regal /ˈriːɡ(ə)l/
of, resembling, or fit for a monarch, especially in being magnificent or dignified.
Sometimes we love in fingertip touch, and it's just as close as we can get.
A story inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's experience with th...
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Amalia
Flashback March 2019
"Marlie- fuck" a groan shakes me awake. The ache in my bones is dull but the ache in my head is prominent.
It takes me a moment or two to come around to my surroundings, noticing the slight shiver in my muscles before realising I'm leaning up against Harry in the car, with little to no clothes on.
"Oh god" I sit myself up in alarm. The sun was only just beginning to rise, it being early spring, so there wasn't a bright stream of light coming through, to which my pounding head was thankful for.
"I would say, forget everything that happened, but I quite enjoyed it" Harry makes no move to scramble out of my car or throw yesterdays clothes back over himself. He's relaxed in my presence.
"You need to leave- oh god- where's Frankie?" I panic. Harry leans forwards, ruffling his long hair, without a care in the world. He's in no rush. He's not worried at all. I know for certain my parents will be worried.
"Relax Princess, don't ruin it by rushing away. Have you never watched Cinderella?" He raises his eyebrow up at me.
"Harry, I had a great time, you'll have to put your number in my phone. But I do really need to get back, and I need to find Frankie" I tell him.
"Okay- okay" he holds his hands out in surrender, allowing me to shift off of his chest so he's able to pull his clothes on. I fumble with my zipper, making sure it's secured.
"Why don't you phone her?" He suggests, looking up at me through his eyelashes whilst he buttons his jeans up.
"My parents are going to kill me" I shake my head, searching for my phone in the clutch Frankie had leant me for the night.
"You're, what? Twenty two now? Are you not allowed to live?" He asks, pulling his t shirt over his head.
"Of course I'm not allowed to live!" I stress. "I was brought up in a palace with nannies and guards, Harry I'm not even allowed a tattoo!"
"Hasn't Frankie got one?" He questions, now fully dressed, but still not making any moves to exit my car.
"Well obviously they don't know about that! It's on the side of her boob so it'd never be seen- wait, how do you know about it?" I pull back, shocked that Harry even knows about it.
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