The Prince of Royalty (PREVIOUSLY ROYALTY HAS ITS PERKS; UNDER MAJOR EDITING)

1

JOHNNY'S POV

"Mom." I couldn't say anymore, because seriously. Mom. She was keen on killing me, slowly and painfully.

"I don't want to hear it, Johnny. I don't know what's gotten into you but it's going to stop." I frowned at her.

"I got one D+ on my report card and that automatically means an all boys private school? In another state? I'm sorry, but that seems a bit extreme, Mom." She lowered her eyes at me.

Okay. So maybe it was a little more than just one D+.

"Yes. Because along with that D+, you got pulled over three times in two weeks for speeding, on a motorcycle, might I add, which you don't have a license for, and you only got off for those because of me."

"Yes mother, what would I do without you?" I mumbled, but of course, she didn't hear me because she was too busy talking over me.

"Not to mention, you got caught smoking on school grounds, and nearly having sex in a teacher's classroom!" My eyes widened. Not only was that inaccurate, but hearing my mom say the word sex, especially in reference to me, was not something I ever wanted. 

"Okay, first of all, we were not about to have sex. That's disgusting. Even I know that." She waved my words off.

"Whatever you were doing, I will not tolerate this behavior. Or smoking. And if I ever find out you get on a motorcycle again—"

"God, okay Mom, I won't!" She narrowed her eyes at me and I widened mine suggestively, wanting this conversation to be over with. "Can I go now?" She frowned.

"No. It's time for dinner." I groaned, throwing my head back. "Your father will be here any minute, so wash up." I rolled my eyes, pushing out of my chair and sulking to the bathroom.

I'd always found it ironic how both of my parents were lawyers; that's how they met. In law school. They were college sweethearts, but they proved that even a marriage between two geniuses couldn't guarantee a forever. They divorced when I was fourteen, nearly five years prior to this, but swore to stay friends. And that they did. My dad came over every Sunday night for dinner, and I guess it made my mom's constant fussing ease up just in the slightest.

For a lawyer, my dad was quite the calm man. Maybe that's what made him so good at his job. Not that my mom wasn't good — she was amazing actually. But I preferred my dad's approach to life, parenting, and most things. It made me calm.

"Alright, dinner is served." My mom set the plates in front of me and my dad, setting one down for herself and sitting down at the other end of the table, across from my dad.

"Dad, please tell me you don't think I need to be shipped off, too." He was mid-chew when I spoke, and he locked eyes with my mom. I looked at my mom, catching the end of her warning glare, to which my dad cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "Never mind. I guess no one really gets a say but you, Mom, huh?" I stood, dropping my napkin onto my barely touched plate of food, storming upstairs and slamming my door shut.

I plopped onto my bed, facing my window and glaring out at the world. Not even five minutes later, there was a soft knock on my bedroom door. I said nothing, listening to the door creak open.

"Just me," I heard my dad say, and I stayed in my place on the bed, not moving to face him. He sighed, and the bed dipped behind me. "Johnny, you know your mom only wants the best for you." I snorted.

"Yeah, she has a funny way of showing it."

"Hey, you need to stop." I said nothing. "Your mom works really hard for you, and the way you've been acting out lately... She just feels as if there's no other solution at this point." I was still silent, and my dad sighed once again. "I'm going to help your mom clean up and then we're watching a movie. You're more than welcome to join. Your attitude, however, is not." I frowned, the bed rising, and I listened to my door close gently.