You love me. Gotta say, if you’d told me a few months ago that Adelaide Levy of all ppl would be hanging out with Prince Oliver, I’d have peed mypants laughing
Har har, you’re so funny. And we’re not hanging out, I’m tutoring him!
Potayto/potahto babe
BYE
I tossed my phone onto my bed, rolling my eyes at Dash as I finished packing my tutoring bag.
Tadashi Hayakawa and I had been best friends since we were eight years old and he moved from Japan to Wexstone with his mother. We were both scholarship students who felt out of place at primary school. I had long been ridiculed for my bookworm tendencies, and when the rich kids started bullying Dash for his hand-me-down uniforms from the annual uniform swap, we latched onto each other and formed an unbreakable duo.
Once Dash learned to sew though, it was over for the bullies. He was so talented at restoring worn clothing that you couldn’t even tell they were secondhand. He kept us both looking fashionable and was always down to visit the thrift and consignment shops to see what treasures we could find.
Now, like any good best friend, he was enjoying endlessly teasing me about tutoring Prince Oliver and reveling in my annoyance. The thing was, though, that after a month of tutoring the prince, I found that I was no longer dreading our sessions.
I smiled wryly to myself as I remembered our first session when, flipping through Prince Oliver’s Spanish textbooks, I realized they were used.
I certainly hadn’t expected for him to respond thatbuying used books was more environmentally friendly. Don’t get me wrong—I absolutely agreed, but I would have assumed that His Royal Highness would require brand-new everything.
I guess that’s what happens when you assume, I reminded myself.
After meeting in one of the library study rooms for that first session, he asked if I’d like to work from his place for our following sessions. Going to his flat might not have been my first choice, but he was right: I was more comfortable with fewer prying eyes and he did seem better able to focus on our work.
In spite of myself, I had to admit that he was a hard worker—he had been making great strides on his assignments—and had been nothing but a gentleman, never once displaying the arrogance I had expected from someone of his status.
I was getting ready to grab my coat and shoes when I heard my phone ping with a text. I grabbed it, making sure it wasn’t Oliver needing to reschedule.
Theo
We need to talk.
My stomach dropped. I hated texts like this from anyone; they always made me run through the list of things I could have said or done, trying to determine what might be wrong. I dialed his number and was sent to voicemail.
Annoyance flared in me.Why text that we need to talk but notanswer when I call?
Theo
Look Adelaide, I don’t want to draw this out. I need to focus on taking over for my father someday and I need someone by my side who will take being the future duchess as seriously as I take being the future duke. I think it’s best if we part ways.
I stared at my phone, my mouth agape, as I read the message twice more before it finally set in: This asshole was breaking up with me over text! We had been together for a year and half and he was breaking up with me, not even in person, because I didn’t want to quit school and run his future household.What the actual fuck?
I typed out three different responses, each more scathing than the other, before deleting all of it.
K.
If he didn’t respect me enough to break up with me in person, he didn’t deserve a better response from me.
I screenshot the text thread and sent it to Dash.
Dash…
Dash
WTF?! You know what, I never liked him anyway. Good riddance.
I don’t even know what to say.
I’m sorry, babe. That was super shitty of him to do that over a text message. What a piece of shit. What can I do? Need me to come over?
