The Prince's Temporary Wife

A Not-So-Like A Date

I stared out the windows, patiently waiting for a customer in boredom. It was mid afternoon and the sun shone so bright up in the sky. It was a good day for a walk in the streets. Yet here I am, stuck in work.

Wait, since when did I hate my work?

It was work! My one true love!

I shook my head, surfacing to reality.

I was in the middle of wiping the tables for the tenth time when a knock came on the glass. I raise my head to it, a grinning face smiling back at me.

And I was relieved when I see Nathan.

He pointed at the sky, a look full of questions. I shrugged. I can't understand what he's telling me. I pointed to the front door and he laughs.

"Hey, sorry, forgot about the door." He apologized even if he didn't need to, walking over to where I was. "It's a beautiful day isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is," I agreed. Finishing the table.

"I was thinking, should I take a walk in the streets?" He smiled, looking at the table, "It's a great idea isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Then let's go!" He cheerfully announced.

I looked up at him. "I have to work!"

"Come on, Georgina can give you a day off, workaholic."

"How do you know my boss?" I asked, suspiciously alert. Were they dating?

Oh, why do I care?

He brought a finger to his lips, smiling. "She's my older sister."

"She is? Does she own the flower shop too?" I put away the rag and the spray bottle. He was walking to the door, juggling his keys in hand. "I have two sisters. I'm actually stuck in the middle." He added, "Heh, they always thought I'd turn gay. But they're wrong."

Okay...

"Are you sure about this?" I queried.

He nodded, "Georgina can be anything but mad. If she knows you're dating me," he shrugs, grinning smug, "She'll be okay."

Dating him? I was feeling queasy, my stomach seemed to run from me.

"D-Dating?" I called after him, locking up the shop. "Yeah, its a date." He smiled wider.

My first date...Oh my God.

My heart was over joyed, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. His motor starts, and I marvel at how it looked. It was white. Everything. From his helmet to his leather jacket, his shoes, his gloves.

You know what? I really love the color white.

He stuffs another white helmet to me, carefully, arranging it on my head. He smirks. "You look like my hamster."

He has a hamster?

"I should really diet. I'm getting fat." I said, embarrassed.

He rode his motorcycle, revving up the engine. He said something but I couldn't make it out from the roar of the engine.

"Cool vehicle," I say, riding at the seat behind him. I hesitated if I should hold on tight to his torso. He chuckles.

"Hold on tight," he warns, and I immediately braided my arms to his waist. And I'm feeling super queasy.

I'm so queasy.

He sped up to the highway, caring less of the signs and the lights. It was like going to a suicide ride.