I should've bowed.

         Or curtseyed, or at least addressed him in full.

          Instead, I stood with my mouth half open and a shocked look on my face.

         Cas, no, Casmir, looked at me sullenly. His mouth opening and closing, his lip flexing as he bit it. I looked at him, my eyes narrowing. Casmir could barely look my way.

        "I gotta go," I whispered. Before Cas could reply, I was halfway down the street. My cheeks aflame, I picked up speed. I wish I had my bike.

         How could I get myself in this situation? I wanted to cry at the sky. What kind of idiot gets herself in this kind of situation?

         What kind of idiot runs from that situation? Another part of me cried. Go back!

         My cheeks aflame, I pulled out my ponytail, hoping the hair around my face would be a respite from the world. A prince! I wanted to cry. I'd already turned two blocks to reach the Town Hall. I checked my watch. I was half an hour late, great.

         "Soph!" Came a yell. And for a brief second I saw an image of Cas, running out onto the street to stop me. He'd sweep me into his arms before we'd embrace in a fireworks-exploding kiss. He'd apologise, I'd apologise. We'd run off into the distance together on our own little farm.

         He's a prince! A part of me cried. Something like that would never happen between the two of you. You'd live a life in the papers, constantly scrutinised.

         Yeah I couldn't do that.

         "Sofia! Far out gal, you're about to be run over!"

          My best friend, the free spirit who dreamed of other countries and adventures, rushed up to me. She wrenched me off of the road, patting me off. Her curly brunette hair was swept back into a loose french braid. Today she'd covered the fading splash of freckles under some foundation across her button nose. Her sharp, blue eyes were glaring at me.

         "Sofia O'Zbrojaski!" Hanna shouted, "you're late, you slacker!"

         "I'm sorry!" I shook my head, "it's been a crazy morning. You have no idea,"

         "I'm sure you can tell me inside," Hanna muttered, tugging me forwards.

         Hanna was a part of the council that had decided on the decor for this year's parade. And she'd gone all out. The nineteen year old with the internet at her fingertips and the government as her wallet. Giant, Apolian flags shadowed the courtyard. Festoons crossed the streets. Giant ribbon decor sectioned off parts of the green.

         "So the main 'parade'," She used hand quotations. It was more of a convoy, "will be coming down Main Street,"

        She pointed down the street I'd just walked up. She turned back to the green, half a dozen volunteers were setting up the final rows of seats. "All the VIPs and the majority of the press will be inside. Some will be outside in the shade over there," She pointed to the left.

         "Awesome," I tried to remain cheery, "so what do you need me to do?"

         She tapped her chin, sighing.

         Please be complex, please be complex. I begged, I knew my thoughts would wander to the events of this morning if it wasn't.

         "I mean, the green chairs need a wipe down," My stomach sunk, "so that'd be really cool. One they get the final overhead festoons up we'll be setting up the ribbon bows,"

          I nodded, maintaining a tight-lipped smile, "Sounds good!"

          "Awesome!" She beamed, "thank you so much! If I don't see you before then, I'll see you at lunch!"

         "Of course," I nodded, giving her a final light smile before watching her go.

         Here we go.

         Cleaning the chairs, like most housework, became a repetitive action. I ended up going on autopilot for most of it, hoping that my mind would steer clear of thinking about that.

         And I did, for the most part. Hanna eventually made her way over once I'd finished to enlist for my help for the ribboning. The parade started at 1pm and press were mostly already set up.

         "Final touches!" Hanna called. The dusting, the wiping, sweeping, cleaning, hiding and the like occurred. On the other side of town, the convoy would be ready to go. People were already gathering in the streets. I cursed my stupidity for not choosing something nicer. With my luck, Mum would text me that we'd be in the front row.

         "Alright, done!" Hanna shouted and the volunteers dissipated into the side rooms. It was a fantastic sight to behold. Hanna had led the charge to set up an external seating of almost a thousand people. The Apolian flags rippled in the light breeze with an epic sort of awe.

         Hanna sighed, nodding.

         "You're happy?" I asked, looking to her.

         She nodded, it taking a few moments to compute. "I can't believe they pushed us back so far," She chuckled. "I don't even know how we got here on time. Thank you," she nodded, turning to me.

         "I just wiped seats," I grinned back. The dozen or so other volunteers gathered around. Hanna gave her final thanks just as the music started up downtown. They dispersed with promise of returning to pack up.

         "It's going to be a long night," Hanna sighed, "we've only got eight people and this needs to be mostly gone by tomorrow morning,"

         I nodded, then chuckled, "Sounds like it's gonna be a story that we hold onto for absolutely forever,"

         "It already feels like that,"

         We laughed, lapsing into a comfortable silence. I surveyed the green. Civilians were already filling up into their sections. Media reporters were giving their openings. There must've been at least four different organisations here! It blew my mind with so many reporters coming to our small and isolated town.

         "Let's go watch the parade," I suggested. Hanna nodded.

