Texting Prince Charming

Chapter 2 (pt. 2)

This is the second part of the chapter. Hope you enjoy and please remember to comment and vote to let us know if you like!!!

BTW...isn't Jeremy Irvine yummy???

(Edited)

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Dear Snow White,

Mirror, mirror on the wall,

You're the fairest of them all.

It will be hard; it will be tough,

But even you can overcome all that stuff.

Yours truly,

Prince Charming

I situated myself in the bed as Sebastian raised his hands to the ceiling. He always did stuff like that to show off how tall he was. Well, and to accentuate his muscular arms or his "guns" as he called them.

"Did you grow in the past few months or?" Leaning over the side of the bed, I wanted to see if he wore shoes with lifts or something. Nope, just his standard Air Jordan's.

He nonchalantly shrugged. "I'm six-eight now." Yeah, like everyone could claim that height. Still, he didn't let his arms drop and instead flexed them a few times until the veins looked like they would pop. Holy shit, he must have spent the entire summer in the weight room by the looks of it.

"Good God, Sebastian, what's your mom feeding you?" I asked, "Miracle Grow?"

"Don't call me that," he scoffed. And here I thought he'd be more offended by the Miracle Grow statement than me addressing him by his actual name.

I held my hands up for a fleeting moment. "Fine, Bass, whatever. I was just making an observation is all."

For some weird reason, Sebastian liked the odd nickname of "Bass" I started calling him back in second grade. Even stranger though, I was the only person allowed to use it.

Sebastian lowered his stance and strode to the edge of the bed to sit. "You're just jealous, shorty." He patted my head like I was some indigent child and feigned a lopsided frown.

My hand instinctively rose and batted his away. It was my natural reflex for handling assholes like Sebastian. I only wished my talent would have manifested itself with my ex-boyfriend Connor a little sooner. Oh well, better late than never. "I'm five-foot-ten, thank you very much." Satisfied with my response, I leaned against the stack of pillows behind me and waited for some witty comeback.

Sebastian sat there, quietly, and stared at me for what seemed like minutes. His steely gray eyes scanned my face. Once they landed onto my cheek, I placed my hand in front to conceal it and shot him a chastising look.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Does it still hurt?" The softness in his voice irked me. Nothing about Sebastian was ever soft. Everything with him was rough and harsh and always a full court press.

"No," I lied. It hurt like hell. Every time I moved my jaw, there was a stabbing sensation as the muscles were still healing. And smiling had thousands of pinpricks battering my skin; thereby explaining why I used that facial expression sparingly.

He opened his mouth but snapped it shut. Dylan Starsky interrupted him as he walked into the room toting about ten of my stuffed princess dolls in his arms.