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18th

"The coffee?" I asked Jack, pulling my bag over my shoulder.

"We got it, Princess." Jack held up a thermos.

"Okay," I replied, tucking in my bag again. The tote bag kept on falling from my right shoulder. This was why I liked backpacks more.

"Do you like coffee, Princess?"

"Not really."

"I believe that there are only two kinds of people: one who loves to drink coffee, and the others who are yet to be convinced," Jack replied.

"Well, I'm sure there's a third category. Like those who doesn't love it too much and just drink it from time to time," I tried saying.

"There is none, Princess," Jack said.

I wanted to think that he was putting up a plausible argument, but he was saying things in a matter-of-fact way. Giving up on persuading my yoga guru, I just said, "Okay. Then someone's got to convince me."

"Drinking coffee is like falling in love with a stranger, Princess. When you get to know it better, the harder it is to say goodbye," Jack told me, adjusting his sunglasses.

"Gee... okay. Yeah, I guess. I mean, you got, like, a head start of at least twenty years compared to me. You know things better." Well, age really did make a lot of difference, unless we were talking about Mom no. 1. Jack definitely belonged to the ones who got wiser over the passing of time.

"Does she like chocolate?" Jack asked all of a sudden.

"I thought we were talking about coffee?" I turned around, balancing the lunchbox in my hands as we were briskly walking to the studio. I first thought I'd said Mom no. 1 out loud, but I realized who he was talking about.

"I put a tablet of dark chocolate in it." Jack held up the thermos. I wanted to ask him why, but I only let him be. He was the expert. I had also just found out that Jack's mother inherited a hundred year old family café.

I long stopped getting surprised by all the things people usually didn't know about him. And the things he'd say out of nowhere. Like coffee and love. For all I knew, Jack could turn out to be a royalty as well.

"Yeah, sure. Come on, that's going to get cold. Oh, there's a cat drawing on the thermos. Why didn't I see that earlier? It's so cute," I said, taking a closer look at the cat drawing. With a smile, I looked back to where we were heading. Spotting Bridge in one corner, I called, "Bridge!"

Jack cleared his throat. "This belongs to my mother."

"Oh, right," I laughed. "It suits you, for some reason. If you want, I can help you adopt a cat. We have plenty at the shelter."

"I'll think about it, Princess," Jack answered me, pointing up front.

I turned around. Bridge was standing in front of me with an inquisitive look. I greeted her, "Hey! Good morning!"

"Where did you go? I thought the reporters abducted you," Bridge said. She was wearing her hair down today, I noticed. Or maybe it was because it was only seven in the morning and we had an hour more before the photoshoot. But this hairstyle suited her more than her usual ponytail.

"I haven't seen much of them this morning. They probably got tired of me. Ha. Ha. I wish." I went to our spot. "It's still early for the shoot. You have to try these."

Bridge took a seat beside me, crossing her legs. "Is that why you skipped breakfast?"

"I made these with Jack," I told her, opening the lunchbox. "His mother's a really great cook. I ate a lot already, so please help yourself."

"For a moment, I thought you brought these for Art. Are you sure these are not for him? I'm not that hungry," Bridge told me.

"No, really, they're for you. You don't eat a lot, so we thought of feeding you this morning," I said, hopeful that she wouldn't say no.

"I don't know what you're up to this time. You're not trying to poison me or anything, right?" Bridge asked.

"No! Funny why you'd think that. We're only doing a photoshoot today," I replied. And yeah, sleeping pills would come handy, but it wasn't needed yet.

"Okay, let's see what you've come up with. A bacon bread. Interesting." Bridge examined the bread closely.

I wouldn't poison her, really. I said, "With cheese. And lettuce. And tomatoes. It's healthy."

"I don't have a big appetite, but this looks great." Bridge was still examining the food. When I'd noticed how thin she was, that was when I recalled that she rarely gave enough time for meals. Even when we were eating together, she would only end up eating half of her food. It was wasteful, and I didn't want her to end up in the hospital.

"Come on, just take a bite. It's my way of saying sorry for driving you insane," I told her.

