13th ♕

"First date, that is the concept," Bridge said, as we were having our final briefing. At the computer screen, I saw her cringe her eyebrows. At nine in the morning, we were having our last talk with Bridge, before this day would officially start.

The plan was that Art and I would meet at a coffee shop. That was why we were both having the last talk in two separate limousines. Which was overly scripted, seeing that we practically lived in the same house, just one with more than five-hundred rooms. Art could easily pick me up in front of my bedroom door.

But where was the fun with that? Bridge had thoroughly disagreed. She knew better. So when she said that first daters should originate from two different spots, it was how things should be.

"You finally have the time to enjoy a day together after the search. Remember, this has not been officially announced, so do your parts well on getting noticed," Bridge continued.

"Okay. Call," I said in response. We did have shades and black suits following us. Getting noticed was an easy task.

"Art, are you there? I can't see you. Where did Art go? Where did that boy wander off to?" Bridge asked. I also noticed that Art was nowhere in front of his webcam. He had been missing for a while now.

"Ms. Kingsburry, I'm sorry, but he already left five minutes ago. He's waiting at the coffee shop. He carefully instructed me to take notes about the other things you would say and give it to him after. My deepest apologies, ma'am," Bridge and I heard a voice speaking somewhere near Art's webcam.

"Who am I talking to?" Bridge raised an eyebrow.

"Ma'am." A figure came in front of the webcam. It was one of Art's entourage.

"Oh, great. Oh, great," was all Bridge could say.

"It will be fine, Bridge," I assured her on Art's behalf.

"When did you two do the right thing?" she asked. I kept my lips in a straight line. "That's what I'm saying. Okay, fine. Just put on the earpiece, George. Please do that for me, okay? Art is not as obedient as you are. I need to have at least one attentive ear in order not to ruin the day."

I took my jobs seriously. Putting on my earpiece in my right ear, I asked, "What should I do when I arrive at the coffee shop?"

"I'll tell you. I have an eye following you two around," Bridge said. And then to Art's bodyguard, she instructed, "He put on the earpiece, right?"

"Yes, he did, Ms. Kingsburry," he replied.

"Are you the one following us?" I asked Bridge.

"No, there's someone else," she answered.

"Okay," I said, adjusting the earpiece. I felt assured with the earpiece on. "Should I go?"

"Yes, go. I'll be there with you two. Don't get anxious, Georgiette," Bridge coached me, which was kind of sweet for her. I really needed help more than anyone else did in this place.

"Thanks, Bridge. Count on you," I replied, shooting a finger gun to her.

All the looks of reassurance faded away from her face. "Do not do that! Do not finger gun anyone in public. Nod, Georgiette."

"Kidding," I said, holding my hands up this time. "Nodding, I get it."

"Go on. It's past waiting time for guys," she told me.

"Okay, going," I replied, getting off the limousine. Ten minutes was the deal.

Jack was already waiting for me outside. The sun once again conquered the skies in full rhythm. I narrowed my eyes, adjusting my vision. Lenora wanted me to put on a pair of sunglasses, but I wasn't used to wearing them. My old life didn't require sunglasses that much.

"It's a fine day," Jack said.

"Yeah," I said, walking along with him.

"Are you excited, Princess?"

"No?" I replied, uncertain if I should.

"I'll take that as a yes." Jack glanced at the coffee shop door.

Welcome! said the sign written with a chalk.

☼ For a dose of a nice summer day, drink our brewed iced lattes made especially for you.

❤ For a perfect dose of love, enjoy a cup of hot coffee together.

➳ For a dose of a happy life, try our chocolate cakes.

"Yeah, that would be such a positive way to look at this day," I commented, getting inside the coffee shop while being followed by Jack, who kept his silence in check for the official start of this act/morning.

I seriously wondered if Art was here or he had already called it quits, seeing that we were doing it to cover up for the jerk guy incident. I could understand if he wouldn't show up.

But then, I saw someone waving a hand to me. He stood up from his seat, and I felt self-conscious since a few people had already spotted us and already started taking pictures. Art's entourage politely asked them to avoid it, but we all knew that this was what Bridge wanted to happen. So with all the due politeness and faking things, I kept my eyes on Art.

