edited

|Adara De Clare|

"Move you dumb cow!" I shout and the old lady gives me a mean look but she moves out of the way regardless.

I run around her, the exhaustion building up in my lungs and it begins to burn. I look behind me and I see it coming.

It's right behind me. It's coming behind me. It's almost there. It's reaching out, about to grab my hair.

I push myself faster than ever before, my legs working overtime, I run forcing my feet to go faster.

The ground shakes beneath me and tears escape my eyes as I come to the realization that I'm not going to be able to escape.

I'm not going to get away from it. It's getting me. It's getting closer and closer to me. No matter what I do, it's going to catch me, I know that. Oh crud! I'm going to die. It's right behind me, I feel it.

Like an earthquake, the ground shakes and it tries to throw me to the ground.

That can't happen. It can't happen. It can't catch me. I need help. I need someone to help me. How am I going to escape this?!

It grabs my hair and yanks me back.

"Ahh!" I scream out, flailing my arms and legs. I try to get away from it but it has me and it's hold on me is too strong for me to escape. It picks me up like a fly off the ground and it turns me around. It looks at me, with no eyes it moves its head around, sniffing. It brings me closer to its face and I scream so loud I feel something in my throat rupture.

Just as its hideous face is about to touch me, I'm shaken awake.

I jump up with such force and speed, my head collides into another. "Ow!" I hold my head, falling back onto my pillow. I rub my head for a few seconds before I open my eyes and I look at who saved me from that horrible dream.

"Your highness?"

I nearly kick myself. He already has a huge ego, he doesn't need me calling him 'your highness' to boost it even higher. Why don't I just call him his name?

Wait. . .what is his name? It's been nearly a week and I don't know his name. He's my 'boyfriend' and I don't know his name.

It's only been six days? My God, it feels as if it's been months. This has to be the longest week ever. Not to mention it's also the first day of school. I have a project or assignment in nearly every single class.

This entire thing has been so stressful, goodness.

"What do you do before you sleep for you to dream have those dreadful nightmares?" He rubs his forehead in frustration.

"Sorry, I have no idea—wait. . .how did you know what I dreamt about? Did you go in my head again?" I ask him, irritation building in my chest.

He really has no care in the world for privacy, yet whenever he's private like for example, not telling me his own name, it's okay. I hate that he's so hypocritical. It frustrates the living hell out of me. I really just want him to meet his own match one day. Something or even someone that could humble him. Then again, I'd assume that he would rather go on a killing spree that admit that something humbled him. It's just in his veins to be like that.

It frustrates me. He frustrates me.

"I did, you weren't waking up." He stands up tall, putting his hands in his pockets.

Woah, he is tall. I mean, I know that he is tall but just seeing him from this angle really seals it. I'm really short and he's really tall, it just makes this whole thing weird. My neck nearly breaks whenever I have to look up at him. It sucks.

I look around my room, the bright light from the sun shining in my face. I crease my eyebrows. I'm sure I didn't go to bed that late last night, so why is it so bright outside?

I turn my head, looking at the clock on the table beside my bed. 11:41 a.m. Wow, why is it so late? I woke up this late? I didn't go to bed until 10 last night so why am I just now waking up.

As I'm about to ask that question, my bladder decides to wake up also. I rush out of bed going into my bathroom. I release my pee then I wash my hands, face and I dry them with my towel. I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror.

My hair is disheveled from not putting on a night cap. My curls stick up in the air, others fall into my face but I push them out. I knew I should've twisted and protected my hair in a night cap but I was tired. I can deal with this mess later.

I walk out of the bathroom and the Prince has a picture frame in his hand. Deciding to swallow my anxiety, I ask him a question.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

He doesn't move a muscle, "None of your business." He answers without skipping a beat, not even looking up at me.

I roll my eyes at him. See? Such a hypocrite. He has little regard of privacy for me but cares so much about it for him. I walk over to him and I try to take the frame out of his hands but he moves holding it higher.

"Give it to me!" I say as I jump trying to get the photograph out of his hands. Ugh! He makes me want to pull out my hair.

"Who is this? Is it you?" He asks, showing me the photograph. It's a picture of a young girl with her parents. Her bright blue eyes shine through, making it the first thing you see when you look at the picture.

"No, it's my little sister. My parents said that she was born with a rare disease. She died from it." I tell him honestly.

He creases his eyebrows, thinking. He looks at another picture. "Is this you?" He asks and I look at it. It is me.

I was sitting on my mom's lap and we were laughing as dad took the picture. The boring brown eyes our family has being the color of mine.

"Yeah."

"Why do you two look so alike?" He asks and I roll my eyes. I see an opening and I take the picture out of his hands.

"Because she was my sister," I say it in a 'duh' tone, "Also, we were twins, my parents said. She died when we were four. However, I don't really have any memories of her." I tell him the truth.

I should probably pay him back by keeping things to myself but I somehow feel totally comfortable by telling him these things. I mean, hopefully by telling him, he will open up to me and that can help me both personally and on my History project. I need to finish it before the end of November comes. Even though that's like three and a half months away.

"Well, that would explain why you don't remember her. You were very young." He puts his hands back into his pockets.

"Anyway, your parents sent me up here to wake you up. They said they prepared breakfast." He tells me, turning away from my dresser.

"Why didn't they just come and wake me up instead of you?" I ask him, not meaning to sound rude but I think I did come off as such.

"They were in a rush, leaving for work. I happened to knock on the door just as they were about to leave and they asked me to wake you up before they ran out." He explains, sitting on my bed and he bounces a little.

"Oh, they have a meeting with your parents?" I ask him.

