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Chapter FIVE

"I don't feel like kissing," slips through my lips, but the truth lingers unspoken. Rex, unfazed, laughs heartily, only to be interrupted by my confession. "I have a boyfriend."

His amusement fades as he pulls away, a realization dawning on him. "Right, sorry. I forgot."

With a chuckle, I reassure him, "It happens."

A lingering awkwardness settles between us. Rex, attempting to erase the uncomfortable moment, mutters, "Just forget I said that. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, even if you didn't have a boyfriend, it would be very weird."

Curiosity compels me to question, "Then, why'd you ask?"

"Violet, you have a boyfriend," he frowns, playfully splashing me twice.

Gasping, I retaliate with a stronger splash. "Because I wouldn't kiss someone like you."

Confused, he asks, "What's wrong with someone like me?"

"You're such a player," I accuse.

"I am not!" He protests.

"So are!"

"Am not!"

"So are!"

He challenges me with a raised eyebrow. "Tell me why you think I'm a player."

"Because," I begin, "you asked to kiss me, and we still haven't gone on our first date."

He smirks, "We still haven't gone on our first date yet?"

Rolling my eyes, I feel the heat in my cheeks, "Shut it, I have a boyfriend."

"Why does it feel like you're trying to convince yourself that you have a boyfriend?" he teases.

"I know I have a boyfriend!" I exclaim, attempting to push him away.

Mockingly, he repeats, "I have a boyfriend," pushing my head under the water.

As my head is submerged, all I can hear is the echoing phrase from a TikTok video, "Hello, how are you? I'm under the water, please help me. Here too much raining."

•••

Wrapped in his hoodie and oversized sweatpants, cinched at the waist with laces, I refrained from wearing his underwear for a mystery I dared not delve into. Following a lively swim and a game of chase, our diversion led me to a spare bathroom in this villa.

In that brief break, Rex barged into the room, finding me already clad in his attire. His gaze met mine, and a subtle smile played on his lips.

"Never thought someone could look better in my clothes," he murmured, and I could almost sense the rhythm of his heart echoing in his words.

I responded with a shy smile, swiftly concealing it. "Maybe because I look better," I quipped.

Rex nonchalantly nodded, affirming, "I agree."

Now, amidst the buzz of one of Fairbanks' popular neighborhoods, the prospect of encountering Grace lingered, her presence a potential twist in the tale of our shared day.

In this quaint neighborhood, charming little shops dot the streets, each offering an array of adorable glasses, caps, clothes, and enticing food options.

Having picked out a stylish ensemble, including a cap, bold blue sunglasses, and a plain black hoodie, I discreetly pass them to Rex, who lingers behind a building facade. With a grateful bow, he adorns himself with the new attire, completing the transformation.

As Rex put on the cap, sunglasses, and hoodie, he emerges as a completely different persona. With a playful nudge, I compliment, "don't you look fine?"

"I always look fine," he smirks.

As we stroll through the neighborhood, our conversation echoes with laughter. Somehow, we find ourselves delving into the complex realm of politics.

"Why don't they intervene in the ongoing wars?" I question.

"Consider this—we halt one conflict, and we become the target. It's a cycle; the countries allied with our enemy, creating a never-ending loop," he explains.

"So, you just stand by and watch?" I inquire.

"No," he asserts, shaking his head. "There are alternative solutions, but politics explore into a huge and complicated world. It's challenging to comprehend if you weren't born into it. My advice: steer clear of politics. Trust me, it's complicated and gives you a headache."

"Do you have a headache?" I ask.

"Constantly," he admits. "I rely on pills. Each morning at five, I hit the gym to ponder my responsibilities as the Crown Prince. People assume it's about giving orders, but imagine leading over two million people."

"I hit the gym too," I share. "Not for leadership reasons, but sometimes, it gets lonely around here."

Anticipating judgment, I clarify, "I have friends, but my close ones live in different states. None here."

"I understand," he nods. "I struggled to make friends; I was consumed by training and classes. Forgot to expand my social circle. I have one best friend—enough for me, but don't tell him I told you that."

I chuckle at statement. "Well, my three best friends, twins in Washington and one aspiring actress in California."

He grins and asks about my own talent. "So, your best friend is an actress, what's your talent?"

I pause, contemplating. "I'm good at eating, if that's a talent," I say, licking my lips with a thoughtful squint.

