by Rachel Astor
And I could not figure out why on Earth he would be so shy about something so normal. I didn’t even know what to say, so I just looked at him, hoping he’d fill me in on what the heck was going on.
“It’s just that… oh God, this is so embarrassing.”
“What?” I said, smiling and hitting him playfully on the arm. But my mind was whirling, wondering what in the world could make him so uncomfortable.
He leaned in really close, like ‘past my face and his lips practically becoming a part of my ear’ close. “I don’t really work out, exactly. I mean, not in the conventional way with weights and stuff. I…” he took a deep breath. “… I do yoga to keep in shape,” he whispered.
Oh my God! I did yoga too! Just one more thing we had in common. “So that’s it? That’s the big secret? That you do y…”
He flung his hand to my lips, silencing me and looking around to make sure no one was paying attention. Which, of course, was wishful thinking since everyone totally was. “Shhh.”
“What?” I said, though it came out more like, “mmrawpht,” what with his hand still covering my mouth and everything.
He dared to let go of my face long enough for me to say, “so what’s wrong if people know you’re into…” and then the hand was firmly planted again.
I crinkled my brow in a way that said, “jeez, what the heck is up with you? Afraid a few people might find out you like to do a little downward-facing dog?” At least, that’s what I was trying to say with it, but I’m pretty sure I got a little distracted picturing Jake in a downward-facing dog, so the expression might have come out a little… differently than I’d intended.
“I don’t know, it’s just that… it seems a little feminine for a guy who’s supposed to play an alpha male onscreen to be getting ripped via tree poses and plank postures.”
I think he might have said something else, but seriously, he couldn’t possibly expect me to be listening after he’d got me thinking about him in poses like that.
I shook the images out of my head. “But what about guys like Matthew McConaughey or Hugh Jackman? They’re always on the beach doing their...” I looked around. “Yoga,” I whispered, with my hand blocking my mouth from the side.
He looked at me like I’d just made his point. “Exactly. And look how… goofy they look!”
Hmmm… goofy had certainly not been one of the words I’d been thinking. I licked my lips.
“Josie!” Jake said, possibly starting to get the teensiest bit annoyed that he didn’t have my full attention. “You have to swear you won’t tell a soul about this.”
I shrugged. “Okay,” I said.
It might be nice to have the images all to myself anyway. Well, except I had to tell Mattie of course, I mean, his head would totally explode when he found out.
“And especially not Mattie,” Jake finished.
“Aw man…” I pouted.
But Jake finally smiled again, satisfied that he’d sufficiently succeeded in getting me not to spill. Of course, it wasn’t like I could really help myself with info like that most of the time. Really, he should have known better than to tell me if he really wanted to keep it a secret. Which reminded me of a fairly ‘wanting to fall into a crack in the Earth’ yoga story that I really should get into my diary, and it really could not have popped into my head at a better time, because with Jake being all embarrassed and stuff, I was actually starting to feel like we might be on the same level. Yeah, I was on the same level as my super-gorgeous movie star boyfriend. Right. I needed to remind myself what a miracle this relationship really was so I wouldn’t do something stupid to screw it up.
I excused myself and headed to the restroom to quickly jot it down before I forgot again.
Dear Disaster Diary,
Remember the time Calla and I (ugh, Calla, I still have trouble thinking her name let alone writing it) went to that advanced yoga class on a whim? We’d taken a few basic classes, so we figured we must be ready for something a little more… challenging.
Well, I was not prepared for how toned and perfected everyone in the class was, and Calla looked at me like she was ready to bail too, so we were about to gather up our things and get the hell out of Dodge. But that was the exact moment the instructor showed up, and it was so crowded in there with everybody’s mats all squished together like sardines, so there was no way we could sneak out.
There was nothing left to do but sink or swim.
And things were actually going pretty well, I felt like I almost belonged there. I mean, I was having trouble keeping my breathing steady since every move we did was forcing my body into places it had never been before, but even though I was working harder than I ever had, I was keeping up!
Then it was time for Crane posture. It’s this crouching move where you squat and put your hands down in front of you, kind of like you’re ready to take off in a game of leapfrog, but instead of jumping, you climb your knees up onto your elbows and balance on your hands.
I was terrified.
But I climbed on up like a good little yogi and couldn’t believe it, I was balancing on my hands!
I was doing it!
And then I began to teeter. And, well, when your hands are trapped under your entire body weight, you’ve really got nothing to help catch your fall.
You know, except your face.
I swear I nursed that fat lip for a week.
And I suppose, things may not have been so bad, and everyone might have even had a little giggle at my expense—which, goodness knows I’m used to—if not for the fact that when I fell, I rolled into the person in front of me and started a giant Crane posture game of dominos with yoga students going down, one after the other after the other.
I couldn’t help it. I scarfed down dinner like it was the last time I was going to eat. But Jake and I only had one night together and I was not about to waste half the time on something as silly as eating. There were far more important things to do when there were only a few short hours left, if you know what I mean. And I’m not one to kiss and tell, but maybe, just maybe I was able to convince Jake to show me one or two of his yoga moves.
