A tale of a frightened Princess

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.  This princess would sit in her room, staring down at her humble kingdom, twirling her hair and sighing at the heavens, "Oh, when will my Prince arrive?"

Just when she was giving up hope, the drumming sounds of a horse's gallop is heard in the distance.  The Princess leans out in curiosity, her eyes wide in awe, watching a handsome Prince stride towards her kingdom.  Innocently she smiled and clasped a hand to her chest, looking up at the bluest of skies and thanked whoever was watching.  Excitedly she ran downstairs reaching the front port just as the Prince arrived. 

    The Prince jumps off his horse and bows down to the Princess.  "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld," she states.

    The Princess courtses and clutches on to her Galliano gown (or whatever the Medieval version was) and blushes like a summer rose.  She smiles at her Prince and knows that her long days of waiting have finally ended and she will spend the rest of her life it utter bliss.

    The Prince puts his hand to the small of her back.  With the other he gently brushes her (expensively cut, coloured and blow-dried) locks off her face and caresses his lips with hers until finally kissing her so passionately that a maid watching in the distance faints.  He then pulls away and says, "We shall go on the best date ever.  I will take you to the most amazing restaurant in Paris.  And even to the cinema afterwards.  You may choose whatever you want to watch,"

    The Princess' eyes form tears of happiness that the Prince kisses away...

    ...And then she wakes up. 

    "Shit!  I fell asleep!"  I curse loudly as I move myself off the bed.  What was supposed to be half an hour of reading, turned into three hours of sleeping and it is now 5 o' clock and I'm supposed to be meeting Carl at the cinema in exactly one hour.

    I scramble to my feet and search my room hurriedly.  I'm taking hold of clothes but nothing is registering in my head as a wearable outfit. 

    "Jeans!" I yell at myself.  "Oh where the bloody hell are those bloody jeans!" I search my chest of drawers, throwing stuff behind me in a desperate search.  "Aha!" I say when I finally find a decent pair, and then turn around noticing the clothes covered floor of my room for the first time. 

    That's odd.  That was tidy a minute ago. 

    I barely have time to re-touch my make-up so I just powder my cheeks and hope that the eyelashes-stuck-together look is in season.  I crumple my hair a bit telling myself that I'm going for that Kate Moss messy look (as if I really have any other choices), and finally spritz myself with a perfume.  And then choke because the nozzle is aimed at my face. 

    I avert my eyes to the clock.  It screams 5:15 at me and I panic as I realise that it's going to take me another 50 minutes to get to the cinema.  "Crap!" I say and run outside, grabbing my bag in the process.  I look like a loon trying to put my Converse on whilst hopping, but I'm past caring.  I phone Carl to tell him that I'm on my way, but it's just going straight to voicemail. 

    So I run.

    And run.

   And finally make it there fifteen minutes early.  "Oh," I sigh in disappointment as I spot the time.  I could have walked.

Carl shows up ten minutes later, and smiles when he sees me.  "You look...nice," he says eyeing up my hair, which by now looks more Amy Winehouse than Kate Moss.

    I attempt to smooth it out with my hands as I explain to him the fact that I dosed off. 

    "Shall we go in?" he asks waving a hand towards the cinema.  I nod in agreement and let him lead the way.  I catch sight of my reflection as we walk past the door.  I look like a grungy sixteen year old - my hair is indescribable, my outfit reeks 'teenager', and whenever I blink my eyelashes clump together.

    Beautiful.  Just beautiful. 

    "Hmm, what shall we see?" Carl asks as he scans the films. 

    "I don't mind.  Whatever you want," I say politely, but secretly I'm hoping that he'll either pick a comedy or an action adventure. 

    I glance at him as he's deciding.  I suppose he's good looking, in that not very obvious sort of way.  But you can't fault the guy on having an amazing personality.  His jokes and stories have me in stitches and for once I was really looking forward to this date because I knew that even if it doesn't lead to a second one, we would have a damn good time. 

    "Fancy watching Saw?" he says, his eyes looking at me in anticipation. 

   "I'm not very good with gory, scary stuff," I tell him, scanning the latest Saw movie.  I shiver just at the thought of it.

    "You'll be fine.  It's not like it's real.  Plus, I'll be here to hold your hand," he says, winking at me.  I suppose all guys want to show off on the first date.  They always pick the most scary film to show off how brave they are. 

    "Fine," I agree lacking enthusiasm ever so slightly. 

Halfway through the film and I believe I have watched a total of five minutes.  The remainder of the time I have shut my eyes and blocked my ears.  I squirm in my seat at the odd violent sounds I hear, and scream out loud when my eyes open to be greeted with horrific scenes. 

    This. Is. Horrible. 

   I have already knocked my popcorn over and my drink has rolled to the other side of the cinema as I accidentally kicked it out of fright (I thought something was grabbing my leg), and all this time, Carl has not reassured me once.  I look over at him, completely content in his seat, watching the movie like he's watching a sitcom.  Meanwhile, I just want to throw up. 

    I nudge him to grab his attention.  He tears himself away from the screen and looks at me annoyed.  "Can we leave?" I ask him. 

    "No," he says, and I'm left taken aback.  Any fool could see that I'm incredibly uncomfortable. 

    "Please," I say again.  "I'm really not enjoying this," I tug at his sleeve and wince at the sounds I'm hearing in the background.  But Carl is too enthralled by the movie.  He's paying no attention to me.  I attempt again.  "Look, I can't watch this," I'm hoping he'll understand.   But he just turns to me, a look of anger sweeping across his face. 

