Dynasty | h.s

Eight

I've been at Buckingham Palace for two and a half days now and I have yet to meet Charles Styles. Granted, after the luncheon I fell into a sleep coma. The time zone change and traveling hit me harder than I ever imagined. I went to bed at six p.m and slept very well into the following day. I blame it on the comfortable bed.

I had spent yesterday on the phone with Mika as I unpacked my suitcases, catching her up on what my first day here had been like. I left out some details, like the fact I am pretty sure that Blaire hates my guts. It didn't feel important enough to tell her.

I did tell her about Natalia and how I found it so cool that there's another American here. Mika being Mika had to make sure she commented on how I was not allowed to be a traitor and become best friends with Natalia.

Speaking of Natalia, I have made plans with her for today. She is someone who brings me comfort. I think it's purely because we come from the same country and we are around the same age. But it's still refreshing. I'm living in a place where the people my age don't seem to want anything to do with me, and I definitely cannot survive three months where my only friends are old ladies. Nothing against them.

Natalia intrigues me. I want to know how she ended up here. Why did she decide to cross the ocean and come work for the Royal Family? Especially at such a young age. It makes me wonder just how much she and I have in common with one another after all. We could both be secretly bound by our oaths with government officials.

It's wishful thinking and the only thing that makes sense in my mind on why she's here.

I stand in the bathroom that is attached to my room, one towel wrapped around my body and another one twisted around my hair. I lean over the counter, my two pointer fingers working together to pop the few whiteheads hidden among the countless freckles on my face.

The bathroom is hot and still steamy. I had to wipe a small circle on the mirror with the hand towel to be able to see myself. It's reduced clarity, but it'll get the job done.

I pop whiteheads until my skin is red and irritated, a clear sign I should stop. I have always enjoyed cleaning out my pores and popping any blemish since a young age. My mother used to lecture me on it for days end, but I found it to be therapeutic. When I had the definition of teenage skin, I found it more pleasing than I should have to pop these blemishes.

At the ripe age of twenty-three, I still have acne-prone skin, but I know how to take better care of it now. I also only allow myself to pop pimples directly out of the shower while my hands are clean and my skin is more delicate, making them burst easier.

I move out of the bathroom and into the main room, piecing together an outfit: a pair of light denim mom jeans, a simple long sleeve white crop top, a beige long coat, and my white shoes. Mika had tried to convince me not to bring the coat since it took up nearly half of one of my bags, but I found it to be an important article of clothing. England is known for its ever-changing weather patterns.

Before putting any of the clothes on, I towel dry my hair, letting it fall so carelessly to mid-back. I then pull the clothing articles on one at a time, keeping the coat resting on the bed. I'd put that on last. I accessorize with some gold jewelry that has been passed on from my grandmother to my mother and now to me. It's all simple and dainty jewelry, but I love it. It has sentimental value to me.

I go back into the bathroom and put some product in my hair to keep the frizziness at a minimum and do very simple makeup. The final touch is spraying my warm vanilla perfume under my neck and on my wrists. I would consider myself to be low maintenance despite being raised in a very high maintenance household.

I wonder how different my life would be if I had accepted all my father's help. I am sure I would be living a much different life. I probably would be more high maintenance. The decision to make something out of myself and separate me from my father has led me to appreciate the finer things in life and has taught me how not to be materialistic.