Secret Royalty

Chapter Two

I fell asleep that night around twelve, my mind temporary calmed. I awoke and sat up, looking around, the morning sun glaring through the windows and shining on my face. I hissed at it and hid under the covers until it became too hot and stuffy. I then ran away to the safety of the bathroom, the sun not able to chase me any longer. After brushing my teeth and using the toilet, I trudged down the stairs to the kitchen.

I was rummaging through my cereal for the less soggy ones when my phone went off, shrieking “Blood Pressure” by Mutemath. I stumbled to pick it up without dropping my bowl on the floor with fright. Once I had done so, I put the blackberry up to my ear. Thinking I was talking to my all-time best friend, Pierce, I let out a deep, long “Hey.”

“Looks like someone didn’t follow my rules,” declared the voice almost teasingly.

“What?” I asked, glad that the anonymous caller couldn’t see the look on my face.

The caller let out a sigh, “C’mon, Em, we all know you didn’t go to bed at a decent hour, now did we?”

Forgetting caller ID earlier, I checked it then, Jed’s name blinking on the screen. “Oh, hey, sorry,” I grumbled, nudging the phone between my ear and neck so I could continue my breakfast. Why was he calling again? “Just for the record, I fell asleep around midnight.”

“Really?” he asked before chuckling lightly.

After remembering I had a speaker on my phone, I let my shoulders relax as I cursed under my breath for forgetting my phone had all of these features. “Yeah. Really,” I persisted, my spoon clanking against the empty bowl for more cereal, even though it wasn’t there. “Do you need something,” I asked, pushing the bowl aside and leaning closer to the phone, “or are you just lonely?”

His laughing ceased as he said, “Both, actually.”

My eyes rolled once again at his comment. “I don’t like desperate guys, Jed,” I cooed into the Blackberry.

“But I was only-“ he started before I hung up, ignoring the next two calls he attempted. I put my bowl in the sink and scampered upstairs to put a new tee shirt on. After finding a clean Pink Floyd tee and switching it for the dirty one I wore to bed, I jogged down the stairs, pulling it over my head as I did so. My fingers found my laptop and dragged onto my lap.

A knock sounded on my door. I practically yelled every swear word in my mind before opening it, hoping it wasn’t another elderly lady asking if I had seen their cat. Sure, both old ladies and cats were cute, but when you have to hear about day in and day out, it’s get’s old rapidly.

I never had expected to see Jed’s face as I opened the door, but I did. I didn’t try for a conversation; I simply swung the door open and went back to my spot on the old couch. Eventually, he came in, shut the door, and sat next to me, watching my screen curiously. I closed my tab and shut the computer. “Hello,” I chirped.

“Oh,” he smirked, “you speak.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, nervously looking away, afraid of him seeing me.

His finger brushed a lock of my hair behind me ear. “Want to do something today?” he asked curiously, his breath grazing slowly near my ear.

“Like what?” I answered, my eyes still trained onto the book sitting on the side table that I was currently reading.

He thought for a moment. “What about the park?”

I bit my lip. “Which one?” I had said, the excitement pungent in my voice. I finally gave up my ways and looked at him, which caused him to smile.

His fingers trailed through his wavy brown hair. “I was thinking the cherry blossom one, but it’s your call.”

“I haven’t been there in years,” I responded immediately, bringing my feet up onto the couch.

He rested his arm on the top of the couch. “Good. May I ask you a favor?”

I nodded, “What is it?”

“Do you have a notebook I could borrow? I like writing there; it’s my favorite spot and I forgot my own,” he asked pleadingly.

My head bobbed. “I do,” I said before hopping swiftly off of the couch to retrieve one I had with a few of my sketches.

When I returned, I tossed it on his lap. He flipped through to search for an empty page before he found a picture of mine. It was a quick sketch I did a week before of a girl hiding in a dark corner. I had always loved shading techniques.

“Did you draw this?” he had asked, his eyes still darting around the page.

I crossed my legs like they had once taught us in elementary school. “Yeah,” I sighed.

His eyes widened at my words, “This is fantastic.”

“Really?” I questioned, my eyes twitching in confusion.

“Amazing,” he breathed, his head shaking in disbelief as he searched the book for more. I didn’t see anything impressive with it.

I looked around my house, which I discovered needed to be cleaned. “Your poetry is better,” I protested and leaned back against the armrest.

“Not at all,” he objected as he continued to study my work.

I bit my lip, not wanting to fight anymore. “I’m going to go change into real pants and then we can go, okay?” I asked, pinching the fabric of my flannel pajama pants.

His head nodded subconsciously, “Whenever you’re ready.”

On that note, I returned to my room, throwing on light-washed skinny jeans and my grandmother’s old sweater that hung below my waist. After doing my makeup and adding leave-in condition to my hair, I trudged down my stairs, messenger bag thumping against my hip.

“Ready,” I panted, standing behind the couch as he wrote poetry in my sketchbook. I slipped my black Vans on that were sitting near the couch.

He cocked his head to the side to see me. “Great. Lets go,” he stated, getting up from his seat, notebook in hand.