The Lords, Princes, and Kings.

Chapter Eight-

"I don't like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush/Everybody wants you/But I don't like a gold rush"                                                                                                                                                                          "With your hair falling into place like dominos/I see me padding across your wooden floors"          -Taylor Swift-

 A knock on my door roused me. The regular box alarm read 10;37. I groaned, rolling over and off the bed-ouch-and staggered up, shrugging a sheet of drowsiness off. "Mmm, yeah?"

"May I come in?" A warm voice asked, hesitant.

I cursed under my breath, thoughts slowly swimming back into my head. "Yep, yeah, sure."

The door slowly opened, while I just stared at it dumbly. Rita smiled bashfully. The hallway had lanterns that seemed to have lit candles in them. Okay... yeah.

She must have taken a shower, her hair almost curly. In the limelight, it shone black and gold. Her face looked like more of a creamy color. Rita pinned her lips-which were a soft pink rather than glossy and/or red. "You missed dinner, Mickey..." She spoke my name when she didn't have to, something that may seem like nothing, but meant enough for my brain to run over it.

"Oh, uh... yeah. The bed- it's really comfy-" I stammered, clumsily tripping over every word.

Rita is wearing- pajamas-? Oddly, that observation screwed with my still-sleepy mind even more. Black and white, buttoned, collared, and short sleeved. We stood in awkward silence.

"Um... are you hungry?" I reluctantly nodded. "Follow me," she murmured.

Rita led me back to the kitchen, only a covered candle for light. "Leftovers from dinner?"

"Sure..."

She nodded and fixed it. I sat down at the table and watched her. Rita... Maggie... Margarita. Duh. "You're staring," she hummed, looking at me with her eyes sparkling with amusement. The microwave beeped. I didn't stop staring. When did she get so pretty?

"Chai?"

"What-"

"Chai."

Rita shook a tea bag. I smiled and nodded, leaning back.

"Guys?" Marcus whispered, peeking his head out from the shadows of the hall.

"Marsh, go back to sleep. You have to help me make breakfast tomorrow." What?

Marcus groaned, yet followed what she said and disappeared again.

"Oh, Mickey." Once again, she had all my attention. "I am going to need your number." She told me, setting down a plate of spaghetti in front of me before going to grab her own, kettle still heating up.

"Oh, uh... right."

We didn't speak for a long moment. Margarita sipped her chai while I held mine, watching her skeptically.

"Oh, and when we are in school, you do not know me and I do not know you, outside of what we knew about each other this morning."

"Okay... Um, good night, Rita."

"Call me Margarita when we are here."

I just nodded and rinsed out my dishes. Rita takes them from me and puts them in the dishwasher.

I was too drowsy to do any of this. Sleep dragged at me once again, and I essentially passed out onto the bed.

"The bus is almost here, Mickey!" Rita hollered. My bag hit my upper back, causing me to let out a huff of air, as I swung it over my shoulder.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"You were awake when I woke up, and you didn't go back to sleep. How are you almost late?" Aunt Mindy questioned, though she smiled affectionately.

"You get toast. Maybe if you had come down sooner, you could have had pancakes." Rita puffed, throwing me a piece of toast. I smiled, holding the piece in my mouth as we rushed out to the bus stop, quickly jotting something down on my arm.

"Do not sit anywhere near me."

I scoffed at Rita's demand, as though that sounded appealing, or like a good idea after last night. She hopped up the steps of the bus and made her way to the back with haste. I sighed, taking a seat about midway. Apparently, this bus stop was the first. I suppose that helped with the whole "you don't know me and I don't know you," thing. My phone buzzed.

Sol had sent me a picture of Scottie and Ace. I smiled, despite the headache creeping into my skull.