Mondo Pastello | girlxgirl | Completed♕

Chapter I ♥ Normality

He was now nineteen and was at his first year in college, working to get a photography degree. I support him wholeheartedly and was glad that he got to pursue what he loved. Not many had that opportunity. He also had a job as an assistant photographer at a modelling agency his father worked at; the recommendation getting him the job. But because of this, the time spent together began to decrease. It also did not help that I was being prepped for the crown, which took twice as much energy and time out of me as usual.

If there was one thing that remained constant in my life, it was my ballet.

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"... two two three four... three two three four... four two three four," the counting of my ballet teacher's voice was the only mercy I could claw onto as my middle split was forced further than its intended hundred-and-eighty degrees; my one foot rested on another girl's shoulder. I really was not intended for this kind of flexibility, especially for not that long. Four bars of four was quite long if she took a breath between each count.

"That's enough," there was a collective groan as the studio's girls released their poor legs from each other's shoulders. "Remember to prepare for Saturday's open class. Everyone up," quickly, and collectively, everyone stood and took on the initial posture: first position with feet, first with position arms. "Révérence," everyone stopped to the right and bend their heads in a ballet curtsey, chiming the words 'merci beaucoup'. Thereafter, everyone left to pull trousers over their stockings and some began to immediately take out the bun on top of their head. I preferred to pull a normal dress over my head and switch shoes before quickly making my exit.

Outside I was greeted by the immediate sight of Caleb's mini car, making a smile appear on my face. He never fails to pick me up after my Wednesday class. I quickly pulled in beside him, and after putting away the assignment he was working with on his laptop, we were of.

"How was ballet?" was his initial question, but I could tell it was a bit dull today. I could see the tiredness seeping in him.

"Terrible. Madame made us practice oversplits and I am pretty sure my body was not intended for such abuse," he gave a small smile and nodded, eyes focused on the road. I felt a bit awkward. "How was the lecture?" he sighed at this.

"My professor said that I need to be more creative for the midterm project, otherwise I would get a bad mark," this surprised me.

"But I saw your initial ideas! They were beautiful! How can that not be creative?" he shrugged his shoulders.

"Colleges are strict when it comes to what they prefer to be art and what is not," which to me, was completely unfair. I did not say it out loud, though. I could tell he was just as frustrated as I felt. He even more so, because now he had to find some new inspiration and quickly.

"There are only so many types of flowers in the UK that have not been photographed yet. Maybe you can find something with more diversity. Something where you can take your own unique perspective on the matter," I offered as consideration. I really tried to understand how deeply photography meant to him, and guess that it rivalled to my feeling of ballet. He seemed to think over this, I could tell. His teeth caught his lower lip and I could not help but admire his adorable dorky appearance.

"Like a ballet dancer with purple hair?" he tried to lighten his own mood. I giggled at the attempt.

"Well Mister Adams, I am surely unique in that perspective," I joked. When I was fifteen, I had dyed my hair a pastel violet and have not yet let go of the colour. You could not tell that my hair was once a caramel colour. I still do not know who was more furious: my parents of my ballet teacher. Eventually, both parties let it go and soon took my violet hair as a part of me. Madame once called me to her side and said that it made me seem more 'me', whatever that meant. I still had to wear a wig and fake bun when I was on stage. Caleb was all for my change, and after two years of making no attempt to change the colour, my parents began to realize that I truly loved it and it fit me. But would the Crowned Princess be applicable with purple hair?

"That is true," Caleb nodded with a smile and continued to focus on the road to his house. He took a deep breath before starting a new topic. "Uhm, look Alice, I think maybe that... because my assignment..." I giggled at his nervousness.

"All is good. I know that you want to get it finished, so I will call Ian to come pick me up. We can hang out when you do not have life-demanding essays to work on," I shrugged it off and he let a relieved sigh. Truthfully, I was dreading that we had to cut our meetings so short. I took out my smartphone from my ballet book and quickly dialled Ian.

Ian, as far as Caleb was aware, was my foster father who took me in when I was young. Ian, in actuality, was a Royal Guard and my bodyguard. I trust him with my life. He acts as my guardian and even offers his real home as cover if Caleb ever asks to come over to my residence. Ian is truly dedicated to his job and his loyalty. As I dialled him, I know that he was probably in a car a few spaces behind us as he tailed us. I hate to put up such an act up in front of the boy I fancied.

"Ian?"

"Your Highness? Is something the matter?" I could hear the concern in his voice.

"Can you maybe come pick me up from Caleb's place? I am feeling a bit tired today after ballet," I could hear his sigh of relief.

"Of course, Highness. I shall take a detour?" he questioned. Of course his inquiry was valid.

"Yes, thank you," the detour meant him taking longer to reach Caleb's house so that it seemed as if Ian took off from his home and matched the time slot. Caleb was smart. "Can we get smoothies on the way back?" I quickly added. I heard his chuckle.

"Certainly, Your Highness," and with that I ended the call.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Caleb apologized but I waved it off.

"It is no trouble at all. How many times have I had to blow you off? Quite a lot more than vice versa," still, I could see he felt bad. We arrived at his home and I joined him in the living room. He still lived with his parents because it was convenient with the college near the house. He would do apartment hunting soon, however. Just after he had settled his laptop and work in the house, I heard the hunk from Ian's car. No alone time, after all. Not even a little.

"I'll see you... Saturday? For the open class which you're dragging me to?" Caleb retorted as he stood over me, a solid eighteen centimetres taller than my short figure.

"It will be fun and amazing and you will be perfect," I said, taking a step over to him as placed my hands on his arms. He smiled down at me, warmly, and dipped his head down to give me a quick yet embracing kiss. He pulled away far too soon for my liking. I punched his arm, causing him to recoil.

"What was that for?" he asked with a slacked jaw.

"That is good luck for the essay. You are going to beat it!" I expressed, punching the air in front of me as he shook his head in amusement. He escorted me outside and after greeting Ian in respect, I slipped into the car and we were off.

"Highness, what smoothie do you fancy?" he asked me as we stopped at the 24/7 café which seemed to serve any and all drinks.

"Rose and strawberry," I answered after thinking. It was one of my favourite flavours. I paid for it myself and even got one for Ian, as I sympathized with his tedious labour to follow me around. It was not as if I stayed still in one place, after all. After years of him resisting my offers, he learned to accept my actions. He called me strange.

Unbeknownst to me, as I had my humorous exchangewith Ian about gossip I heard from other ballet dancers whilst waiting for myorders, a certain café waitress with a gothic look to her appearance watched myfigure with absolute awe.