"Fair enough," Bridge said, taking a bite. She had a satisfied look on her face, which was a good sign.

"Didn't taste poisonous or anything?"

"It's good. I'll save it up for later," Bridge said, wrapping up the half-eaten bread. I had to make sure that she would really eat that half later. "We must go ahead with our schedule. You're supposed to be in hair and make-up now. Lenora just arrived."

I saw Lenora and her team entering the studio. Thankfully, Love wasn't with them, nor was she anywhere to be seen. At least I wouldn't have to put up with her all day again. "You can finish that. They would take at least an hour to get me ready, so finish that up. And we got you an apple. Jack told me to put some cucumbers, too."

"Jack?" Bridge asked, as she was picking on the cucumbers.

"Yeah, I long stopped getting surprised," I replied.

"George, come over here," Lenora called me.

They already finished their set-up, so I told Bridge, "Don't be shy, Bridge. You can finish all of that. We have a long day ahead."

She half-smiled at this. "Go to Lenora, or we'll get behind schedule."

♔~♕

An hour later, Art—who arrived a little late, because he thought we would come together, i.e., he had searched the entire palace for me—and I were trying not to look like we were starting to goof around to make up for the monotony of the moment. But once in a while, he would play with the chin strap of my trapper hat.

"I seriously don't know why you're doing that," I said to him, in a low voice, while the photographer and his assistant were re-arranging the set.

"I thought you left," Art replied, pulling the chinstrap of my hat again.

"I would have said goodbye," I said, meaning it both ways. It slipped my mind that maybe I should tell him that I was going to Jack's family café earlier this morning. Art had always told me where he was going. I thought he only wanted to inform me and that I should relay it to anyone who would ask about him. Being new in this relationship kind of thing, I had no idea what the rules were. Art had two girlfriends in high school, so at least he knew what he was doing.

"Let's continue," Jim, the photographer, said. He was in his early thirties and a famous portrait photographer. He was well-known for his works with famous magazines, including our very own Triavia Gazette.

"Ready," I said. In contrast with the summer season, we were back to wearing winter outfits. This photo shoot was also for The Ice Palace. The press office really wanted to promote it, in order to discover talents that would someday represent Triavia in international competitions.

"Same here," Art added, adjusting his scarf. He was wearing a black winter down jacket, gray inside shirt, and black pants. I liked his brown boots. My platform heels were all bright colors again.

"Can you turn to your right, Georgiette?" the photographer asked. "And Your Highness, one step forward."

Two hours after the photo shoot had began, my white sweater and same color of tights were starting to get itchy. Even the black skirt that I was wearing was starting to feel really heavy. Good thing the AC was fully functional. I was starting to feel flustered again. Art in such a close proximity greatly distracted me.

"Act a bit more natural," Jim instructed.

"I like the brooch," Art said, his breath on my face.

"It's Lenora's," I replied, looking away. It was a key-shaped brooch with topaz and emerald gemstones. "She let me use it, because she said it looked great with the sweater."

"It complements your eyes," Art told me. "It looks more blue, like the sky."

"Thanks," I muttered under my breath. It wasn't a good idea complimenting me when he was just a breath away. I felt like my face was burning.

A flash of the camera snapped us out of the moment.

"I finally see why Triavia's crazy about you two," Jim told us, taking another shot as we both stared at him. "Look at her more closely, Your Highness. Yes, that."

Or me. I was staring at Jim. Art was probably staring at me.

"Don't move. You have a very nice angle right there, Georgiette. Okay, one more," Jim was continuously saying.

I kept myself from looking at away. Feeling very self-conscious, it was hard keeping the same facial expression Jim wanted me to retain. I tried distracting myself by looking at the painting on the wall. I had asked Bridge about it, since it was very eye catching. It was the first thing I'd noticed while Lenora was doing my hair and makeup.

An oil painting of a red-haired girl with one bright smile. The wind was in her hair, sweeping them sideways. She was looking backwards, her eyes were teasing. Like she knew a secret. Mine? Ha. Ha. The girl probably didn't even knew who I was. Bridge told me that it was by a very young painter from New Waulds.

