President's Princess

two

ANOTHER WEEK HAD PASSED BY and I was still a fangirling mess, little mental breakdowns commencing here and there. Days rolled over and the piece of paper Shawn had given me was still laid on my vanity, almost calling for me to open it after eight days. I still hadn't known what was on the paper but it wasn't like I did nothing all week. If whatever was on it was important, he could've communicated with me directly. Royal duties were always at hand and there to distract me from this tragedy of mine that, to my siblings, was all in my head. Of course it was a tragedy; once again I was being an entire pussy too wary of losing a love life I don't even have when I quite literally could have anything else. 

There was a knock on my door and Yvonne opened it a couple inches to peek in, not even bothering to ask for permission but I nevermind, placing my book down on the coffee table in front of my knees.

"You've got a party to go to tonight in Veramond."

"Yes, my parents have been breathing on my neck about it since this morning. Thanks, Yvonne," I gave a halfhearted smile, not appreciating the 101st reminder of the day. "No hard feelings towards you, Yvonne, but I just really detest the idea of doing things for publicity."

Yvonne apologized, opening the door up a few a more inches and walking in with a two piece dress. Sighing, I took it - almost against my will - and headed my way to the bathroom.

It was another half hour until I was boarding the plane to Veramond with my younger brother who was excited to see his boyfriend there. The piece of paper from Shawn was sat at the bottom of my purse, still silently calling out for my hands to unfold it. Since there was a remaining half hour until we arrived at Veramond, I finally came to the thought that delaying for too long to respond also didn't give the right message, either, if Shawn was open to even receive a message at all.

A number was jotted down in faded blue ink, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. What was I thinking, if it was important he could've communicated with me directly?! I took a shaky breath and dialled the number on my phone and placed the speaker to my ear.

"Hey, it's Shawn Mendes you're reaching to and-" I hung up right away, his recorded voice sending tremors throughout my body. My brother was sat across the table from me, eyebrow raised but I nevermind. He takes a couple of gulps of soda and lets out an audible burp, wafting the flavoured gas my way. It's always the siblings that question your peculiarity but turn out to be ten times worse. 

Dominic and I boarded off the jet, our feet meeting the foreign pavement which - as I walked - dreaded touching by every passing second. I wasn't sure why, but it had something along the lines of my parents trying to set me up with a man who thought talking about the weather was going to appeal to me. Cameras flashed our way after having their moment with the previous celebrity. We headed in through the building where at the top was Spencer Sinclaire's "third penthouse."

The atmosphere we reached just by reaching the top floor was more than lively. Young adults were flourishing, drinks in all of their hands and smiles on their faces. As I was about to ask Dominic where his boyfriend was, he had already disappeared into the pack of bodies. I sighed, really not knowing what to do as I knew absolutely no one. Soon enough, I caught sight of the redhead that invited me to this without speaking another word to me after the breakfast.

"Welcome, princess," he grinned, his aura bright but not lifting my spirits, especially after he had just called me "princess" like it was a pet name. I gave a thin-lipped smile, keeping my hands by my sides as he summoned me to follow him without another word. He took me to a pair of beautiful brunettes, one being Spencer's brother, Simon and a woman with strikingly similar facial features to mine.

"Carmenere, you've met Simon before but this here is my best friend, Juliette Durante," he put a hand on the girl's shoulder as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and held her hand out for me to shake. Her hand was soft and delicate as I came into contact with it, her clean manicure no comparison needed with mine. She had her dark brown hair short in a straight bob, brown eyes a little deeper and darker than mine but nonetheless still very beautiful. I mentally raised an eyebrow.