Glass Sneakers

7th ♕

We lived in a swarmed area. A two-way street that meant it. The first face I saw was Art, who was standing a few steps away.

"Hi," Art, best pal nowadays, greeted me. He was wearing a casual suit, a V-neck shirt underneath it. His slim fit pants were folded at the bottom. A comfortable pair of sneakers finished his get-up. It was, like, he was going to take a walk in the park.

"Hey," I replied.

Art handed me a bouquet of white roses. "It's nice to meet you?"

"Hello, Prince Arthur of Triavia. I am very overwhelmed by your presence." It was odd that I'd been talking to him all week, but this should be our first meeting. How should one rightfully act?

"Flowers for you," he said, moving the bouquet towards me.

"What's this for?"

"Flowers," he answered, "for you."

"I'm not even dead. Why are you giving me flowers?" I asked him with a constrained voice, in case anyone would manage to hear that past all the security detail that was surrounding Art.

"Aren't girls supposed to be thrilled with this, no?"

"That's odd. I don't even know what to do with this."

"Smell it?"

"Why?"

"Beats me. George, do everyone a favor and just hold it for a little while. We don't want them to think that you're snubbing the flowers," Art told me, with that plastered smile on his face.

I took it from him, despite not understanding its purpose. The crowd's cheer got even livelier when I held the flowers. With that same fixed smile on my face, I told him, "I wish I could fake a blush right now."

Art grinned. "Thank you for the thought that my soon-to-be princess will try to get smitten by my charms."

"I'll definitely try my best."

"Do you want to invite me inside?" he asked.

"Oh, right," I said, remembering was why he was here. Traditions and all that. Making way for him, I added, "It's just my mom, though."

"I'd love to meet her," he replied.

Since Mom no. 2 didn't want to go out of the house because of her apprehension to having her pictures taken by the paparazzi, Art got inside and was only followed by two security personnel and several official photographers. Somehow, they managed to fit inside our living/dining room after temporarily moving our small table and red stools to the kitchen.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Art greeted Mom no. 2, offering a hand. I swore he was about to say madam, but he hesitated when he saw how young Hannah, Mom no. 2, was. He also gave her a bouquet of flower. Hers was of different color, like spring.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Highness." Mom no. 2 was getting uneasy as the photographers took her photo while they shook hands.

They had a small conversation regarding our home and how long had we been staying here. Art was asking a few more questions about me and my dad, but the photo op was prioritized. There was a schedule that should be followed.

It turned out that having the prince in a place like this with a lot of people around was a high-risk situation, or so I heard from the security details talking in the background. With my lingering apprehension to the spotlight, I moved to the far side of the room that I was even able to hear the orders given to the security personnel. But of course, the even coordinators had called me over after noticing that I was somewhat missing from the scenario.