The Thrill Is Gone

Alfred returned with a bounce in his step and a plate piled high with sandwiches in his hands. A few sandwiches hadn’t made it to the tent. They were casualties of the long walk to the blocked off area, but there were more than enough for the pair to feast on and as soon as he set the plate on the table, that’s exactly what they began to do. They reached for the plate, snatching the gourmet sandwiches off the porcelain plate so they could satisfy their hunger. It felt like it’d been ages since either of them had set down for a meal and within a matter of minutes, the plate was empty and their stomachs felt liable to explode at any moment. They’d been greedy with the food, not having bothered to pace their eating and their stomach aches served as punishment for their gluttonous behavior.

With their stomachs filled to the brim, the pair began talking about random things. As well as sharing jokes, but after doing that for a little while, they just sort of shut up. Their desire to sleep overpowered their want, to be good company. And so they sat there, eyes struggling to stay open, bodies slightly hunched over the table and lips slightly parted as they breathed through their mouths. They sat there until an eruption of applause snapped them out of their respective daydreams and threw them back into reality.

“Think it’s ended,” said Alfred, his voice sleepy and distant.

Paulina sat up straight, smoothing the creases that threatened to form on her dress. “About damn time,” she muttered. “Now to wait until the people leave.”

“And then we’ll snag those bottles.” Alfred smiled mischievously.

“Almost forgot about those.”

“How could you forget free champagne? That’s a crime against . . . well, university students everywhere. There’s nothing we like more than free alcohol! Alright, maybe having an exam cancelled and getting extra credit for going to office hours . . .”

“And sleeping!” she chimed in.

“Ah. Yes. Sleeping, definitely sleeping, but still, free alcohol is easily in the top ten. Might be in the lower top ten, but top ten regardless,” he stretched, a soft yawn leaving his lips. “So do ya have a lot of tidying up to do?”

“Not really. Just have to take the boxes apart and chuck them into the recycling bin by Rhodes House. Also have to stack the chairs and tables up and then clear the third tent area of trash. And that’s just grabbing everything that’s not porcelain or glass and throwing it into a garbage bag. So it’s not really a lot to do. I just don’t feel like doing it.”

“Well. If it makes it any better, I’ll help.” Alfred offered. “Figure we get to sleep sooner, if I lend a hand.”

“Sure about that? Might ruin your suit if you go around touching garbage,” she pointed out.

“Say that like it’s a bad thing. Hate this bloody suit. Only reason I wore it was because mum gave it to Charlotte to bring to me. If not, I would’ve shown up in that vintage piece. You know the one that’s like a dark plum, looks like it’s from the roaring twenties.”

“That’s the best suit ever.”

“Glad you think so. Mum nearly had me tested for drugs when I showed it to her. Claimed it made me look deranged, she did. But I reckon that’s just because she can’t see past modern notions of fashion. If it’s not in vogue, she’s not wearing it. Charlotte’s the same way. Come to think of it, so is my dad . . . hmm. Must be adopted,” joked Alfred.

Paulina rolled her eyes at him. “You’re absurd.”

“I am. That’s why I'm known as the odd Ferrars’ boy. Personally not offended by it, I actually sort of relish in the title.”

“It’s a good title.”

“It is.” Alfred lazily scratched his belly. “Hey. When we finish up here, want to stop by the market? I want to buy some crisps.”

“Alfie,” she groaned.

“Won’t take long,” he said. “The market’s right by your flat so I just got to pop in while you wait out front with our bikes. I’ll even get you some of those sweets, you like so much.”

“Guess we can make a stop. But better not chew with your mouth open.”

“Only did that once and it was on purpose.”

“You wanted to be disgusting on purpose?”

“Wanted to be annoying on purpose and since you ended up chucking at that pillow at my face, I know I did what I set out to do.” Alfred smiled smugly.

Paulina scrunched her nose at him. “So do you have any clue as to who’s, gonna be in your bed tonight?”

