I don't understand. I don't know what she means. I've disappointed her more times than the rest of my family combined, so what's changed? Nothing. Nothing about me has changed. I'm the same, old me I always was. On a scale from one to ten, this would be a solid twelve in terms of randomness. She never compliments me. She never says the things normal mothers are supposed to say when they love their child. Heck, I don't even think she loves me. And even if she somehow does, she certainly doesn't show it.

I'm about to shut off my phone and mentally mark this off as a fluke when the typing bubbles emerge back up. The twenty seconds it takes for my mother to type are the longest twenty seconds of my life. Anticipation is practically jumping out of my belly, waiting for a possible explanation for this bizarre behavior. I saw the news. Good job. I'm happy for you and Brynleigh. Truly. I'm glad things are looking up for you.

Happy? Happy for what? Because I saved her from that uncomfortable situation? I don't think that's something she would feel the need to tell me. Anyone else would've done the same thing if they had even a sliver of common sense. I don't want to check the news, but the more I try to restrain myself, the harder it gets. It's to the point where it's so unbearable that I type my name on the search engine.

I used to be obsessed with status. I still kind of am. I used to have this bad habit of relentlessly checking my name on the web to ensure that nothing ill is said of me. That's thrown out the window now, which is precisely why I've shunned myself from reading the news about myself. It always ends up in a downward spiral in which I beat myself up over. And now I'm doing it again. I never learn.

Oh my goodness. The media has caught up to me. As I click on the first website, my mouth gapes open. I assume this is a mistake. It has to be a mistake. There's no other explanation than this being a ridiculous joke. I read the headline again, my head coiling. Breaking News: Prince Nicolas is rumored to be dating Lady Brynleigh! Below, a snapshot of us holding hands together is plastered onto the page, along with three entire paragraphs of conspiracies. That's when flashbacks of yesterday float through my brain. We were only holding hands for comfort, but obviously, they don't know that. This is seriously getting out of hand.

The press needs to stop making stuff up. It's driving me quite literally absurd! I steal a glance at Brynleigh to see if there's any indication that she knows, but she's chatting away with fellow Parisians like nothing happened. Either that or she's a master of deception. I never know with her. That's part of the fun of it. I have no expectations. The rest of my stay at the Eiffel Tower as well as the ride back are tainted. They're adulterated by the new knowledge I've gained.

Sometimes I wonder why I was blessed with such a good memory because I remember everything. I'm not just talking about the food I ate for breakfast this morning, but also really random facts that I couldn't tell you how I know. My mind gets so crowded sometimes that it overflows, and when that happens I will lash out or shut down completely. The news is going to be glued to my brain for a very, very long time. This is one of the few times where I think my exemplary memory is a curse rather than a blessing.

"So, Nicolas," Cyrus muses as we're wrapping up dinner. The parents have gone out to yet another meeting, so the table's all to us. "You never told me you were dating Bryn." I cough, almost spitting out my water at his bluntness. How does he know too? Oh, wait, I'm the prince. Everyone knows everything about me. That means Brynleigh most definitely must know by now too. Yikes.

"Uh, I um... we're actually not um–" I utter, struggling to find a way of saying this without painting myself as the villain.

"We actually just became official," Brynleigh cuts me off, leaving me dumbstruck. "You're the first person that knows. We wanted it to be private, but I guess that's over and done with now, so yeah," she explains, all the while I can only think about how this girl has downright lost her mind. I frantically search for some signal that she's kidding, but there's none. She's gone unhinged.

Cyrus seems to take it well. I put on my best poker face, but when I can't hold it in anymore, I snag Brynleigh into my room where we can talk, alone.

"Are you crazy?" I glower. "Why on Earth would you say that? We're not together. We never will be," I bite my lip to withhold from saying any more. I'm afraid that if I say more, it will only end up biting me in the back. Maybe she had the wrong impression of us. But that still doesn't make any sort of sense. She knows we're not dating. So, why say we are?

"Calm down," she huffs, blowing raspberries with her mouth.

"No. Tell me what's going on right this instant," I raise my finger at her in order to emphasize my point.

"Okay, okay. Listen, I saw the text your mom sent you when you handed me back my phone. In case you're living under a rock, I'm also aware of the current situation. This benefits both of us."
"What do you mean it benefits the both of us?"

