WHAT IS WRITING WHAT IS PLOTTING WHAT ARE PINTEREST AESTHETICS (update idk so there aren't any so don't check) WHAT ARE TRANSITIONS WHAT IS THIS CHAPTER I DON'T KNOW I EITHER WRITE A TON OR NOT AT ALL.

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…

"Wesley. Wesley, I need you to wake up. Now."

Only part of his brain registered that someone was in his room, yelling at him. The other part was still dead asleep.

Something landed on his bed by his legs.

"Wesley Shreave!" the yelling was louder and shriller now. Wesley managed to crack open an eye and force his brain into some semblance of wakefulness. He turned over and sat up slowly.

"What?" he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. It was his mother, standing at the foot of his bed with her arms crossed. She was holding one newspaper folded up like she could hit him with it, and another one was evidently what had been thrown on his bed. "What time is it?"

The clock on his bedside table read 7:23, and he vaguely remembered the all-clear being given in the safer rooms last night somewhere in between four and five. He had gone outside to have a proper smoke, once again encountering Georgia, who had been chattier than usual. He must have gone to bed afterward, but he didn't really remember. Now his mouth tasted like nasty cigarette and he was still in his clothes from the party and the subsequent safe rooms, so obviously he hadn't showered or changed or even brushed his teeth. Gross.

"It's time for you to answer some questions," Queen Francesca demanded. She looked as tired as he felt, probably even more. She was wearing her usually finery, refusing to dress down even after such a crazy night. Her eyebrows were almost in her hairline and her lips remained in a hard line.

Wesley groaned, feeling a bit like a teenager when he used to refuse to get up for his lessons. He resisted the urge to flop backward into his pillows and instead picked up the newspaper that probably had something to do with all this. For once, he had been awakened by someone instead of by nightmares or panicking or whatever, so that was nice. It was not nice after like two hours of sleep.

Okay, so maybe this was a good reason.

The headline read "THE PRINCE'S PARTIES" and there were way too many pictures of him and mostly him drunk out of his mind at the four parties he'd thrown with some of his Selected the last week. There was the karaoke from the first one, including one of him passed the hell out in the theater and drunk dancing in his underwear and glitter. He skimmed over the accompanying text, which called him irresponsible and "not taking this seriously" and "taking advantage of the situation" and playing favorites, among other things.

"How did they get these?" Wesley asked, his voice squeaking up a tiny bit. Sweat broke out under his clothes, hot and uncomfortable.

"You tell me. You said you were doing karaoke and video games!"

"We were!" Wesley stood up, and the blood rushed to his head and he sat back down. His heart was pounding, and he could feel it in his head. That was from no sleep, drinking last night, or probably a combination of everything. "They might have…gotten out of hand."

So, technically, he was still on his drinking ban, and officially, his parties all had really good cover stories and somehow no one had said anything. It was mostly Veyra and Ophelia who were the party girls, and they were the only girls in the pictures. He mixed it up every time with the other girls who accepted his invitation, but as the newspaper now proclaimed, nothing good had come from any of this.

Just when things were finally starting to be okay again.

"Look, Mom, it's not that big of a deal. I'm an adult, I'm allowed to drink and have parties, right? They are taking this-"

His mom cut him off, holding out the other newspaper. "It's not just that, Wesley. The news of the bomb scare is getting out, and none of that is good. We look weak. The Berlin family is outing us in Atlin and calling for Fallon to resign. Lady Valette has already asked to leave this morning. She says it's not safe anymore. On top of that, someone leaked these photos and the media is a mess."

Great. Another girl wanted to leave. And more trouble from up north. Wesley put his head in hands, and slowly inhaled throw his nose, trying to calm down. But if he closed his eyes he could be back in the safe room. Stuck. Trapped. Too many people, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Not again.