It nearly killed me to have to drive all the way back to the castle the next day.
~ 9 ~
When I got back to the castle, I cracked open my how-to autobiography books again. Things were getting real now. I had to do something about the book.
The how-tos did actually have some very good advice on how to collect the material on your subject. “Dig as deep as you can, especially in an interview. Do whatever it takes to get to the heart of the story.”
Whatever it took, hey? I wondered, thinking I’d have to use all my best social skills to get much closer to the Prince. Of course, that might be easier said than done given the sad state that my social skills were usually in.
Although, the Prince did hire me after he read the Disaster Diary entries in the tabloid. Maybe the way to his heart was through an embarrassing story or two. Ooh, maybe I could even coax one or two out of him if I told mine first. I grabbed my diary and started flipping.
I needed to find the perfect story to break the ‘ice of embarrassment.’
Dear Disaster Diary,
Life was good the day of the sleepover event of the year. I mean, most popular girl in school’s house, makeovers, girlie movies, all my friends, and truth or dare. Seriously, when you’re fourteen, how much better does it get?
Not much.
But why, oh why, did I have to be such a heavy sleeper? Sure, I could usually see the humor in a good prank or two, but why must I always seem to be the butt end of them? And why couldn’t they just put shaving cream in my hand and tickle my nose, or even put my hand in warm water? I mean, at least then the amount of witnesses would be fewer.
But no, they preferred a much more public display, apparently.
I’d looked so good after the makeovers (at least in my fourteen-year-old mind), and I could not have been more content, or full of ice cream sundaes fo
r that matter, as I drifted off into my dreamless sleep.
The big game was the next day, and we had to get up bright and early and since I’d slept so soundly, and had barely moved through the night, my makeup still looked great.
At least that’s what my friends told me.
So off we went to the big game and boy were people admiring my makeover. I was getting looks and even smiles (squee!) from all the hottest guys in school.
It might have been the best day of my young life.
But then, I had to go to the bathroom. I smiled at all my admirers as I walked through the bleachers and all the way to the bathroom, my confidence soaring. I felt like Cindy Crawford on the cover of Vogue.
Until…
I finished up in the stall and headed to the sinks to wash my hands. And then I looked into the mirror.
Turns out, my friends had found the time to paint my entire face with Jessica’s little sister’s bath crayons. My face was a kaleidoscope of color. I had a blue moustache, giant, green clown eyebrows, lips and perfectly round circles on my cheeks the color of ketchup, and yellow stars painted everywhere else.
At least they hadn’t printed a nasty word on my forehead, I suppose.
~~~
I told my story at lunch.
I guess I did a pretty good job since Prince Leo was practically rolling on the floor. Although, he might have been a little too amused at my misery, truth be told. I mean, the incident was well over a decade ago and after watching him clutching his stomach at my humiliation, some of it oozed out from that dark little place in my brain, shoving the shame front and center. Prickles danced under my armpits. I tried to adjust my position nonchalantly, to stop them, but I think I just ended up looking like I was trying to move some gas around in there or something. Luckily, Leo was still too busy laughing to notice.
I took several sips of my wine, waiting.
And waiting.
When he finally caught his breath, he was practically exhausted.
“Well, I knew my story was a little funny, but I wasn’t sure it was that funny,” I said, trying to regain my composure.
“Oh God,” he said, “that is priceless. My mates and I used to pull pranks on each other in school. They would have loved that one.”
“Really?” I said, smiling, praying that I could get him to reveal one or two.
“Sure,” he said, “you know, the usual… buckets of water on the tops of doors, water balloons from the roof, that sort of thing,” he said, with a wave of his hand.
But I was not ready to wave the conversation away just yet.
“So you were a prankster in school?” I said, raising my eyebrows, digging into my wild rice pilaf and scallops.
“Oh sure, isn’t everyone?”
I shrugged. “Not everyone, I don’t think. I wasn’t much of a prankster, I just got pranked a lot.”
He started laughing again. “Yes, it would seem so.”
“Who did you prank?” I couldn’t help but ask, wondering if he was one of those kids who just liked to torture his friends, or who liked to pick on the underdog.
“Oh, you know. The guys. Oh, and there was this one kid, Melvin. He was a riot to get. He’d always freak right out. It was hilarious.”
Hmmm… not looking too good for the Prince. “He was one of your friends?”
“Not really. He was just this kid whose parents lived in India or something and they sent him to private school here.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.
“Do you know what he’s up to now?”
“Haven’t got a clue,” Leo said. “He’s probably an owner of a big telecommunications company or something. Always was a smart one, that Melvin.” He smiled, like he was remembering the kid fondly, though I couldn’t help but wonder if Melvin would feel as fondly about the whole situation.
“So if Melvin wasn’t a close friend, then who were your friends?”
“Ah, you’re gathering info for the book, I see?”
