The Princess Promise

For Better And Worse

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

Wincing, I covered my ears as Ivory ranted on about my idiocy. She frantically gestured with her hands, trying to portray a point that I wasn't listening to. Popcorn flew from the red bowl in her lap onto the carpeted floor of her room when she stood to pace. Staring longingly at the last slice of mushroom, pepperoni piece in the box, I risked one hand and reached out for it.

"Ow!" I winced, shaking off my hand that Ivory had struck minutes ago. She glared at me, silently scolding me for not listening to her.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation," she shook her head, her blonde tendrils sticking to her pink cheeks. "I'm going to have to pick all of your outfits and do your make up and take you shopping-"

"Wait," I held up a hand to stop her. "Did you just say...?"

***

"Welcome Nikola, to the place where dreams come true!" Ivory said jovially, forgetting how she upset with me she was with me, half an hour ago. She held her arms open towards the building where large, neon pink letters that spelled out Mall like she was accepting God into her arms.

"Was binding my wrist together really necessary?" I asked, holding up my hands so that Clark, my second oldest brother, could cut the rope bonds that held my wrist with his switchblade.

'Will you be alright?' Clark signed concernedly. Completely deaf and mute, no one expected much from Clark. He was the one that was supposed to lay down and play dead so that others could walk over him. But Clark was stubborn just like her and his refusal to accept society's rules made him an exceptional student. When his gift for the piano was revealed at age 5, he immediately had his sights set on Juilliard.

Overall, the 18-year old, splitting image of dad, was my favorite brother out of all six of them.

'Please don't leave me with her!' I signed back frantically, noticing the aura that surrounded Ivory. Clark gave me an apologetic grin, ruffling my hair.

'I've got class.' Excusing himself, he hurried quickly back into his parked white, BMW i8 that he earned on his own from his recitals. I watched until his car disappeared out of sight.

"Shit," Ivory cried, grabbing my hand and pulling me into For The Record, a 1970 pop culture themed store that was so unlike her. Once safely inside the shop, she ducked her head out the door.

Wandering off as Ivory dealt with whatever dilemma she was having, I surveyed the different records, ignoring the dust collecting on most of them. Noticing the familiar cover of a Twenty One Pilots record, I reached for it at the same time a firmer hand did. I glanced up at the person and my jaw slackened. A nerve in Ethan's own sharp jaw jumped until he recognized who I was and grinned maniacally.

"If it isn't little Ms. Ginger," he taunted, stepping closer into my personal space bubble. Disgusted by the nickname I rolled my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. His eyes darted downwards to my small breasts and my face burned red at his penetrating gazes. His eyes darkened to an emerald green, his tongue darting out to licked his cupid bow lips. My eyes were drawn to his mouth and my traitorous heart picked up speed.

I wonder if he knows how to kiss...

"What are you thinking about so intently little Ms. Ginger?" He asked teasingly. I could feel the heat radiating off myself; by this time I was becoming a human heater.

"Nothing!" I answered quickly, spinning around. He grabbed my waist before I could take a step, spinning me back into him. Placing my hands on his solid abdomen, in an effort to catch myself, my fingers splayed out on his black t-shirt. My eyes darted up to his, wide and confused. His breathing was labored, each breath inflating his chest so that it brushed against my own.