Part 12

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What the fuck was he thinking?!

Cale Henituse had a lot of self confidence as a human being. He was confident in his ability to handle most situations in a manner that suited his overall priorities and plans, even in a state of emotional, physical, or mental duress. He wasn't impulsive, he just acted impulsive for his goals.

"...I'm an impulsive idiot, what the fuck, what the fuck...?!" Cale could just about scream into his pillow.

He didn't just kiss the highly suspicious stranger, he invited him to come back! And he was excited about it!

"...I thought my taste didn't get any worse than that damn prince." Cale bemoaned, flipping over in bed.

That was the single fringe benefit to the whole unfortunate situation. Cale hadn't had the presence of mind to ruminate over the prince while he was busy screaming over Bob with the stupid fucking name and the stupid fucking face and–

Cale wasn't entirely irrational.

He'd come up with the perfect plan for the evening.

He'd prepared the very best for his meeting with Bob. Bathed, dressed handsomely, requested dinner, snacks, and tea all be delivered to his room without anyone daring to enter without his explicit permission.

And then, when Bob finally turned up, Cale was going to murder him. Yep. It was a great plan. If there was no Bob then there would be no feelings of panicked confusion raging inside of him and then he would live peacefully with his other hopelessly confusing feelings.

It was a perfectly rational plan.

It was a shame that there was no possible way he'd manage it. Well, all the early steps had been easy, but that final murdery thing was going to be a sticking point for him.

He rather liked Bob. Or at least what he knew about Bob. But everything thus far had been likable. He was a good kisser, he saved Cale from kidnappers, he was witty, and he wasn't hard on the eyes either.

At least it was a relief for Cale.

Now that he'd moved on to a second miserably helpless crush he now knew for sure. It wasn't that Alberu Crossman was special or anything stupid like that, it was just that Cale was a shallow motherfucker who liked a pretty face and a quick tongue.

Cale was much more comfortable with the idea that he was shallow than the idea that he was stuck having feelings for the crown prince. This was better.

For starters, there was actually some potential for him and Bob. The crown prince was a nonstarter. There was absolutely no possibility of filling the the chasm of reasons why nothing could and would happen between himself and that stupid prince.

But Bob. Well, he might be about as trustworthy as they came but at least they might actually be able to have fun together before the inevitable end.

Cale's lips twitched upwards despite himself.

He was pretty excited.

He had no reason to put up any front for Bob and no reason to do anything but to be himself and indulge in a pleasant evening with a person he was interested in. It was hard not to feel a bit fluttery at the prospect.

Maybe they'd kiss again.

It was silly and childish but the idea made his cheeks heat up with the memory.

Crown prince? Who needed that guy? He had Bob.

A gentle knock at his window caused Cale to retreat from his fantasies and rush over to open it. He caught himself just in time, grateful that he'd chosen to close the curtains and collect himself.

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