"Walk straight," I suddenly heard a voice from the earpiece that I was wearing. It was partially covered by my hair and was small and translucent to be even seen. "Do not look surprised. I will be talking to the two of you all through the day. Get used to it."

There was no mouthpiece to finish the ensemble, so I forced another smile to hide the fascination and the shock I felt when I heard Bridge at the back of my head. All I could think of was that this would be a long day with her in there.

"Hi." Art pulled a chair and helped me get settled in. He was wearing casual clothes, blue jeans and white semi-fitted shirt. I was also wearing the same pair, only with jeggings and a V-neck T-shirt. I saw where Lenora's touch of couple idea settled in our get-up. It was no other than our couple sneakers—red with white laces.

I thought of asking what Bridge was saying on his end. But then I just said, "Hey."

"You look beautiful," Art sweetly told me.

Must be Bridge.

But I didn't hear her in my earpiece. So I just fumbled, "You, too."

"I am?" Art repeated.

Handsome. It sounded hefty, though. "Yeah?"

"The clothes, George. The first thing you're supposed to notice. The effort made to put on some nice clothes and appear nice for someone," Art replied, sitting down himself.

"Ah, I heard. But our clothes were specifically made by Lenora, so it didn't count," I whispered in a low voice.

"I'll pretend to laugh," Art warned, before laughing like he said.

"Err... nice," I muttered quietly, with a forced laugh as well.

"Shall we order?" Art asked me.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Iced lattes?"

"That would be great. The weather demands for it," Art replied, calling for a waiter, who gladly took our order. If the waiter who approached us was also ordered by Bridge, I wouldn't be surprised. It was too odd for him not to be nervous like me. The waiter was all smiles and attentiveness.

"Anything else, Your Highness?" He jotted down everything.

"That will be all," Art replied with the exact dose of courteousness.

But the sign outside said that for a perfect dose of love, try our hot coffee. But who would grab a hot coffee with the summer heat persisting like this? Even if this coffee shop was air-conditioned, the weather was still too hot to ask for a warm flavored liquid.

Anyway, we spent all morning at the coffee shop, like planned. Art and I didn't run out of stories to tell each other, so it was easy keeping the conversation going. At one point, we both picked "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen from the bookshelf located in the reading area.

An instruction came about from Bridge, as Art and I were about to sit on the carpeted floor. So when we sat down, Art locked me—uncomfortably, may I add—in his arms. I could clearly hear his shortened breaths as his face was just behind my ear. Ever since this started, or since we'd met, actually, this was the closest we'd been.

I heard a frantic scream or two. And with that, I knew we were doing a great job.

Even with the posing discomfort in our position, we continued reading. After chapter four, I could feel myself easing up and getting familiar with the way the tip of his nose touched my cheek as he turned the pages. I held my breath at times. But more often than not, I found myself leaning against him as he read the passages.

At some points, we stopped and debated with our dissimilar opinions. Likely, when the conversation started to heat up, we'd both hear Bridge screaming in our ears to stop fighting, or she wouldn't be able to help herself and drag us both out of the café.

Yikes.

"Should we grab lunch?" Art asked, holding his forefinger in between the pages, as he closed it for a moment.

"Good idea. I'm getting hungry," I replied.

"Let's go." Art got up, offering me a hand.

"Take it!" I heard Bridge's voice. All right. All right. I got it. I wouldn't put in the effort of making a gymnastic movement here, anyway. Cartwheel? Far from happening.

So I took his hand, and Art smiled with my lack of disagreement. He put back the book to the shelf, before we said our goodbyes to those who had stayed with us for two hours here at the coffee shop. Almost all of them didn't give up their places for the entire length of our stay.

We went out after taking a few pictures. Strolling down the block, we looked for a place to eat. By now, the paparazzi from different companies were all present. Two hours was more enough for them to get here. Bridge was the one who fed us with news scattered on the internet.

Of course, the top spot was grabbed by the cuddling—the term Bridge used—while reading "Pride and Prejudice".