I smiled conspiratorially. “Well, it is my job.” I thought I might throw in a wink for good measure, the books did, after all, say to do whatever it takes to get the story, but I wasn’t really sure if I was a winking kind of girl. Maybe after a bit more wine. I settled for another smile, hoping my flirting skills were up to par. I mean, I did somehow land Jake, but I still had absolutely no clue how that little miracle happened.
Oh right, I had to win a contest. Oh yeah, and then I had to win another contest to actually go on a date with him.
So… luck. That was all I had going for me apparently. Luck.
Suddenly my smile was starting to feel a little forced and… quite painful, actually. I may have even looked just the slightest bit possessed. I loosened my smile a little, telling myself to calm down. I had a whole book to write, for Pete’s sake. This one little tidbit of info wasn’t going to make or break it.
But at least I was finally getting somewhere. Perhaps I could track down good ol’ Melvin and see what his take on the whole situation was.
“Josie?” Leo asked.
I blinked. Crap, I’d forgotten I was still staring at him with the ridiculous smile on my face.
“Oh sorry, I guess I was just trying to picture you as a kid, pulling pranks.”
“Well,” he said, leaning closer. “I was a pretty cute kid.”
With those looks, how could you not have been?
Which was what nearly came flailing out of my big mouth, but luckily I hadn’t had so much wine yet that I was blurting things. I set my glass back down without taking another sip… just in case. I just nodded instead.
I tried to go back to eating, but there was something holding my gaze. Oh yeah, it was the Prince. Just like… staring.
And I hated to admit it was very, very flattering.
And very wrong!
Of course, the only reason I was still sitting there really, was because I had to get my story. And really, there was no other way to get the story than to get to know Leo.
Really well.
I mean, it’s not like I would ever let it go too far. Sure, I’d have to pretend to be flattered for a while, which, given the circumstances (little old me being flirted with by a Prince!), should be extremely easy. Plus, you know, I just had to think about my boyfriend for approximately a second and a half before all thoughts of other men were whisked neatly from my thoughts.
Even if the man in question was a very good-looking Prince.
“You know what we should do?” Leo asked. “We need to get out of here for a while. Have a night out on the town!”
Ugh, I’d just had a night out on the town that could never be topped. But Leo was so enthusiastic there was really no way I could say no, until the stark and scary Miranda promptly popped into my head. “That sounds really great,” I said, “but I can’t. I’m not allowed to be seen with you. I’m bound by a contract.”
The Prince crinkled his face in confusion, which, by the way, made him look even cuter. “Seriously? Miranda made you sign a contract?”
“Of course. I mean, I have to remain completely incognito the entire time I’m around here. I mean, I can watch you out in public, from a distance,” I said, quickly adding in case of any stalker suspicions, “you know, so I can get a sense of your daily life or whatever. But in no way am I to be seen with you.”
The Prince took a bite of his rice, completely lost in thought. “So,” he said, taking a drink of Shiraz, which was just one more thing that was quirky about the Prince. I mean, everyone knows you’re not supposed to drink red wine with seafood, but he just drank what he drank because he liked it, not because it was the way it was supposed to be done. “You’re saying you can’t be seen in public with me, right?”
I nodded, quite enjoying the Shiraz myself.
“But… what if it wasn’t you?”
Okay, so he was a Prince and all, and I was supposed to be polite and everything, but I could not stop myself from saying, “um… so how would we go out on the town together if I wa
sn’t actually there?” I gave him a look that clearly said he was not having the best moment of intelligence.
“Easy,” he said, a huge smile forming. “All you need is a disguise.”
“Oh yes, I’d look very incognito in a trench coat and Aviator sunglasses.”
He laughed. “Actually, I think that would be quite cute, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
I decided to let the cute comment pass and tilted my head, confused. Surely he couldn’t be serious. “Okay, so what did you have in mind?”
He got up. Which I thought was totally weird, since he hadn’t even answered my question. “Follow me.”
“Um, okay…” I said, setting down my fork. I figured there was really no reason to leave such a delicious glass of wine sitting there though, so I grabbed it for the walk.
In this castle, who knew how far we might have to go.
I still didn’t know if I would ever be able to find my way around the crazy maze, but Prince Leo seemed to know exactly where he was going. I mean, it was his house and all, but I still couldn’t figure out how he did it. After the little incident with Miranda finding my things, I’d never trust myself without my blue light again.
Finally, about a half a glass later, we arrived at our apparent destination.
Leo flung the double doors open and stepped inside.
The room was much the same as the one I was using, except the décor was very different. Everything was set up like a beach resort, wispy white curtains, which I could only imagine would flow delicately in a breeze if the huge patio doors had been open, and the room faced out to the pool so it was almost like you were at some spa getaway instead of in the heart of the English countryside. I personally adored the English countryside, or at least what I’d seen of it so far, but even I couldn’t argue the serenity of the pool that looked like it had been carved out over centuries of natural evolution. Small, potted palm trees and various other tropical plants were tucked in every corner, lending a feeling of being on vacation to the suite.
