Prologue ♡ Present: Every Girl Is A Princess

I wonder what it would be like to feel beautiful at least once.


The thought snapped me awake.


I didn't know where it came from, just the same as I had no idea why there was a beam of light directly pointed to my retinas. My eyes squeezed and pain flared in my head. It was throbbing and the overload paralyzed me for precious seconds. Burrowing deeper into the blankets, the feel of cotton against my bare skin alerted me that this wasn't a regular morning. Something was up. I didn't normally sleep in the nude or wake up feeling like death. I twisted my head against the light and opened my eyes.


A yelp threatened to spill from my throat but I held it back. My body froze but my heart raced as if it wanted to escape my ribcage. Anyone would freak out if they opened their eyes to see they weren't alone in their bed.


Except this wasn't my bed, it was a hotel room's and the person under the blankets with me was not unknown and every bit as naked as I was.


His eyes were shut, long eyelashes glinting by the sunlight that spilled from the window, casting shadows over his cheeks. There was a definite 5 o'clock shadow situation going on that my fingers were itching to explore, but that would wake him. A curl of copper hair tickled his forehead and there was a pang in my heart, the same one I felt every time I looked at him when I wasn't prepared. Like looking directly into the sun. Like looking directly into a heartbreak waiting to happen.


I had to get out of here.


Lucky, I thought, that he was deep in slumber and our limbs weren't tangled together. I lifted the blanket slow and careful and a flash of heat traveled through my body. We were naked, alright, and memories of last night threatened with breaking my composure. But I had a mission, and that was getting the hell out of dodge before those mesmerizing green eyes of his opened and his pretty lips started forming words I didn't want to hear. I clenched my teeth and wiggled closer to the edge of the bed, keeping an eye out to make sure he was still out cold. Even though we'd definitely worked ourselves out last night, my big body didn't exactly have the finesse required to do things like this undetected. But he must be tired because he didn't stir even after I bumped the bedside table lamp with my elbow.


I was breathing hard by the time I extricated myself from the bed. The blankets covered him only to just about waist level, the thick muscles in display made my mouth water and for a hot second I debated whether to make my way into his arms and wake him up for round four. But I shook my head. Last night was a fluke. A weird, wonderful, drunken fluke that wasn't ever going to happen again. If life had taught me anything it was that I wasn't his type. Giant women like me and gorgeous, regular sized men like him weren't suited.


Okay, he wasn't regular sized everywhere. There were certain parts of him that were well above average and-


I fanned my face. No doubt I was blushing. Sex or not, he'd always had that effect on me.


Miguel Bernal.


We went way, way back. It felt like another lifetime when we crossed paths through mutual friends at Trinity and an entirely different one when we became friends at college for a while. And then life went on its course and I thought I'd never see him again.


Until last night.


I ran a shaky hand through the mass of soft pink tangles and curls that was my hair. What possessed me to sleep with him? Weren't years of sad history between us enough to make me run the opposite way? One look at Miguel in his tuxedo and his sexy little smile and I did anything but. It was like magnetism. Only he had the power to make me, Addy Holt, want to divest myself of my garments faster than I put them on. Damn him.


All around me were the vestiges of the hookup. The first thing I found was one of my slippers. I picked it up but I was much more interested in finding my underwear. I found his, though, and I wondered if I'd be able to squeeze my booty into it if everything failed.


"Ah." I smacked my hand against my mouth to stop the sound, but soft snores still came from the bed. The surprise came in finding my dress on top of the coffee table. That happened during round one, but I tried not to think about it as I picked it up. Some of the beadwork under the bust was missing, but I didn't mind. What mattered was that the zipper was intact, and if I could close it to just halfway up my back it'd hold enough for me to make a dash. I slid into it and twisted and turned until the thing was snug around me.


One more shoe, underwear and clutch purse. Hopefully my phone was in said purse.


Where were the damn things?


I lifted Miguel's dress pants from the sofa but there was nothing underneath. We knocked over a vase, fresh flowers spilling all over the carpet, framing our discarded champagne flutes. The Veuve Clicquot bottle managed to stay upright the entire night and it was a good thing, because my other shoe was right next to it and I wouldn't have appreciated having one soggy slipper.


Something shone from under the armchair, so I bent down to inspect it and almost melted in relief at finding my crystal encrusted clutch. And it had my phone inside! This had to be my lucky day.


"Good morning, sunshine."


No.


That thing happened again, the pang and the racing heart and the breathlessness. I was on air and drowning at the same time. I was going to die and the obituary was going to say She blushed too hard.


I'd been so close to running away like a Cinderella who left her undies behind.


In a slow, jerky motion, I turned around to face my demise. Miguel sat on the bed rubbing his face with one hand. I couldn't help but admire the way his shoulders worked, or the bunching of his abs as he sat straighter. Beautiful people had fascinated me as much as pretty clothes, but no one as much as Miguel.


"Uh," I said, clearing my throat. I was presentable enough that I could make an exit right now. All I had to do was make this short. "Sorry I woke you up, I was just on my way out."


He dropped his hand and looked up at me with wide eyes. "Why?"


My jaw slackened. Wasn't that a loaded question?


Could it be because he'd already smashed my heart to smithereens and I'd barely just recovered, years later? Or maybe because there was no point in this stupid attraction I felt for him? What with us living in different countries, and all of that. After last night's wedding our paths wouldn't cross again until maybe our mutual friends had their first baby or a divorce, whichever came first if any.


Or could it be because, with the right words, I'd be tempted to stay in this hotel room for longer, and wasn't that the scariest prospect of all?


My mouth worked but it took a while for the words to come out until I finally said, "Look, we don't have to do this." One of his eyebrows went up and I sighed. "It happened, it won't happen again and we'll move on. I'm running late to an appointment and I'm sure you have something else going on. So, bye."


There was a beat of stony silence that I took as a good sign. I lifted my dress and made my way to the door. I should probably offer to pay for my half of the stay but that politeness wasn't going to get me out of here faster. Then, as I put my hand on the door handle, he started laughing.


Or more like cackling.


As I turned, I saw the reason why. He wiggled and from beneath the blankets came my 2X underwear.


I stomped over and snatched them from his hands, which just sent him tumbling back into the mattress, his body curled as the fit of giggles subsided.


With my blood pressure through the rough I said, "Sorry they're not the usual size you expect from your model girlfriends."


Miguel lay spread eagle on the bed, not minding that the bed sheets didn't do much to hide the contour of his body from my prying eyes. "That's not why I'm laughing and you know it."


"Actually I don't." I folded my arms.


He smiled. "You may be seeking an out of this desperately, but I'm not. I'm happy I found you again."


Then I laughed because I finally saw how ridiculous the entire thing was.


"One fuck and you think all is well? Please."


"Three fucks, but who's counting."


The smug look on his face was enough to make me bite through the enamel of my teeth.


How did I get myself into this mess?


Alcohol played its part, sure, but this whole thing was years in the making and now that the itch was officially scratched three times I could close this chapter of my life and move on, like I told him. Finito.


I whirled around. "Bye, Miguel."


"See you later, sunshine."


Sadly for me he was right. No matter how much I tried to outrun him, life always found a way to reunite me with Miguel, and boy, it was about to do so with a bang.


But first, you need to understand why he affected me so—and it was all because of what happened in college.






what. a. start.


or at least that's what i hope you're thinking ✨


it'll also be interesting to see what you think of these characters—because you know them as secondary ones in other people's stories. so you don't really know them. not yet...



and also um, YA GIRL BECAME A WATTPAD STAR YESTERDAY whaaaaat 😭🌟


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