2. P E N E L O P E 

1.       PENELOPE  

A cacophony of disco lights, neon hues, and pulsating music – a scene I vehemently despise with every fibre of my being. It's an aversion uncommon for a 24-year-old, a preference for the solace of indoor comforts. Given the choice, I'd opt for the warmth of N*****x and the embrace of a gripping crime novel, accompanied by the soothing tones of Lo-fi chill music. Tonight, however, marks a deviation from my usual sanctuary.

My steadfast companion, Sophia, had yanked me from the familiar confines of my haven on a Tuesday night, disrupting the rhythm of a typical workweek. The question of why I maintain such a friendship persists, and the answer echoes clearly – love.

"Having fun?" Sophia inquires, her eyebrows wiggling mischievously.

I frown, my reluctance evident. "No."

Hoping my lack of enthusiasm would be persuasive enough for her to usher me home, I anticipate a reprieve. Instead, Sophia rolls her eyes, dismissing my resistance. "You are such a drip. Let me go get us some drinks; maybe that will help lighten you up."

"Okay," I respond with a nonchalant shrug. She nods, vanishing into the undulating crowd, leaving me to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces on my own.

Regret trickles in; perhaps I should have accompanied her.

Surveying the pulsating club, bodies entwined in rhythmic dance, lips locked in passionate embraces, and hands exploring intimate territories, a visceral cringe course through me. This scene, a collision of uninhibited revelry, clashes with the tranquillity I hold dear.

After what felt like an eternity, Sophia reappears, her little black sparkly dress glistening under the dance floor lights. The long strands of her perfectly straightened hair cascade down her back, complementing her light chocolate legs that seem to go on forever. Her radiant, light chocolate skin emanates a natural glow that accentuates her beauty. Envy swirls within me as I take in her flawless appearance. She embodies confidence, exuding a bubbly and outgoing nature, a stark contrast to my own shy and awkward demeanour. The voluminous curls of my mane often feel like a hindrance, a testament to my thick and curvy physique.

Placing two meticulously crafted cocktails before me, she grins, her eyes widening in realization. A sheepish admission follows – she forgot her purse. Once again, I find myself left alone in a crowd, a surge of nervousness enveloping me.

Sipping on my cocktail, the liquid infusion prompts a welcomed relaxation. My gaze sweeps across the vibrant expanse of the club, and amidst the pulsating lights, a pair of eyes captures my attention – the King's. A flutter of anxiety courses through me as I watch him lick his lips and discreetly instruct a guard, pointing in my direction. I try to convince myself he's not looking at me, though the scepticism lingers.

Minutes pass, and a towering figure stands beside me – the appointed bodyguard. Meeting his gaze, I muster a nervous smile, and he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Your highness would like to buy you a drink."

"I'm good, thanks. Already have one," I respond in a hushed tone.

The guard straightens up, shaking his head at the King. In response, the King rises and strides purposefully toward us. Apprehension tightens within me; this encounter can't be fortuitous.

Taking a seat across from me in the booth, he commands attention with his stunning appearance – curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Despite his undeniable allure, the dissonance between us is apparent; I can't shake the feeling that I'm hardly his type.

"Don't be nervous," he says with a boisterous laugh, the sound reverberating through the crowded club, "I don't bite unless you ask me to."

I can't help but roll my eyes at his typical flirtatious remark. "I'm sorry, I'm Henry," he introduces himself, extending his hand across the table.

I quickly shake it, trying to maintain my composure. "I know, you're King Henry."

He lets out a hearty chuckle. "Please, call me Henry."

"Penelope," I respond, feeling a slight flutter in my chest as I meet his gaze.

"You're very beautiful, Penelope," he compliments with a nervous smile, causing a warmth to spread across my cheeks.

"Thank you," I murmur, feeling a rush of bashfulness.

"Why don't you come join my friends in the VIP area with me?" he suggests, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I hesitate, glancing around the dimly lit club. "I can't, I came with someone."

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Who?"

"A friend," I reply, scanning the crowd until I spot her approaching. "There she is."

