Finding Paris

The Princess and the Peas

Finding Paris

Chapter Five: The Princess and the Peas

Ow!

I groaned as something connected with the back of my head, but I was too tired to move and complain. I heard some voices and then silence again. I closed my eyes to sleep again but someone jabbed me in the side.

Extremely annoyed, I slapped at the thing poking at my side, and missed. I really wasn't a morning person.

Jab.

Ignore it.

Jab.

Just ignore it.

Jab. Jab. Jab.

"WHAT?!" I shouted, sitting up groggily as a face finally came into focus.

Jared was standing over me, his hands in his pockets, and his foot mid-air, about to poke my side again. He smirked annoyingly as his figure loomed over me.

Then, I got over my morning amnesia and remembered everything. 

Or rather just the angry part. 

"YOU!!!"

I stood up without thinking and charged at Jared like a wildebeest.

I really should have thought that one out, though.

Jared blocked my useless tackle with one slender-fingered hand to my forehead, stopping me from advancing. In one swift movement, he was able to spin me around and restrain me by pulling me flush against him with my back to his front. He did it so quick that I barely had time to process what really happened. 

 Dazed and confused, I just stood there, my arms tangled with his. I could feel his chest shaking with silent laughter, bringing me back to my senses. I tried to squirm out of his hold but he didn't even budge. He tightened his grasp and a sudden pain shot through my wrist. I visibly winced, my pride stopping me from crying out loud.

Probably noticing my expression, Jared loosened his grip on my wrist just enough for me to move it but not break free and whispered low in my ear, making me shiver.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. I think, but I really could not be sure. Jared had one of those voices, the deep almost seductive ones. His breath, surprisingly fresh, tickled my cheek and neck.

I didn't answer, just exerted more futile efforts in getting away from him. Needless to say, they were to no avail. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Jared spun me on my heels to face him and took my hand in his, at the same time pulling it closer for a better inspection. The proximity between us was what bothered me the most. I could almost feel his breath on my face. 

"Did you hurt yourself somewhere?" he asked, gently moving my injured wrist. I have actually forgotten about it already, until it hurt this morning. 

"Hey," he said sternly when I didn't answer.

"I punched the wall," I finally told him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me?"

"I punched the wall," I said a little louder this time. How embarrassing! I even hurt myself with my little rants. 

Jared cracked up.

"You are so clumsy!" he said, laughing, "How can a ballerina be so clumsy?"

"Don't laugh at me!" I told him lamely, unable to think because the way he was still holding my hand seemed to make all my brain cells malfunction. That's how much I must hate him.