⚡️Flames or Paradise⚡️Roman✖️OC.

The Crooked Prince

The iPhone radar alarm set off. The seventeen year old tried to get another five minutes of sleep but the piercing noise continued to blare like an fire alarm. Finally, she gave up and got out of bed.

Last night, she'd purposefully placed her phone on her dresser because the alarm of the iPhone can even wake a dead person up. It was the most annoying sound she'd ever heard in her life. And even though she hated the sound, she was thankful for it—at least, it helps her out of bed in the morning.

She turned the alarm off and said, "Alexa play hands to myself by Selena Gomez."

The virtual assistant said, "playing hands to myself by Selena Gomez."

As Gomez's voice echoed from the device. The young girl gazed at her reflection in the mirror, she needed a shot of espresso to kick start her day. Chantel was exquisite, with icy blonde hair that almost resembles the clouds and her eyes were blue and grey. She was perfect in every way, except that she'd stopped growing. She wasn't that short—but her classmates had all outgrown her in the past year just like that. The only girl in class who was shorter than her, was Christina Wendall and the twins Alexa and Alyssa Sworn were the same height as her.

"Checking your height every single day won't make you grow." Her mother had said over the summer.

"I'm not asking to be as tall as Shelley," she'd said. "But it'd be nice to have a few more inches."

"You're an inch taller than the average height of women in the country," her mother mentioned.

Her mother was right, 5'4 was the average height for woman in the US and she was 5'5. She should be satisfied with with it. But the heart always longs for something more, don't it?

She shoved her pom-poms inside the tote bag and glided down the stairs. Chantel and her mother lived in a two storey suburban house, the house was especially made to fit a nuclear family but Chantel was the only child of Susan Channing and her parents had separated before she was born.

Her mother was seated at their all white kitchen/dinning area, eyes fixed on her laptop. Susan Channing was as an interior designer. Her features were soft, her platinum blonde hair fell a little over her shoulders and her eyes were blue in colour.

Chantel headed straight for the espresso machine. "You want one?" She asked her mother, who was clearly unaware of her daughter's presence.

"Morning honey," she lifted her head up, "I didn't know you had school."

Chantel was wearing her green and white cheerleading uniform. No wonder her mom thought she had school. "We have practice," she noted.

Since it was going to be a busy year, the Cheerleaders had decided to start their practices before school begins. When she became a cheerleader, her mother had told her: her skirt was miserably short, that back in the days, it wouldn't even count as a piece of clothing.

She made two cups of hot espresso and took a seat with her mother, who was clearly consumed by work. The girl sipped her morning coffee and checked her socials. There were dozens of notifications, from the pages and people she followed and almost all the cheerleaders had posted on their stories. As she was scrolling she got a ping.

"Gia's here." She announced picking up her tote.

"All the best honey," her mother said. "Love you."