Henry follows my gaze, his eyes landing on Sophia as she nears our table. "Sophia."

Her smile is radiant as she greets him, "Your Highness.

I introduce them, and Henry graciously takes her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it, eliciting a delighted grin from Sophia. "Pleasure to meet you, Sophia," he says with a smirk.

Seating herself beside him, Sophia returns the flirtatious banter, "The pleasure is all mine."

As Henry turns his attention back to me, I feel a surge of frustration as Sophia interrupts, seamlessly redirecting the conversation. "I had asked your gorgeous friend here to join my friends and me in the VIP area, and she said—"

"Of course, we'd like to join you," she interjects, her determination evident in her tone as she cuts off Henry's words.

"But your friend..." Henry begins, his confusion palpable.

"Forget what she said, we'll join you," Sophia insists, her grip tightening on my hand as she pulls me from the booth, determined to steer me towards the VIP area.

"Sophia, stop," I protest, tugging my hand free. "What, Penny?" she groans, clearly exasperated by my reluctance.

"I don't think this is a clever idea. This is the King we're dealing with here," I murmur, my apprehension creeping into my voice.

Sophia lets out an exasperated groan. "There you go again with your boring-ass caution, girl. Live a little, damn."

I can't help but feel a pang of doubt, but Sophia's infectious energy begins to sway me. After all, we're in a public place, surrounded by people. What harm could come from a little socializing with royalty?

"Fine, but if things get out of hand, I'm leaving," I assert, my tone firm.

Sophia flashes me a mischievous smile, her enthusiasm undeterred. Together, we make our way towards where the King and his entourage are seated. The guard lifts the velvet rope, granting us entry, and we're greeted by a group of five strikingly handsome men.

As we approach, all eyes turn towards us, and I can't help but feel self-conscious in my tight-fitting jumpsuit. Sophia confidently takes her seat next to the King, while I choose a spot on the opposite side of the couch, beside Ashby, my childhood friend.

"Penny, I'm glad you made it," Ashby greets me warmly, a genuine smile lighting up his features.

"Hi, Ashby. And it's not like I had much of a choice," I reply, casting a pointed glance at Sophia, who seems to be getting a little too cozy with the King.

My gaze drifts down to my clutch bag, and Ashby gently lifts my chin, concern evident in his eyes. "Still having anxiety attacks?"

I nod sheepishly, feeling exposed under his perceptive gaze. It's frustrating how well he knows me.

Ashby and I have been close since childhood, our mothers being good friends. But as he and his twin brother pursued careers in the army and ascended to nobility, our paths diverged, and I found myself seeing less and less of him. Today marks the first time in a month that I've seen him, and I can't help but feel a pang of longing for the simpler times of our youth.

"When was the last time you went for therapy?" he inquires gently.

"About a month ago. Work's been keeping me swamped," I confess.

Ashby frowns, concern etched on his face. "I thought I told you to quit that job, Penny."

"If I quit, who's going to look after Aunt Linda?" I counter, feeling defensive.

He sighs, frustration evident in his voice. "I told you I'd take care of both of you. Don't you trust me?"

It's an argument we've had countless times before, and I'm weary of revisiting it. I manage my aunt just fine, and I don't want to rely on Ashby's assistance.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," I mumble, my gaze drifting away.

Ashby nods understandingly, taking a sip of his drink. When he looks up, he catches Henry's glaring gaze, and a tense atmosphere settles over our group.

As Ashby abruptly leaves, I feel a pang of guilt for causing tension within the group. I consider following him, but I know it's not the wisest decision in the current circumstances.

"Everybody leave," Henry's commanding voice cuts through the air, demanding attention from all present. His authoritative tone sends a shiver down my spine.

"I said leave," he repeats, his voice firm. I begin to rise from my seat, but his next words stop me in my tracks.

"Penelope, sit. The rest of you, leave," he instructs, his gaze unwavering.

Sophia and the boys quickly gather their belongings and exit the scene, leaving Henry and me alone in the dimly lit space. As the door clicks shut behind them, Henry rises from his seat and moves to sit beside me.

