Chapter 3 – Ellie
Keep smiling. Just keep smiling.
I repeated this mantra in my head, trying not to break character.
On one hand, smiles were easy since I was surrounded by a bunch of kids who were twirling with me. On the other hand, I had zero doubts that Henry was watching me.
Was I even allowed to call him Henry in my head? Or did it always have to start with Lord? Or Earl?
Crap, it didn’t matter. After the complete mess up on my part upstairs, there was no way we’d find each other alone in another room. We’d probably never exchange another word.
Urg, why did that make me feel awful?
My traitorous eyes flick up and over the kids’ heads to the far side of the lawn. Henry was standing with three other men. All of them where in similar suits. All of them were stupid good looking but none of them looked as handsome as Henry did. And his eyes were on me, like I predicted.
I quickly look away, only to gaze back at him seconds later. I couldn’t help myself. He had me mesmerized.
While I was still completely embarrassed that I had waltzed into a royal’s suite like I owned the place and peppered Henry with questions, wanting a professional’s help to prepare for the party, he hadn’t made me feel dumb. At no point did he try to correct me or make me feel like the help I was asking for was a bother.
Should I have picked up on more of his confusion at the beginning? Absolutely. Yet, I couldn’t be blamed for that. No man should be blessed with looks like Henry—and with a kind heart to boot.
I had this insane urge to run my hands through his hair and grab one of his curls, pulling and releasing to see if it’s just as bouncy and silky as it looks.
I’d never seen a man pull of a sash as well as Henry was rocking his today. Damn, that just should not be legal. Royalty bending the rules again.
“Yo, Rapunzel. Earth to Rapunzel,” a voice calls softly.
Shaking out of my man-trance, I jump back into action, slapping a huge smile on my face and joining my hands together in a gentle clasp. My eyes land on a chicken standing beside me.
What the—
“I know. I know. I’m the lucky costume winner today. Dressed as a fricken’ chicken.”
“Umm,” I begin, not really sure how to phrase my next question. “Are you, ah, sure you’re at the right party?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“But I thought this was a princess party.”
“And I’m a princess’s sidekick. A special request by the birthday girl. Or, er, can we call her a girl? Should she always be called princess?”
“I was just thinking the same thing about—” I catch myself. Waving that line of thought off, I focus back. Scanning the costume of the woman beside me, I try to figure out what character she is. What princess had a chicken sidekick?
“Wait, are you supposed to be Heihei? From Moana?”
“Ding-ding-ding.”
The laugh that bursts out of me felt good. All the tension I was holding from my earlier encounter with Henry dissipates in a fit of glee.
“Oh my goodness. That’s amazing and yet so cruel at the same time. How did Tallie get you to agree to this?”
“Blackmail.”
I’m expecting her to go into more detail but she leaves it at that. I nod, my smile falling just slightly. She’s scowling, yet I can see some humor behind her eyes.
“Yeah, Tallie does have a way with getting friends to help her against their will.”
“Well, just be glad she made you a princess for a day and not a punchline.”
My eyes flare. Yeah, there was that.
Instinctually, my attention is drawn back across the lawn to where Henry is standing, now with a drink in his hand. One of the men is also looking in my direction, but his eyes appear to be on the chicken beside me.
My elbow prods the woman/chicken but she doesn’t say a word. The padding of her suit is too thick for her to feel my poke.
“God, this thing is hot,” I hear her say a second before a small girl runs up to her and grabs her wing/arm, demanding she dance. Then my newish friend is gone.
I think for a moment about joining them but decide against it. I’ve had my time in the sun. My princess character was liked at the beginning, but as soon as I declined singing any songs, the kids lost interest in me.
Which, fair. The woman who was playing Moana was absolutely killing it. She was even taking other movie song requests. That level of commitment to a character was admirable.
Sweat pebbled along my hairline as I discreetly made my way to the edge of the lawn. As soon as I stepped into the shade, a little out of sight of the party guests, I let out a deep breath and adjusted the bodice of my costume.
Oh man, layers of polyester and a heavy wig did not mix well with the unexpected heat of the day. I had no idea how my chicken friend was surviving under her feathers. I was shaking my head at the thought of roasting alive in that thing when my gaze landed on Henry. Again.
Why did I keep singling him out of the crowd? After the embarrassing case of mistaken identity, I should be trying to avoid meeting his eyes. But no. I can’t seem to stop searching for him.
There’s a look of concentration on his face. It’s not outwardly grumpy, but his brows are drawn together slightly. I can’t help the little giggle that escapes me when he places his hands on his hips, his stance turning stern.
Could he…? No, that’s too crazy to…but maybe. Could he be looking for me?
A wave of heat that has nothing to do with the weather rolls through my body, making me very aware of certain body parts.
Did I dare approach him? Talk to him again and apologize for the mistake? Maybe he’d confess why he didn’t reveal himself to me right away too.
Take the chance.
The words dance across my mind, repeating over and over, getting louder.
Gathering all my courage, I take a step toward the sun, intending to make my way to Henry.
Someone grabs my arm and I wince at the small sting of pain.
“There you are. I need your help. We have a costume emergency.”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Before I know it, I’ve been dragged back into the hotel. I give Henry one last look over my shoulder, committing him to memory.
At least our meeting was a memorable one. A good story to tell in the future. Once I got over my embarrassment.
I knew I’d never see him again—besides all the Googling and social media stalking I was going to do once I got home—and I tried to be okay with that. But the deep ache in my chest told me otherwise.
And not even cutting open a chicken costume to rescue a performer from heat exhaustion distracted me enough from my feelings.