Her Royal Highness

I see a perfectly lovely girl
who my sister is completely mad for, and who’s throwing away a good thing because she’s not brave enough to give it a shot.

One
heartbreak per year should be more than enough for me. And that’s all Flora could be, really.

Heartbreak.

Flora, did she break whatever it is you have in place of a heart?

“Prince Sebastian of Scotland, my future husband,” she informs me. “That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

It’s not cool to stare, I know that, but this is literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

Getting away from here. Not having to deal with seeing Mason and Jude kiss against lockers. Not hearing Darcy’s I Told You So, or seeing Lee’s sympathetic looks.

But then Flora says, “But I so enjoy when you argue with me.”

I swear, if Flora could use her brain for something other than cooking up various schemes, she’d probably rule the world, but I’m too angry to be impressed.

Jude is kissing someone, and it’s not me, and I am such an idiot.

I’m struck by how wide-eyed I look, and how very un-me I am in my dress. But maybe this is me? Just another version of me I didn’t know was in there.