Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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I woke up the next morning in a rather confused state. After being found shortly after our dalliance in the tree, we were found by some random guy with dark floppy hair. I don’t think he saw who we were… Fingers crossed.

Surprised and rather embarrassed, we had split and headed back to the palace our separate ways, myself to shepherd out last-minute leavers, James presumably to go to sleep – it was, after all, about eleven o’clock and rather dark. My evening had ended in the same troubled situation I found myself in now, in the morning. The question foremost in my mind was, what do I do now? My options were numerous and varied, but the one I was currently leaning to, being still half asleep, was to find James and kiss him senseless.

Maybe not.

*sleepily* Why not?

Because, he is no longer your boyfriend, and is unlikely to be so again.

*sniffs*

Having brushed my teeth and taken a frigidly cold shower, my options now seemed a little more sensible.

1) Find James and… maybe not.
2) Find James and ask him about last night.
3) Find James and wait until he starts the conversation.
4) Completely ignore and avoid James.
5) Continue as normally as possible.

I didn’t quite have the guts to talk outright to him, and my schedule didn’t allow me to wait around for an hour whilst he didn’t suggest the topic. Ignoring him simply wasn’t an option – my brain was programmed to generally overload when he was around. So it seemed like number five was where I was headed. This was easy enough because, it being the last day of the holiday, Grandmother had completely filled my day with social/ political activities.

I surrendered myself into the ordered chaos of the day, managing to keep my mind in fairly stable condition through the opening of the Foot ward at Rous General Hospital, lunch with the prime minister and my dad, and an afternoon of visiting Women’s Institutes with mum. I very nearly cracked when an 89-year-old woman asked me if I wanted a meringue which she’d just coughed on, but I felt like I was still sane…

I’m sane, I’m sane!

That’s all right dear, the men in white coats are coming.

Dinner was spent with an assortment of Rous scholars, who were currently liaising with Dad to create an annual award for ‘excellence in the field’ or something similar to the Nobel Peace Prize, crossed with the Right Livelihood Award. I managed to escape at nine o’clock, excusing myself with the fact that I had school in the morning. This wasn’t difficult, being in a room of people who put knowledge in front of everything else. Having suddenly remembered that I was meant to read a Tennyson poem over the holidays, I made my way to the library instead of my room.

And there I found James, which made my insides zoom around like a six-year-old high on toffee. My throat also decided to constrict because to breathe in his presence felt sacrilegious…

“Hey,” James said, looking up.

“H-cough-hi,” I choked, asphyxiating.

Nice breezy entrance there…

“You alright?” James asked.

“Fine,” I replied, blushing.

I walked over to the bookshelves and retrieved Jane Eyre from where I’d slammed it into the bookshelf. It was a little bent, to say the least.

“I’m glad you and Cecilia got to talk earlier. She’s been feeling pretty lonely the past few days. Her parents are on a second honeymoon, that’s why she’s here,” James said, his eyes hovering on me. Catching his gaze felt sinful.

“Yeah! I thought she was-” I stopped, laughing nervously.

“Thought Cecilia was what?” James asked, putting down the book he was reading.

“I, uh, thought she was your date…” I gulped, “Stupid huh?”

“Yeah, kinda,” James replied, picking his book back up.

“You’re meant to say, no, not stupid,” I replied, annoyed, “Perfectly reasonable… under the circumstances…”

“What circumstances?” James asked.

Confusion began to drop stitch, pearl stitch in his eyebrows. I paused for a moment, wary that this was probably going to escalate.

“Oh, no circumstances…” I mumbled, sitting down across from him.

“Phil, what circumstances?”

“No circumstances,” I shot back, pretending to read.

“Rose, what circumstances?” he plied.

“Don’t call me that!” I hissed as it stirred memories into a mini-tornado.

“Ok,” he said, holding his hands up and moving back in his chair.

I stared blankly at the swimming digits on the page.

“The circumstances whereby you and I are no longer going out, anyway,” I spat out.

James narrowed his eyes for a moment. A smirk began to grow across his face.

“You were jealous,” he said, grinning, “That’s why you were glaring at her!”

Not exactly glaring… more like attempting to burn a hole through her forehead, using only my eyesight…

“I was not glaring at her,” I frowned.

James crossed the room and peered at my book.

“I thought so; it’s upside down. Again. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” he said, taking it out of my hands.

“I am not an old dog!” I snapped, snatching back my book.

“You were jealous of her… now why would that be?” he asked, searching my face, a smile teasing across his lips.

“Why do you think?” I asked, outraged, clutching my book like a shield.

“Because you still like me?” he asked, resting one hand on each of my armrests, confining me to my chair.

I glared at him, angry as hell after Satan’s had an allergic reaction to saint.

“Going on that theory,” James said, lowering himself to my level, “And the fact that you didn’t seem to mind me kissing you last night…”

He kissed me experimentally, Jane Eyre formed a half-protesting barrier in between us.

I felt like a thunder storm was brewing in my chest. Whether the thunderstorm was wanted or not…

James just smirked, leaning back on his hands, still confining me to my chair.

“We’ve gotta sort this out,” I cried, feeling emotionally at sea.

“Sort what out?” James asked.

“The situation whereby we’re kissing and not going out,” I said.

“What’s there to sort out?”

“The kissing and the not going out!” I repeated.

James frowned and sat down on the sofa next to me.

“Go on then,” he said, looking a little dangerous.

“We – I – you…” I trailed off, “If you’re not going out with me, then you jolly well can’t kiss me!”

Did I just say ‘you jolly well can’t’?

“Ever heard the saying, ‘It takes two to tango’?” James asked, making me feel like a three-year-old.

“Yes! And… and I don’t plan on tangoing anymore,” I said, feeling sulky.

“Fine.”

“Eh?”

“I said, fine. No more tangoing. You’re rubbish at it anyway.”

He stood up, and strode out, the door shutting before I could think of some marvellous come-back. My insides seethed.