He happily agrees, "My talent is eating too."

I laugh, relieved. "Glad I'm not alone."

Silence lingers until he suggests sharing some memorized poems. I playfully punch his arm, groaning, "Do you feel bad for me?"

"No," he protests, surprised. "I envy you. You have the freedom to do what you want without worrying about who's watching."

As he almost starts sharing his poems, I sympathize with his struggles. Rex laughs as he sees the look on his face. "Now you feel bad for me!"

"I can't be held responsible," I protest, defending myself. "You write about the pressures of your life."

He questions, "What else should people write about?"

I suggest, "Perhaps the joyful moments they witness in others?"

Rex changes his stance. "Oh, come on!"

I groan. "Don't build up my excitement for nothing, Rex!"

Rex raises his hands in surrender. "Not my problem."

I playfully stick my tongue out at him, and he responds with a smirk. His gaze shifts to the road until something catches his eye, causes an excited gasp.

"It's here!" He points at the red Porsche pulling up in front of us.

"You rented this?" I gasp, eyeing the car and then Rex.

He shakes his head, taking the key from the man, thanking him, and heading to the passenger seat.

He opens the door, gesturing for me to get in. It takes a moment for the reality to sink in.

He closes the door once I'm inside, circling the car to take the driver's seat.

"No," he replies. "I bought this car while you were showering."

"Wait, what?!" I exclaim, my lips parting in surprise.

"What? I wanted the rarest edition, but it would've taken months to arrive," he explains casually. "I wanted a car now, so I got this. It's a Porsche 911, in case you didn't know."

Of course, I don't know. I'm not memorizing every Porsche model when I know I'll never own one.

He starts the car, glancing at me. "Hope you're ready for the best car ride ever!"

Driving this car in this neighborhood is a mistake, especially when he wants to keep his identity hidden.

•••

We arrive at a restaurant, and his hungry stomach prompts a smile.

"The Cookie Jar?" I read the restaurant's name, glancing at him.

He nods before swiftly exiting the car, and it takes a moment for me to notice he's rushing to open the door for me.

Appreciating his chivalry, I mention, "You don't have to."

"I want to," he replies, flashing a smile that reveals his dimples.

Entering, a waiter notices us and warmly welcomes us to the restaurant, surprising perhaps due to Rex's distinctive car parked outside.

While not the fanciest in Fairbanks, the restaurant offers good food, defying expectations associated with cars like Rex's.

As we follow the waiter to our table, Rex pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit, then nudges me closer to the table.

Seated across from each other, Rex thanks the waiter, who introduces himself as Daniel and leaves us with menus before saying, “Welcome to the cookie jar! I’ll leave you for a few minutes to go through our menu, unless you’re ready to order?”

After a polite decline to order immediately, Rex and I take a few minutes to browse the menu before Daniel returns to take our order.

"I'd like chicken tenders with fries and a water, please," I order.

"Same for me," Rex adds, handing our menus to Daniel, who cheerfully notes down our requests and repeats them for confirmation. “Can you also please give me a piece of paper and a pin?”

With a smirk, Rex asks, "So, Violet, tell me about your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend?" I raise an eyebrow.

Ethan is genuinely sweet, but he has a tendency to be distant, always expecting me to start conversations.

Despite his infrequent communication, I respect his busyness and avoid pushing him to prevent unnecessary arguments.

"Wait, no!" He protests. "Your siblings—so you have a sister and two brothers. Are you protective of your little sister?"

"For sure," I nod. "I'm protective of all my siblings."

"Nathan made it obvious today that he didn't want Ben to know about his friendship with Diego," Rex reveals. "Do you know why?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "It doesn't make sense to me, but at the same time, it does. Nate probably shows a different side with Diego than when he's with Ben, and that's understandable."

"You really think so?"

I nod. "For sure."

Daniel serves our meals, and our conversation meanders through tales of siblings and friends, the dinner stretching into a leisurely hour.

After savoring the last bites, Rex and I playfully debate over the bill, leaving the decision to the waiter to determine whether he or I will foot the cost.

"Men always pay for dates," Rex shrugs, gallantly holding the door open as we exit.

Seated in the car, his words linger, and it takes a moment for me to process. I'm about to remind him of my boyfriend when he joins me.

As he settles in and shuts the door, our eyes meet, and he utters, "I know we just met, but you already have my heart in your hands."

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