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    Summary

    Someone clears their throat behind him, and he spins around, hands still gripping the hem of his shirt. “Sorry, hi, I – shit,” he stammers as he takes in Princess Beatrice’s friendly expression and her brother’s more taciturn one. “Sorry, shit. God, sorry. Uh, hello, um… Your, uh, Maj—”

    “It’s Your Royal Highness, but please, no titles here,” Princess Beatrice graciously says, saving Alex from himself. “Call me Bea. It looks like we’re teammates! Hen, too.” She nudges her elbow into her brother’s ribs, and he nods wordlessly.

    Alex tries to replicate his mom’s politician smile as well as he can. “It’s an honor,” he says, giving them the little bow drilled into his brain before he and his mom had departed for London, through repetitive How to avoid being deported by the English monarchy lessons. “I’m Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

    (Or, Alex and Henry meet at a youth charity event as teens.)

    Language:
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