Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston Read Free Book Online

is more offended.
    Henry sits beside him, surrounded by a cloud of attendants and stylists. One adjusts his hair with a fine-toothed comb. One holds up a notepad of talking points. One tugs his collar straight. From the passenger seat, Shaan shakes a yellow pill out of a bottle and passes it back to Henry, who readily pops it into his mouth and swallows it dry. Alex decides he doesn’t want or need to know.
    The motorcade pulls up in front of the studio, and when the door slides open, there’s the promised photo line andbarricaded royal worshippers. Henry turns and looks at him, a little grimace around his mouth and eyes.
    “Prince goes first, then you,” Shaan says to Alex, leaning in and touching his earpiece. Alex takes one breath, two, and turns it on—the megawatt smile, the All-American charm.
    “Go ahead, Your Royal Highness,” Alex says, winking as he puts on his sunglasses. “Your subjects await.”
    Henry clears his throat and unfolds himself, stepping out into the morning and waving genially at the crowd. Cameras flash, photographers shout. A blue-haired girl in the crowd lifts up a homemade poster that reads in big, glittery letters, GET IN ME, PRINCE HENRY! for about five seconds until a member of the security team shoves it into a nearby trash can.
    Alex steps out next, swaggering up beside Henry and throwing an arm over his shoulders.
    “Act like you like me!” Alex says cheerfully. Henry looks at him like he’s trying to choose between a million choice words, before tipping his head to the side and offering up a well-rehearsed laugh, putting his arm around Alex too. “There we go.”
    The hosts of This Morning are agonizingly British—a middle-aged woman named Dottie in a tea dress and a man called Stu who looks as if he spends weekends yelling at mice in his garden. Alex watches the introductions backstage as a makeup artist conceals a stress pimple on his forehead. So, this is happening . He tries to ignore Henry a few feet to his left, currently getting a final preening from a royal stylist. It’s the last chance he’ll get to ignore Henry for the rest of the day.
    Soon Henry is leading the way out with Alex close behind. Alex shakes Dottie’s hand first, smiling his Politics Smile at her, the one that makes a lot of congresswomen and more thana few congressmen want to tell him things they shouldn’t. She giggles and kisses him on the cheek. The audience claps and claps and claps.
    Henry sits on the prop couch next to him, perfect posture, and Alex smiles at him, making a show of looking comfortable in Henry’s company. Which is harder than it should be, because the stage lights suddenly make him uncomfortably aware of how fresh and handsome Henry looks for the cameras. He’s wearing a blue sweater over a button-down, and his hair looks soft.
    Whatever, fine. Henry is annoyingly attractive. That’s always been a thing, objectively. It’s fine.
    He realizes, almost a second too late, that Dottie is asking him a question.
    “What do you think of jolly old England, then, Alex?” Dottie says, clearly ribbing him. Alex forces a smile.
    “You know, Dottie, it’s gorgeous,” Alex says. “I’ve been here a few times since my mom got elected, and it’s always incredible to see the history here, and the beer selection.” The audience laughs right on cue, and Alex shakes out his shoulders a little. “And of course, it’s always great to see this guy.”
    He turns to Henry, extending his fist. Henry hesitates before stiffly bumping his own knuckles against Alex’s with the heavy air of an act of treason.
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    Alex’s whole reason for wanting to go into politics, when he knows so many past presidential sons and daughters have run away screaming the minute they turned eighteen, is he genuinely cares about people.
    The power is great, the attention fun, but the people—thepeople are everything. He has a bit of a caring-too-much problem about most things, including whether people can pay