Unroyal

Attention

Dahlia

I comb my hands through my brittle hair, which is, surprisingly, vomit-free. Unsurprisingly, I don't know how it is vomit-free. The stench that covered my body head to toe last night is completely gone. I smooth down my uniform and loosen my tie. Deep breaths. It will be okay. You are going to do fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. I murmur into the mirror.

Colette saunters into our shared ensuite bathroom, hair done up even better than the first time I saw her, uniform more pristine than normal- if that's even possible. She stops slick in her track, looking me up and down, concerned. "Just back from the other girls rooms, you look great! Are you okay? God, when I heard what happened-"

"You heard what happened?" My heart drops in my stomach. First day, and I'd walk in the door with everyone knowing I was victim to just the thing I tried escaping my home from. God, might as well not have changed schools at all. "Do you think anyone else will?"

"No! Darling, nothing will happen. I'll be here with you every step of the way. If anyone else says something, you can tell me." She walks over to the bed, packing a few books into her matching Chanel backpack and cards into her wallet.

Oh god, what if she's lying? What if she's telling me that to make me feel better? Especially in such a tight-knit school where everyone knows everything about everyone? I try to hide my shaking when I look back into the mirror and pick up my things. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I will do fine. I will do fine.

"By the way, why didn't you come back last night?" She sings, probably expecting a juicy answer.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I would tell her, I would really love to tell her about the cute guy who took care of me in his room last night. The one with magic powers that magically scrubbed me clean of vomit stench. But I can't be sure he'd want me to tell anyone. He could be embarrassed. It could ruin his royal image. He might not even want to be associated with me.

"Oh, uh I just used the public showers and may have passed out in one of the unnoticed common rooms." She nods, seeming to trust my answer.

"Next time this happens, no- next time you get drunk or pass out, you have to text me, okay? I'd help! I can't imagine any of this ever being done to you again." Colette pulls me to her chest, her perfume more prominent than before. She takes a good look at my face, as if making sure nothing had happened to me.

I truly hope Luca is okay. Because as bad as it was, it wasn't as bad as what happened to me at home.

"Right well, let's go! You look gorgeous. We have first period English together, I'll walk you." She says, looping her arm through mine.

As we pass through the halls, Colette greets at least a dozen students. Ducking my head into my bag, I hide my face- just in case I see Luca or the other students talking about me. Dahlia, you're with the elite now. They don't care about your petty drama. We make our way to the science tower. Yes, an entire tower dedicated to only science. It was genuinely insane and completely out of this world.

Colette squeezes my hand as we face the classroom. Curious glances are sent, coupled with nods and whispers at me as a couple of people squeeze through the door. "Relax. They don't know about yesterday. Everyone just loves new meat. Don't worry, it happens every year." She whispers with conviction. I walk through and sit at the desk Colette gestures to- right beside her and Aaliyah, who spares me a comforting smile and tiny wave.

"Morning students, nice to see some fresh faces and some old ones." It's an old lady, maybe in her fifties, with a kind smile and grey hair. She eyes wander around the classroom until they settle on me. "You must be Dahlia." She remarks without a look on her sheet. I tentatively nod.

"Welcome to advanced English. I'm Mrs Stevenson. You'll be happy to know that all of you, that are here, that is, are the 30 selected to take part in the most exclusive class our syllabus offers," everyone in the room sits straight up, sending proud looks and sly smiles "meaning that the expectations will be lengthy. This is a place for passion and devotion, I will accept nothing less. If you-"

The door slides right open, then straight shut.

Nicholas strides right in, and everything in me lights up. In me, that is, because I'm doing my best to not show a peek of a smile or a hint of emotion. I didn't have a crush, did I? That would be silly. We only interacted once.

The fact that he looked even better didn't do much. Tie loosely undone around his neck, shirt ironed but untucked, hair washed but unsettled. It gave the perfect combination of sophistication
and chaos in a single person.

"Mr Hawthorne. How nice of you to Grace us with your presence." Mrs. Stevenson remarks, sarcasm and annoyance present.

Nicholas gives a fake curtsy and feigns a bow to the class as snickers erupt.

"In front of Miss Hayes, please."

"Yes ma'am." He replies, winking. Aaliyah stretches toward me from her seat before he makes his way over.

"He totally got hotter. Not my type, but still..." she drags, eyes looking up and down. I stifle my giggle and cast my eyes downward as he plops down in his seat. I can smell everything. The whiff of his cologne, woody and masculine just like yesterday.

"Class, this is our new student Dahlia Hayes. Please be nice." Mrs Stevenson states simply.

I try not to disintegrate into my chair. Sadly, it works. Nicholas turns his head back and a dawning look of realisation is set. It's the second time I'm seeing his face up close. Tiny freckles, perfect eyes, arched brows. Not knowing whether to look back or look away, I divert my attention to Aaliyah, who looks at me quizzically.

Mrs Stevenson begins on the structure of our syllabus as Aaliyah passes me a note.

You know Nicholas?

I shake my head, lying. Aaliyah eyes me suspiciously while I pass the note back.

Everyone noticed how long you looked at each other. Even the teacher was confused. No one got to ask you any questions.

Oh no. Oh no.

I shake my head and shrug, feigning innocence. I did feel bad, but it wasn't something that he would want me to tell.

I sit in class the entire time thinking of him. How he took care of me.

Carried me to his room, with his strong strong arms (not that I noticed), not minding that I took away from his time with his friends.

Let me sleep where he was supposed to.

Listened and responded to me, like he was truly interested.

But nothing would come out of it. It's become increasingly apparent that he had the hearts of every girl in our grade. Girls that I was incomparable to, girls that he had the undying attention of.

Which was perfectly acceptable.

Because I didn't like him. Not one bit. Why would I? Was my resolve so weak that I could like someone I only spoke to once?

But there's nothing wrong with admiring from afar.

No, that's perfectly fine.