Page 55 of Prince Charmless
Taylor doesn’t say anything. I don’t think he’s interested in my middle school escapades. Instead of becoming a nervous rambly mess, I reach down to adjust the strap on my ankle. My heel is already chafing, and the party hasn’t started yet. When I put my foot over my knee to loosen the strap, a giant yet eleganthand rests on my calf. Taylor pulls up my dress a bit to reveal the rest of my microscopic tattoo. I’m surprised he noticed it.
“It’s an anchor,” I clarify.
He tilts his head. “From which angle?”
He’s being dramatic. It’s not that hard to work out that it’s an anchor.
“It’s actually my brother’s first tattoo,” I say. “He did it the way prisoners do when we were seventeen and before he had access to a tattoo gun. It’s a miracle it wasn’t infected.” Mom was pissed, but it was worth the pain. “Mateo hates it more than I do. He begs me to have him cover it up every time he sees the thing. He thinks I’m keeping it out of spite, but I like what it symbolizes more than how it looks.”
“And what does it symbolize, the decision of a drunken pirate?”
“That anyone can be good at anything. Even if you’re really shit at first.”
Taylor looks back at his phone. “How profound,” he mutters.
As our car pulls up to the gardens, the sound of camera shutters crescendos like an orchestra. They pulse like a tachycardiac heart. What have I gotten myself into?
“I didn’t tell anyone you’re coming, so they might go a little crazy.” Taylor’s face strobes from the flashes penetrating the windows. “That’s the point, though, I suppose.”
“They’re not going crazy now?”
“It’ll get better once we’re inside,” Alex assures me. “There’s no photography allowed.”
“Is it too late for all of us to just blow this off and go to a bar instead?”
Taylor closes his eyes. “Don’t tempt me, Melina.”
I take a deep breath.Inhale, exhale. You agreed to this.
Alex opens the backseat door for us. Taylor exits first, then Alex puts out his hand for me so I can climb out of the carwith ease. The camera shutters intensify. Everyone seems to be confused about the whole me-not-being-Prince-Thomas thing.
The sight before me is surreal. The stairs to the botanical gardens are lined with photographers, people on the phones recording, and onlookers seeing what all the fuss is about.
Shit. Stairs.
These heels are now a definitive mistake. If I fall now, my embarrassment will live on in infamy. I’m entranced by my dress reflecting the camera flashes. It’s like the fabric is dancing.
I snap back to reality when Taylor leans toward me.
“You okay?”
The press must’ve liked that gesture as the sound of the shutters swells.
“Yeah, they seem to like you a lot.”
He buttons his suit jacket. “I don’t know why. I’m not that great of a person.”
“I feel like we’re penguins at the zoo,” I say through a smile.
“Why penguins?”
“I don’t know, penguins are popular. You’re more like a giraffe, though.”
“Is it because I’m tall and—”
“It’s because you’re tall and skinny.” We speak at the same time.
Alex starts up the stairs in front of us. When Taylor follows, I ball up the dress in my fist. I focus on each stair individually, like my life depends on it. Now is not the time to become disoriented. I will not fall in front of all of these people.
