Page 4 of Passenger Princess

“You know, I could be someone very important, and you’re just pushing me aside.”

“You’re not,” he states, blunt and asshole-ish as ever, and my eyes go wide, my mouth dropping open.

“Excuseme?” Harper's hand goes to my lower back, and she murmurs something about leaving, but I don’t even process it because the big man is speaking again.

“In this world, inmyworld, you are not important. Sorry, princess, blondes with hot bodies wearing crowns celebrating their birthdays are a dime a dozen.” His eyes shift from the crowd to me for a split second, and I hate to admit his eyes are also incredibly attractive as they scan me. “Nothing special.”

My mouth is opened in shock and irritation, and I’m about to snap back, but I’m stopped by Harper tugging at my hand.

“Come on, babe. Let’s get you out of here,” Harper says, looping her arm through mine and pulling me away. “It’s not worth it.”

“He’s being a self-righteous ass,” I say with a wave of my hand in his direction, now determined not to back down.

“It’s my job to keep uninvited people out of this section. I’m simply doing my job,” he says, not an ounce of apology in his words.

“Does doing your job include calling me adime a dozen?” He doesn’t get a chance to answer because, when he opens his mouth, we’re interrupted.

“Ava!” a voice says from behind the big guy, and when I look up the small set of stairs, there's a familiar smile. “Ava Bordeaux! Is that you?” Stella Hart, now StellaGreene, comes down the stairs, and the man steps to the side as she puts her arms out.

“Stella! Yeah, it’s me!” I hug her, and over her shoulder, I glare at the big bodyguard, but he’s unfazed, looking at the crowd once more.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking me over.

“Celebrating!” I say, pointing at the crown.

“Oh my god, that’s right! I heard! Congratulations! Okay, youhaveto come up.” She turns to the big guy, patting his shoulder. “They’re cool.” And then she grabs my hand, tugging me and, in turn, Jules and Harper up a couple of stairs and into the small area where people are sitting on cool, low couches before turning to face us.

“Guys, this is Ava Bordeaux—she went to Ashford High a few years below me, but we were in cheer together for a bit.” A man I recognize as her husband, Riggins Greene, scoffs, and she glares at him.

“It still kills me you were in cheerleading,” Reed, the guitarist with floppy, curly brown hair and a sweet smile says.

“She won the Miss Americana Pageant,” Stella says to Riggins, who has stood and put an arm around her waist, pulling her in tight like he can’t bear to have her out of arm’s reach for long.

“Wow, you don’t say,” he says, looking impressed only because his wife is impressed.

“Yeah, but to be honest, we only came over here to say hi to Stella because Harper’s boyfriend is a boring loser and refused to come here to celebrate with us.” Stella wrinkles up her nose, and I give her wide eyes and a nod, conveying exactly how I feel about Jeremy. “But you guys are his favorite band, and I just thought it would be so hilarious to send him a picture of us all seeing you.”

“Oh, diabolical,” Stella says with a laugh. “Yes, yes, absolutely! Guys, picture!” she shouts, hands waving at the guys, and I half expect all of them to glare and sayfuck offsince, before we came up, each was involved in their own conversation. Instead, they instantly obey, standing while I hand one of the servers my phone to take a photo.

Stella Greene is a power of nature, so really, I shouldn’t be surprised. The photo is taken, and my phone is returned to me.

“Oh, my god, this is perfect,” I say, looking at the shot with Harper in the center, Wes, Reed, and Jules on one side, Riggins, Beckett, and me on the other. Jeremy is going to shit his pants. “You guyssomade my night.”

“Oh, anytime. We love revenge over here,” Wes says with a smile and a wink at me.

“My kind of guy,” I say with my favorite sassy smile before turning back to Stella. “Seriously though, we just wanted to stop in and say hi—this was so much more, but we absolutely don’t want to intrude. It was so good to see you!”

”Oh, my god. No way, you're not intruding at all! Please, stay! I’m getting so bored with the guys here.”

“Hey!” Riggins says from behind her.

She looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes at him. “There’s only so much of them I can take. Sometimes I need girl talk.”

“Oh my god, that’s so true,” I say, even though I absolutely do not—I haven’t had a real boyfriend in years, much less one whose friends I hung out with so often I got boredof them.

By choice, I’ve been single, going on a never-ending series of one or two dates before deciding they weren’t for me. Sometimes, I’ll keep a guy around for a few weeks, but never for anything serious.

Life is too short to spend giant chunks of time with anyone who doesn't hold your interest.

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