Young Royals: What...now?

Reservations.

Simon 

Simon trudged home, thinking about all that Wilhelm had said. It wasn't that the plan was bad, per se. It was just so not up his alley. Simon didn't want to confide in everyone at the school. There were at least 90 kids there, and he might have the cell phone numbers of 7 of them.  And maybe they could do it in groups of 3 or 4, but not in groups of 10. That'd kind of kill the point in the first place. And then, people were going to start talking about how they had this weird conversation with him and Wilhelm before they got to everyone. It was going to be a logistical nightmare. 

When he walked into his house and wiped the snow off his boots, he saw his mom in the kitchen with a big pot of oil in front of her. 

"Hola, mamá. Qué estás preparando?" he asked, looking at the flurry of ingredients around her.

"Buñuelos, mi amor," she replied as she scooped the little ball-shaped fritters out of the oil. "Quieres uno?"

He shot into the kitchen. Buñuelos were his favorite. A little bit of cinnamon-sugar, and bam. The perfect snack. 

As he grabbed one (or three) buñuelos off the paper towel- lined plate, he sat on the barstools overlooking the kitchen. He took a bite. "These are great, Mom. What's the occasion?"

She popped one in her mouth as she spooned a few more out of the hot grease. "No occasion. I was just doing some grunge work in the hospital today, saw the snow, and decided today was a good day for buñuelos." She smiled as she watched Simon stuff another ball in his mouth.

"Well, thanks. Definitely saved the day a little bit."

She eyed him curiously, "Not the best day? What happened, mi amor?"

He glanced at her wearily between bites. "You promise you won't laugh?" 

"Never," she said, forming a few more for the fryer. "I would never laugh at my primerizo." She gave him a sweet grin that he struggled to believe.

He rolled his eyes. "Ok. Remember, you promised." He paused. "I'm back together with Wille." 

He saw her brows furrow and she cleared her throat unconciously, even as she tried to look like she was too busy watching the simmer of the hot oil.

"You said you wouldn't react, Mom!" he cried.

"No, you said 'Don't laugh'. I'm still in the clear. So, what happened today?"

He shoulder sagged as he recounted what Wilhelm wanted them to do.

His mom eyed him, pausing as if she were trying to choose exactly the right words. "And how do you feel about doing that?"

"Well, not great, to be honest. I dunno, it's not that I'm this super private person, but this is like the absolute other end of the spectrum, you know? I just don't think everyone should be that privy to the details of our relationship. You know what I mean?"

Linda pursed her lips slightly, "No, you're right. You shouldn't have to, but--" she paused, again choosing her words carefully. "There's something to it. You've decided to date a public figure and, like it or not, that comes with very particular challenges. It seems like he's put a lot of work into finding a way to give you and him the most protection possible. And, let's get real, that guy isn't just the paragon of sociability, either." His mom smirked.

And she was right, Simon realized. If Simon liked his privacy, Wilhelm really liked his privacy. He didn't have more than 25 followers on his Instagram, and even with that, he only had like 3 posts total. He didn't have a lot of friends, and he mostly stuck with people he'd known for most of his life. He doubted more than five people had ever even seen the inside of his dorm room.