"Um, okay. That's not good. That's not good at all." Wesley opened his eyes as he lowered his hands from his face. They were shaking again. He stuffed them into his pockets, finding his lighter in the right one and wrapping his hand around it. His lungs were refusing to work now, somewhere near his heart that wouldn't stop pounding. Damn, he'd only been smoking for a few weeks and his lungs were already broken.

But it wasn't that. Not again, please.

"Not good? This is beyond not good, Wesley," Queen Francesca was getting into shouting territory. "Your Selection was supposed to heal the country, but all these scandals are distracting from any of the good things you do and making people hate the monarchy again. You-"

"Mom-" Wesley interrupted, already knowing there was no stopping his mom on a tirade. He tried to take a deep breath, but there wasn't enough air in the room. "It's just a Selection-"

"No, I don't want to hear it, Wesley. you don't focus on the girls unless it's a party. You're not even taking it seriously, and any time there is some tiny good thing the press covers there's always something worse and worse. It's going to cost us sooner or later."

She kept talking, but he didn't really hear it…

He was so cold.

He saw them coming, shadowy figures blurred in the mist. He could see they were carrying guns, and there were a lot of them, but they were still too far away to distinguish anything else.

Running.

He was up and moving again before he even realized it. In the back of his mind, he remembered something called the Fight or Flight response, and because he was running, that must make him a coward.

But he kept running.

The shouts were getting louder, and suddenly he realized how much of an idiot he was, of course, they could see him. There was too much snow and the sky was the same color and he had no idea where he was and the air stabbed his lungs and tasted like burning jet fuel and there was too much snow and he couldn't see and they were coming they were coming they were coming…

"Wesley, are you even listening to me?"

His mother's voice pierced through the memories, and Wesley stood up from his bed. Half of his brain was telling him to calm the hell down and that it was all okay. The other half was not. And that was the half he listened to.

"What is wrong with you?" her voice softened just a little and came down a pitch. "Where are you going?"

"I can't," he pushed past her blocking the path from his bed to the hall that led to the door out of his suite. "Please." His breathing and his voice were coming in stupid gasps and he cringed at the sound of it.

His mother caught his arm, stopping his flight. "Wesley!" she sounded more alarmed now. "Are you okay?"

"No!" He was shaking his head, his brain screaming for him to get out of here, go outside. A cigarette. Yeah, that might help. But if his mom found out about that he was dead. "Let me go!" he tried to shake her off but he was breathing so fast he couldn't get the air out of his lungs and he couldn't get it in his lungs either and his arm didn't want to respond and shit shit shit shit he was going to die…

White-hot pain lurched through his body. There wasn't cold anymore. His leg was on fire. He kept running, or at least he tried, but he collapsed in the snow.

Drake's blood, all over his coat. Blood all over the snow, his blood. He remembered blood all over her dress. It had been pink, the perfect gown for their birthday party. His blood.

He tried to get up, tried to keep running because they were coming.

"Come on," he murmured to no one but his stupid brain.

His stupid leg refused to do anything other than bleed and hurt and hurt. He got it halfway underneath him and himself halfway off the ground, but he couldn't do it, he just couldn't do it. He cried out in pain and fell back into the pinkish snow. There were stupid tears leaking out of his eyes, hot on his cold skin. Stupid. Coward.

In a moment of brilliance, he reached for the radio that should have been clipped on his belt, but it was gone, replaced with frozen blood. He didn't know if it was his or Drake's anymore.

No one was coming. No one except for them. But they weren't going to save him.

They were going to kill him. And they were going to make it hurt…

The next thing he knew, when the panic finally left him, he was sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed. His mom's arms are around him as she kneeled in front of him and he was holding onto her so tightly his own arms ached. His face was pressed into the crook of her neck and shoulder, and the fabric was wet. Probably stupid tears. Probably his. She was stroking his hair, and his heart was finally slowing down. He could breathe again.

He was safe.

