Lucas Prescott was at the forefront of my mind for the rest of the day. As I laid back in bed that night, my thoughts continued to swirl around him. Prince Coleman had found my report of the party quite disappointing, since all the obnoxious little details he desired had blurred in my mind, replaced by Luke's enamoring song.
So, when are we going to start dating? I wondered. Hopefully ASAP. This whole 'single and ready to mingle' bit is getting old.
Sure, I had some fun times with some of the other boys, but did they sing me a love song? No. I mean, hadn't Luke basically declared his love for me?
Of course, the ever reliable Negative Cassie stepped in to ensure I wasn't getting too excited.
What if he wasn't singing the song to ME? What if I just thought he did? What if he was looking at me in a friendship way?
Nonsense! Positive Me argued. He clearly loves me and we are getting married tomorrow.
The night was spent mulling over the event until I drifted off into sleep.
"Here's your breakfast, Prince Coleman." As I passed the Prince his silver platter, I craned my head every which way about the room searching for Luke.
He's always here in the mornings!
I hadn't had an opportunity to talk to him since he sang the song and I needed to establish our relationship status. Or if it all was some fluke.
"What are you so preoccupied with?" Prince Coleman asked, an eyebrow arched. "Inspecting to see if the place is clean?"
"Unless you've done something terrible since last evening, the place should be in tiptop shape," I answered. Isabella had shown me (quite indignantly) how to properly look after the room.
"Then why are you looking around the room so searchingly, little maid?"
"I was just curious where Lucas is." I shrugged as casually as I could.
"Well, I thought I ought to reward the poor chap for dealing with Calista's nonsense. I gave him the day off."
My heart plummeted. "Wh—you—uh—" I was speechless. How was I supposed to talk to Luke today, now?! Curse you, Prince Coleman!
"Don't be so upset, little maid. You already get every weekend off to gallivant about doing who knows what, and your pathetic report back was not enough to compel me to let you off work too." He took another bite of his crepes. "You're stuck with me today."
I got all dolled up for NOTHING! I thought angrily. I took extra care with my makeup, styled my hair the best I could while following regulations, and for what? For another day with stupid Prince Coleman?!
"Wipe that sour look off your face, little maid. It's unattractive," Prince Coleman chided.
"Prince Coleman finds me unattractive!" I gasped dramatically. "However shall I live with myself?!"
He laughed softly, and handed me his tray of empty dishes.
"I'll be back in a half an hour," I said, off to drop off his tray and eat my breakfast, as per usual.
"Oh no, just set it on the bedside table. Someone will take care of it." He waved his hand carelessly.
"I am that 'someone,' Prince Coleman." I rolled my eyes.
"Not today, you aren't. On our way out get someone to come collect that," he said.
"On our way out? What?"
"Lucas is off work, as you know, leaving me without an attendant for the day. You must step into his role today as butler."
"Prince Coleman," I started. "I don't know how to be your butler!"
He stepped out of bed and to my horror took off his pajama shirt and tossed it at me.
"PRINCE COLEMAN!" I shrieked, burying my face into his shirt. His scent and warmth still lingered. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"I'm getting dressed for the day."
"And you're undressing in FRONT of me?!"
"Obviously not, I was going to finish getting changed in the closet."
I nervously removed his shirt from my face to peek at him. His folded arms emphasized his huge biceps and his shirtless nature reminded me that he was, in fact, quite ripped.
"You certainly seem to enjoy holding that shirt of mine." He wore a cocky grin accented by mischievous green eyes.
I dropped his shirt immediately and turned around.
"Just go change in your closet already, will you?!"
He soon reappeared wearing nice pants and a white collared shirt with rolled up sleeves and a few buttons undone.
"Well?" Prince Coleman asked, stepping closer to me. "Does this look alright?"
"Why are you asking me?" I grumbled, ignoring the fact that he looked more than 'alright.'
"Because you're covering for my butler, little maid."
Why can't Luke be here?! I thought angrily.
I faced Prince Coleman and carefully eyed his outfit up and down with a scrutinizing eye. He had done an excellent job dressing himself, to be honest, managing to look effortlessly sexy. "You look fine, Prince Coleman. Though your hair is a mess."
"I'm getting to my hair," he said as he headed for the bathroom. "Follow me, little maid!"
As soon as I stepped into his luxurious bathroom, I was assaulted with a comb.
"Can't you just hand me stuff like a normal person instead of chucking everything at me!" I snapped.
"Not my fault you have poor reflexes."
My eye twitched. "What do you want from me?"
"To fix up my hair, obviously."
"I can't fix that mess." I gestured toward his shaggy black hair. "You need a haircut, Prince Coleman. You'd look so much better with one."
"I don't need to get some little haircut."
"Your hair looks like a mangy mutt died on your head."
"Indeed it does not!" His nostrils flared. "And my hair is not that long!"
"It's over your ears and your neck and it falls in your eyes. Your hair is a mess, my prince," I countered.
"Many a woman has loved my hair."
"Not me."
"Well then, it's a good thing your opinion is of little consequence!" Prince Coleman snatched the comb out of my hand and started yanking it through his hair. His rich, dark, thick hair. I strangely found myself wanting to run my hand through his hair, but I quickly dispelled such a notion. After tidying up his hair, which I noticed was not styled so well as it normally was, he asked me to grab his cologne on an opposite counter.
"Creed Aventus," I read, picking up the cologne. "Eau de Parfum. Pinnaple, birch, and musk scent."
"Your French could use work," he commented.
"It sounds like a nice smelling cologne," I continued, ignoring his remark.
"Well it should be. I always wear it."
I sprayed the cologne into the air and stepped forward to take a whiff.
"You imbecile." He rolled his eyes. "What are you doing?"
"I want to see what it smells like."
"You could always have smelt it after I put it on." He stared at me as though I was the most idiotic person he had ever seen.
"I thought about that, but then I'd have to sniff you and I realized I'd rather I didn't."
Prince Coleman glared and took his cologne from me. It took me a few moments to realize that in my efforts to discover its scent, some of the cologne had gotten on me, and a strange sense of déjà vu washed over me. I hadn't realized that I knew, but somewhere my subconscious had his smell cataloged.
How else could I recognize that I smelled like Prince Coleman?