Royal Date by Sariah Wilson

I’d left off in the story, watching Lemon’s eyes grow bigger and bigger as I built up to the kiss in the moonlight garden.
    “And then?”
    “Then he kissed me.”
    Lemon squealed out loud, and almost everyone on the plane turned to look at us. “Shh,” I told her, giggling.
    “I’m as excited as a hen on a hot griddle. I can’t believe it’s finally happened! My little unicorn finally has a dent in her horn!”
    “And there’s more.”
    “More?” she shrieked.
    I again shushed her and told her about our kitchen rendezvous. As I remembered my conversation with Nico, it struck me how easy it was for me to talk to him. I’d never been able to manage more than a few fumbling words around guys before. But with him, everything just flowed. Lemon was the only other person I’d ever experienced that with, but a large part of our conversations succeeded because of her socialness and ability to carry it one-sided if she needed to.
    I finished up the story with mine and Nico’s arrangement and the rule I’d put down.
    She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re not going to let him kiss you again? Are you crazy?”
    “Not according to the court-appointed psychiatrist.”
    She made a face. “Not funny. You know what I mean.”
    Lemon knew a lot, but she didn’t know everything. Maybe I should tell her and then she’d stop pushing me. An icy fear gripped my spine when I thought of confessing. “I can’t. I can’t handle being with him.”
    She took me by the hand then and stayed quiet for a moment. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. Heaven knows I’ve tried to get you to. And I respect that it’s private. But if you aren’t going to tell me, darlin’, you need to tell somebody. You need to stop shutting everyone out. Stop making up reasons to not be with someone. You need to move past whatever it is so that you don’t live your whole life in fear.”
    The attendant returned with Lemon’s drink, and I crossed my arms, shaken and upset. I turned to look out the window. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to tell someone. It would be hard to tell Lemon, though. Who knew what kind of conclusions she’d already come to? How would she react? Would I still be able to look her in the eye after it was done? Would she tell me how stupid I’d been? I’d spent the last ten years beating myself up. I didn’t need my best friend doing it too.
    Lemon excused herself to use the restroom, and I looked over the seats to where Nico sat. He was deep in conversation with the men and women surrounding him, looking very serious. I liked having the chance to observe him without him knowing. I was quickly disabused of that notion though when a small half smile appeared, followed up with a knowing look in my direction. I turned away from him.
    Insufferable. So annoying.
    A small voice asked me then if that was how I really felt about him, or if I was doing exactly what Lemon had accused me of. Making up excuses so I wouldn’t have to be real with Nico.
    If I was just living in fear.

I didn’t want to discuss the Nico situation any further, and Lemon didn’t press me. Instead, she invited the twins to join us. They told us several hysterical stories about trouble they’d gotten into while at boarding school. The mindless laughter was infinitely better than serious introspection.
    Dante made googly eyes at Lemon the whole time, but she didn’t encourage him at all. Which seemed to only make him try harder.
    The plane landed and I freaked out once, right as the tires made contact with the runway. I gripped the armrests and let out a sigh of relief when we started to slow down. When the pilot told us we could disembark, everybody stood up at the same time. I heard Dante offer to take Lemon’s carry-on bag, but she refused.
    Nico made his way over to me and, smiling, took my hand. I followed behind him to the exit. Where I was pretty sure he started swearing in Italian. He looked over his shoulder at me.
    “Stay