"I swear I'm going crazy." It was the first thing out of his mouth as he sat up and it came out all in a rush of after-crying voice. He wiped his nose. "I'm sorry Mom."

"Wesley, darling, are you okay?" she kept saying things like that over and over again and patting him on the arms like she was trying to see if he was broken or something. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know," he stammered, patting his pockets to make sure his lighter hadn't fallen out. Nope, just his sanity. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mom."

She pulled him to her again and kissed the top of his head. It was nice, sort of. But it also sort of made him feel like he was back north, trying to hide in the snow in a dark uniform with no idea where he was.

"No, honey, I'm sorry," she smiled softly, something he didn't usually see her do. "I shouldn't have been yelling at you like that. I didn't know. I thought you were okay." She hugged him tighter.

"Mom, I'm fine," Wesley said, pulling away before he got too claustrophobic. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!" she said. "I've never seen you like that. Something's wrong with you."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Wesley leaned against the side of his bed. "It's just because of last night. I hate the safe rooms, and I didn't get any sleep, okay?" He tried to laugh a little to make her feel better, and the words kept tumbling out of him. "I'm probably still drunk or something. You saw the pictures, didn't you? That's the problem. It's nothing."

Queen Francesca reached for his hands. "I'm making you an appointment with the doctor today. You need to see someone about this."

"About what? There's nothing going on, Mom! I just..." He didn't know why he didn't want to tell her. He just didn't. She'd already seen him at his worst, having a panic attack and crying and freaking out or whatever it was he did these days.

"You scared me, Wesley. That wasn't nothing."

He pulled away from her and stood up and turned away. He ran his hands through his unruly hair. "Mom. I'm fine, okay? Just leave me alone."

She stood up behind him. "How long has this been happening?"

"Nothing's happening, okay? I-"

"How long, Wesley?" his mother demanded, and this time he knew he couldn't just blow it off anymore. He sagged against the wall and turned back to her.

"I guess…since we got back. But really, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Since you got back from where?"

He shrugged "North."

Queen Francesca crossed her arms and scowled as she stalked across the room. "I knew I should have never agreed to let you go. I knew it."

Wesley looked away. He had never really told his family about anything that happened during his time in the army except the most basic of details. He wasn't about to start now. But this was different.

"No," he shook his head. "Not the army. Mitch Levi, when he took us to Yukon. When he killed Dad and he was going to kill us. That's when it started."

He didn't say what he was really thinking, that all the rest of them hadn't been messed up by that like he had. Sure, he'd only been sixteen. But Ethan had suffered far more than he had, and as far as Wesley knew, his brother was fine. Wesley had tried to live a somewhat normal life when it was all over, but he had been so restless that the war seemed to be a great idea. Yeah…no. It had only made everything so much worse.

His mother stared at him, her forehead crinkled and her eyes soft. She didn't say anything, just walked to him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Wesley tried to relax as he hugged her back, but it was hard.

When she finally let him go, she stepped back and took his hands. "We're going to get through this, Wesley. You're going to be okay."

He hoped she was right.

It took a few hours for him to calm down. After his mom left with the unfortunate promise that she would make sure he talked to the palace doctor about getting some therapy. According to her, it would fix him all up good as new-not her exact words but they might as well have been. And yet, Wesley couldn't remember ever feeling so broken as he did that morning.

Exhausted as he was, he could not get back to sleep and spent a while on his balcony smoking. When he had calmed down enough, he headed to his office to brew some coffee, something he always insisted on doing himself. He definitely drank too much and soon he was jittery and hyper and sleep deprived. But on the bright side, with all that extra time and energy, he managed to locate his phone and get it charging, clean out his emails, and get his office and paperwork all sorted. He thought about going down for breakfast with the family or with the girls since, for the sake of the kids, they ate separately except for dinner, but he felt queasy and hungover, though it hit differently today. He went for a run around the palace but puked halfway through, so he didn't even make it to the gym for his actual workout.

