Stand By Me

siete | monarchy

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LAUREL

         THE PRINCE stared at me, a blank expression glazing over his eyes. For a minute, he didn't move. He only blinked at me a couple of times, which was my only indication that he was even awake. I was just stunned as he was, my hand losing all feeling and my mouth dropping agape slightly.

There's no way the Prince of Spain is right in front of me. At my table.

"Uh...Prince?" I shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Do I call him Prince? Your Highness? Your Crown Prince Royale? I've never been put in this position before. Staring face to face at an international figure, one would have to read a manual to figure out what's politically correct and what's not. Doesn't the Queen of England always have to stay on the left side of a tourist, or something?

I cleared my throat, aware of how close a Spanish royal was to me, merely inches away. "Hi. Are you ready to order?"

He snapped out of it, frowning and realizing where he was, in a VIP section of an airport restaurant.

"Oh, yes, hello...uh," he squinted at the menu in front of him, blinking hard before placing it down in defeat. "Actually, I'll just take a shot of vodka, mi amor," the prince said, his deep voice rumbling. "The strongest one you have. And I mean the strongest. Something to literally wipe all memories and not even make me remember why I'm here. Money's no problem. Honestly, give me the most expensive bottle you have, the more zeroes the better. Expensive and mildly toxic, you got that?"

Momentarily taken aback by the fact that a Spaniard royal had just called me "my love," I scribbled the order on the notepad, before thinking, It's not even noon yet and he's already getting black-out drunk.

"What was that?" he asked.

I looked up at him, the prince boring his eyes into mine in a confused expression.

Oh shit, did I say that out loud?

"I'll see what I can find!" I said, much too cheerfully and way too high-pitched. I started to turn in the direction of the bar, until I felt cold, clammy hands tugging on my elbow. I spun around to the Prince looking up at me with doe-eyes. He was smiling up at me, looking as hungover as ever and just as wasted as I recognized him from the news.

"Come close," he whispered, waving at my face to lean closer. His deep blue eyes bore into mine.

"Uh," Out of the corner of my eye, I locked eyes with the big burly man in a black suit with darkened sunglasses, most likely one of the Prince's many bodyguards. Even through the dark-tinted shades, I knew he wasn't leaving his attention on the Prince of Spain.

"Okay, sure."

I leaned forward with absolutely no idea of what to expect, and instantly got slapped in the face by the reeking scent of rum and whiskey on his expensive lapel. Cringing, I felt his breath on me as he whispered, "Don't tell my parents I'm here."

I must have looked pretty confused, because Prince Antonio laughed, chuckling softly. "Oh, forget it, you wouldn't tell my mother. You look too...nice to be a snitch."

The Prince of Spain smiled, and I was stunned at how strikingly blue his eyes looked when not on a television screen and not hidden behind sunglasses. The pixels didn't do him any justice, whatsoever. His hair, although full of the stench of liquor, was blonder and lighter than I expected, with streaks of auburn. He had a dusty line of freckles on his nose, emphasizing the sky-like quality of his pupils.