The Prince that Saved Me

Chapter VIII

| Diane and George Thatcher |

Elizabeth's POV

Waking up to a message from Harold was enough to make me smile- something I never did in the morning. I wasn't really a morning person to begin with. Reading over Lily and Georgina's messages made me chuckle as well. They wanted to know what "antics" Harold and I were up to last night.

I looked over to my clock on the wall and practically jumping out of bed. "Bloody hell." I muttered, quickly walking into my bathroom. It was already 10:31 in the morning and Harold told me to meet him at 11 o'clock this morning at the Starbucks. I looked in the mirror and made a face of disgust. "Uh," I groaned. My eyes were puffy and my face was blotchy, I guess from last night's crying session. Don't you look incredible, Elizabeth? I jumped in the shower and took the quickest rinse off I've ever done in my life. I didn't bother touching my hair, just adding a little curl to it. I threw on a pair of dark wash denims, a stripped red and white colored shirt, a thin navy blue blazer, and sandals with golden features.

"Where are you going this early, sweet?" George asked me from inside of the kitchen. "I'm actually going to meet someone at the Starbucks by the corner." I said, giving him a slight hug and kiss. "I don't think you'll be walking anywhere, anytime soon." I was going to ask what he meant before he pointed towards the windows. I snuck a peek out the, kind of scared to what I was going to see. "Bloody.." I say, eyes widening. "There has to be over 50 cameramen outside. George, what is going on?" I ask, turning back to him.

"I don't know, maybe it's because someone who lives at this location has been getting quite close with the Prince." He jokes, sipping on his tea. I suppose he's used to it because he's used to being in the public's eye, but I felt bad that I dragged all of this to his home. "I have to make a call, pardon me." He nods his head and begins reading the paper as I walk out of the room.

"Paparazzi?" Harold's voice asked when I picked up the phone. "How'd you figure?" I asked, his voice making me smile automatically. "When I left last night, there were a few outside." I nodded my head, understanding what he was saying before I remember that he couldn't see me. "I understand." I say. "I guess we'll just have to reschedule our date." I add, taking a seat on the couch in my family room. "Absolutely not." He says, I can hear the playfulness in his voice. "I won't be able to open the front door without being bombarded." I say hopelessly. I really did want to see Harry today, I liked being in his company. "Who said anything about using the front entrance?" he said, now laughing. "Come to the back door, princess." I don't know if my heart leaped in my chest because he called me princess, or because there was a possibility that he was at the back door.

A smile spread wide across my face as I saw him standing outside my back door, with his hands shoved in his pockets and deep dimples on display. "Hi." I said, nervously. "Hi, Eliza." he said, leaning down to give me a kiss on the cheek. I almost silently gasped as I felt tingles shoot through my entire body. Returning from cloud nine, I invited him in. "Would you like to meet my parents?" I ask him. I mean, it would only be polite to do so. Plus, I know out backyard had tall hedges surrounding it, but I still didn't want any of the paparazzi to find a peephole and start taking pictures. "How did you get in the back yard with out anyone seeing you?" I asked, puzzled. "My driver parked around the corner and I snuck through some of the hedges." he said winking. "I think my trousers and arm took the worst of it, but I'm fine." he said, looking down at himself and to his right arm. "Oh my gosh, Harry!" I say looking at his arm. There was a cut, the size of my two finger nails put together on his arm and it was bleeding. "Come. Follow me, now." I say, my motherly instincts taking control. I hear him chuckle as I tug on his hand, making him follow me upstairs to my bathroom. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt much?" I ask, sitting him down on the toilet.