Nina hadn’t even noticed that Jeff’s Revere Guard was here; he’d been standing to one side of the party, wearing a preppy button-down like all the fraternity brothers. He grabbed a trash bag from beneath a folding table and began circulating through the tailgate, commanding each student to drop their phone into the bag. A few people bristled, but between Matt’s assurances that their phones would be returned and his burly, intimidating muscles, they soon fell silent.
When Matt reached Nina, she handed over her phone without arguing. “Thanks, Nina,” he told her with a knowing wink.
Nina was gratified to see Gabriella’s face turn a mottled shade of red. She clearly didn’t like that the prince’s Revere Guard was on first-name terms with Nina.
Everyone cheered as the contestants from six different fraternities lined up along the edge of the duck pond. The pledges stretched their arms, warming up as if they were about to hold some kind of competition—a race, maybe?—and then, as the cheers intensified, they began stripping down to their boxers.
Now Nina understood why Jeff couldn’t allow photographic evidence.
She didn’t mean to look at him. Really, she didn’t. But her gaze, along with practically everyone’s, was drawn to him as he pulled his sweater and collared shirt up over his head, then shimmied eagerly out of his pants. He was wearing pale blue boxers—a long pair that looked like swim trunks, at least, instead of tighty-whities.
Afternoon sunlight fell over the lines of his body, his carved shoulders, the hollow at the base of his throat. His torso was taut, a smattering of dark hair trailing over his chest and down his carved abs.
Nina watched, shocked into utter stillness, as the pledges all bent down like runners at a starting block. Their legs tensed—
A whistle blew, and someone threw a plastic football out over the pond. Ducks made angry sounds of protest and fluttered away. The boys sprinted into the water, half splashing and half swimming as it grew deeper. Nina could practically see their skin prickling with cold; that water did not look pleasant.
“This is torture,” she muttered.
“Isn’t this hilarious?” Gabriella asked loudly, to directly contradict Nina. “It’s like watching a bunch of puppies play fetch.”
The other girls all laughed obediently, and Gabriella kept going, really warming to her theme.
“Honestly, Jefferson is like a puppy sometimes. Overeager and excitable, sniffing around things that turn out to be a stinking pile of poo.”
Way to be unsubtle, Nina thought, almost amused.
“And he’s kind of stupid like a puppy is, you know?” Gabriella pursed her coral-painted lips. “Good thing he’s so rich and good-looking, because it’s not as if he could make it through the world otherwise.”
Something in Nina snapped. She had no more tolerance for people like this—selfish, entitled people who did nothing but spread rumors and stir up drama. She’d had more than enough of that last year, with Daphne.
She marched over and stood right next to Gabriella, an eyebrow raised in challenge. “I thought you and Jeff were friends.”
“His Highness and I have been friends since we were babies,” Gabriella said stiffly. As if by employing Jeff’s proper title, she could shove Nina down a peg.
“Then I don’t want to know how you talk about your enemies.” Nina shook her head. “That was rude, and unnecessarily cruel.”
Gabriella gave a brittle laugh. “No one cares what you think. No one even knows who you are! You’re just Jeff’s pity invite, some nobody with no class.”
In the duck pond, the pledges were now wrestling over the football, but Nina kept her eyes on Gabriella. Their confrontation had drawn a bit of a crowd.
“Look, Gabriella, I couldn’t care less what you say about me. But I do care what you say about Jeff. You act like a friend to his face, then call him stupid behind his back?” Nina drew in a breath. “That is the behavior of somebody with no class.”
Gabriella recoiled as if slapped. Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are,” Nina told her. “Spoiled and completely self-centered. You steamroll through life doing whatever you want, and everyone in your world is too intimidated to argue with you. Well, I’m not in your world, as you so rudely pointed out. So, unlike your little fan club”—Nina gestured at the posse of sorority girls—“I’m not afraid to tell you the truth.”
“How dare you.” Gabriella’s cheeks were flush with color.
“No, how dare you! Jeff isn’t stupid. He’s earnest and trusting, not that I would expect someone like you to understand.”
Gabriella took a step closer, her chin tipped up. “You’re going to regret this.”
“I already regret wasting my breath on you.”
Nina didn’t wait for Gabriella to reply. She turned and marched away from the tailgate field. Her pulse was pounding, adrenaline rushing through her veins as if she’d just sprinted a mile.
For a moment she wondered if she’d gone too far, if she’d unloaded all her pent-up frustrations about Daphne onto Gabriella. Well, so what if she had? Gabriella deserved it.
It felt good, telling people what she really thought of them. Honestly, Nina should do it more often.
Mealtimes were one of the strangest parts of the League of Kings conference. At least twice a week, dinner was a formal state affair, where everyone sat at banquet tables and wore full decorations. It must have been a nightmare for the valets, keeping hundreds of tiaras and medals of honor polished to their greatest sparkle.
At breakfast and lunch, though, the monarchs would drop by as their schedules allowed, grabbing a plate when they were in a hurry. In a corner of the banquet hall stood platters of fruit, bowls of salad, and trays of gourmet sandwiches, everything from turkey-and-pesto panini to Vietnamese banh mi. Often the royals wandered through the double doors to sit at the picnic tables out on the grounds. Just yesterday Beatrice had caught the King of Ghana playing fetch with Franklin, tossing a Frisbee out into the surf and letting Franklin sprint after it.
Today, however, rain streamed in fat droplets along the windows. Everyone shot longing glances outside, as if the universe had played some kind of cosmic trick on them. They had all clearly bought into the myth that life in Orange was nothing but endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
Beatrice didn’t really mind the rain. She loved how the slanted gray light made everything feel muted and soft, loved the drowsy patter of raindrops against the windowpanes. Or maybe she liked the rain because it reminded her of Teddy. It had rained the night before they were supposed to get married, the night they first said I love you.