“Charlotte says she’s going to have a go with Prince Harry,” he told her. “Been saying that she’s shagged him before, but I think she’s lying, probably shagged some other ginger and was so drunk she thought it was him. Sounds like something she’d do.”

She took a moment to imagine how he’d react if she were to tell him that Charlotte had slept with Prince Harry. His eyes would get all wide, his mouth would hang agape and that nose of his would scrunch in disbelief, as he shook his index finger in the air. He wouldn’t believe her. He would actively refuse to believe that his sister – the person that once slept with an Iranian man whom she swore was Antonio Banderas – had slept with the actual prince, instead of some look alike. And since he wouldn’t believe her, Paulina didn’t see the point in telling him. So she opted to take a swig from the warm champagne bottle.

This was the second bottle that Alfred had taken and with another swig, it would lay empty just like the other did. She passed the bottle to Alfred, whom gladly chugged the rest of it. The bottle was then placed underneath the table where it would keep the other emptied champagne bottle company. With two bottles split between the pair, it would have been safe to assume that they were slightly drunk or at least buzzed, but that couldn’t be said of them. They were as sober as they’d been in the morning, when they stumbled into their examination hall. If they hadn’t eaten so much, they would’ve felt the champagne in their system, but their feast had left them with a stomach filled with sandwiches and with alcohol that would take ages to be absorbed.

“Guess it doesn’t really matter who ends up in your bed, because that things going to be a fucking hot mess. You’ll have to soak the sheets in bleach for at least an hour.”

“I'm not washing them.”

“Then what are you gonna do? Can’t just leave them there, it’ll be like . . . sleeping in someone’s sweat.”

“That’s why I'm throwing the sheets away. And I’ll buy some new ones.”

“Why would you waste money like that? You don’t need new sheets. Just need to wash the ones you’ve got.”

“I'm not sleeping on sheets that Charlotte’s shagged on. Bad enough that I’ll have to sleep on the mattress, but I refuse to sleep on the sheets,” he declared. “Just imagine how it’d be if you slept on sheets your brothers shagged on.”

“Probably have,” she told him. “All the sheets at my house are up for grabs in the linen closet. So I'm pretty sure I’ve slept on sheets that my parents have done it on, as well as ones that my brother’s fucked on.”

“Well, I'm not as open minded as you. Don’t want Charlotte’s things on my sheets. Need to keep them fresh, crisp or else I’ll end up catching syphilis from her.”

She rolled her eyes. “Charlotte doesn’t have any diseases.”

“Beg to differ. The other day, when we were in London, I found some antibiotics for treating gonorrhea in the medicine cabinet. Pretty nasty, isn’t it?”

It was nasty, real fucking nasty, but instead of being as grossed out as she ought to have been, she began to worry about Prince Harry and all the women that he’d shagged since his encounter with Charlotte.

“Did the antibiotics have a date on it?” she asked, as nonchalantly as she could.

“Didn’t check for the date,” he answered. “Just saw what they were for, did a grossed out face and then went back to the room to watch Doctor Who, with you. And then you started rambling about how you’re gonna marry David Tennant, which I don’t really get.”

“How do you not get that? He’s the Doctor!”

“He’s not the Doctor, he just plays the Doctor.”

“Well he can play Doctor with me in the –”

“Not listening!” he covered his ears with his hands.

Paulina laughed. “Are you done?”

“Only if you’re done perverting the Doctor,” he said. “It’s a crime to corrupt the Doctor!”

“If I didn’t do all the things you think are crimes, I’d never do anything fun.”

Alfred grinned. “Now that’s just a gross exaggeration.”

“We act like children, you know.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Well we do.” Paulina huffed. “We need Olivia. We’re better when she’s around. Let’s go get her, yeah?”

“I wish,” he mumbled. “But she’s gone home. Left on Tuesday, remember?”

“Oh that’s right. Now we don’t get to see her until my birthday, but at least we see her family again when we go pick her up. Have to remember to give your car a good wash so you can pick up your lady.”