And this day was not even halfway through.

"This one? What do you think?" Art nudged me.

I looked at him, and saw that he was pointing to Hover's Pizza and Pasta, a local restaurant. Nodding, I said, "Yeah. Sounds great."

"Hey, I just used the bathroom, and you two didn't even think of holding hands," Bridge said in the background.

"Bridge," I softly muttered to Art.

"Heard her," he replied, opening the restaurant's door.

We still didn't hold hands, though. Or even got the chance. The good excuse was that a server quickly greeted us, and showed a miraculously vacant spot at lunchtime. I was getting impressed with what Bridge or maybe plain royalty status could do.

Ordering the house specialty, we spent the afternoon talking about food.

"What's your favorite food?" I asked him.

"Ice cream."

"Really?"

"Yes. What's yours?" he asked. I hesitated, thinking if I should really tell him. "Should I guess?"

"It's bread," I replied, looking away for a second. "Don't ask why."

I was certain he wanted to, but he just said, "Okay."

"It's because," I found myself explaining, "it's what we usually eat. And we don't get to eat much before, so I really look forward to eating it."

Art was quiet for a moment.

"Too honest? Too much drama of my life?"

He sniffed. "I like hearing your story, George. All of it."

I just nodded in response, unsure what else to say. "When it's just us, I can tell you everything you want to hear."

In terms of skinship, lunch was uneventful. Aside from the light kicks, which at one time got a little bit harder, on my part, we hadn't done anything else.

Bridge was the one who had said that we should do something while eating. Her suggestion was playful kicks under the table. So we did. It just got a little bit rough, though. We had to stop hurting each other, so we went back to blankly smiling.

Additional guards were provided by the palace after lunch, as Bridge said, for security purposes. With a minimum of a hundred people following us around, I guessed that it must be a necessity.

"So should we grab some ice cream?" Art was holding my hand now.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Smile," Bridge reminded me.

Okay. I would.

"Where is the shop located?" I asked Art, as we were walking past the street between the bakery and clock shop that brought back the memory of our first meeting. "Hey, since we're walking around here, did you purposely walk around pretending to be blind before?"

"Come to think of it, this is the place where we first met, no?" Art put on a thoughtful smile.

"It is," I replied. "Remember how good I can kick a plastic bottle?"

"Yeah, I remember that." He looked at me. "You almost hit a rider."

"Which was not my fault," I replied.

"And was mine?" Art asked.

"Half of it," I calculated.

"Okay, then, half."

"So did you really pretend before? Was our meeting coincidental?"

"Do you think I'm your stalker?"

"No," I denied. "I was just asking."

"I was walking around town at that time. Our meeting was a matter of chance. You have already asked me this before, no? And I didn't pretend to be blind. I was just wearing sunglasses for disguise purposes. But I did go along with your idea of aiding me to go where I needed to go."

"Which could also be the reason why I ran out of time to find another job other than being your princess-in-training."

"It's still funny how you are so professional about this," Art replied, wiping his brow.

"It became a habit. Hey, this is Central Park," I said all of a sudden, noticing that where we were heading to.

The sprinklers.

Freakish thoughts.

We didn't need to go near the sprinklers, though, in order to get to the ice cream shop, which was great. It definitely lessened my worries. The shop Art was actually talking about was the ice cream cart on the left side of the park, the one beside the cotton candy stall.

"What flavor?" he asked me, while we were standing in line.

"Strawberry. What's yours?"

"Vanilla."

"Really? It's plain. Boring."

"It's good."

"Tell me one thing good about vanilla," I said.

"Like you said, it's plain, boring, and simple," he answered.

"And that's good?"

"Yes."

"Really," I muttered, wondering what exactly did he find good about being boring.

"When your life is full of extravagance since you were born, sometimes, the most boring things in this world are the ones that can make you very happy," Art explained after my silence.

"That made sense," I agreed. "Vanilla it is for you."

"And here's your strawberry flavored ice cream," Art said, handing a cone to me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it.

"Offer him to take a bite of yours," Bridge shamefully suggested.

No way.

"Did you hear what she said?" Art asked me. He shouldn't have bothered.

