I walk out of class, slinging my book bag over one shoulder. I couldn't focus at all, my mind kept running back to what happened yesterday. They said he was speaking on campus. What if I run into-

"Good morning, Ms. Morgan," a British, or should I say Col, accent comes from behind me.

Nope, not turning around. Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking.

For once my body obeys my frantic thoughts as I pick up the pace, blatantly ignoring Crazy-Coffee-Man. Is he following me? Don't check. Keep walking.

"We need to discuss yesterday."

I don't answer. Partly because I'm pretending he doesn't exist, partly because I'm afraid I'll sound winded. I need to work out or something.

I speed walk in silence for another moment. He's still behind me, I can feel it. Giving up, I spin around to face him,

"What?!" I snap, breathless.

He's standing tall, arms folded behind his back, looking calm and collected. While I on the other hand, probably look like a raging mad, out of breath tomato.

He looks down at me, frowning, "Yesterday wasn't a joke."

"Well you are." Oooh, that was a good one... I think. I better leave before I have to come up with a more clever comeback. I turn to go, but he steps in front of me.

"Gypsy, if you'd just listen-"

I stomp to a halt, "Why are you here?"

"I'm giving a lecture at the auditorium. Your college is the only one outside of Europe to offer a course in Col History-"

"The auditorium is across campus," I cut in. "Why are you outside of my class?"

"You know why."

I huff in response, fixing my eyes on my shoes.

"I haven't come to pressure you. My offer still stands, of course." I want to leave. Just pretend this never happened. As if reading my mind, he reaches out and grabs my forearm, locking eyes with me, "My intent was never to hurt your feelings."

"MY FEELINGS... ARE... fine..." I glance around, wondering how many people are staring at me for my crazy outburst. I shake him off, ignoring anymore eye contact, "Doesn't matter how I feel, remember? We're not going to see each other again."

"If I've offended you-"

"Shut up," I breath, rubbing my forehead. Gosh, this is all too weird. I suddenly freeze. Did I just told a prince to 'shut up'? Glancing up from under my hand I ask, "Is it illegal to insult foreign dignitaries?" 

"Not sure, but if we're married you get diplomatic immunity." He shrugs and offers a lopsided grin, "Another easy fix."

I throw a finger in his face, "You need to just... quit it. Besides, don't you want to marry for like... love or whatever?"

"I'll love who I marry," He answers seriously. "I can promise you that much."