The Princess Pages: A Girl Like Cinderella

Song Forty One

IT'S SO MUCH EASIER TO OPEN UP TO A STRANGER

Trent Morgan had yet another busy day ahead of him. 

And on this particular Wednesday, his agenda was no different from the rest of his days.

At 4:30 am, he was dressed in jogging apparel and did his routine two-hour jog/walk around town. One of the ways he kept shape, and waking up before dawn gave him the solidarity he craved and seldom got in daytime and nighttime.

By 6:30, he took a hot shower and ate a healthy breakfast in a local diner that was already opened by that hour. He had been the first and only customer that morning.

7:30 came, and now in a fresh green polo and black pants, Trent busied himself with guitar lessons, piano lessons, and revising his recent compositions for his new album next year.

11:30, he had lunch with a group of investors whom have been working with Morgan Music and Fashions for five years.

At 1:00, Trent met with team leaders and stockholders of the Morgan fashion brand at a conference meeting.

3:00, he visited Brad's main branch in California, watching his friend evaluate his employees' work performance in the Fields' Food Towers.

4:00 found Trent sharing a bite to eat with Lawrence, who had just taken a break from training new recruits at the Lawson Tech,Inc, his family business of programming and computers.

Currently, still in the same green shirt and black slacks, the famous model and singer sat quietly in his limousine's plush seat, resting his chin on the back of his fingers, as he gazed out of the tinted window of the limo, eyeing the drizzling rain come down in buckets.

I wonder what she's doing right now? he thought, an image of Cara flashing in his mind. Those fierce green eyes, that wavy blonde hair, and her endearing laughter. He honestly wanted to pursue her, but how can he, when she didn't seem to want to be chased?

Suddenly, Trent Morgan exclaimed, "Jonas, stop the car!" upon seeing a girl knelt to the wet ground when the limo passed by Green Day High.

What had made him say that? Curiosity? Probably. But as the tall model stepped into the rain, unfurling his big black umbrella, and strode towards the girl in a dark blue hoodie, he felt something strange at the sight of her. A warmth, a softness. An urge to protect her.

He cleared his throat, and in the most gentle manner, called out to her. "Hey."

The girl looked up at him, and when she did, Trent was struck by her eyes. They were watery, and he couldn't differentiate the tears from the rain, but he saw much more in those bluebell orbs. He saw a loneliness that matched his own.

Sensing her wariness, Trent offered his free hand, and somewhat reluctantly, the long-haired girl accepted it. 

He helped pull her up from the slick pavement, confused by the trail of tingles he felt from touching her hand. She felt so familiar, yet so different at the same time.

"You're shaking," the green-eyed model said, wrapping his arm over her shoulders.

She let him. 

"What's your name?" Trent asked carefully, while guiding her towards the black limousine.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she stood still in front of the lavish vehicle, her head still covered by part of the brown-haired singer's black umbrella.

"Hey, what's wrong?" the 18-year old teen asked her,his kind tone surprising himself.

After some struggle, the bespectacled girl peeled out a sheet of paper from her drenched backpack and scribbled on it for a minute, then she gave the scratch paper to Trent Morgan.