I wanted to flirt. To touch her. To run my hands through her hair. She looks more sophisticated without bangs, and I wanted her to be confident in her smart appearance.
Talk about a backfire…
I do the only thing I can and quickly fire off a message saying that she’s pretty regardless of her hairstyle and that I’m sure I’ll love it. She doesn’t respond, and I eventually drift off to sleep thinking about how big of a bugger I am.
Lucy’s Journal
Sunday, March 14th * 10:01pm * Criss-cross applesauce on my bed with my facemask on
This is NOT GOOD. Lor came home in a fit because she’s stressed over the lies. In typical Lorelei fashion, she presented her frustrations directly and without much emotion, but I could tell it’s eating her on the inside. I promised I would clear everything up on my date with Finley in four days, and that seemed to help her focus enough to relay the details of the impromptu date. And man… I wish she hadn’t. For starters, Finley is the CROWN PRINCE of Korsa now. He will be KING in less than a year. The kicker? He has to be MARRIED to be king. I love fairytales, but this feels too unbelievable. It’s one thing to dream about being a princess and a queen, but it’s another thing to have that opportunity presented in front of you through a handsome, royal, golden platter such as Finley himself. Queen Lucy… I can’t wrap my brain around it for some reason. A prince wants to marryme.
Well, I think it’s me he wants to marry. According to the other things Lor told me, and the text I received from Finley statinghe loved talking philosophy with me, he might want to marry my sister right now. And I’d be lying if I said I was okay with that. It’s my fault, ultimately, because I sent her in my place not once but twice. But everything will be fine! I’ll go on my first date with him Thursday evening, be my charming self, and everything will be fine. Just fine! Can you imagine? Me? In a palace? With an actual title… whoa. That’s a lot to take in. It’s the kind of fantastical madness I write about. Speaking of, I should get back to my merman prince x female pirate story…
Chapter Seven
Lorelei
“It’s nice to finally meet you,Lorelei.”Finley is standing underneath an arch of chrysanthemums; it’s a collage of color and warmth as the sun shines like a beaming spotlight on the crown prince. He wears an all-white tux, his blond hair shimmering like a crown of gold.
It’s then I realize I’m walking closer without thought, as if he’s holding a string connected to me and is reeling me into him. Step by step, his eyes come into view. His beautiful, sparkling, ice blue eyes that I’d love to take a dive in on a hot summer day.
I drop my head, his eyes too intense to stare into. Suddenly, our toes have infinitesimal space between them. Slowly, I raise my head until I’m tilting my chin up to reacquaint myself with Finley’s eyes. But instead of landing on his eyes, my gaze locks with his lips. They are light pink, his upper lip a smidge thinner than his bottom.
He parts those precious lips and sighs, leaning down.
Iclose my eyes…
My eyes fly open, and I gasp for breath. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. Hard enough to break my rib cage.
Probably.I think.
Frantically examining my surroundings, I find myself in my bed, tangled in my beige sheets and coffee-colored quilt, in a darkened room with a hint of sunlight peeking through my blinds.
No Finley Andersson in a tux standing under my favorite flowers about to…
Did I just vividly dream about kissing Finley?
Weird.
Well, that’s something I willnevertell my sister about. I must have dreamt that because of his coquettish behavior four days ago at Books and Beans.
I shake my head clear and glance at the analog clock sitting on my nightstand. 5:29 a.m. in sage green coloring.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
5:30 a.m.
With a yawn and stretch, I untangle myself, switch on my salt lamp light, and roll out of bed. After brushing my teeth, I struggle to put on my black workout leggings, as always. Then I wrestle a bear in order to get my extra-support sports bra on. I should really invest in one of those front-zip styles. After sliding on my socks, I do deep lunges towards the kitchen and grab my water bottle from the fridge. At the door, I tie my Brooks tightly to my feet and quietly slip out of the apartment to embark on my morning jog.
The air has a crisp bite to it, but by noon, it’ll be warm enough to go for a swim if I wanted to. This is my favorite time of the day; it provides ample time to set my mind on things above and get mybody moving, and I love the way the sun rises, kissing my skin good morning with its warmth.
Almost like how Finley kissed you in your dream…
I stop abruptly, my face heating to a degree that’s probably hotter than the sun at the moment. Why am I giving any thought to a dream? A dream is simply an involuntary adhesion of real life and fantasy, a mixture of images, sounds, feelings, and perceptions experienced throughout the day.
I set my water bottle down on the trunk of my car so my hands are free for an effective workout. I begin my jog down my usual route, shoving the graphic image of Finley’s lips advancing towards mine off a cliff to die. Regardless of if I wanted to, which I don’t, I can’t entertain such an outlandish notion. He belongs to Lucy, as it should be. A dream is nothing to get bent out of shape and blush in solitude over.
I round the corner of Maple Street, jogging by a long line of suburban houses that are similar yet unique. Some are bricked in various reds while others are a mixture of composite siding and stone veneer. One day. I will own a house here, settle down with my plants and cats, and possibly a nice man with a stable job who treats me well. I think I’ll fall in love one day, but I don’t like the idea of falling; that is more terrifying than when I thought I failed the LSAT because I read the email wrong. I want to float into love, to drift into it bit by bit. Conversation by conversation. Day by day. With surety, peace, and confidence.
