“I’m not being a weirdo.”
“I like it, Sebastian.”
“Please.”
“It’s adorable. You’re adorable.”
“I am not,” I said. My cheeks were burning.
“You jealous of my luscious locks, Sebastian?” he asked in a singsong voice, standing up and doing a little twirl, shaking his head. It had started to snow, the flakes disappearing as soon as they touched his hair.
“Your hair is... nice,” I said.
It’s perfect, I thought.
“Yours is better anyway,” he said, taking a step forward and reaching out, running his fingers through my hair at the side of my head. A rush of goosebumps passed over me, just from his touch. He looked down at me, examining me the same way my mother would examine an expensive piece of art.
I could have melted into the damn ground, feeling his eyes on me like that.
The snow started falling a little more heavily, falling all around him.
“It’s hair,” I said. “Nothing special about mine.”
His eyes scanned over me, in a way that felt so familiar and comfortable yet also made every cell of my body go on high alert.
“But I wish my hair was all dark like yours,” he said. “Makes you seem mysterious. You look the part of a prince.”
“A shitty prince,” I mumbled.
“Prince Sebastian Nigel Fairleigh Ambrose, Prince of Frostmonte, heir to the throne of Frostmonte Castle,” Henry said in a stilted, stuck-up accent, bending a knee in front of me and dropping his head. “I am your lowly peasant Henry Denton, at your service, my prince.”
“Fuck off,” I said, gently kicking his knee with the side of my boot.
I hated when he teased me about being a prince. The title always felt strange and foreign to me, like I was wearing clothes far too big for me. Clothes that would never fit.
“God, I like drunk you,” he said, standing up again. “You should tell me to fuck off more often. It gets my blood pumping.”
He ruffled my hair again with his fingers, which may as well have killed me.
My heart ached like it had a ten-ton truck on top of it. I wanted to reach out and pull him in close. I wanted to tear all his clothes off. I wanted to do so many inappropriate things to him with my tongue.
Instead I was frozen in place, watching him in awe like I always did. Henry was my best friend, sure. But since he’d told me he was gay, I’d sometimes been so awkward around him I basically forgot how normal human interaction worked.
Even Henry still had no idea I was into guys. I hadn’t admitted it to a soul. There was no way I could.
My entire life was planned out for me already. My mom had a short list of nice girls who I would have my pick of when I was an adult. Girls I would be expected to court, so that I could select and marry the woman who would one day become queen.
It was archaic. It was unfathomable.
And I couldn’t do anything about my massive crush on Henry except stare at him when I thought he wouldn’t see.
“My prince,” he was saying, his voice softer this time as he looked down at me. “My liege. My gorgeous, responsible, goody-two-shoes prince of Frostmonte—”
“Stop,” I said, a flash of hot embarrassment ripping through me. I leaned forward and tackled his torso with my arms, taking him down to the ground and pinning him.
Small snowflakes fell all around us, and Henry laughed as he looked up.
“Got your wish,” he said. “It’s going to snow hard tonight. We’re definitely sledding tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to think about tomorrow,” I said.
I was still on top of him on the ground, his face just inches away from mine. I was holding my breath.
“We don’t have to think about it, then,” he said, his gaze dancing between each of my eyes. “Tonight is ours. The whole world is ours.”
I was either going to lose my mind or kiss him if I had to spend one more second so close to him. I leaned back and lay on the grass at his side, propping my arms behind my head and looking out as the snow fell.
“I know you really don’t want to go to the castle,” he said.
“I’d rather submit myself to torture than go back, yes.”
“So don’t. Run away with me,” he said, scooting over closer to me, so that our arms were touching as we lay on the ground. “We can move to Bora Bora and live on a tugboat.”
I snorted. “A tugboat?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Fine, a yacht.”
“Sure would be nice,” I muttered.
He let out a long sigh. “I’m going to miss you too,” he said.
“Mom has three ‘eligible young ladies’ lined up to meet me over the holidays,” I said. I turned onto my side and leaned on my elbow, resting my head in my hand as I looked at him. “She’s throwing these elaborate holiday dinner parties. I have to court the girls.”
“What does that even mean? Court them?”
“Show them around the castle. Tell them about my life. Take them to my Dad’s gravestone and talk about how important royalty is, how important Frostmonte is.”
“So that’s what dating in a castle is like,” Henry said. “Gross.”
“I don’t know what dating is like anywhere, let alone in a castle,” I said. “I don’t want to do it.”
“Maybe you’ll have fun,” he said.
“Not gonna happen.”
“Maybe you’ll get to kiss someone,” he said.
“Ew, Henry.”
He puffed out a laugh. “Sebastian, you can’t actually still be grossed out by kissing. We aren’t kids anymore.”
“I’m not grossed out by kissing. I’m grossed out by kissing these poor girls who I know I’m never going to want to marry.”
“Why not? You might like one of them,” he said.
I pulled in a sharp breath. “Not in that way.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Believe me, I do,” I said.
He paused for a moment, searching my face. “How do you know?”
“Stop pushing it,” I said too loudly. My heart was suddenly pounding again, my whole body hot with frustration.
“Sorry,” Henry said softly, holding his hand up to catch snowflakes and watch them melt on his palm. “Just trying to make you feel better about the whole going-back-to-castle-jail thing.”
I swallowed over the tightness in my throat. “I… I don’t think I like girls, Henry,” I said.
I hadn’t planned on making the admission, but it spilled out of me. “At least, I haven’t liked a girl yet,” I said. Maybe I could. I don’t fucking know.”
He furrowed his brow, looking at me. “You don’t?”
“I know I don’t like them as much as I like… you,” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “We’re best friends. Girls are different. Relationships are different.”
“I don’t mean it like that,” I said, my throat dry.
He was staring at me intently now, like there was an electrical current between the two of us.
“How do you mean it, then?” he asked. For the first time in forever, I heard hesitation in his voice. Almost as if he was afraid to ask the question.