He showered but still felt like shit. He forced himself to go to the Council meeting about the bomb scare, even though he could easily use the Selection as an excuse. They did have good coffee in the meeting room. Ethan brought him a Gatorade and made everyone keep him away from the coffee because he was a jerk, but whatever. It was close enough to lunchtime that there were sandwiches on the table. Wesley ate two and drank the Gatorade and realized that he felt way better. Coffee and cigarettes and no sleep didn't get you very far, he decided.

There wasn't a lot of new information about the bomb scare, aside from what they new last night. A small military grade bomb had gone off between here and the city, but off the main road. It had been in a car that was stashed in the woods that surrounded the palace grounds, outside of the walls and security patrol. The car was pretty much gone, so nothing to help them out as to who had set it off. Nothing else was going on anywhere else aside from the Berlin family causing more drama, but they did that every week. Andrew was going to address the country this evening, and they would meet again afterward.

It was the perfect time for a nap, and he was sure that he could fall asleep on anything vaguely horizontal now, but he knew he needed to talk to the Selected. First of all, Lady Valette had left this morning after he had given permission, and she had skipped a goodbye. She had never ever liked him or the Selection, and despite his best intentions, she had never gotten over the fact that she and her family had been stuck in Whites during the war despite her had being the ambassador to India. So now they were at thirteen which was dangerously close to the Elite. He had to start thinking about that too.

There were two other reasons—one, he wanted to make sure everyone was okay after last night and reassure them. Two—he needed to figure out who leaked the pictures to the media. He had quickly ruled out any of the staff or guards, due to the pictures themselves. They were obviously taken by someone who had been there. He suspected Darcy, but she had only been to the first one for about ten minutes before any of the party really happened. Veyra and Ophelia were his constant party buddies, and Eleanor came to a lot even though he never invited her, she always just showed up. Piper and Vera had come to the first one but that was it. Iris had come to the second one, but she hadn't stayed long. Georgia had come once too. Alyex had come to several. It ruled out several of the girls, who he had never invited or had never come. Nikoli disapproved of alcohol and had told him so, so she had never showed up. Valette hated him, and she was gone now so it didn't really matter. Lillian had thanked him for inviting her, but she didn't really do parties, and neither did Dresden. He had invited Fallon, but she ended up ghosting him.

They all seemed okay in regard to last night when he spoke to them. Alyex was a little shaken, and not her usual cheerful self, but she had asked him if he was okay and said she was sorry about Valette leaving, which was nice. Darcy was her usual difficult self, to put it nicely. She never actually said she did leak the pictures, but she never actually said that she didn't. He left before making sure she was okay, not that he really cared. At that point, he was concerned about leaving before she insulted his hair for the sixth time.

He still always managed to get super awkward around Iris, but she was smiley and sweet as he asked her if she was okay and invited him into her room They talked and pet her cat Hime for a while even though it made him sneeze the rest of the day. Georgia act bothered at all, but she did seem a little extra jumpy for someone who was usually so blasé about everything. No one confessed to the crime when he showed them the newspaper and explained that this was Bad For (Prince) Business, and they all apologized and those who were in the photos too seemed equally shocked. He was working his way down the second floor, realizing that a lot of the rooms were empty and the little wings that split off from the main hallway only had a few occupants, if any. Yeah, he had been eliminating girls for a while and now two had gone home on their own free will, but he guessed it just hadn't hit him yet. There were only thirteen left. And one would be his wife.

Piper was next. The tiny blonde opened her door and greeted him with her usual shy smile.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey Piper, how's it going?"

Despite partying with her during the karaoke date, she had reverted back to her quiet self, although she said about ten words now instead of two whenever he talked to her. He had even got a hello from the girl of few words, so progress there.

Piper shrugged, her preferred method of communication. "Okay, I guess." Instead of inviting him like the other girls had done, she closed the door behind her and joined him in the hall. She was in one of the wings that didn't have any occupants anymore.