My palms grow clammy, and I nervously wipe them on my tight jumpsuit, feeling exposed under his intense scrutiny.

"Penelope," he begins, his tone softer but still tinged with tension. I meet his gaze, finding his eyes dark and brooding with a hint of anger.

"Is Ashby your boyfriend?" he asks bluntly, his words cutting through the silence.

I shake my head, unable to find my voice amidst the swirling emotions inside me.

"Words," he commands, and I feel compelled to obey.

"No," I manage to stutter out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then why were you getting cozy with him?" His question hangs heavily in the air, his gaze piercing into mine.

"He's my friend," I reply slowly, my words feeling inadequate under his intense scrutiny.

Henry seems taken aback by my response, and I detect a softening in his expression.

"How long have you been friends?" he inquires, his tone softer now, tinged with curiosity.

"Since we were kids. We grew up together," I explain, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I reminisce about our shared history.

He sighs, and I sense a shift in the atmosphere, the tension beginning to dissipate.

"I'm sorry for getting so worked up over this. I wasn't aware of your relationship," he admits, his voice tinged with remorse.

"It's okay. Ashby has always been overprotective of me," I respond with a light chuckle, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Of course, a woman as beautiful as you should be protected," he remarks, his words causing a flush to rise to my cheeks.

Sensing the need for a change of scenery, Henry suggests moving to a quieter location. I nod in agreement, and he takes my hand in his, leading me up to the roof.

As we step onto the rooftop, I'm greeted by a breathtaking sight. The moon hangs overhead, casting a soft glow over the cityscape. Stars twinkle in the night sky, and the distant lights of Crawford castle illuminate the hillside.

I steal a glance at Henry, his features bathed in the moonlight, and I can't help but be struck by his undeniable allure. His blue eyes shimmer with an otherworldly glow, and his chiselled jawline and curly hair give him an almost ethereal appearance.

He catches my gaze and offers a gentle smile, and I find myself returning it instinctively. Despite the tension of moments ago, there's an undeniable spark between us, crackling in the air like electricity.

But I know better than to act on it. It wouldn't be right, not with everything that's happened. So, I push aside the flutter of emotions stirring within me and focus on enjoying the serene beauty of the night sky, content in the simple pleasure of Henry's company.

We bask in the tranquil atmosphere for a few precious moments, the serene beauty of the summer night sky serving as a backdrop to our silent contemplation. However, our peaceful interlude is abruptly interrupted by Sophia's arrival, shattering the quietude with her high-pitched voice. Internally, I groan, wishing for her to disappear and leave us in peace.

"Henry, I've finally found you," she chirps, her tone grating on my nerves.

Henry, ever the picture of politeness, attempts to mask his annoyance as he responds, "Sophia, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, silly," she giggles, her laughter feeling forced and insincere.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her blatant fakeness, choosing instead to remain composed.

"Let's go dance," she insists, seizing his hand in hers with an air of entitlement.

"I'm busy, Sophia. Maybe some other time," Henry asserts, gently pulling his hand away.

Turning her attention to me, Sophia addresses me with a question, though it feels more like a formality than genuine inquiry.

"Penny, you don't mind, do you?"

I find myself at a loss for words, caught between the desire to express my frustration and the reluctance to jeopardize our friendship.

"See, she doesn't even care. So, let's go," Sophia declares triumphantly, already tugging Henry away before I can muster a response.

As I watch them retreat, a wave of conflicting emotions washes over me. Envy simmers beneath the surface, mingling with resentment towards Sophia's relentless intrusion. Despite our long-standing friendship, there are moments when her behaviour grates on my nerves, leaving me seething with frustration. Yet, I remain silent, unable to confront her for fear of rocking the boat.

With a heavy sigh, I concede defeat and reluctantly leave the rooftop, making my way back to the VIP area. Retrieving my clutch, I slip away quietly, opting not to bid farewell to anyone. As I step out into the cool night air, the weight of unspoken tensions hangs heavy on my shoulders, a silent reminder of the complexities of friendship and the sacrifices we make to maintain them.