"I've always wanted a boyfriend, and you need a girlfriend. It's perfect!" She waves her hands in the air like this is the greatest idea of all time. I can tell you with certitude that it's not. Sure, in theory, I'll agree that it sounds wonderful. Except in reality, I don't even want to think about the chaos that may emanate if something goes awry. She analyzes my concerned face and begins to reason herself even further, as if that would change my mind.

"Besides, maybe the media will back off a wee bit, and focus their attention on this supposed relationship. It's a win, win scenario.

Undeterred, I counter with my strongest arguments, but they all fall short. It's like arguing with a donkey. An impossibly stubborn one. I guess I'm going along with this now. I cross my fingers and hope and pray that everything will work out, because I'm not going to survive another meltdown.

One week later...

It's Christmas. I'm home. Without Hector. Everything feels out of place. The stockings are the wrong color, the turkey is overcooked, and my eyes no longer scintillate with keenness to open my gifts. It's not the same. It will never be the same, ever. Because my brother, my best friend in this whole universe, is gone. And I will never see him again. Meanwhile, my mother is under the assumption that everything is fine. She doesn't notice the empty space and the quietness of breakfast. Maybe she does, but hides it better than me. I wish I could stuff all my sorrowness down and let it evaporate. I'm not that lucky.

There's only one present under the Christmas tree, and it's for me. I shred it apart to reveal another parcel, only smaller. I tear that one too and another appears. It goes on and on until I hold out a tiny box, miniscule enough to cup in my bare hands. With delicacy, I open it. Car keys scowl back at me. Oh. No. Flashbacks of the phone call ricochet in between my thoughts. The phone call and then Hector not making it. It's too soon. Way too soon. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I'm never going to look at cars the same way again. To me, they're soul-ripping monsters, capable of crushing the hopes and dreams of young individuals. I don't think I want to learn how to drive.

After tossing the key deep beneath the depths of my bed, I waste the rest of my day by doing nothing. A diabolically inferior Christmas is what I'd label this. Diabolical and regrettable. The following days are no better, yet no worse either. It's a whole bunch of nothingness, and restlessness, and the rivaling feelings between wanting this to end and dreading the day I'll be obligated to return. And then when I do indeed return, it happens too soon. Again. Everything feels rushed. Time passes too quickly, despite whether I'm having fun or not.

None of my classes are with Sander. It must be intentional. I don't like this. How am I ever going to apologize to him if I'm compelled to stay twenty feet away from this boy at all times? I'm not giving up. I will find a way, like I always do. It certainly doesn't help that the whole school presumes that Brynleigh and I are together now. Just because of one inane article. How pathetic. Not to mention how hard it is to pretend. It's like I'm living a lie. I don't know how much longer I can keep this act going. The time is ticking, ticking until I break.

I hope he realizes that it's not real. I hope he can figure out that it's a facade. I hope and pray that he knows that my heart is his and his alone. But when I see him linking arms with Kaiden, all my aspirations are blemished. They're fragmented in one fell swoop. Hold on... Kaiden?! Am I seeing this right? I forcefully squeeze my eyes shut, yet when I open them again, they're still there. Together. Touching. I am not dreaming. I am not okay with this. This is truly happening. And now they're hugging. I hate my life. Every ounce of it. Kill me already, please.

I'm not dead, which means that those two shall be confronted one way or another. I will not stand by this. Not on my watch. Nope. From the far right of the corridor, I stalk them, inching closer and closer until I'm invading their bubble. Kaiden turns his head first, shooting me a menacing glare like I'm the last person he would expect to see here. Surprise, surprise. This is school, after all.

Sander gasps at the sight of my presence, triggering a deep feeling of longing in me. I want to clutch onto him and wrap him tightly against me to feel his breath against mine, but I don't do that. It hits me that I'm not over him. I thought I was, but clearly not if I still feel this way. I want to feel his skin against mine so bad, yet I resist. Instead, I give him a disapproving look. At the same time, my pupils are pleading at him to come into my arms. I'm so much better than Kaiden, in every shape and form. They don't belong together. He should know better. He should know that the black-haired guy standing beside him is the overlord among troublemakers.

I'm about to say something to him, but Sander gives me a shoulder shrug before scampering off. He disappears as quickly as he appeared. He's gone within the blink of an eye. He hasn't said a single word to me in two weeks. Two weeks of deafening silence. The streak continues.