“She’s not my lady.”

“She could be if you just tell her that you fancy her.”

“One does not simply walk into Mordor!” he quoted Boromir from The Lord of the Rings.

She knew it was childish to laugh, but that line always made her burst into laughter and the fact that Alfred delivered it so well, only served to fuel her laughing. He’d been using that line to get out of telling Olivia that he fancied her, for nearly two months. He really did like her. He just didn’t want to ruin their friendship by trying to add a romantic dimension to it that she might not approve of.

When her laughter died down, she finally said, “You can’t keep quoting The Lord of the Rings.”

“Course I can.”

“No, you can’t. Because asking Olivia out isn’t as scary as walking into Mordor.”

“Have you ever walked into Mordor?”

“No, but –”

“Then you don’t know what its like,” he said, matter-of-factly. “And it could be as scary as asking Olivia out.”

“What a pansy!” she huffed. “I was going to call you Frodo, but I don’t want to do Frodo the disservice. Know what? Fuck it. You’re Frodo and since you’re Frodo, I’ll be Sam. And we’ll walk into Mordor together! Well not really, since you’re the only one that can walk into Mordor, but you know what I mean.”

“I get what you mean. But Frodo, aye?” he pressed his finger to his chin. “I can live with that. Would’ve preferred Aragorn, but Frodo’s my favorite hobbit so that works out.”

“In what world could you be Aragorn?” she chuckled. “Need to cut back on the smoking; it’s starting to fuck your mind up.”

“Speaking of smoking, I need to pick up soon. You still good? Or are you running low to?”

“I'm still good. Haven’t smoked all week so I’ve got a full container,” she replied.

“You’ve got to be shitting me. How didn’t you smoke? I was lighting up every chance I got.”

“Because I can’t smoke and study. I always end up doing something else. And then freak out because I haven’t done the readings or whatever it was that I was supposed to do. So it’s not worth it to me. But once I wake up from my sleep, I'm gonna have a smoke. You should stick around,” she told him. “It’ll be fun. We’ll smoke out and I’ll cook. I'm gonna make some tortillas and salsa since I ran out.”

Alfred patted his stomach excitedly. “Mind popping around my place? Need to get some clothes and my toothbrush, so I'm not all smelly.”

“Guess we can stop by.”

“We can even drive over to your place. Put the bikes on the rack and just go over. You do have that parking spot that’s never put to use.”

“Ah, I like the way you think.”

To that, he smiled. “So what should we do now?”

“Don’t know.” Paulina replied. “Sort of feel like staying here until they all leave.”

And that was exactly what they did. They stayed in their seats, watching as the people scurried beneath the white tents. Some of them were getting ready to leave. Others were making their way towards the field, where the players were waiting to greet them. Apparently it was tradition for players to make small talk with the guests. Paulina couldn’t help but think that tedious. The players had just spent an hour, trying to hit a ball and trying not to fall off a horse. If she were them, she wouldn’t have had the patience to mingle with people. She would’ve galloped away to peace and quiet, but that wasn’t how things worked. The players had to be polite, especially since this was a charity event and as she sat, underneath the tent, she couldn’t help but think of Harry. And when she thought of him, sitting on his horse, she couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Charlotte had given him gonorrhea.

If she’d started taking the antibiotics a few days before having sex with him, there was a chance that she’d passed the disease to him. As well as to whomever he’d slept with since then. And if that had happened, Paulina wondered if the prince knew that he was carrying a sexually transmitted disease or if finding out that he was, would shock him. Would he treat as something trivial? Would it be something that he was used to? A part of her thought that it would be. He was known for sleeping around and if a person sleeps around, they were bound to catch something at one point or another. That was one of the reasons why she tried to not sleep around, but there had been an instance in which the lust burning inside her couldn’t be controlled and she’d ended up having sex with a stranger. But she made sure that it was safe sex and she went to go get tested a week after it happened, just to be on the safe side, because getting pregnant or catching some disease, weren’t on her to do list.

