Ain't No Princess
Summary: "Maybe I'm your Prince Charming, o' Princess." "I ain't no Princess." "You're wrong," he said, and I stopped breathing. "You're my Princess."
Love is but the discover of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
Slouching further in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest as the music thudded and people jerked around awkwardly (I'm sure they would say it was rhythmically) making random motions that supposedly constituted for dancing. I heaved an irritated sigh…I. Hate. Dances.
No, I'm sorry, I don't hate them…
I loathe them.
And I'm pretty sure they loathe me right back…if that's possible.
And yet somehow (I'm still trying to figure out the details on the conspiracy myself – when I find out, you'll be the second to know) my friends (currently not on my "best friends" list right now for this specific reason) had managed to dress me up in a tight, pink halter top dress, two inch heels, make up (which supposedly brought out my "emerald" eyes…I wasn't so sure) and – now I admired them for this – tame my unruly chestnut ringlets into pin straight hair, then finally…after one hell of a fight…get me here. But after that, their success ended. After they got me in here, I went straight for the chairs, lined up on the side, and no amount of protests or bribes could convince me to get up and dance. As usual.
See, here's the thing about dances. I used to like them…once. But you've got to understand, dances become kind of painful when you see the object of your affection grinding (a.k.a sex with clothes) and engaging in other acts of PDA (examples include but are not limited to groping, tonsil hockey, shameless flirting, etc.) right in front of you. Definitely not a pleasurable memory.
Looking up, I groaned. Think of the devil…look who had spotted me.
I glared. Maybe he wouldn't come this way.
Did I mention that all of this is a lot harder when said object of affection is your best friend?
Well, it is. Its hard not to go weak at the knees and ignore your rapidly beating heart and butterfly stomach when he smiles his trademark at you, the one where he shows his perfect pearly white teeth in an amazingly attractive manner. Like…he was doing right now. Damn him.
"Will." Tight. Simple. Pissed….at the dance, not him. But he knew that, which is why he smirked, seeming to find pleasure in my pain. Again, I repeat…damn him.
"You look lonely."
You look gorgeous, I thought, looking up into his brown (I liked to call them caramel) eyes. He shook some of his sandy hair out of them, and tilted his head, his lips curling into a curious smile. I could feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks, and was glad it was dark. I averted my eyes and shrugged.
My eyes snapped up to him, then at the people around me. Was he talking to me?
"No." How'd I manage to say that? Oh…right, my mouth is on auto-pilot. Stupid mouth.
"Aww…c'mon, Jo. Why not?"
"I don't dance."
"I can't dance." That was no lie. No coordination in these gawky limbs.
"But you owe me one," he pleaded, taking a seat beside me.
"A dance?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I remember no such promise.
"No, a favor. Remember, today in English?" As if he thought I wouldn't, he reached out and grabbed a guy walking past by the arm. "Dan, doesn't Jo owe me one? You heard her say that, right?"
I looked up at Dan, shaking my head no. A large grin spread across his face. "Man, you saved her ass."
Will looked back at me as Dan walked away. I would have to kill him (Dan, not Will) later. "See?"
"I remember," I groaned. English…got to love English. You see…no, I don't even want to go back there. I guess I did owe him one. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"My favor is a dance."
I was afraid I was going to faint right there.
"One dance," he said, taking my petite hand in his larger, callused (from baseball and his job on the construction sites with his dad), ones. He pulled his famous puppy dog face, eyes wide, bottom lip quivering. "Please, Jo?"
My heartstrings tugged. How could I resist? "Fine."
He grinned in triumph and I couldn't help but grin back. What can I say…it was contagious.
As luck would have it (for him, not me) the last song has just ended. Standing up, he pulled me up gently with him and guided me out onto the gym/dance floor. I could feel dozens of eyes following our progress.
Oh….did I mention he's one of the "hot, popular guys" in our school? Whoops…guess it slipped my mind. (Cue eye roll).
As luck would have it, (again, his luck, definitely not mine) the song that started was a slow song. The familiar chords of "This Time" by Jonathan Rhys Meyers (You know, the song from the new movie, August Rush? Anyone? Anyone?) met my ears.
Luckily, Will had heard my "I can't dance" confession, and he took my arms and slipped them around his neck. His went to my waist, and shivers danced across my spine. "Now all you have to do is sway," he whispered, smiling encouragingly.
At a loss for words, I nodded mutely, keeping my eye downcast as we swayed/rocked to the music. Awkward much?
"Did I tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?" he asked softly, and I looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide.
"N…no," I stuttered, gazing up at him. The look in his eyes made me look away. "You're just saying that," I muttered quietly.
"I'm not," he said, gently, in a way that made me look up again. "This…" he took one of his hands from my waist to brush it against my hair, "Is definitely different. Though I have nothing against the curls," he added, with another smile. "And the dress?" His eyes took a moment to travel down the low neckline of my halter top, and I thought my cheeks would catch on fire right then and there. He looked back up, meeting my eyes and grinning. "Stunning."
"T…thanks," I stuttered again, my blush growing…something that I didn't think was even possible. "You don't look half bad yourself," I said, managing a small smile. He didn't, either. White button down shirt partially tucked in and half unbuttoned – exposing his tanned chest - his tie loose around his neck and baggy jeans clamped at the waist with a plain belt. Handsome was an understatement. I gave him another once over. A very, very BIG understatement.
He feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his heart. "Gee, thanks," he said dryly. Then he winked. My heart fluttered in response. "I do mean it though," he said seriously, giving my hips a gentle squeeze for emphasis. "You look gorgeous."
Biting my lip, I nodded, not sure how to answer that. We lapsed into silence as the song continued, the lyrics of the song hauntingly familiar.
"Jo, I…" Will started, gazing deeply into my eyes.
The song ended. From behind us, I heard someone call his name. I wriggled out of his grasp as he turned his head to see who had called out to him.
"I need fresh air!" I yelled over my shoulder, pushing my way through the crowds. I knew I was running away…but from what, I wasn't completely sure.
"Jo!" I heard him call from behind me again, but I didn't stop.
Cool air slapped against my face and arms after I finally (do you know how hard it is to get through that crowd?) made my way outside to our school's courtyard. Crossing my arms over my chest, I took a deep breath.
"Breathe, Jo, breaaaaathhheee," I muttered, walking around in small circles. I slapped my cheeks…as if that would take the flame away from them. Not after everything he had said. "He didn't mean anything by it," I said out loud, as if I had to reassure myself. How could he mean anything by it…we've only known each other and been best friends for the past what, five, six years?
"Out here all alone?"
I turned at the voice, and had to restrain from cringing. "Hey, Pete."
"'Ello, Jo," he said. He looked, and sounded as though he had been drinking. Great. Maybe you can't tell, but Pete's not exactly my favorite person in the world. "Wanna dance?"
"Awww, c'mooon, just one wittle dance," he slurred, holding his thumb and forefinger a little bit apart. He started at them funny, as though they confused him. A grin broke out on his face. Yup. Definitely drinking.
"I don't think so, Pete."
He took a step towards me. I took a step back.
"No." With that I turned and walked away gracefully. Or…at least…that was the plan. My shoes, those stupid freaking shoes, had other plans. Having found the perfect spot of mud from last night's rain, my left shoe decided it would make a perfect home, and justhad to move in right away. As I turned, my shoe stayed, my foot went, leaving me one shoe on and one off, standing oddly unbalanced. Pete didn't notice.
"Just one dance?"
"No, Pete." I said, glancing at the shoe in the mud and grimacing. If I tried to get that, the end result would likely be the rest of me falling in the mud. Sighing, I hobbled over to a bench and sat down to inspect the buckle on my other shoe (The darn thing was so complicated that I was still trying to figure out how the other one managed to come off).
"I believe she said no, Pete."
Looking up, I saw Pete spin around to come face to face with…Will? What was he doing out here? For a moment, they stood there, and it was a battle of wits, Will staring down harshly into Pete's eyes, Pete glaring defiantly back up. Then Pete sighed in defeat.
"Whatever, man," he said, walking away, bumping against Will's shoulder as he did. Will stood there for a minute, then looked up at me and smiled.
"I do believe I just saved you," he said, and I smiled.
"Probably," I admitted.
"Maybe I'm you're knight in shining armor," he said playfully. I laughed in response, and looked down at my foot. He followed my gaze and saw my bare toes wriggling in the open air. His eyebrows knitted together in confused curiosity. Then his eyes landed on my shoe stuck in the mud, and a grin broke across his face. He strode over to retrieve it, and shook the mud off as he made his way to me. "Or maybe I'm your Prince Charming, o' Princess."
"I ain't no Princess," I muttered under my breath as he knelt in front of me and slipped the shoe back onto my foot (distractedly, I wondered how he managed to work the stupid contraption of a buckle). "Which means you aren't Prince Charming."
"You're wrong," he said softly, tilting his head up to look at me. The look in his eyes made me stop breathing. "You're my princess."
I couldn't tear my eyes away from him this time. He stood up slowly, and sat next to me. I turned to face him as he took my hands in his. His thumb circled the back of my hand, and I shivered. His eyes held mine, and he seemed to be leaning towards me.
"Jo," he breathed, and I could feel his breath tickle my lips. The next thing I knew, his hands reached up and pulled my head towards him – gently, mind you – and his lips crashed against mine. I was so shocked, I could barely respond. After a moment, he pulled away and looked at me, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "Jo…say something," he said, his eyes pleading.
"I think…" I started. I had to clear my throat before I could continue. "I think I made a mistake."
I watched as his face fell, his lips formed a straight line, and his hands left my cheek to fall into his lap. "Oh."
"I think…" he looked up at me. I reached forward and grabbed his tie, using it to yank him towards me. "I think maybe you are my Prince Charming," I told him, right before our lips met. I could feel him smile into my kiss.
"If you say so, Princess."
Love…binds everything together in perfect harmony.
-Paul in Colossians 3:14-
Sooo, how was it?
This is one of my experiments with first person, and it was a random idea that came to me last night. It sounded better when I was writing it, and I'm not so sure about the ending...but what do you think? Feedback of any sort would be great! Hope you enjoyed it :)
Now Fixed: Earlier I had grinding as sex without clothes on, but it no says sex with clothes on. Sorry about that...I can never seem to say it straight. Thanks a million to "always wandering" for catching that, I owe you one! (Also, thanks for reading and reviewing, Always Wandering ) (1/4/08)
Also Fixed: Well, now, I am a HORRIBLE speller. Thank you to my readers for pointing out my definately mistake in definitely and defiantely. My spell-checker did not pick that up. Whoops! All better now, I hope, but if you see it in here, please let me know so that I can fix it! Thanks! (1/8/08)
Thanks for reading!!