         We may have been slightly early for our area but it didn't make a difference. Residents and visitors alike filled the streetsides, waving flags and cheering in a deafening roar. We'd missed the first of the pack but watched as the others passed by. Flag bearers, veterans, retired servicemen and women, military families (which I probably should've been a part of), and marching bands marched to the same beat. Cadets and other school representatives followed. It was exciting, and bright. Confetti in red, greens and gold were thrown from the rooftops.

         I waved to the military families and pointed out my brothers friends in the marching band. After the parade passed, Hanna and I joined the swarm of bystanders grabbing a coffee.

         "That was hectic," Hanna sighed, slumping into her chair.

         "I wish you'd told me how crazy it would be earlier," I sat in the seat opposite, content with my water bottle. Hanna shrugged.

         "It just kept stepping up,"

         I nodded, the two of us watching the council workers begin to sweep away the remains. There'd be no excuses for laziness. The town, after all, needed to be in it's best looking shape at all times.

         "Four days left," Hanna sighed, sitting back into her seat.

         "Gotten paid yet?" I asked. A smile slowly stretched across her face.

         "I booked my ticket today," I gasped.

         "That's awesome,"

         "A one way ticket," she nodded. My stomach dropped.

         "One way?"

         "Yeah," She nodded, grinning, "it's gonna be amazing,"

         Is she going to be okay? A one way ticket is a bold move. Who am I gonna chat and hang out with? Will she be okay? Does she want me to come with her?

         Not now, I scolded myself, be happy for her.

         "Should we get started on bump out?" Hanna asked suddenly. I nodded, standing. The main memorial service would be finishing up. All the high-level attendees would be whisked away for drinks and other tales. The reporting teams would go back to their hotels, preparing for tomorrow's military tour. And Hanna and I? We'd be moving everything out and moving it back in for the Military Ball.

         The two of us dashed the red light on the final crossing to the green. Immediately, we set to work; packing chairs, taking down banners and festoons. The other members of the team working in-between us.

         My arms ached into the night, especially as I hung the washing that night.

         A prince! Of course he had to be a prince! The weight of that hit me like a ton of bricks. Cas, the random attacker who'd come bursting into my backyard and given me a blood nose was a prince.

         My mother would've been beside herself if she'd known.

         And I screwed it up pretty bad, I'd bolted.

         A prince wouldn't be a good husband anyway, a part of me replied, too many allegiances; to work, to his family, to you, to his country, especially his country.

         Cas is different. I insisted to myself.

         At number eight in the royal family line Cas was different. While his other brothers and sisters were known for their charity work, or their brushes with other celebrities, or various scandals, Cas was a ghost. You knew his name and a distant memory of his face and that was it. Everyone else had lavish and exciting weddings but Cas' relationship status was relatively unknown. He was a mystery to the press, hiding behind his duty to the country and as a result, he'd ebbed away out of public interest.

         You'd never be able to be a great public figure.

         It was no secret, I despised the limelight. Everything that comes with a relationship with a prince. I wouldn't be able to handle it. I found peace in folding the washing and cooking dinner, not glitzy interviews or walking red carpets.

        That wasn't me.

         Cas, Prince Casmir and I would always be at odds. We came from two, very different worlds.

         It wouldn't work.

         I resigned myself to that fact as I picked up the rest of the dry clothing. Making my way inside, wrestling with a relationship that would never be, I almost ran into Justek, his blonde head bobbing back and forth as he waved a phone in his hand.

         "Mum told me to give this to you!" He shouted, "it was ringing!"

         Sure enough, a single missed call on the display. Wait, this was Cas' phone. The one I was supposed to give him back. Partially surprised that it hadn't died yet, I turned the phone over. It was black with a few worn scuffs. A stock photo of an Apolian Rose was on the front. Sweet.

         The phone rang again in my hand. It was a blocked number. Justek watched with large eyes, waiting with anticipation.

         "Go," I whispered, shooing him away with my hand. He ran to his room, peering around the corner excitedly.

         I answered the call, looking up to the clock.

         "A little late to call a lady," I started, almost biting my lip.

         "It's only half past six," Cas replied, a lump instantly formed in my throat. It's a no, I hissed to myself, he can never be what you want him to be.

         "And?"

         "Well I was wondering if I could have my phone back, considering, it has some pretty important stuff on it,"

         Oh.

         "Um, yeah, what time suits?"

         "Well I've got a visit to the barracks so maybe ten in the morning?"

         "Sounds good," I nodded, though no one was there. Hanna would probably need a hand with setting up for Sunday.

         "Same place?" I blushed, let's not make this a re-occurring event.

         "See you then!"

         "Wait-," He paused, "you don't have a bike, do you want me to pick you up?"

         "Pick me up?" I scoffed lightly, "I'm just dropping off a phone right?"

         "Of course," He replied, "see you at ten,"

         "See you then," My reply was soft, "your Highness,"

         I was quick to end the call. Almost immediately I wanted to scream into my mitts.

         What kind of idiot would do that?

         Stepping back, I picked up the basket, taking in a few deep breaths, I placed the washing in the living room. Klara was watching some American, teen drama. The light washing over her.

         Don't get stuck on it, I insisted to myself, later that night. It'll drive you crazy.

         But I couldn't help my thoughts wander and dream.