At the present, her priority was graduating from Oxford and then returning to America to either attend UCLA law school or try to get a job working for a local congressman. Those were her priorities. They were what she’d had planned since she got accepted into Stanford and they were going to be accomplished, even if it meant locking herself up in her flat for days at a time to study, sacrifices had to be made. There was no progress without sacrifice. There were, of course, moments when she didn’t feel like making sacrifices. Moments when she just wanted to pack up her things and go home because she didn’t feel like she belonged in England. She’d spent her entire life in California. That was where her family and friends were. That was where her culture was and to go from having her culture all around her, to having it only exist in her flat, was hard on her.

Being homesick fucking sucked, but she was lucky enough to have two great friends that helped her see things through and if it hadn’t been for them, well . . . she doesn’t like to think about what her time at Oxford would be like if she hadn’t met Alfred and Olivia. They were the absolute best friends that she could’ve made. Alfred, although occasionally grumpy and petulant, was a genuinely kind person that just had issues with trusting and liking people. But once he claimed someone as a friend, he was very loyal and considerate of them. He cared for them deeply. And Olivia! Oh. Olivia. She was just lovely in every way that a person could be lovely. She’s sweet, amiable, and a true mother hen that’s always fussing over people. That’s why she’s studying to be a nurse, so she can put her compassionate nature to good use. Alfred and Olivia were, exactly the sort of people that Paulina needed in her life and she was extremely grateful for having them in her life.

In time, the spectators began leaving the grounds and the scholars were informed that they could start cleaning. Alfred and Paulina ran to her assigned tent area and began emptying the trash into the massive durable bags that they’d been given. Once the trash was all picked up and the plates and cups were piled into the plastic containers, Alfred began folding the chairs and Paulina ran back to the tent, where she would finish tidying up her area. She tore the cardboard boxes apart, stacking them as neatly as she could, onto the backseats of the cart. It was a challenge, since the pieces of cardboard were in different sizes. She should’ve waited until she got to Rhodes House to tear them apart, but no. In her rush to get things done, she’d made things a bit more complicated and as she cursed at herself for not having thought ahead, the sweaty Prince came her way.

He was no longer on his horse. He was instead walking beside it, holding onto the reigns for good measure and when he heard someone let out a slew of profanity, his curiosity got the best of them and he walked over. He wasn’t surprise when he saw who was cursing. He sort of expected it from her. She looked like the type that cursed and even though she was dressed very neatly and passed off as a very respectable academic, he could see the rebellious spirit within her. The rebellious spirit that was being very careful restrained.

“My, my, my, what a vocabulary,” he commented.

She froze.

“Not going to say anything? That’s not very like you. Well. Don’t really know what is or isn’t like you, but it seems like you’ve always got a response.”

“And what response would you have me give?” she stood up, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen, behind her ear.

“One worded in your style.”

“Sir.” She began, but stepped back when she saw the massive horse.

“Am I really that scary?”

“Not you. The horse.” She whispered.

“Afraid of her?” he looked at the horse whom had been his final polo partner. “How can you be afraid of her? She’s such a beauty! And harmless, wouldn’t harm anyone. Would you girl?” he affectionately caressed the horse’s muzzle.

The horse softly whinnied in response.

“She’s a silly American. Isn’t she?” he looked over to her. “But I forgive you for being silly.”

“A royal pardon,” she mused aloud. “I must be very lucky to get one of those.”

“You are. I could’ve just as easily had you locked up in some dungeon.”

“Not the dungeon!” she exclaimed dramatically.

Harry stopped himself from laughing. “They’re not so bad, you know. Just a few rats here and there and they smell a bit, but really, they’re not so bad. With a few lit candles, it could even pass for a cozy country cottage.”

“That makes me never want to stay at a country cottage.” She then remembered the conversation she’d had with Alfred. “And since we’re speaking of dirty things, I had something that I need to tell you, Sir.”

