Everly

Everything that happened tonight was too much. When he brought me back to my car, I couldn’t stick around. I needed to be alone, so I could figure out the thoughts running through my head. The entire way home, I couldn’t help but replay his words.

Was I real enough? How could I not be real?

I enter my house with a sigh when I fall back against the door.

“Everly Stanley get your butt in here!” Mom yells from across the house as soon as the lock clicks.

This is not what I need right now. I don't know if I should be mad that Sage tricked me, or happy that he's not the kind of guy I thought he was, giving me the night of my life.

I take a minute, inhaling a deep breath and slowly letting it out. The rush of air I feel against my lips takes me back to him, his mouth, his kiss, his touch.

I close my eyes, trying to rid the memory before I head toward the living room. “Yes, mother.”

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

I laugh sarcastically. “You're watching it. What else is there to explain?”

“Don't sass me, girl. Why in the world were you at the stadium?”

“Do you not see who I was with?” I point to the television that's paused showing Sage, his two friends, and me all sitting on the ground with our hands behind our backs.

“That's not the point,” she demands.

“Yes, that's exactly the point. That's who you want me to marry. I guess I’m still in the running. I'm just going along with what you wanted for me.”

Funny how her little plan is biting her in the ass now. The thought makes my lips tilt up into a smile.

“This is not a laughing matter, young lady. Are you seeing this?”

She points to the screen where she clicks play, showing the live footage of the fire blazing out of control. I thought they'd have it out by now. My body involuntarily falls to the couch while my hand covers my mouth.

“Glad to see you still have a conscience,” Mom states, but I ignore her, my vision glued to the screen in front of me.

It’s not Sage that catches my attention, it’s his friend. I was so shocked figuring out it was Sage I’d been with all night that I didn’t pay any attention to who his friends were. Seeing them now, I recognize one as the guy who picked me up for our date and the other from the bar that night.

Memories of him asking me about marrying Sage, or me telling him I didn’t want to be a princess runs through my head, especially when he said we were perfect together. This whole thing was planned. That was Sage checking me out, doing research on me.

Everything Sage said to me tonight replays through my mind. Maybe he really is different than I originally thought. Tonight surely proved that. I’ve never felt so alive, so free. Knowing he’s the one that made me feel that way definitely makes me wonder.

* * *

I escaped from my mother’s hold as soon as I was able. She could lecture me all she wanted, but because I was there with Sage, there was no way she could be mad. Besides, I’m twenty-two years old. The only reason I still live here is to appease her.

I’ve wanted my freedom, my independence to pursue the life that I wanted. She fought me every step, saying I’d never have a chance at being his wife if I lived in a run-down apartment I found on the west side of town. I didn’t care that it wasn’t the best place to live. It would have been mine, and that was good enough for me.

Even though I could have fought it more, after all she did for me guilt tore at my insides. This is all she ever wanted. I owed it to her to at least follow through with the meeting whenever the time came. Now that it’s come and gone, I’m more confused than ever.

I can’t help but start to wonder who Sage really is. All night I felt this magnetic pull to be close to him, but I can’t help but wonder if I’d have felt that way if I truly knew it was him? How do I know if it was him, or the mystery of who he was, that attracted me more?

Then there’s this whole Marie thing. I thought he had completely moved on from me. Is he courting us both? I pick up my phone to call Jeannine.

“Please tell me I’m seeing things, and that’s not you on the nightly news,” she says as she answers the phone. We never actually say hello or ask how the other is doing. That’s one of the things I love about her, she’s no bullshit and straight to the point.

“It’s me.”

“Girl,” she draws out. “I need details because they’re saying it was Sage with you.”

“It was. That whole riddle I told you about—”

“Was him!” she yells in excitement.

“Sure was.”

“So what, he was at the club waiting? How did you get to the stadium?”

“Via the runway.” I laugh.

“The runway? What runway?”

“The abandoned one out past the grove.”

“What in the world were you doing out there?”

I grin as I fill her in on the entire evening, the best night of my life.

“So you didn’t know it was him?” she asks in disbelief.

“Nope. Not until the cops removed his mask.”

“And…”

“And, what?”

“Um, hello? What do you mean and what? Were you shocked? Were you upset? Were you excited?”

“I don’t know.” I let out the same sigh I did when I walked into my room, this time falling back onto my bed. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s awesome. I told you he’s not boring.”

“Yeah, he certainly proved that.”

“But…?”

“But, why did he have to hide who he was to do it? I don't understand.”

I pull the mask I had on earlier out of my pocket, touching it with my fingers, remembering the way it felt when he helped me put it on—like I was becoming one of them.

“Was this all a test?” I ask, more to myself but Jeannine hears me.

“A test? For what?”

“To see who I really am. Didn’t you say he was some kind of playboy?” I murmur, not really waiting for an answer before I reach for my computer.

I Google him but try for a deeper search. Everything with his name brings up his family and not much solely about him. I type in the search bar: Sage Stevinson + London.

Canterbury is such a small blip of a country that his being a prince in a big place like England wouldn’t mean much. Maybe rumors are true about his family shipping him off. Any trouble he got into there would have to be huge to make any type of news.

I search through pages of his school accomplishments and other nonsense he was involved in with the university, but nothing screamed playboy or troublemaker. That is until I see a YouTube link to a video about Prince Harry stripping naked in a Vegas hotel.

Curious why this video would be tied to Sage in any way, I click it to reveal Sage, standing directly next to Prince Harry, both naked with a group of girls. I’m not sure whether to be happy or scared to see this side of him.

“You’re right,” I say in disbelief.

“About what?”

“I just Googled his name along with London, and do you remember that whole Prince Harry Vegas thing where he was naked a few years back?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Guess who one of his friends was that was with him?”

“Shut up!”

“Yup! So yeah, I’d say he does have a party, playboy side.”

“So maybe you two are perfect together,” she teases.

“That’s what his friend said, remember?”

“His friend?”

I laugh. “Oh yeah, that’s the other thing. The guy from the bar a couple nights ago who listened to me bitch about having to meet Sage? That was his friend who was with us tonight.”

“He was checking you out beforehand? That’s awesome.”

I grin from ear to ear for the first time since the cops stopped our adventure. I guess it is pretty amazing.