“I guess not.” The truth was, Nina felt constantly scared—of falling short of her parents’ expectations, or, worse, her own expectations. Of regrets. Of failure. But she liked the idea of this other Nina, the one who lived without fear.
“So does this mean I get a redo?”
Nina glanced over and met James’s eyes. They were the warm blue of the ocean on a cloudless day, the type of blue you could sink into and drift all the way to the bottom. It took her a moment to register what he’d said. “A redo?”
“Can I take you out? On a date,” he added, as if he needed to be explicit.
The statue of King Edward III seemed to be staring at Nina, handsome and aloof and judgmental—reminding her of her royal ex-boyfriend, who’d just gotten engaged to someone else.
“All right,” she heard herself say. “I mean, yes. I’d love that.”
James nodded toward the edge of campus. “Great. Shall we?”
“I…right now?”
“Yes, right now. I’m not waiting for the next party at Tudor House, hoping to catch you before you run off on a mysterious errand.” He held out a hand to indicate the sunshine. “Besides, this is the perfect weather for the Broken Spoon. Unless you’d rather get Mulberry’s cheese tots, obviously.”
Nina fell in love with him, just a teensy bit, for knowing to suggest ice cream on a first date.
“Definitely not. You don’t want those cheese tots before midnight,” she agreed.
They headed onto Market Street and into the neighborhood adjacent to campus, filled with fast-casual restaurants and coffee shops.
As they walked, Nina noticed that people kept glancing their way. She couldn’t blame them; James was undeniably gorgeous, with his chiseled features and roguish grin, blond hair glinting in the sun. There was something self-aware in the way he walked, as if he expected everyone to be looking at him, and the force of his ego was so massive that they all did look at him.
“What did you think of that class?” James asked. “To be honest, King Lear has never been my favorite of the tragedies. I’m old-school and prefer Romeo and Juliet.”
“Romeo and Juliet?” Nina made a face, then registered his words. “Wait—you’re in Dr. Larsen’s Shakespeare class, too?”
“I just joined.”
“They let you do that mid-semester?”
“I got special permission.” Before she could ask for details, he deftly changed the subject. “That Oxford program sounds incredible. Are you applying?”
Nina shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“The girl who lives and breathes Jane Austen? Why not?”
Because she could never do something like that. The farthest Nina had ever traveled was to the Caribbean with the Washingtons one year at spring break.
“I don’t want to go that far from home,” she told James. He didn’t know her well enough to hear the lack of conviction in her voice.
They pushed open the door of the Broken Spoon, and a bell chimed inside. The chalkboard menu overhead advertised today’s selections, mostly inventive flavors like lemon poppy seed or Boston cream pie. Nina ordered a scoop of strawberry, then chuckled when James asked for a waffle cone of triple brownie batter.
“Triple brownie batter? That’s a lot of chocolate.”
“So?” James asked, paying for their ice cream despite Nina’s protests.
“So, nothing should be that chocolatey. It’s a chocolate overload.”
He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her gently from the store. She felt a little jolt of electricity at the contact.
“Why don’t you try for yourself.” James held out his cone in amused challenge.
Nina hesitated, wondering if it was too girlfriendy to share his ice cream cone—but then, they had already kissed. She smiled and took a bite, only to pause at the sound of her name.
“Nina!”
Rachel was stepping out of the stationery store down the street. When she saw that Nina was with James, her eyes widened—just as Blair followed her out of the store and noticed the exact same thing.
“Omigod, our two leads are already vibing!” Blair clapped in glee. “I knew we were right to cast you two! Nina, you seriously have a type,” she added meaningfully.
Nina’s stomach swooped. Our two leads? She glanced over at James, whose brow was furrowed as the directors hurried toward them—Blair beaming, Rachel looking unmistakably guilty.
“You actually put me in the show?” Nina demanded when her roommate was closer. “I told you that I didn’t want to do it!”
“But, Nina, you were so good. How could we not cast you?”
“Who am I playing?”
“We posted the cast list earlier today; I’m surprised you haven’t seen it.” Rachel fumbled in her bag and withdrew a printed sheet of computer paper.
Nina’s eyes skimmed over the names. Hermia—Annie Gleason; Lysander—Kevin Straithairn; Helena—Nina Gonzalez; Demetrius—Jamie Stuart…
Wait a second. Stuart?
“Your Royal Highness, you’re going to be amazing as Demetrius,” Blair gushed, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. “We almost cast you as Bottom because he has the most lines, but I insisted that Demetrius was the right fit. It’s a much more physical role, and of course, it’s so romantic….”
Nina thrust the cast list toward Rachel and walked off without another word, tossing her uneaten strawberry ice cream into the trash.
Everything clicked into place with brutal logic. Blair’s earlier comment: So, you and the prince? The furtive glances people shot James wherever he went. His expensive and understated wardrobe, his cryptic references to his parents, the easy confidence with which he entered a room—that wasn’t just because he was attractive, but because he was royal. Jamie Stuart, the Prince of Canada.
Another prince.
“Nina, wait!” James hurried after her, and as childish as it was, Nina quickened her steps. She ducked blindly into a makeup store, weaving between rows of glimmering lip-gloss tubes. A salesgirl with electric-green eyeliner took one look at Nina’s expression and darted into the back.
Some part of her had known James would follow. He caught up with her by a display of mascara wands and reached for Nina’s forearm, tugging her to a stop.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” she demanded.
He glanced around the empty store and lowered his voice, though they were alone. “I assumed you knew, at first.”