Her Runaway Prince

Chapter 4

“Let’s go out tonight,” Peter said abruptly, completely breaking Amanda’s train of thought. She blinked, turned away from the dishes she was washing to look at the handsome man next to her, who was drying the dishes as she washed them.

“On Halloween? That already seems like alcohol will be involved,” Amanda snorted, pulled the sink’s plug to let the water drain and splattered some water from her hand onto Peter’s face. Peter didn’t even flinch, but presented her with a ghost of a pout.

“Only if you want to. Honestly, you seem tense. I think we should go out, Amanda. Bond, as friends and what not.” He twirled the cloth he’d been using to dry the dishes around in the air before laying it over his muscular shoulder. “Frankly, we both need it. So, one way or the other, I’ll be dragging you out of this BnB tonight.”

“Well, you might have to use force,” Amanda sassed, secretly smiling when he rolled his eyes in response.

“Well, then I’ll use force. You seem light enough. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and leave like you belong to me.” Amanda tried to ignore the way her heart jumped upon hearing that. She scolded herself, telling herself that she should not be feeling this way. For more than one reason.

Firstly, he was not only a customer, but an employee (well, technically speaking) as well. Secondly, she wasn’t sure how far healed her heart was. The heartbreak she’d suffered previously… she hadn’t been sure if she’d ever come back from that. She’d been stuck in a dark, endless abyss of despair, with no light at the end of the tunnel, and barely a will to live. However, the voice of her nana in the back of her mind had kept her going. She’d learned how to breathe again, she’d learned how to smile again, she’d learned how to laugh again, and she’d learned how to feel again.

However, was she ready to learn how to love again? Especially with a man she barely knew? A stranger who could literally be anyone (her money was on axe-murderer). The logical part of her knew better: that part of her mind was telling her that she wasn’t ready, and that she still needed time.

However, the way his smile seemed to light up the room, the way his voice gave her chills, the way his touch spread fire all over her skin: all those things seemed to be telling a different story than what her heart was telling her. She was very mad at her heart for being such an unreliable organ.

“If you’re going to be so stubborn, I’ll guess I’ll come,” she sighed dramatically, holding her hand to her forehead. “You’ll be the death of me,” she commented, and he smirked, which caused her heart to stand still.

Oh, he has no idea how much I mean that, she thought.

It was just her hormones, they hadn’t been active in years. Her feminine soul.

Yeah, I blame my ovaries.

*****

Amanda was busy getting ready in her room, or well, rather, she was very close to finished, when Peter’s excited knock on her door drew her attention away and nearly caused her mascara to draw her another eyebrow. She finished her makeup quickly and opened the door, revealing only her face to Peter.

“You’re not allowed to laugh at how I look.” Was the first thing she said, and he nodded with a thumbs-up. She closed the door again, and walked in front of the mirror. She was wearing a skin-tight pair of black jeans, which complimented her long and toned legs, an over-sized white-button down—which sadly hid her well-defined middle—and knee-high black leather boots. She adorned her look with hoop earrings, slightly curly hair and a long golden chain. She was supposed to be a pirate—as she and Peter had decided that they’d wear matching costumes—and his outfit looked much like hers, except that he’d taken the time to fashion himself a sword out of cardboard. She smiled at her reflection, grabbed her purse and opened the door.

When Peter saw her, he whistled, grinning an unholy grin. “Well, Amanda, you look ravishing,” he commented, and she looked away shyly, feeling her cheeks warm up at the comment.

“You don’t look half bad yourself. However, you could have trimmed yourself a classic pirate beard. You know, the triangle patch on the chin or something.” She brushed past him, heading downstairs. He was close on her heels.

“It’s not too late to draw one on you instead!” he commented, to which she only glared at him from over her shoulder. When they reached downstairs, he raced ahead to open the front door for her. She smiled gently and walked out, locking the cottage behind him when he came out.

She spent a few seconds looking at the cottage, innerly asking her Nana if she was making a good choice, or if it was too soon, or if anything would come of this night. A sudden warm breeze blew and she took it as a good sign. Whatever happened was meant to happen and nudge her in the right way. She breathed in the warm wind, allowing her alveoli to fill with the delightful air. When she breathed out, she started walking off with a skip in her step.

The night was warm, not at all as cold as they’d expected it to be. Everywhere in the streets Jack-O-Lanterns were set up, grinning maliciously with the candles inside them. Children were running around and giggling with their bags of candy, wearing cute and scary costumes which made Amanda yearn for her childhood days, before everything had gone downhill. She clutched her purse closer to her and slowed down to properly take in everything: the sweet smell in the air, the sounds of people talking and laughing, the crunching of the autumn leaves beneath her feet, the color of the sky above them.She tried to just appreciate the moment properly.

“So, where are we going to drink?” Peter asked, putting an arm around her shoulder, and Amanda playfully shrugged his arm off. Of course it would be Peter who interrupted her train of thought. These days, he’d been occupying her mind just as much as he’d been occupying her reality.

“There’s this bar just down the road, it’s my favorite place. It’s going to be quite busy tonight, but if the vibe isn’t nice, we can buy a few beers and head back to the cottage and party on our own there.” She chuckled when he pumped his fist in the air. She truly couldn’t figure him out. At times he was a beacon of maturity and manners, and other times—well, most of the time—he was an adorable goof.

“Is there a nice place to dance?” he asked, his eyes alight with the prospect of a fun night. She nodded, thinking about dancing with him, his hands on her hips, his eyes locked with hers, their lips a breath’s distance away from each other—

No. No, she was going to stop herself right there. She was not allowed to feel that way. Not at all.

“But keep yourself in check around some of these ladies. I don’t want to go picking you up from some strange lady’s house tomorrow morning, or better yet, save you from the wrath of a jealous partner.” She giggled when Peter shrugged, as if not completely throwing the idea away.

“Fair enough. But same goes for you! Any guy who wants you will have to go through me first.” He smiled gently as he said it, as if he genuinely meant his words.

When they reached the bar they were immediately greeted with loud music, the cheerful voices of the patrons, the smell of fried food, and of course, the smell of alcohol. They found themselves a booth at the back of the bar, where it was still fairly quiet, and Peter declared himself to be in charge of alcohol for the night—which Amanda doubted was a good idea, but she couldn’t say no to his handsome face.

She admired the way his body moved with ease around the drunk clients, smiling widely at them and even engaging in some easy small-talk as he passed by. He had a certain type of magic when it came to other people, a certain kind of jazz which made everyone automatically like him. He was a people’s person, a man of words, and he was surrounded in mystery which made people even more intrigued by him.