Chapter 8

“Can I help you?” came a voice from beside me, and I almost jumped in surprise.

A woman was standing by the bookstore’s doorway, a few feet away from me. She had silver hair that looked flat and thin, like a grandma, but her skin was free of wrinkles. She must be in her mid to late twenties.

“Oh, no, I’m just looking while waiting for my fiancée,” I replied.

“Be careful with the book. It’s ancient.”

“Excuse me?”

The woman stared at her for a few more seconds before vanishing inside the store without a word.

“Rude,” I muttered under my breath as I leafed through the book again before slamming it close. I was about to place it back on the shelf when I noticed I was holding an old leather-bound volume. The embossed golden letters on the cover read: Grimoire. I let out a little shriek and dropped the item as if it burned me. “Ew, ew, ew!”

I wagged my hands in front of me as if getting rid of something revolting in my hands. What was a witch’s bible doing in a place like this?

“Becca, my sanitizer,” I commanded without thinking, holding out my hand beside me.

“Who are you talking to?” asked another voice. This time it came from under me, and I jumped back in surprise. A guy was squatting in front of me. He was holding the bible in one hand. He must’ve swooped in before it fell to the floor because I’m sure he wasn’t there before.

“What is wrong with you people?” I blurted out, about to lash out, but I could only gulp air when the guy straightened up and I realized how tall he was. He must be at least six feet in height. My neck hurt just by looking up at him, mouth agape. He reached out to touch my chin to close my mouth but he retracted his hand quickly as if he were burned.

“Ow!” I looked at him in alarm because I was sure I felt something when he touched me. It was like a bunch of pins pricking my skin. “You’re hot.”

I thought he felt it too, but seeing him smirk at me, I realized he was just being cheeky.

My heart jumped to my mouth when the guy thrust his hand toward me. I stared at his palm, cringing at how rough it looked.

“Jasper,” he said in that rich baritone voice of his, and I realized he was introducing himself. “But you can call me… ‘baby.’”

My cheeks burned a deep crimson color. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to chastise him for his arrogance, but I appreciated the attention and the ego boost.

“Do you have a name, or can I just call you ‘mine?’” the guy continued with his cheesy pickup lines. I wanted to laugh but I put my hands on my hips instead, raised my eyebrows, and stuck my chin up in the air.

“Do these pickup lines ever work for you?” I haughtily asked. I stammered, but I schooled my expression in neutrality fairly quickly.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” the guy answered, placing the book on its shelf carefully before facing me again, crossing his arms on his broad chest and raking his eyes on my body. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He was cocky, and it was clear he liked what he was seeing. “D*mn. Where have you been all my life?”

Two could play this game.

I swallowed my embarrassment and studied the guy as well. Despite his goofiness, he was actually attractive. Beautiful tawny skin free from blemish and imperfections; shiny raven hair pulled into a messy man-bun; a pair of piercing, deep-set eyes, dark and bright at the same time; prominent cheekbones; an aquiline nose and a chiseled jaw. He was wearing a white shirt under a red-brown jacket, and brown work boots over a pair of dark denim jeans. He was carrying a small black plastic bag in his hand. The way he stood and carried himself—brimming with confidence and commanding presence—made him appear to be someone important, or at the very least someone who does modeling for a living.

I shuffled my feet unconsciously, and it reminded me of my current predicament. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying out.

“Did you get hurt?” questioned the guy, his demeanor changed from playful to consternation, his eyes filled with concern. He glanced at my feet. I shifted them again, this time with caution, but was still hit with searing pain. “How about you take a seat?”

I allowed him to guide me toward the bench. He smelled like jasmine, lemon, freshly cut grass, leather, and a scent I couldn’t place.  He smelled so good. Jasper knelt in front of me, grasped my ankles with his big, warm hands, and removed my shoes. I hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” Jasper said.

My blisters were in worse condition than I thought. They all popped and were now bleeding. It was customary to have my new shoes broken in before I wear them to prevent things like these, but I was so excited to show them off, I didn’t let Becca touch them. My bad.

He rummaged in his plastic bag and produced a small package of cotton swabs, a bottle of iodine, alcohol, and a roll of bandage.

He just happened to have all of these things prior to meeting me? How convenient. Not creepy at all. /s

He placed my foot on his thigh and silently cleaned my wounds. I don’t usually allow people to touch me because, for one thing, it’s against the royal protocol. Two, I loathe being touched by people. But I couldn’t help but comply with this person. Perhaps because I didn’t feel violated at all. He was only trying to help me. His intention felt genuine.

I stared at the top of his head. It felt like I’d seen him before, but no matter how I wracked my brain, I just couldn’t remember.

“I know you haven’t told me your name yet,” the guy said as he wrapped a bandage around my foot. He’d already finished with the other one. He’s surprisingly good at it, I don’t feel pain or discomfort anymore. “But do you want to go out on a date?”

He’s so forward! His shit-eating grin, combined with his confidence and pretty face, and the honey-brown eyes which were quite appealing! It made me want to accept his invitation. It didn’t help that he was charming... in an exotic sort of way.

 If only…

“It doesn’t have to be today if you’re working,” he said as he put his belongings back into his plastic bag after bandaging my foot. “Perhaps on your day off?”

“I’m not—”

“Is Princess Selina with you now? You work for her, right?”

“What?” I stared at Jasper incredulously. Was he mistaking me for Becca? Was he toying with me because he thought I was some naïve servant? Wait, if that’s what he thought, how did he know Becca? Was he a spy? A kidnapper? Just who was this guy?

“Jasper!” a shrilly, tiny voice called the guy’s name sharply from somewhere and both of us looked at the source. 

A girl no older than thirteen was charging toward us like a bull. She was tan and had long raven hair tied to a side braid. She had the same eyes and prominent cheekbones as Jasper’s, but a rounder, softer face structure. It’s clear they’re related.

“What are you doing?” the girl asked, stopping in front of Jasper, exasperated. She grabbed the black plastic bag and looked inside. “What’s this? Why are all they open? You’re supposed to help me buy medicine, not flirt with anyone with a skirt!” She looked at me like my very existence disgusted her. “No offense.”

I gasped at her audacity, but before I could answer, the girl was already pulling on Jasper’s arm.

“Come on!”

“Maybe next time.” Jasper winked at me before turning away and hissing at the little girl. “You are such a c*ck-block.”

“And you’re a man-wh*re!” the girl shot back, firmly clutching the guy’s arm as they walked away. “Buck is hurt, I knew I couldn’t trust you to go on your own.”

“Where did you learn that word?”

“Internet, duh!”

“That’s it, no more cell phones AND Wi-Fi for you.”

“You can’t do that, you’re not mom or dad.”

They were still arguing before they disappeared in a corner.

My face felt hot, and I was still a little pink in the cheeks when Henry came back from the toilet.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long,” he said while wiping his hands with his blue hanky. “There was a line and… are you all right, Selina?”

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked instead of replying. “Do I look homely?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I look incredibly dull? Unattractive? Would you recognize me as a princess if you didn’t know who I am and we passed each other on the street?”

“Uhm…”

“Or would you think I was a maidservant?” I was getting agitated and angry by the second. “Is it my clothes? Do I look shabby?”

In my kingdom, nobles weren’t allowed to wear flashy clothes and too much jewelry. We wore high quality clothes made by the best fashion designers in all of Terran, but we made sure they were simple and elegant. Were my clothes too simple? Was that the reason why that guy thought I was —

“What brought on these questions? Did something happen while I was gone?”

I did not answer. But that Jasper guy, he’s going to pay for his insolence.

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