"How are holding up since last night? Did you get any sleep?"

Piper nodded. "Um, yeah. More than you, from-" she didn't elaborate, just touched under her own eyes, where Wesley was sure his lack of sleep was evident. He probably looked horrible.

"I was just coming around to make sure everyone's okay. I know it was scary last night, but so far, we've determined that there's no threat to anyone's safety. Going to the safe rooms was mostly a precaution, so nothing to worry about." It was his standard line for all the girls today, and

Piper nodded some more. "That's good."

"And just so you know, Lady Valette asked to leave and her plane left this morning. She wasn't very happy here, and this was the last straw, I suppose."

Piper's big blue eyes widened, and her mouth screwed up into a frown. "That means there's only thirteen now," she said, almost to herself.

Wesley shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah."

Piper ran out of words and looked at her feet.

"Well, if you're alright," Wesley started. "I should get going. I'll see you around more once all this settles down."

He thought about his mom's promise to make his speak to some doctors and the text she had sent him later during the meeting, telling him he had an appointment this afternoon. Maybe then he could settle down too or something.

Wesley started to leave, giving Piper a final nod, but she reached for his arm and stopped him, her fingers grasping his shirt sleeve.

"Wait," she said. "I need to tell you something."

"What's up?" Wesley asked. She quickly dropped her hand, and her gaze moved back to the floor.

"Just…I don't want you to keep me…so when you eliminate…," she stammered, her words coming out in a rush or not at all.

"Are you asking me to let you leave?" Wesley offered. "If you want to, you can."

Piper shook her head, and started all over, finally able to form a complete sentence. "I don't want to leave like Valette did. I'm not mad at you or anything. "I've had a great time, and I—I think you're really nice and all, but I don't…I just don't think it will work. Me being a princess. Please don't feel like you have to keep me around, I'm happy to leave whenever you need me to." Her face flushed. "I like you…but not like that. I'm sorry."

Wesley put his hand on her shoulder, and she finally looked up from her fixation on the floor.

"Don't be sorry, I totally understand. You're a really sweet girl, Piper, and I'm glad you got to be here for a little while. I'm not making any more eliminations until I announce the Elite, but when I do, you can go then."

Piper smiled, her face lighting up. "Thank you!"

"Aw, come on, don't get too excited," he teased. "I'm not that horrible, am I?"

She shook her head vigorously. "I was worried you would be mad at me."

"Nah. If anything," Wesley shrugged, "this makes it easier. I suppose you'll be the first girl that I haven't picked to go home and the first one to leave without hating me. Hopefully," he added.

"You—you were going to keep me here for the Elite?" Piper asked, her voice shy.

"To be honest," Wesley said, "I haven't really thought about it."

Piper was quiet, as usual, as she looked at the floor. She looked back at Wesley, a small smile on her face. "Well, good luck. Knowing you, you'll need it!"

Wesley burst into laughter, and Piper laughed with him after a moment's hesitation.

She was right. He was hopeless.

Wesley wasn't any less hopeless with the next couple of girls as he continued his rounds. Ophelia admitted that the evacuation to the safe rooms in the middle of the party had been one of the most terrifying moments of her life, and to that, Wesley didn't have anything to say. Veyra greeted him with her usual smirk and "Hey, Shreave," and he lost all cognitive function for a while there. Both of them had been to every party but they were in some of the photos too, and they both swore to help him track down whoever leaked them.

"Are we safe here?" Vera demanded as soon as she saw him at her door before he could even say hi, leaving him standing there with his mouth open like a goon. "I need to know if we're safe."

"Hello to you, too," Wesley said. Vera just waited for an answer to her question. She didn't have any makeup on today, and her honey blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, but she still looked really pretty. Pretty, but kinda freaked out. "Yeah, most of last night was a safety precaution," he explained. "There's really nothing-"

"If there's nothing going on, then we wouldn't have been evacuated. Don't tell me there's nothing going on."