“What is it?” he asked, thinking that she would make an inappropriate joke or something of the sort.

“Remember the blonde you slept with? The one whose apartment I was in?”

He nodded.

“Well, you see, it turns out that she’s – or was, not really sure if she is or if she was, but the medication seemed recent and. That doesn’t matter. What I'm trying to say is that she recently had gonorrhea and you might want to get checked out. Just in case, she gave it to you.”

“It’s a good thing I never go down on them,” he muttered to himself. “And thank you, I’ll have that looked into. But I shouldn’t have it. I used a condom. Always do.”

“That’s good. Safe sex is the best sex.”

“That’s actually a lie, but safe sex is better than having one’s dick fall off,” he joked.

“I thought Princes were supposed to be well spoken and polite.”

“That’s a lie we’ve spread through ages, makes it easier for us to get a woman into bed.” Harry glanced over at the cart. “So what are you doing?”

“Packing up my space,” she answered. “I need to get it all cleaned up so I can go home and sleep.”

“Haven’t they told you?”

“Told me what?”

“About what my brother put together to thank the Scholars for helping out,” he explained. “William reserved the Lounge at that club . . . what’s it name? Ah. The Bridge, he reserved the Lounge at The Bridge. They tried telling him that it could only be reserved until 11, but then he showed up and they told him he could have it all night. Didn’t even try to charge extra,” he chuckled.

“The power of the monarchy,” she commented.

“Indeed. But it’s been reserved for all of you and for your mates if you want to take some. Could’ve sworn that they made an announcement about it, but I guess not.”

“They probably did it at the meeting yesterday, but I wasn’t there. Had an exam,” she added.

“How’d that go?”

“Well, I think it went well.”

“Then you should reward yourself with a night out. It’s open bar.”

“Open bar? I have to go now.” Paulina lied.

She didn’t have the slightest intention of going to a club. She didn’t feel like dressing up, she didn’t feel like roaming the streets, she felt like sleeping. And that was what she was going to do, but she couldn’t just tell him that she wasn’t going to go to the event that was organized for the Scholars. That would’ve been rude. So she lied and it was alright, because with the space packed with people, no one would notice that she hadn’t shown up. Shortly after, Harry left to the stables and she continued to stack the boxes. By the time she finished tidying up her area, Alfred had made his way back and the pair jumped into the cart to speed off to Rhodes House.

Once there, they hopped off the cart. Alfred ran off to get his bike from where he’d left his and Paulina proceeded to chuck the cardboard into the recycling bin. The bin was nearly full so she had to throw the bin open, climb inside and stomp on its contents so that there’d be space for the cardboard. The look on her face made her look wild, like a junkie that was rummaging the garbage for something to eat. Had someone stumbled across her, they would’ve thought just that. But thankfully for her, no one crossed her path and she was able to finish her task without any odd looks.

With that done, she walked into Rhodes House. She needed to find Sir John so that she could hand him back the keys to the cart. She could’ve handed them off to another trustee, but she wanted to be respectful of Sir John. He’d been the one that gave her the keys and he was going to be the one that she gave them back to. So she searched throughout Rhodes House for him, crossing paths with students and trustees, until finally stumbling across him in the kitchen area.

“Sir John,” she greeted him.

“Ah. Paulina, there you are.” He set down his plate on the counter. “I’ll have you know, I heard very good things about you today.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “His Royal Highness Prince William mentioned to Lord Fellowes that you had been most attentive to him, as well as Harry. And I must say.” Sir John stepped closer, “That Lord Fellowes is quite pleased with you. He was halfway through one of his rants, when Prince William told him, he was so overcome with . . . shall I say pride? Yes. He was so overcome with pride that he stopped his angry rant and turned it to more cheerful conversation. Well. Not truly cheerful, but it was more tolerable.”

Don’t seem too pleased with yourself, she thought.

