepening my voice like his.
"You know, there's a lot of benefits of a clean area. Such as the ability to think clearer."
I wave him off. "Whatever. I don't have time for it. Anyway, if someone wrote a book about your life, what would the title be?"
He frowns. "That's stupid."
"Just make up an answer." I sigh.
"The Miserable Life of Augustus Unton and How It Led to the Worst Date Ever."
I laugh. "I know you're trying to make fun of me, but I would still buy it. Mine would be The Tales of Elenora Bevau and How to Live Like Her."
His judgmental stare softens as he shakes his head. "I can't imagine anyone actually taking your advice. What was your favorite subject in school? I enjoyed Literature."
"Same here. What is your biggest fear?" I ask, leaning forward.
He shakes his head, leaning back. "Nope, new question."
"You can't reject questions, especially if you made me answer about the blobfish." I whine.
He crosses his arms. "No."
I sigh. "Just answer."
"Remember the unmentionable thing? The unmentionable thing that I'm going through? That would be my answer. That's why I don't want to talk about it. So please, next question."
I am immediately hit with a pang of guilt. "Oh. I thought you would just say spiders or something. It was supposed to be a lighthearted question."
He looks away. "Just move on."
"I'm sorry. How many pillows do you sleep with?"
"Two, like a sane person. And let me guess. You sleep with an abundance of pillows."
"Actually two as well. I don't know how you got the impression that I live my life in chaos all the time."
He shakes his head, slightly amused.
Just then, Rachel appears, carrying a tray and places our meals in front of us. She tucks the tray under her arm. "You lucky lady. Is he going to take you home after this?" She casually asks me.
"My little sugar snap? No, I'm taking him home." I laugh, watching gleefully as Gus takes a deep breath and presses his fingers into his forehead.
She smiles politely in return. "Lucky guy."
"Not really." He mutters.
Wait. Does she not know who we are? I guess she won't feel the need to tell little Timmy about the strange couple and their weird entourage a couple tables over. Of course she may tell him anyway. Or maybe she actually does realize we're royalty and is being extremely polite about the situation.
She turns away and I examine my meal for the first time. My supposed risotto is an unusual green color with a small pile of onions garnishing the side.
"Is that even risotto?" Gus asks me. His meal on the other hand, looks the way it's supposed to.
I shrug and pick up a mouthful. "This is a five star restaurant, it must be good right?"
Gus's expression doesn't fill me with much hope, however.
I raise the bite to my lips. It is terrible, with spices that are both too strong and yet not strong enough. It takes me a second to force it down. Maybe it tastes better to other people's palates? I wonder. One of Gus's eyebrows lifts at my expression. I wave him off.
"So, how is everything?" Rachel asks as she sweeps by.
"It's fine." I answer. Gus's head tilts.
"Wonderful. Call me over if you need anything."
"Will do, thank you." I smile.
"You could've asked for something else." He murmurs once she's gone.
I shake my head. "Like I said, it's fine."
He shrugs and continues eating.
It is at this point in time that other people in the restaurant notice we're there, elbowing each other and whispering. Gus seems to figure it out as well and we rush to finish up the meal.
"Do you want desert?" Rachel asks, breezing over to stop at our table.
"No, we're good. Raindrop and I, we're fine. We'll be leaving now." He answers before I could say a word.
"But I wanted." I start.
"No. We're good." He says forcefully, cutting me off. I pout as he hands her a check and pushes me towards the door.
Now he's lost some points with that move right there. Speaking over me and making a decision for me is a huge no-no. Does that mean he's down in the negative? He doesn't want any pets and his response to my period was terrible. Certainly things to ponder later.
In the limo, Gus leans towards the driver. "Can you drive any faster?"
"Sir, I'm going as fast as I can."
Gus sighs and leans back.
Was the date really that bad? Sure the beginning was rough, but things smoothed out.
I study Gus. His head is leaned back and his eyes are closed, taking deep breathes. Have I really become so repulsive to look at?
Crossing my arms, I settle back in my seat.
As soon as we reach the palace, Gus throws open the door and bolts out.
Annoyed, I follow him. "You know, if you really had that bad of a time, you can just say-" I trail off upon seeing him leaning over the bushes, emptying his stomach.
Lucy breezes out of the palace flipping through a stack of glossy photos in her hand. "The first few we'll have to scrub out of existence, but the later ones will work." She shrieks, spotting Gus. "What happened?"
"I accidentally ate peppers?" He says.
"Bring me the security detail," she screeches into her earpiece.
"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine." He reaches a hand out towards her.
"Who was your waiter? That will be the last time they ever touch food!"
Somehow, I don't think that'll be the case, but then again, my every impression of Lucy is extreme. She probably has the means to make that statement true.
"It's mostly over now, it's fine." He reassures her.
"Where is security?" She stomps off, still not done.
I slide next to Gus and slip him a tissue from my pocket. He smiles in thanks and rushes off to stop Lucy's tirade.
"Geez," Gia mutters, coming up behind me. "What happened?"
"Apparently he's allergic to peppers," I say turning towards her.
"And he didn't say that?"
"No, he did, but somehow they still ended up in there. He's trying to convince Lucy that he ate them on purpose to spare our waitress."
Gia bursts out in a fit of laughter.
"What?"
"He can just say," she snorts, "that he poisoned himself to get away from you."
I cackle and join her howls of laughter, catching everyone's attention. Gus glares at us over Lucy's shoulder.
"Sorry." Gia calls out. "Don't mind us." We share one last giggle.
"Please, it's not life threatening, nor is it worth threatening someone's livelihood over. I insist." Gus begs.
"Very well, but if you're not in top shape in the morning, he is gone!"
She, I mentally correct in my mind.
"Thank you." He sighs as she heads back inside.
He turns towards me. "I apologize you had to witness that."
I shrug. "I've seen worse."
Gia shoves her way in front of me and sticks a hand out towards Gus. "Hi. We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Gia, lady-in-waiting, princess's bestie, your future maid of honor and future auntie."
Embarrassed, I shove in front of her. "And that's enough."
He nods slowly, "Auntie, huh. Um," He points to the palace, "I'm going to lie down now."
"You deserve it," I nod.
"Feel better!" Gia calls after him. He waves a hand back. She grabs my arm, grip tight, "Deets. Now."
I smile conspiratorially, Gia matching the expression. "Well-"