"Uh, okay. There's something going on but we don't really know anything yet and it's probably nothing and even if it is something, this is the absolute safest place to be."

Vera smoothed back some of the messy strands of her hair. "If this was the safest place to be, then nothing would be going on."

"Okay…well, I'm thoroughly confused now," Wesley said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. There's nothing to worry about, I promise."

She leaned against the doorframe and touched her shoulder with the opposite hand, and Wesley remembered seeing the knotted scars there. "I'm fine," she said, her voice tight and her eyes not meeting his. "Just, please, tell me if you find out anything. I don't want to die here."

"You can leave, if you want to," Wesley blurted out. He backpedaled. "I mean, Valette didn't feel safe, that's why she left, so if you-"

Vera shook her head. "Valette has two parents who love her, a good career, and a nice boyfriend she had on hold to go back to."

"She what?"

Vera smiled a little at Wesley's shocked expression. "I take it she never told you about him, then? She would never shut up about him in the Woman's Room. When she wasn't insulting you and your family, that is."

"Damn," Wesley shook his head.

"Valette hated it here, and she hated the monarchy for slighting her parents. I don't," Vera said, and her hard gaze softened. "So even if I did have anything or anyone to go back to, I am staying here, until you eliminate me. I served my country for four years, and I'm not about to stop now."

Wesley scratched his head. "So, the Selection is like being a soldier to you then, huh?"

Vera shrugged. "In a way."

"Well good, because there's this gala thing next Saturday night honoring some of the soldiers from Angeles who served, and I'm supposed to go. And I need a date," Wesley raised his eyebrows and looked at Vera, "But since you served too, what do you say?"

The famed and feared St. George soldier actually blushed a little as her lips turned up into a tiny smile that she tried to hide by lowering her head. "I would like that," she said softly, looking at everything but him.

Wesley shot her some finger guns. "Cool. I'll make sure to give your maid some more info because I have no idea about any of it right now. And I promise if we find out anything about what happened last night, I'll personally tell you."

She did that little tiny smile and blush thing again, and Wesley decided it was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. Like Piper, she had only been to the first party, and he was pretty sure that neither of them would be the type to sabotage his reputation, so he didn't ask. They said their goodbyes, and Wesley moved on to the next girl. The rest went okay, and since no one who had been to the parties had confessed anything, so by the time he got to the last girl, he had his suspicions. Because the last girl just happened to be Eleanor, and she had been to almost every party. And she had a good reason, because at the first party, he had kind of been a jerk to her, and this whole time she was always acting super jealous and clingy. Besides, she was the only one left, and it was getting kind of late and he still had that stupid appointment to go to.

He caught up with her coming out of the Woman's Room. "Wesley!" she exclaimed, beaming. "What brings you here?"

"Your maid told me you were here," he said. "Do you have a sec?"

Eleanor linked their arms together and tucked herself into his side. "Of course!" She was wearing her dark hair down in curls today, with a tiny braid on either side holding back most of her bangs. She was wearing a pale blue day dress and a gray sweater, and he had to admit, it looked really good.

"So, last night…you okay?" Wesley asked after a moment as they strolled down the Main Hall towards the doors to the gardens.

"Oh yeah, just fine," Eleanor said, flashing him a bright smile. "A little tired, but I also probably had too much wine at the party before the alarms went off."

"That can make you tired," Wesley agreed, and Eleanor laughed even though it was hardly a joke, to begin with. He honestly didn't even remember having wine at the party, but he didn't remember half of the parties he'd had with the girls so. "Well, I just wanted to tell you that the situation is under control and that there's nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worried," she squeezed his arm. "I know you would tell me if there was something to worry about."

"Actually, there is," Wesley stopped walking and turned to face her, pulling his arm from her grasp. "There's been a bunch of photos leaked from all the parties and you've been to a lot of them. This is making me look really bad, not to mention my family and the monarchy and the Selection itself."

