Mattie’s head turned to her twin so fast I worried she’d given herself whiplash, and he shot her a guilty look.
“Oh no,” Harriet carried on, her face a picture of concern. “It's nothing that will stop you from playing the first match next week, will it?”
“First match?” I looked to Mattie, but she looked way too pissed off to answer me.
“Season opener against Oxford,” Rafe answered, but for once he wasn’t sneering at me. His attention was all on Nolan. “You should be okay for that, right?”
“Of course,” Nolan replied with a small scowl. “I know how important this game is.”
Rafe stared at him for an intense moment, then nodded sharply and pushed back from the table. “See you guys at practice,” he said to Nolan, Theo, and Luca but stalked away without waiting for their reply.
“Oxford? The heritage university in England?” I raised my brows at Nolan, and he nodded. Even though none of the royals were allowed to play professional sports—for their safety or some crap—the same rules didn’t apply to the students of Oxford. Even I’d heard about their team and how prestigious it was to play for them.
A new addition arrived at the table then. A familiar face. “Jordie!” Nolan shouted, reaching out to smack hands with the handsome royal. I remembered his face clearly from the party, and his tall, striking beauty was even more pronounced in the sunlit dining hall.
Jordan groaned, running a hand through his auburn hair and making hints of red and gold visible in the mostly dark strands. “Yeah, I got stuck on some art project with Mr. Marshall. I’ll just have to get a snack to go.”
Like the waiter had heard that request, he appeared right at the American heir’s side. “Sir,” the man said politely.
Jordan quickly placed an order. It wasn’t for anything on the menu, but that didn’t seem to matter. When the waiter left, I found myself under the intense scrutiny of very dark eyes. At the party they’d looked black, but today I could see the hints of chestnut in his irises.
“This is an unexpected new development,” he said, his lips tilting up just slightly. “What’s your name, Cinderella?”
I wanted to groan at that nickname. Fucking Rafe. That asshole clearly liked to talk about the poor scholarship chick to his friends.
“Violet,” I replied, hoping like hell that Jordan was nicer than his best friend. “Violet Spencer.”
Jordan arched an eyebrow. “You’ve got a royal name; did you know that?”
I just stared at him, wondering if he was for real. “About the only thing even close to being royal in my life,” I replied dryly.
Jordan’s gaze shifted just slightly to Alex, and I realized that I’d barely paid attention to that table all lunch. I turned slightly to find that I was once again locked in a bright blue gaze.
“Not sure that’s quite true,” Jordan murmured, an unknown emotion clouding his features briefly before it was washed away.
Jordan’s food arrived just as the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, and I was grateful to escape. He wasn’t as disconcerting as Rafe, but there was definitely something magnetic about the American royal heir.
My royal heir.
I wondered if that was what made me feel like we had a connection.
Or was it the fact that all the crown princes I’d met were almost too much to handle in close proximity.
If my short time at Arbon had taught me anything, it was how far out of my league I really was here.
And how much trouble I was in.
Chapter 9
“Everything okay with you and Nolan?” I asked Mattie as she walked me to my next class—World Literature.
Even though I didn’t know her well, I could see she was forcing her smile as she replied, “Oh, yeah. Just Nole thinking he’s invincible and ignoring me when I tell him he’s out of his league.”
“The ‘sports injury,’” I said, finger quoting to show that I knew that was a bullshit story.
Mattie snorted softly. “Yep. Dumbass.”
I wanted to push her hard on what was going on, but I still sensed that she wasn’t ready to tell me. I couldn’t risk our friendship. Not yet. But I’d be paying attention because anything to do with weapons…
