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

door behind them.
    In the abrupt darkness, Alex stumbles over a mop and one of Henry’s legs, and they go crashing down together into a clattering pile of tin bedpans. Henry hits the floor first, facedown, and Alex lands in a heap on top of him.
    “Oh God,” Henry says, muffled and echoing slightly. Alex thinks hopefully that his face might be in a bedpan.
    “You know,” he says into Henry’s hair, “we have got to stop ending up like this.”
    “Do you mind ?”
    “This is your fault!”
    “How is this possibly my fault?” Henry hisses.
    “Nobody ever tries to shoot me when I’m doing presidential appearances, but the minute I go out with a fucking royal—”
    “Will you shut up before you get us both killed?”
    “Nobody’s going to kill us. Cash is blocking the door. Besides, it’s probably nothing.”
    “Then at least get off me. ”
    “Stop telling me what to do! You’re not the prince of me!”
    “Bloody hell,” Henry mutters, and he pushes hard off the ground and rolls, knocking Alex onto the floor. Alex finds himself wedged between Henry’s side and a shelf of what smells like industrial-strength floor cleaner.
    “Can you move over, Your Highness?” Alex whispers, shoving his shoulder against Henry’s. “I’d rather not be the little spoon.”
    “Believe me, I’m trying,” Henry replies. “There’s no room.”
    Outside, there are voices, hurried footsteps—no signs of an all-clear.
    “Well,” Alex says. “Guess we better make ourselves comfortable.”
    Henry exhales tightly. “Fantastic.”
    Alex feels him shifting against his side, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt at his typical closed-off stance while lying on the floor with his feet in a mop bucket.
    “For the record,” Henry says, “nobody’s ever made an attempt on my life either.”
    “Well, congratulations,” Alex says. “You’ve officially made it.”
    “Yes, this is exactly how I always dreamed it would be. Locked in a cupboard with your elbow inside my rib cage,” Henry snipes. He sounds like he wants to punch Alex, which is probably the most Alex has ever liked him, so he follows an impulse and drives his elbow into Henry’s side, hard.
    Henry lets out a muffled yelp, and the next thing Alex knows, he’s been yanked sideways by his shirt and Henry is halfway on top of him, pinning him down with one thigh. His head throbs where he’s clocked it against the linoleum floor, but he can feel his lips split into a smile.
    “So you do have some fight in you,” Alex says. He bucks hiships, trying to shake Henry off, but he’s taller and stronger and has a fistful of Alex’s collar.
    “Are you quite finished?” Henry says, sounding strangled. “Can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?”
    “Aw, you do care,” Alex says. “I’m learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.”
    Henry exhales and slumps off him. “I cannot believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”
    The weirdest part, Alex thinks, is that what he said was true.
    He keeps getting these little glimpses into things he never thought Henry was. A bit of a fighter, for one. Intelligent, interested in other people. It’s honestly disconcerting. He knows exactly what to say to each Democratic senator to make them dish about bills, exactly when Zahra’s running low on nicotine gum, exactly which look to give Nora for the rumor mill. Reading people is what he does.
    He really doesn’t appreciate some inbred royal baby upending his system. But he did rather enjoy that fight.
    He lies there, waits. Listens to the shuffling of feet outside the door. Lets minutes go by.
    “So, uh,” he tries. “Star Wars?”
    He means it in a nonthreatening, offhanded way, but habit wins and it comes out accusatory.
    “Yes, Alex,” Henry says archly, “believe it or not, the children of the crown don’t only spend their childhood going to tea parties.”
    “I assumed it was mostly posture