Eleanor blinked several times and her lips parted. "Are you asking me if I did it?"

Wesley nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. You're the last girl I've spoken to, so don't try to blame this on someone else. This is serious, Eleanor. I don't even know why you would do something like this."

He expected her to at least defend herself. Or apologize. Or something other than turning away and stalking down the hall, her ridiculous heels clicking away.

"Seriously?" he called after her.

She stopped and spun around, and he was surprised to see tears sparkling in her eyes and her mascara smudging as she tried to stop them. "First, you ignore me," she said, her voice roughened from holding back her tears, "You take all the other girls on dates except me, and every time I try to talk to you, you say I'm being too forward. And now you accuse me of this?" She turned around and kept walking away. "You don't have to make up stuff to eliminate me if you hate me so much. Just go ahead and do it." The last part came out as more of a sob than anything.

And he felt bad. Really bad.

Wesley broke into a jog to catch up with her. "Hey, wait!" He grabbed her arm to stop her, but Eleanor wrenched it away.

"Leave me alone! I don't want to be accused of anything else I didn't do."

"Look, I'm sorry!" Wesley said. Even in heels, she was surprisingly hard to keep up with. She didn't stop either. "I'm sorry, okay? You're right, I have been unfair to you and I'm really sorry. And I shouldn't have just assumed it was you."

"Nope."

"Will you please talk to me?" He finally caught up to her and ran around in front of her.

Forced to a stop, Eleanor stepped back and crossed her arms. "What, so you can kick me out?"

"I'm not kicking you out!" Wesley shouted, loud in the empty hallway.

Eleanor looked away and didn't say anything, but her shoulders sagged a little bit. The sun from the glass doors was lighting her up from behind and she looked beautiful.

"You're totally right, I was awful to you," Wesley said. She looked at him, her brow creased into a frown. "Will you please forgive me?" he continued, "I just…I don't know, you kinda scare me."

Her face softened. "You ignore me because I scare you?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, feeling his neck flush. "You're, like, really pretty and confident and pretty and nice and I feel like I'm a total idiot around you. Out of all the girls not counting the ones that may want to kill me, I'm the most scared of you."

Slowly, a smile crept across her face. "Don't be! You're not an idiot, Wesley." She brushed her fingers over the sleeve of his jacket, and then gently took his arm again. "Okay, maybe you are a little bit sometimes." With Eleanor's lead, they resumed their strolling like nothing had happened. It felt good. Finaalllyy, something was going right

"I'm really not confident at all," Eleanor said after a moment. "I've been faking it, but I guess it worked out."

"Fake it till you make it, right?"

They both laughed, and the tension broke. Wesley managed to remember that he had his appointment to get to very very soon but first he had to make sure Eleanor didn't hate him. He really didn't want her to hate him.

"I've never actually been so stressed in all my life," Eleanor continued as they walked. "And I guess I can be overbearing sometimes. This whole thing, the cameras, and the media and all the other girls and your family and living in the palace…" she trailed off and tucked her hair behind her ears with her free hand. "It's just a lot of pressure."

"I get what you mean," Wesley was quiet for a minute, thinking. "Okay, I have an idea. It's to make up for me being a total bitch for you."

Eleanor smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "I already forgave you."

"Yeah, well I still owe you a date," he scratched the back of his neck, "or a few. Anyway, meet me here tonight at eight," he motioned to the glass doors leading to the gardens. "I have an idea you're going to love it. But right now, I've got shit to do that I really don't want to do but I have to do anyway."

Eleanor slipped her arm out from his. "Oh, then it must be horrible if you would rather stay here with me." She said it like a joke but it still pinched Wesley with guilt.

"Sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine, Wesley," she gave him a little shove and grinned. "Go, I'll see you later."

He finger-gunned her goodbye and then jogged back down the Main Hall.