He tenses, "Not my parents. The King? Yes. The Queen? No."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep doing that?" He asks slightly irritated.

"Doing what?" I ask completely clueless.

"Apologizing. You didn't know, so why are you saying 'sorry'?" He asks me.

My eyes find the floor and I fiddle with my fingers, "I don't know." I answer, my voice small.

"No, they don't have a meeting with the King and Queen. I'm guessing it's other work." He answers my initial question.

My eyebrows crease, "They don't have other work though? All their work is with the King, Queen and you."

He stops to think, "I don't know, then."

My stomach grumbles and I hold it, "Are you hungry? They prepared breakfast. Your mom said to tell you that they bought some cookie dough. I'm not sure what kind they said it was." He says and my ears imemdiately perk up.

"Macadamia nut?" I ask, hope filling my heart.

"Yeah, that. They said it's in the freezer and all you have to do is put it in the oven." He tells me and I quickly run downstairs, going into the kitchen.

I take the cookies out of the freezer and I preheat the oven. I get the tray to put the dough on then I cut the dough and I spray the tray. I put the dough on it then I put it in the oven. I check the stove to see what they cooked. I make sure to set the timer for fifteen minutes.

Mmm, spaghetti. Nice. I lick my lips. Lord, it looks delicious.

I get a bowl and I take out the spaghetti and meatballs, putting the sauce on it then I heat it up in the microwave. After a minute and twenty seconds, I take it out sprinkling some parmeasean cheese on it. Yum! I get my fork and I go into the living room, turning on the TV.

The Prince walks downstairs and he sees me eagerly looking for something to watch so that I can finally eat this goodness. He eyes my bowl and I hesitantly ask him a question.

"Do you want some? I know you said that you like spaghetti. If you want some you can help yourself in the kitchen."

He doesn't move.

"Please, if you want it just get it. They end up making way to much for me anyway." I reassure him and he blinks, thinking about it.

"Alright, what are you going to watch?" He asks.

"Umm, why?"

"I may want to watch it with you." He says and I look at him surprised.

Never thought he'd want that.

"Umm, it's this cartoon from a millenia ago. It's about a cat chasing a mouse and the mouse causing him problems. It's Tom and Jerry."

He raises an eyebrow at me in amusemement, "One: You watch kids' movies? Two: You watch shows from the 2000s?"

I blush in embarrassment, I hold my head down. "Yeah, leave me alone okay? If you don't want to watch it, then don't watch it. Just don't judge me" I say, my cheeks bright red.

His face contorts to mischief, "Oh, I never said that. Don't play it without me!" He says as he rushes into the kitchen using his speed then in two minutes he beside me with a hot bowl of spaghetti and meatballs with parmeasean cheese sprinkled on top.

"Can I play it now, your highness?" I ask him, playfully and he laughs, throwing his head backward.

I swallow. His laugh is attractive. I can't lie about that. He is a horrible person, yes, but he is very attractive.

"Yes, you may." He tells me and I laugh, pressing play.

The two hour marathon of the show starts and it immediately draws me in. I eat the goodness that is the spaghetti, making sure not to spill a drop. Not only would my parents kill me but also it would be wasting good food.

In the corner of my eye, I catch the Prince slurping it down as quick as I am. He even looks drawn into the show as I am. Has he never watched this? I mean I know it's literally over a thousand years old but there is no time on greatness. Besides, he's a vampire, shouldn't he have watched this, back then?

Or at least know about it?

I decide to put that question in the box of many questions to ask him one day. Not now, we're in a great mood. I don't want to spoil it.

Just then, I catch him frowning. I focus back on the TV, there's nothing bad happening. Why is he frowning? I mean, did he read my thoughts again? Ugh! God, dude what will it take for him to stop?!

"I didn't do it on purpose." He defends himself.

"What are you talking about? You read my mind, you're telling me you didn't do it on purpose?"

"I don't. Whenever your thoughts pertain me, I immediately hear it. I have to shut you out in order not to." He explains to me.

My anger falls like dry sand. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get upset I just like my privacy." I tell him truthfully and he nods.

"I understand, so do I. I just don't want you thinking I'm listening in on your thoughts about me on purpose." He tells me and I nod, completely understanding.

I mean, it does make sense. He only hears the thoughts I have about him.

"So like, if I call you in my head, would you hear?" I ask him.

He doesn't answer. I turn to him to see him trying to finish chewing a mouthful of spaghetti. He swallows.

"Yeah. Even if I was far away. If you called my name, I'd hear you."

I twiddle my fingers, "Uh, I don't know your name."

He doesn't answer.

If you don't want to tell me your name, you don't have to. Ignoring me just hurts.

It's not that, it's. . .it's something else. I can't tell you yet.

Would you tell me one day?

Maybe, I don't know.

I nod. It's okay. I'm not his real girlfriend and as soon as this rumor about him impregnating Justina is gone, the contract will be over. We'll have some sort of public break up then go our separate ways.

I see him frown slightly.

"Let's go." He stands, placing the empty bowl on the coffee table. I look up at him under my lashes. I blink, looking up at him. "Where?"

"A place I need you to see." He tells me and I nod. I stand up, taking my bowl and his, placing them in the sink. I make a mental promise to myself that I'll wash them when I come back.

"Dish washer isn't working?" He asks me and I shake my head.

"Nope, dad broke it." I answer.

The Prince walks toward the door and he opens it. "I have to change first." I tell him, looking down at my clothes. I'm in a loose shirt my dad gave me —and by gave I mean I stole it—and light pink sweatpants. I'm in no condition to go anywhere other than that corner shop just down the road from here.

"You don't have to. There's no one where we're going. You look fine."

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