Prince Albert(121)

"Gaige, that's not what I -"

But Gaige stands up, pushes his chair back from the table, and walks out of the room, without even a second glance at me.

Damn it. That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say that what Anja said about him being useless wasn't true.

I sit in the dining room by myself, staring at my plate, until the cook, Deborah, enters the room. "Is everything okay?"

"Huh?" I ask. "Oh. Yes. Everything's fine."

"With the food? It's okay?"

"Yes." I nod. "I don't think any of us are very hungry tonight."

Upstairs in my room, I open my book again, then play with my phone, but the whole time I'm wondering what Gaige is doing next door. It's silent. Maybe he went out somewhere; I didn't hear the front door, but this place is so big, he could have left and I wouldn't have known.

I tap my finger absently on the screen of my phone, until I just can't take it anymore. I can't just sit here and pretend like nothing just happened. If I were Gaige, I'd be pissed off. And hurt.

I grab a piece of paper and a pen. I hesitate for a moment before I put the pen on the paper, then just do it. Pool? I write. Then I walk over to Gaige's room and slide it under his door and sit back down in my room with my novel.

It's a few minutes before the piece of paper floats under the door, and I bend down to pick it up before opening the door. Gaige stands there, that cocky grin on his face, and I look down at the paper.



I knew you wanted me.



I roll my eyes. I should have known Gaige would take my note that way. We made out that summer by the pool. But it was also the place we talked. "Oh my God, I was feeling bad about what happened," I say. "I should have known nothing gets you down."

Gaige shrugs. He's still smiling, but his eyes aren't. "No big deal."

"What do you mean, no big deal?" I ask. "What Anja said was completely uncalled for."

"So this swim," he says, ignoring me. "Will it be naked?"

I groan. "Seriously, is that all you can think about?"

"It's a simple question, Delaney," he says. "Clothed or non-clothed?"

"Never mind. You can go sit in your room by yourself."

Gaige exhales heavily. "Whatever. Let's go."

Outside, we sit with a six-pack of beer, just like we used to do, leaning against the grotto by the pool. It all feels familiar, like we're stepping right back into the place we were four years ago, as if no time has passed at all. And yet, there's part of me that feels like we're strangers, that so much has happened in the past few years there's no way I could possibly know Gaige anymore.

We sit in silence for a long time before I speak. "What your mom said about you wasn't true, you know."

Gaige shrugs. "I've been pretty worthless the past few months, with this fucking injury anyway."

"What happened?"

"I was screwing around, doing stunts on the bike," he says.

"So how's that any different from normal?" I ask. "You were always doing that stuff."

He shrugs again and takes a sip of his beer. "Nothing," he says. "Just lost control of the back wheel and spun out. It happens. Your father was fucking pissed off, though. It was right before this big race, and I busted my leg, so I was out. He read me the riot act."

"I can see that." My father is a businessman, and I can tell that he considers Gaige a colleague as well as a son. He'd see any extra-curricular shit Gaige pulled as being a bad business decision, even if it's this kind of stuff that makes Gaige popular. Stupid stunts, bar fights, dating B-grade celebrities. Basically, acting like a rock star.

"Yeah, well," he says. "Your father knew what he was getting when he bought the team."

"Yes," I laugh, shaking my head. "That much is definitely true."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means my father knows what to expect," I say. "He can't really get pissed off at you for doing shit that's part of who you are. He signed onto the brand."

"Fuck, that's what I said."

"I agree with you," I say.

Gaige is silent for a minute, then he looks at me, his face thoughtful. "Your father was smart, putting you on me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're handling me," he says.

"I'm not handling you."

"Yeah you are," he says, giving me this look that tells me he can see straight through my bullshit. "It's okay, though. I don't mind it from you. I never did, you know."

"I don't think anyone could ever handle you, Gaige."

Gaige takes a long pull on his beer, studying me carefully. I feel naked under his gaze and I look away. "You had a way of doing it, you know."