Nobody in Particular(42)

“Look,” I say. “I haven’t even had the chance to speak with Alfie yet, but there aren’t strong feelings, and we aren’t dating. I have no idea why he kissed me.”

William and Father exchange a look with entirely too much mirth for my liking. “And yet, you’re the only person in the room that’s surprised by this.” Father laughs. “Rose, truly. Don’t pretend this is out of the blue.”

I lock my eyes on him, and darken. “Is this what you were hoping for when you gave him that watch?” I ask.

“You gave him that watch,” William reminds me.

“You two bought it,” I cry.

“Everyone, please,” Mum interrupts in a chiding tone.

I can’t believe I let myself be so easily manipulated. Was I truly so distracted that I missed their intentions? Could I have stopped things before they escalated this far had I noticed?

“Rose,” Mum says in a gentle tone. “You’re young. It’s perfectly normal for you to be single at this age, and if you would prefer to keep that narrative, then that’s your decision.”

Father gives her a sideways glance that tells me he very much disagrees with this idea.

“Are you single?” William asks me.

I open my mouth to reply, but Father’s patently horrified expression halts me.

“We don’t need to know the details of what Rose does in private,” he says, firm and final. Even if William wanted to protest, I’m certain he wouldn’t dare. Father is quite used to doling out commands, and he has a distinct tone he uses when dissenting opinions are entirely unwelcome.

It’s difficult for me to tell whether Father’s obvious discomfort at the topic of my real—that is, not fabricated by my parents and publicist for the papers—love life is based in homophobia or merely repression. He and Mum can’t even hold hands in public, according to the unwritten but tightly-adhered-to rules of royal decorum, passed down through our family like a crown placed on one head then another. Physical affection within the royal family is to be kept solidly in the confines of four walls.

Which is why it’s rather amusing to me that nobody seems especially fussed that the trending news story contains photos of me mid-kiss. Hypocrisy abounds. Or perhaps a reluctant kiss is somehow less affronting than one with actual passion behind it.

“Regardless,” William says, “in the coming years there will be speculation around why you haven’t dated anyone yet. If you confirm a relationship with Alfie now, it may go a long way to preempting possible less … savory directions that speculation might head.”

“But…” I say, “I don’t have feelings for him.”

The three of them look at me as though I’m stupid. I take offense to that.

“Rose,” Mum says. “Aren’t you … did you not tell us you’re gay, once?”

Ah, that’s right. So I am.

“Is that still the case?” Father asks, a little too hopeful for my liking.

“Yes, it’s still very much the case,” I say. “A lifelong state of things, I anticipate.”

“Yes, well,” he says, brushing lint from his pants. “So, then.”

So, then. I won’t ever have feelings for anybody I date publicly, so why should it matter either way?

It makes perfect sense. The rub is, of course, that when I agreed to this, I hadn’t accounted for how extraordinarily hateful it would feel to pretend to have feelings for somebody I can never love. It’s a level of cruelty I can’t imagine myself ever feeling comfortable inflicting upon someone, let alone someone like Alfie, who I truly do love … even if I don’t Love him.

“He’s my friend,” I say finally. “I can’t lie to him.”

“So, don’t lie,” Father says. At first, I believe he means for me to lie by omission—a point I’m willing to argue against. However, then I realize he means come out to Alfie.

I haven’t come out to a single person outside of the family. And the staff, of course, but they’re on a need-to-know basis. I don’t think I’m ready to tell anybody else yet. And I especially don’t think I’m ready for the first friend I tell to be someone who obviously has feelings for me, and may be rather upset. I don’t want anybody to get upset at the news of my sexuality. I fear it will put a damper on the whole thing.

“The papers can say whatever they want,” I say dully. “But I’m not actually going to start a relationship with him. I’m going to let him down easy.”

One day, I know, I will have to figure out what to do with my public image. But that is a problem for future-Rose. And future-Rose, I’m quite certain, will be older, and wiser, and much more assured of herself in awkward situations such as this one. Present-Rose will only make a mess of it. Best not to risk it.

Mum, Father, and William all exchange a glance.

One I can’t for the life of me interpret.





NINETEEN

ROSE




Months.

It’s been years since Danni last spoke to me.

The longest decade I’ve ever slogged through.

Made all the worse by the fact that in reality, it’s barely been a fortnight.

I had a terrible feeling when I first received her text that it would be difficult to adjust to life without her friendship, but I was sorely underestimating how hard “difficult” would hit. Danni’s abrupt disappearance from my daily life sits like a hole dug into damp sand. Perhaps the walls will dry out and cave inward to fill the chasm one day, but in the meantime, it’s gaping.