This time, I'm left alone with Kaiden. I take this as my chance to strike. To get the answers that have been eating me apart, piece by piece.

"What do you think you're doing? I pounce, raising my voice until it's almost a shriek. As much as I don't want fellow bystanders to hear this conversation which is about to get heated, that's the least of my concerns right now.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't play dumb with me. I'm done with your games. You know exactly what I'm referring to. What did you do to him?" My nostrils flare as rage flows through me like lava. I feel like I'm about to burst.

"You mean Sanny? Him and I have been spending our fair share of time together lately, especially since both my brother and I have spent almost the entirety of the break at his house. Things aren't exactly the best in my household, so he was ever so generous to invite us in," he rants, muttering the last sentence silently.

"Uhh, I'm sorry about that...?" I manage to reply. I'm not sure what to make of what he's saying. In fact, that's the most I've ever heard him talk at once. Does he want me to feel remorseful for him? He, of all people, doesn't deserve my pity. Ugh, he's even got a nickname for him. I'm so disgusted that I'm quite literally going to puke directly on his shoes if he keeps this going. And that still doesn't answer my question.

"Are you two like a thing now are what?"

"Yes, he's mine."

"W–When did this happen?"

"Precisely a week ago," he responds nonchalantly, his smirk widening into a full on evil grin. The audacity!

"I don't believe you."

"Hmph. See for yourself. I told you I'd be cleaning up your mess."

"You're pathetic. Wait until I tell the entire school."

"Go ahead. Unlike you, no one cares about me."

"Godammit! What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, he just likes me more because I give him everything he wants."

"Seriously? Now you're manipulating him? I didn't know that people like you existed but–"

"Darn, would you look at the time! Looks like I've gotta go. We'll save the rest for later, bud. Good chat. I'll catch you around," he dashes off, giving me a firm slap on the back like I'm his friend. Boy, is that far from the truth. He's just made himself my arch-nemesis, and I will do whatever I can in my willpower to reign victorious. He has a lot coming for him if he thinks he can outwit a literal prince. Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice... I don't think so.

It's when I'm back in my dorm that it clicks. Cleaning. Up. Mess. The text. That damn text. The one that left me queasy for the remainder of my Paris excursion. It all makes sense now. Except, now is a little too late. If only I had known sooner. That seems to be a recurring theme of mine. I can't believe that this is what my life has come to. I manage a scream into my pillow, muffling out the sound with the white fabric. Once I've released all that frustration out, I make my way down to the cafeteria for dinner.

I haven't been here in awhile, and I don't know where to sit. Aurora's nowhere to be seen and both Brynleigh and Cyrus are out as well. Theater, I realize. All my friends are at theater. All but me. Sander and Kaiden have somehow found their way back to each other, and I don't exactly feel like making a scene at this moment in time. So, I'm left with no choice but to pull up at Nova's table. It was that or the sophomores, and there's no way I'm sitting with those bunch of snarky gossipers. I know we haven't been on the greatest terms, Nova and I, but winning back Sander first involves winning over his sister.

"Um, hi? Can I help you?" she asks when I flop down next to her. Her friends stop mid-conversation and turn their heads toward me. It feels like all of a sudden, everything pauses. The clock on the wall stops ticking, the buzzing chatter dies down, and the stomping of footsteps winds into a halt. The time stops. I look at the three other people seated at my table. The one on the left I recognize is Gianina, because she's in my English class, but I don't have the faintest clue who the redhead is. They're still staring aggressively at me when I realize I haven't spoken yet.

"Mmph," I cough, clearing my throat. "I was wondering if I could sit with you guys. I'm Nicolas, by the way," I say, addressing the red-haired boy.

"Yes, I know you. Everyone knows you, in case you're not aware. You can call me Waylen, and I'd say that you're more than welcome here."

"Thank you," I give him an appreciative nod while Nova proceeds to scan me up and down. If I was none the wiser, I'd think that she was about to murder me, but that's just the way she looks at poeple. At least that's how she looks at me, and she probably has all the reason to. I haven't made that effort to really get to know her, but I'm here now, and it's better late than never. Except, when I return her look, I catch a glimpse of something I thought I would never see again.