That girl in the painting was a natural. Her smile was so easy, like a beaming ray of sunshine. I wish I could be more like her. Radiant. Free. Uncaring.

"Okay, I think we got it from here," Jim finally said.

I turned my gaze away from the oil painting, looking at Jim. "Thank you for having us."

"My pleasure, George. I hope we'll get to work again someday," Jim said to me, extending a hand. I shook it. Art also said thanks to him, and they were caught up in a small conversation about the last project they did together.

I went to Bridge, who was reviewing her planner. I asked her, "What else do we have today?"

She looked up to me. The lunchbox beside her was open and the cucumbers were gone, so that was a good sign. "We'll have lunch at a restaurant, and then we'll be heading back to Winterlace. That's all you have today. I will be meeting with some organizations tomorrow, so you'll have another schedule probably next week. We'll continue with the lessons in the meantime. I'll schedule a dance lesson this coming Friday."

"Okay," I replied, nodding.

"Here's your phone. You have a text." Bridge handed me my ancient phone.

Where to?

It was Art. The last time I'd seen him, he was also here with me. And when I searched for his whereabouts, he was waiting for us to pack up, while leaning against the wall. He was staring down at his phone. I wondered what he was up to.

"It's just someone I know," I said, since Bridge seemed to be waiting for a follow up explanation.

why are you texting me when we're in the same room?

Art's reply was quick.

For the thrill of it.

What thrill? Should there be a thrill?

why am I not feeling a thrill?

'Cause we're texting while in the same room with everybody.

Okay, this was getting even more confusing.

and then??

Bridge and the others were already leaving the studio, so I followed them. Art was already in the car when we got out. Now, I was thinking if I should still go to the limousine with him. Or should I go ride in one of the convoys, because we were texting each other?

"George, where are you going?" Bridge asked me.

I was about to as Jack if I should ride the convoy. "Huh?"

"Get in the car. Our reservation is in forty minutes. There's a heavy traffic on the way," Bridge, who opened the passenger seat's door and stepped out, said to me.

So I was really supposed to go to the limousine.

Art had one mischievous smile on his face when I got in. In almost a whisper, I asked him, "What are you doing?"

"Texting," he replied, typing on his phone again.

We are texting, no?

what are you up to?

Texting.

this is ridiculous

You are replying, so I have to take hold of this opportunity.

what opportunity?

That you are finally responding to my texts.

we talk all the time. normal people actually talk.

We haven't done this before.

yeah.........? so........??

So we're going to do this. You're smiling. I know you also find this amusing and fun and romantic.

hahahahahaha

Rules of texting: you do not reply hahahahahaha without a context.

why are there rules? who invented those rules, anyway?

I did. Thank you for your cooperation. Rule no. 2: You do not reply ok when you don't have anything else to say. You must carry out the conversation as well. Lol and :) are also forbidden. You must have a context or a follow-up conversation/question.

i'm............................lost lol :) hahahaha

You are one rule breaking fellow. Rule no. 3: We'll just keep on going with this 'thing'.

why do you keep on calling this a 'thing'?

Because we have no better word for it yet. So we'll just call it a thing for now.

scary hahahahaha it will have another name later... I'm lost. lost me there, buddy

Earmuffs, how can you be lost? You're looking at your real life compass.

He just didn't say that. My eyes refused to accept that that was what they had read. How could he come up with these cheesy ideas out of nowhere?

.

Dots. Or rather a dot is also forbidden. You must elaborate the 'dot'.

.

.

You double send a dot?

:) want me to triple send it? i'm being generous today. here you go: .

Art was laughing. He looked at his phone, and then he laughed again. He pretty much bought my joke. I couldn't help but smile stupidly at my phone.

Bridge looked up from her own phone and threw us an incredulous look. "Just a friendly reminder, if you two are flirting with someone else, better to do it when you're apart."

Jack looked at the rear-view mirror. "Ms. Kingsburry, I believe they're texting each other instead."