“That reminds me, Lord Fellowes wishes to speak with you. Told me to inform you of his desire so I would recommend you go find him before he forgets to favor you,” he joked, though in all seriousness, he knew it was best for her to speak with Lord Fellowes while the conversation still rung in his ears.

She excused herself before leaving in search of Lord Fellowes. Finding him wasn’t as difficult as finding Sir John. Lord Fellowes was a loud man that loved having all the attention on himself, so she just listened for his voice and when she heard it traveling from the main sitting area, she walked towards him.

“Miss Balcázar!” he bellowed when his eyes landed upon her. “This is the Scholar that my nephew, Prince William, spoke of.”

The men that surrounded him weren’t Trustees, but their like, their air, told her that they were men of equal importance.

“How do you do, Sirs?” she smiled politely at them.

“Very well,” they replied.

“I am afraid that I must have a word with Miss Balcázar.” Lord Fellowes excused himself. “Miss Balcázar, might I have a moment?”

“Yes, Lord Fellowes.”

He led her to a couch, where he took a seat across from her.

“My nephew informed me of your attentiveness this afternoon. As you can imagine, I was very pleased when I heard that you were living up to the standards of the Rhodes Trust. Americans have always had a bit of trouble in that department. Always very bright, but their behavior often leaves us wanting. Like Michael, for instance.”

There it was. He was bringing up Michael in a negative light because that was what the Trustees did when they disliked someone.

“I have often been referred to as the most disagreeable of the Trustees that requires to much, but I do not require to much, I require what is needed and I shall praise when praise due; as it is now.: He took a breath before continuing, “Very well done, Miss Balcázar. May this be the first of many instances in which I find it necessary to compliment you. Now if you don’t mind, I must be off. I must print out the guest list for my nephew’s event this evening. Needs to have the names of the Scholars if they are to be let in and we are to keep record.”

Son of a bitch!

“What event is that, Sir?”

“The event they are putting on at that club for all of you. Have you not heard of it?”

“No,” she lied, hoping to be able to get out of it somehow.

“Oh. Well, it’s at The Bridge. Apparently it’s quite the locale. You must go! Truly you must. Reward yourself for having finished Hilary term.” And with that, he walked away.

She was going to have to go. That fucking smile on his face told her that she was going to have to go to the damn club. That’s why he mentioned that he had to print a list. This was another obligatory event where their Scholars had to smile. Hopefully none of the Trustees would be around, because if she was going to be forced to spend her money on a cab to get to and from the club, then she was going to have her fill of drinks.

When Paulina finally exited the massive doors which kept her inside Rhodes House, she was greeted by the sight of Alfred, sitting on his bicycle while he held hers with his right hand. His face was tired, worn. He looked liable to pass out during the ride to his house. And as she looked at him, she wondered what he’d say when she told him the news. Would he go with her? She wanted him to go with her. A forced night at a club would be made enjoyable if he were there to snicker with. But she’d understand if he didn’t want to go. If Lord Fellowes hadn’t hinted so hard at it, she would’ve skipped the damn thing and slept through the night. But Lord Fellowes had made it clear that she should be there.

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news.” Paulina declared as she walked down the steps.

“What’s good?”

“There’s going to be free alcohol later on.”

“Then what’s the bad news?”

“We have to go to a club to get it.’

“Fuck that. Rather not drink and sleep.” He noticed the change in her expression. “What’s this about?”

“The Princes reserved a floor at The Bridge to thank everyone for their work and Lord Fellowes pretty much said that the Scholars had to be there. So I have to go and I was wondering if you’d go with me, cuz I’d appreciate it. But if you don’t want to go, I understand, because if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t.”

“How long do you reckon we’d have to stay?”

“Not long. I'm thinking only a half hour.”

“That’s not so bad.” Alfred mused aloud, “Enough to get drunk and leave.”

“It is,” she mounted her bike.

“Suppose we can go then. There’s no harm in getting plastered for free.”