The Princess Pages: A Girl Like Cinderella

Song Twenty Five

ONE PRINCE CHARMING AWAITING HIS PRINCESS

Wine glasses clinking against one another. The live pianist sitting in the makeshift stage changing his song to a lively mix of Maroon 5's One More Night, to which more teenagers piled onto the dance floor, gyrating exuberantly. 

Standing by the buffet table, pouring himself another glass of iced tea, was Trent Morgan.

"Dude,you need to chill," placated a black-haired guy in a dark red suit.

The green-eyed model glared at Brad Fields. "I'm perfectly chill," he said feebly.

"Sure you are," Lawrence chimed in, approaching them. "That's why three girls who asked you to dance a while ago fled to the ladies' room in tears." His tone was sardonic.

Trent downed his drink in one gulp. "They were being annoying. If you don't turn them down quickly, they won't go away." He replaced his glass on the white-clothed table.

"Like the two chicks coming this way?" Brad said dryly, surreptitiously nodding towards the two blondes in tight dresses trampling each other on their way to Trent Morgan.

The singer ran his hands through his brown hair in irritation. "Not them again,"he muttered.

Tactfully, Brad and Lens slowly distanced themselves from the imminent rejection of the two young women.

The first blonde had short hair straightened into white-blonde strands falling above her bare shoulders; she was wearing a burgundy halter dress with a handkerchief hemline, stressing her long tanned legs, which were adorned with deadly high black stilettos.

While the taller blonde had icy blue eyes, the second one was almost the same height, with pale green eyes, her sheeny golden locks bunched into a high bun, curly strands framing her heavily made up face; her fake tan visible against her asymmetrical purple gown with thigh-high slit, showing off one of her legs which ended with silver heeled shoes.

"Hi, Trent," the girls greeted, saccharine smiles on their faces.

Their voices were so sugary, the handsome model inwardly cringed.

Stella Benton, the one in burgundy, stepped in front of Beverly, blocking her from view.

"Isn't this song great?" she gushed, making sure to give Trent a view of her chest.

The famous singer gazed heavenward so her lips wouldn't graze his. "I guess," he answered.

"But not as great as your songs, of course," Beverly interjected, pushing Stella aside.

"Uh-huh." There were cameras around, filming their every move, their every word. He couldn't make a scene.

The two sexy blondes inched closer to him. "Let's dance!" they chorused, then scowled at each other.

"I asked him first, Stone!"

"You so did not!" 

Another girl, with long curly brown hair and in a salmon off shoulder dress, came up to the young man.

"Hi, Trent," the brunette boldly greeted him. "Would you like to dance?" her voice was husky, her body language oozing with seduction.

"Natasha, you bitch!" the blondes shrieked, dissolving into a three-way quarrel.

"How dare you ask him to dance!?"

"And why not?I can do whatever I please!"

"Who died and made you queen, Tasha?"

"If anyone's dancing with Trent, it's me!"

"In your dreams, Benton!"

"Where did you even get that gaudy dress, Stone? Lost and found?"

"How DARE you--"

The three girls were so engrossed in their argument, they didn't notice the tall,model backing away from them, then he met up with his friends in a far corner, near a marble pillar.

One Republic's "Counting Stars" filled the ballroom with a vivacious, energetic atmosphere, and the party-goers were seized with a new wave of adrenaline, dancing and laughing.

"Well that was entertaining," Lawrence chuckled lightly, clearly amused.

"And that's what baffles me," Brad remarked, grabbing a flute of weak alcohol from a passing waiter, and a single shot glass.

Trent and Lawrence shot him a questioning look. "What does?" they asked.

Brad popped open the cork, pausing to meet his friends' gazes. He turned to the model.

"You've got a long line of gorgeous young women throwing themselves at you and telling you stuff you want to hear." He gestured his glass towards the girls in dresses not-so-subtly ogling the brown-haired singer. Then, sloshing the colorless liquid into his glass, continuing his speech:

"So I'd very much like to know why you're so keen on this enigmatic sender." Brad then took a swig of his drink, an inquiring smile on his attractive face.

Both Brad and Lawrence were waiting expectantly for their friend's answer.

Trent thought for a moment, his right forefinger on his mouth. And with a deep sigh, he fixed his friends' with a serious, grassy look.

"When I heard her sing," he started, pushing his hands into his black pants' pockets. "It felt like she was singing from the heart. As though she was in pain.But she was passionate about her music. She sang my song in a way I couldn't fathom. Like she loved to sing so much, she didn't mind however she felt. I just.. I think she.. she's fascinating."

Comprehension filled Brad's and Lawrence's eyes. They nodded, seeing their friend's bewitched gaze, as if he were under a spell.

A spell that broke when Brad reluctantly said: "But dude..."

Trent whipped his head in Brad's direction. "What?" he barked, his tone lashing.

The black-haired teen tapped at his shiny watch. "It's ten-thirty now. I don't think she's---"

"I'm sure she'll come," Lawrence interrupted, darting a frown at Brad.

Brad shrugged.

"Look at all these girls," he said, making a hand gesture across the ballroom. "A sea of blondes, brunettes and redheads, waiting for you to sweep them off their feet. Are none of them really your type? Or are you set on this anonymous girl?"

Trent raked his gaze over the ballroom full of pretty girls in glamorous dresses.

"No," he answered, resolute. "If they aren't social climbers or gold diggers, they're only after me for my fame or wallet. I've learned to tell who really wants to get to know me, and those who just want to use me for connections."

Lawrence nodded in understanding. "Here, here."

But Brad was shaking his head, a sad smile on his face. "But, dude, you're looking for a kind, sincere girl who likes you for who you are and isn't another shallow bitch. You're practically asking for the perfect girl."

Now, Bruno Mars's "Just The Way You Are" started to play, and the timing couldn't have been more right.

Trent Morgan laughed at that. "Bro, there's no such thing as the perfect--"

She's so beautiful, and I tell her everyday...

The green-eyed model froze, following the direction everyone was looking at.

And it's so, it's so sad to think that she don't see what I see.. 

She's here.