Page 18 of That Prince is Mine
“Is international relations code for something lascivious?”
“The eyebrow wiggle was to emphasize the word passionate, not international relations.” Sarah affectionately rolled her eyes at her.
Emma hadn’t been too surprised when her favorite client invited her out to lunch. It seemed natural that their easy rapport would lead to friendship. What did surprise her was that her new friend wanted to meet because she needed advice about a girl she was crushing on.
She gladly accepted the invitation. After all, she was the goddaughter of a renowned Madame Ddu. She knew a thing or two about compatibility and healthy relationships. And who could resist a chance to meddle in someone else’s love life? She wanted to rub her hands together and cackle.
Too bad she was hopeless when it came to her own love life. She could not believe she didn’t even get Michel’s last name, much less his phone number. And what about him? Why didn’t he ask for her number? It was inconceivable that he was as awful at this dating thing as she was.
When Sarah suggested heading over to USC to show Emma the object of her affection, Emma figured it would help take her mind off of her dismay over the Michel situation. Now that she’d decided on indulging in a fun evening with a handsome, sophisticated man, the thought of not getting that date disappointed her. But moping about it solved nothing.
Once she finished her friend duty, she should go camp out at the hotel café. She was bound to run into Michel sooner or later since he said he was a regular there. It might make her seem kind of desperate, but she didn’t care. She wanted to see him again, so she would make it happen.
She stumbled forward a couple of steps when someone shoved her from behind. She shot a narrowed-eye glare over her shoulder, and the kid blanched. She felt a little bad, but she had to make it out of here alive. They finally managed to find seats in the very first row of the auditorium, always the least popular seats in lectures, but even those were nearly filled up.
“We’re not staying for the entire lecture, are we?” Emma whispered.
“No, I’ll just point her out to you, then we can leave.” Sarah scanned the stage area and the seats around them. “I don’t see her yet. She’s probably coming in with Professor Chevalier. Jeannie is his TA.”
“So your crush is an international relations major?”
“Shhh.” Sarah glanced around quickly. “I’ll die if she finds out.”
“It’s too loud in here for anyone to overhear us,” Emma said with a reassuring smile. “And I promise you won’t die.”
“She’s here.” Sarah gripped Emma’s arm and pointed out her crush with her eyeballs and tongue. Sure, it was less conspicuous than pointing with her finger, but her friend looked like she was impersonating a dead fish—the cute cartoon kind but a dead fish nonetheless.
Emma dutifully turned in the direction of Sarah’s tongue and eyeballs, then froze in her seat. She barely registered the fresh-faced redhead juggling a stack of folders down the aisle because her focus zeroed in on the man walking beside her.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, taking some of the folders from his TA’s arms.
Butter and sugar. A long breath rushed past Emma’s lips as something unknotted in her chest. She didn’t have to languish away at the hotel café after all. Michel was right here. And if she’d found him handsome in the café, Michel in a well-fitted suit and tie… She swallowed. Well, he looked good enough to eat.
“So? What do you think?” Sarah whispered, loosening her grip on Emma’s arm. “Isn’t she dreamy?”
Emma tore her gaze away from Michel as Jeannie walked up the stage and arranged the folders on a rectangular foldaway table off to the side. Even in a baggy sweatshirt and tattered jeans, her translucent skin and flaming red hair—which could use a good brushing—made her hard to miss. The TA jogged down the stage and settled into a seat not far away from them. She pulled her long hair into a messy ponytail, her cheeks expanding on a heavy exhale, and promptly slouched into her chair.
“Yes, absolutely dreamy,” Emma said with an indulgent smile at her friend.
She thought better of adding that the gorgeous redhead would be much improved with properly fitted clothing and good posture. But appearing professional and well put-together might not be important to Jeannie. While Emma believed in putting care and effort into her appearance, everyone had their own priorities.
Speaking of priorities, she should ask Sarah whether Jeannie’s priorities were compatible with hers. Physical attraction mattered, of course, but it shouldn’t be all about that. Sarah should consider the practicalities of a relationship with her crush before she did anything rash like confess her feelings. But the crowded auditorium didn’t seem like the place to have that discussion.
Deciding she’d adequately carried out her friend duty for the time being, Emma returned her focus to her dreamy crush. Well, crush might be an overstatement. She barely knew the man. It was more like a mild interest. Well, mild might be an understatement. Would temporary interest work? She huffed out an impatient breath. She was being ridiculous.
But all other thoughts, ridiculous or otherwise, left her head as Michel took the stage, clipping a small mic to his lapel. A hush fell across the room. He shielded his eyes from the spotlight and glanced slowly around the packed auditorium. Emma sank low in her seat, afraid he’d spot her—she didn’t want to distract him from his lecture. But when his glance skipped right over her, she guessed the bright lights hid her from view.
With a low whistle, he slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Is it me or is this auditorium getting smaller by the day?”
Emma smiled when laughter rang through the lecture hall, feeling oddly proud of him. He was the visiting professor that had the whole school buzzing. And five minutes into the lecture, she could see why. He was a charismatic speaker, intelligent and articulate, but it was his passion for the topic that drew in the crowd. His fairy-tale good looks should have been a distraction, but his words held everyone captive.
“Emma?”
“Hmm?” She half turned toward Sarah.
“I asked if you wanted to leave,” her friend whispered.
“Oh, no.” Emma shook her head at once. Michel walked across the stage with wide, confident steps, emphasizing opposing perspectives with each hand. “It would be rude to leave in the middle of the lecture, especially since we’re in the very front row.”
