Labeled (A The Selection Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty-One

Cece has already packed and stands waiting to go to her brother's house.

She stopped crying, but she chokes on words and breaths. The Selected stand behind her as she leans on her luggage. Apparently, this isn't just a short break, she's leaving for good. Cece said that the attention, stress, and danger that the Selection brings to her and her family is too much for her to deal with. She hates thinking how her decision has made her family a target for the rebels, but still forces herself to believe it.

It's like the guilt is her way of coping with the sorrow.

The butler comes up and takes her bags, and she turns around one last time.

"Don't forget about me," she manages.

I assure her, "Never."

I watch her go to Eleanor and Hope, saying her last words to them as she leaves.

These words remind me so much of the ones Elizabeth said to me before. We promised each other, that no matter if we were at the Palace or Fraussen, we would remember each other and keep our friendship strong.

Some promises are meant to be broken, but not that one. Not the one of friends being separated, and staying connected to each other. Friends are, as the cliche saying goes, "Supposed to stick together." I will not let Cece go, she will always stay in my heart.

Her unique laughter and sense of humor, her ever present smile. Her positivity in any situation.

She's a candle in my life that won't burn out.

§§§§§

While my maids are taking out the pins in my hair, we chat about Cece. No, not gossiping, just talking about possibilities of what could have happened to her parents. It seems Lidia is very, very into the whole detective-forensic field of work.

"I wish I could go to her house and see the forensics working and all the clues and the DNA samples and everything would fall into place and bam! the crime is solved!" She says with enthusiasm. I highly doubt that is all one needs to solve a kidnapping and possible murder, I think.

Then with a sly look at me, she says, "Not that I don't wish I was a maid..." she trails off and gives me a hopeful look.

"I'm not a Royal!" I say shaking my finger at her.

In unison, they sing, "Not yet!" I laugh.

"Did you plan that?"

"Practiced in front of any reflective surface I could find." Fern answers. What? Doesn't she have a mirror in her room?

"Don't you ha-"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Someone knocks three times on the door, requesting permission to come in. I make a note in my head to ask them about their lives later. I-I don't think I've ever done that before.

Suddenly a wave of guilt washes over me, but I can't think about that, because somehow Lidia is already opening the door.

And, in all his glory, there stands Prince Alexander.

I stand up just as Fern yanks out the last of my pins. I look in the mirror, seeing myself looking terrible, but I decided to not care.

He should see the real me, right? I laugh at the crazy voice inside my head.

"Hello, Your Highness." I say as my maids scurry out the door.

Once again, Alexander laughs at the hurry my maids are in once he arrives.

"Hello, Clarissa." He says and takes a step forward.

I motion to the balcony, and with my other hand the sitting area in my room.

"Make you choice, Mister!" I say teasingly.

He rests his hand on his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully, then shaking his head ever so slightly as if to say, Neither of the options appeal to me.

He gestures forward to my bed, and jumps on it without my permission. I cringe.

His shoes are on! He is going to ruin the covers!

I shouldn't even care, but I don't want them to be stained. Even though the Palace can easily replace them, those sheets have comforted me night after night. They have stood by me when I needed a shoulder or pillow to cry on.

I know I sound dramatic, but...

I clear my throat. "Could you get off please?"

He raises his eyebrows at me, not in the mood for speaking, and in reply closes his eyes and motions for me to lie next to him.

I hesitate, but I know he only wants me there for comfort.

Strictly comfort of the stress of the week and the kidnappings.

Anyways, I won't let it get to more than that.

So I walk over and lie down next to him, and he immediately puts his arm around me. The weight is welcome, something to focus on besides the hurt and worry I feel for Cece. And the worry I feel for my family's safety.

"What's wrong?" I ask him after sitting in peaceful silence for a few minutes. I had looked over at his face, and seen in scrunched in concentration, so I wanted to know what was wrong.

"Do you really want to know?" He looks emotionally heavy, like he needs to tell someone. I'm just dreading that it's something like, "Oh, I really loved Cece and was about to propose and now she's leaving so I'm going to call of the Selection."

That might break my heart.

"Yep! Explain away," I tell him excitedly.

He takes a deep breath and explodes. Quite literally, as his biggest worry comes out. "While you were gone my dad told me that my mom isn't really my mom, like she's not my birthmother, and-" he cuts himself off as he sees me nodding.

"Oh- I just, um, read your letters." He laughs shakily.

"Yeah, I read yours too. Umm, I want to say I'm sorry and thank you."

"For what?" I ask, confused by his words and this sudden change of topic.

"For being the Prince, for not having the guts to eliminate more people when I'm in love with you, but mostly for not being able to call us, 'us.' And thank you for still loving me even though I truly am horrid sometimes." He looks at me meaningfully and I can tell her really read all my letters.

"Thanks." I say. Could I have said anything worse.

He looks disappointed, so since I obviously can't communicate effectively with words, I communicate through actions.

I snuggle up next to him and pull his other arm around me. He sighs and tightens his grip around my waist as my back presses into his chest.

"I think I love you, Clarissa." He says carefully.

Even though my next words might completely ruin the moment, I say, "Well you better!" He smacks me playfully and looks at me hopefully.

I can even see the slightest bit of nervousness, I think selfishly.

"All right, I guess I love you t-" He cuts me off by flipping me around roughly and kissing me hard on the lips. His arms, previously around my waist, move above my head on the sheets.

Didn't I say I wouldn't let this happen? The rational side of me says.

Eh, the other part of me reasons, I think I meant that kisses were allowed.

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