vegas | H.S.

a n g r y t i d e s

Luca lowered his eyes to his blueberry muffin, emptying a small breed of laughter until he returned his orbs to view me. "Question."

"Shoot," I replied, using my digits to break off a small piece of the scone to pop in my mouth seconds later.

"Have you been in contact with a guy named Harry?"

Eyes widen, nearly choking on my scone. Luca immediately handed me a napkin to clean up my features from the crumbs. Once I regained my common sense, I glared at him with stiffen eyebrows.

"What? Why would I even talk to him?" I blurted.

"You know when we went to the aquarium the other day?" Luca questioned as I brought myself to nod in response. "Well, that same lady followed me home and this morning before picking you up."

"Don't tell me she has something to do with him."

"Well then, you are really going to laugh at this one," Luca began, "She threatened me as if I was supposed to stop dating you. Her source says to convince me not to date you or scare me into doing so."

That little...

"What else did she say?" I grumbled in anger, adjusting my torso to face him directly for more confirmation of his ridiculous, stupid request to spy on Luca.

"Her source paid her to spy on me in order to gain information to compromise our relationship," He offered, placing his glass mug to the table after sipping from the brim, "In other words, he doesn't find us dating very entertaining."

"Oh? He doesn't?" I laughed at his attempt to foil my happiness. How could he have the nerve to do such as this?! Has he lost his mind?

"I told her off, and she won't be bothering me anymore."

"That won't do," I slid into the booth's opening, hand snatching the fabric of my jacket from the pool that formed around my hips. While fuming with anger, I forcefully shoved my arms into each sleeve, aggressively biting the scone. "We are going to the source."

"The source?" Luca stood from his seated position, mimicking my actions to wear his jacket on his shoulders.

"I haven't told you this before, but I've dated a guy named Harry. He is actually the duke of Holmes Chapel," I muttered with crumbs dropping aimlessly from my mouth.

Luca's eyes widened, but adapted to the news almost as amusing as it was to hear. "That must of been fun."

"Ha, you have no idea," I slated the rest of the scone to the garbage can even as heart-breaking as it was to get rid of the beautifully delicious pastry.

In a steady motion, we left out of the front door and ambled towards the vehicle we arrived in.

"Windsor Castle?" Luca questioned, eyes gazed over at my body, chest heaving from the tense frustration that controlled every aspect of me.

"Windsor Castle."

. . .

The massive amount of detail and architectural aesthetic that was constructed of the castle was astonishing. The building was a work of art, despite the evil and racist individuals that are housed inside. I admired the landscape of the Queen's home; neatly groomed arches of deeply colored forest green grass, stoned pathway leading to the large double doors with two statue-like guards clothed in red coats, much like the notable ones from the history textbooks.

Their eyesight remained forward, still and focused.

My rubber shoes trolled up the path, Luca trailing behind for the defense of my safety. I halted in front of the guards, clearing my throat in protest. They paid no attention, rejecting the urge to notice me and how I could of passed the first gate's barrier.