"And should we... ugh, do it?" I threw him back the question.

"No," he plainly replied, flashing a smile.

I was surprised with his answer, actually. "Why not?"

"Because..." Art paused, before playfully shoving his vanilla ice cream to my face.

Yes. To my face. Of all the places to put it.

"That was not—" I heard myself saying, a little too loudly, thankful that the nearest reporter from us was at least twenty meters away. "Come back here!"

Art ran backwards, facing me with one triumphant look on his face. I was hardly competitive, but he called for it. If I wouldn't get a strawberry ice cream on his face, I'd never be able to sleep in peace again.

Wiping away the vanilla ice cream on my face with my arm, I locked my eyes on the target. And since the situation called for it, the bodyguards that the palace had provided made sure that they were running in accordance with us, which made the situation a little bit weird. They were also running in circles around us, in my favor, mostly, since they prevented Art from escaping.

"Jack! Would you mind helping me?" But at one point, I still had to ask Jack.

"No, can't do, Princess," Jack answered me.

"What is that? Running for help?" Art teased.

"It's just because I'm too self-conscious right now." And I didn't want him to die in my hands with all these reporters rooting for either of us. "But since this is the case..."

Who told him that he was faster in terms of running?

I completely disregarded the fact that Bridge was screaming in my ears to refrain from running as if I was doing a sprint. I heard her mention that it was unladylike. But I was sick and tired of the damsel in distress drama she wanted me to do. When a girl knew how to run and catch up in a matter of seconds, she should go for it and save herself all the trouble.

So the next minute, strawberry ice cream landed on Art's face. Since he was a bunch taller than I was in sneakers, it actually happened when I tripped over him and he fell to the grass. Still, it happened. I was squishing the strawberry ice cream on his face with the help of my hands.

"This is so unfair," Art muttered.

"On the contrary, I'm having a great time."

"What did you say?" Art wiped away the ice cream from his face and put it on mine instead.

"Hey, that's against the rules," I complained, moving my head away.

"There are no rules, Princess, no?" Art answered.

"None at all?" I shakily replied, getting a closer look of his lips.

"No," he said with affirmation.

Then the sprinklers came alive. I didn't even realize that we ended up where they were located at this park. Art was startled when the water started soaking us thoroughly.

"What is this?" he said.

"Sprinklers," I dejectedly replied.

He got up, offering me a hand. "Here."

"Thanks," I said in response.

And then as if pulling a big joke, the sprinklers got even more alive, making sure that every dry space left would be drenched. I tried to remember what came after this, and the closest I'd imagine was...

"Kiss," ordered Bridge through my earpiece. Yeah, grudgingly, that was what I was thinking.

"George," Art said my name.

"What?" I looked at him. The sprinklers danced in circles, making me jump all of a sudden.

"Why are you so jumpy?" Art shook his head, laughing.

"I'm not sure about those sprinklers. They seem deadly," I told him.

Art held me by the waist, as the sprinkles filled the gap of air in between, drawing me closer to him. I almost fainted in response, thinking this was overly scripted for my own good. I smelled the slightest scent of the cologne he used, despite being thoroughly drenched. As his hands slowly moved from the back of my neck to my chin, my mind gave in, and my eyes were closing on their own. Closer and closer, his face came to mine. This was the absolute fulfillment of Bridge's perfect kiss.

I wanted to bang my head to the wall, because all I could think about was the moment our lips would meet. All my life, I was thinking of strangling the guy who would do this kind of thing to me, like those I'd seen in movies. Then here he came. Here we were. I was anticipating what would and could happen from here on.

"You're completely dripping with water." Art pulled away the last millisecond.

I... what?

What had just happened? I rubbed my arms with my hands when Art walked away from me, suddenly feeling the chills from being drenched. I saw Jack taking off his outer garment and handing it over to Art. Yeah, he was also drenched. He better put on something or he could get sick before there would be a change of clothes.

But Art went back and put it around me all of a sudden, securing it from falling off. Jack was a lot bigger and taller than I was, so Art had to put my hand in front and let me hold it in place.

"Um, thanks." I