How could Jack have read that? Not in a million years would I have guessed it from a third person point of view. Unless he got a CCTV camera here in the backseat and the feed was directly in his sunglasses.

"Why?" was all Bridge could ask him back.

"The mindset of the younger generation," Jack said calmly.

"Ah..." Bridge dropped off the topic. "Only they can understand that by now, clearly."

we have a mindset? like, a unique one?

I was the first one who texted Art this time. I could finally see some advantages of texting like this. We could always omit letting the two hear, especially when we were talking about them.

Of course. Or else we'd all be adults. Hey, Jim actually likes Bridge. He was telling me that a while ago. Want to help set them up?

yeaaaaaahhhh

I thought you wouldn't say no to that. Do you have a plan in mind how we can play cupid?

not at this moment.. but we might come up with something later

I was thinking of asking Jim to take our first official portraits on coronation day? Bridge will be busy until then. I can't think of anything convincing enough to make her take a break for a day at least. She'll most likely say no to anything that is not business-related until your coronation day.

This made me pause and hit the brakes. Art kept on saying coronation day. Yes, my supposedly coronation day. I kept on forgetting my plans and priorities when Art kept on breaking down my walls. How could there be a coronation day for me?

Closing my phone, I pretended to be staring outside. But from the tinted car window, I could see that he was looking curiously at me.

"Nice view," I just said to him, ending the 'thing'. The 'thing' was starting to get mine and hi hopes up again. I should tell him the truth instead. Sooner would be better.

♔~♕

We had lunch like planned. After I didn't reply to his last text, Art tried starting a real conversation with me. I politely replied to some, but I was mostly holding back.

All afternoon, all I could think about was the moment I'd tell him. The reminder of the upcoming coronation day made me realize that I was getting lost in this daydream again. Being sensible was hard when there were moments that seemed to have a way of taking reality from me. A flight off the ground that I wished would lift me away completely. But at the same time, I knew that I'd soon run out of wings. That each feather lent to me would someday be taken back.

I should break the news to him, before we'd be too attached. Before I'd love him. Before he'd love me, too. And before anyone else could tell him, Art deserved to know it from me.

I had to tell him about my scars. The truth behind every will to run. The reason why I kept myself away from the rest of the world.

I might as well get drunk in my tears tonight. 'Cause I miss you, 'cause I love you. I was standing outside the fourth floor terrace when the phone rang. It was one ringtone that I really detested, but a call I had to take.

Pressing the answer button, I said, "Mom?"

"Georgey! Honey, I've missed you," Mom no. 1 was saying on the other line, frivolous. She must be on her second bottle of wine.

"Hey," I said.

"So I was thinking... I have a meeting this Saturday. I see... I have to see you. My client also lives there in Triavia. Isn't that... good? Good? Great!" Mom no. 1 said between the hiccups. She was very much talking to herself. "Do you want to go to the zoo, honey? The twins love it... going there."

"You'll bring the twins?" Would the twins be all right to travel alone with Mom no. 1?

"Yeah, Roger has an overseas meeting this weekend. So I'm bringing the twins to see their big sister!" Mom no. 1 was hyper now. She was practically screaming on the phone.

I slightly pulled the phone away from my ear. "Great. I can't wait to see them."

"They need their... sister now. They love you, Georgey," Mom no. 1 kept on telling me.

The last time I saw the twins was when they were not even a year old. "Yeah, can't wait."

"Okay, bye now, Georgey. See you this... what day... oh, Saturday, honey," Mom no. 1 said. "Where's the... it's the red button, right, honey?"

"I'll do it. Bye, Mom," I said, pressing the end call button. There were times when I also wondered if Mom's no. 1's real job was being an alcoholic, and she was only a part-timer in a real estate company.

After the ending the call, I knew what I was supposed to do now. Everyone was already asleep, except for a few people in Winterlace Palace, who were on duty for the night. Closing the terrace doors and walking down the hall, I stood outside Art's room.

Unless Hero would eat my note and consume the evidence, I would tell Art

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