    "I paid to see this movie.  So I'm going to see it.  Understand?" he snaps quietly and I sink in my seat like a scolded child, fingers still in my ears.  I think I've just seen a side to him that I haven't noticed before.  I'm too scared to interrupt him again, so quietly and carefully I leave.  He's barely noticed.

    I walk out of the cinema feeling a little confused and wondering desperately where all the gentlemen are.  I wanted a date with the Prince, not with the dragon. 

Prince Oh So Charming

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by clothes thrown all over the place.  I'm wearing two dresses at once because I cannot decide which one I like best, and my hair is half up half down, golden brown tendrils of it occasionally clashing with my face, which only makes me angry. 

    "I have no clothes!" I confirm to my flatmate, Lisa, who has come into my room tip toeing around the clothes and places herself on the bed.  She rolls her eyes at me and looks around sarcastically.

    "Cup of tea?" she asks joyfully and I turn and glare at her.  "I'll take that as a no then" she whispers and tip toes her way back out. 
    A few seconds later she pokes her head around the door, "You know," she begins, "you shouldn't be this picky about what to wear.  He has seen you in your most casual clothes with vomit down your top," she grins childishly and runs away when I attempt to throw a boot at her.

    "Thanks, that really helps!" I yell after her, but all I hear are her muffled giggles coming from the kitchen. 

    Oh, I give up on clothes.  Lisa's right (as much as it pains me to admit it).  Derren has indeed seen me with puke all down my clothes.  It was actually on the night we met; I had been dragged out (and I actually mean, dragged) by Lisa and Josie who fancied a girls night out.  The only problem was that I was feeling a little bit ill and drinking masses of alcohol does not make tummy aches go away - no matter how much Josie insists on this - they are in fact a horrible combination.  So I found myself running desperately through the crowded room to make it to the toilets.

    But I didn't quite make it to the toilets.

    Instead my body thought it would be more appropriate to be sick right in the middle of a crowded club.

    But that's enough about my stomach contents. 

    Derren's the one who found me huddled in a corner whilst I was singing the alphabet song (although I don't believe him).  Since that day he's been popping up all over the place.

    He asked me out a week prior to the date whilst I was trying to swallow a gulp of water, which as you can imagine, led to most of the water being spewed out and a slight spell of choking.  Clearly, he's seen me at my worst - which dress I wear shouldn't really matter.

    But it does, and two hours later I'm exactly where I was.  The only difference is that my right foot now contains a pink shoe. 

    "Wear that white Topshop dress and those black shoes," Lisa comes in impatiently. 

    I look over at the two apparels she's pointed out and now it seems like the choice was simple all along.  I quietly rise from the floor and make my way to pick up the white dress.  Without saying a word I motion for her to leave.  She doesn't do it gracefully - she laughs the whole way out. 

Derren's already at the restaurant, sitting at a table waiting for me.  He waves me over and kisses my cheek when I reach him.

    "You look lovely," he states while scanning my outfit.

    "Yes, no puke this time," the words roll out before I get a chance to stop them.  He's chosen a very simple, French restaurant in West London.  The perfect wooing place. 

    A blonde waitress walks over to us, throwing her most dashing smile.  "Good evening," she managed to move her lips without altering her smile.  "May I get you some drinks?"

    I quickly scan the wine list.  Nodding casually at the foreign French names as if I know what they mean.  My knowledge of wine stretches as far as 'There is red wine, pink wine and white wine', and of course, the legendary motto 'Wine before beer makes you feel queer, but beer before wine makes you feel fine'.

I'm about to ask Derren to choose but as I look up I see him ogling the waitress.  He's not even being subtle about it - his eyes are stuck to her chest with no sign of averting any time soon. 

    "What would you recommend?" he asks the waitress, a seductive smile creeping up on his face as his blue eyes sparkle upon her.  They keep each other's gaze for a few seconds, their eyes dancing with flirtation.

    Hello??

    "I think you'll find the chardonnay most to your liking," the waitress giggles annoyingly. "It's our most popular wine,"

    Derren has not stopped staring at her and I have the strongest urge to kick him from under the table.  But I don't.  I just sit there in confusion, not quite believing that he's flirting with the waitress whilst on a date with me.

    "We'll get that then," I say rather quickly just to make Little Miss Sunshine here go away. 

    "Excellent choice," she beams, even though I know she has no clue.  Chardonnay is probably the only wine name she remembers.  "By the way, my name is Becky and I will be your waitress this evening," she dashes us another smile and disappears.

    Derren carries on chatting away as if his head wasn't practically in the waitresses' chest (OK, I may be exaggerating a little bit).  He asks me about my day and I'm just about to tell him a rather hilarious story concerning a dog and a chase through the park, but Becky's back with the bottle of wine. 

    "Here you are," she plonks the glasses down, looking straight at Derren and not once at me.  "Would you like to try the wine?" she asks Derren.

    "No!" I cut her short then realise that perhaps it sounded harsh.  "I'm sure it'll be fine,"

    She starts pouring the wine, leaning towards the table a little bit, giving Derren a nice, juicy view of her front. 

    All class is our Becky.

    Derren isn't even pretending not to notice it.  His eyes have once again landed on her cleavage.  With no shame at all he allows himself a little smile. 

    Are you serious?

    "Are you ready to order?" she asks and finally acknowledges me as I say yes.  "What would you like?"

    Another waitress, please.

    "Umm, I'll have the duck confit," I say not raising my head from the menu.  She scribbled it down and averts back to Derren.  He pretends to be scanning the menu. 

    "I'm torn between the salmon and the beef," he says and lifts his head up delicately.  That seductive smile aiming itself at Becky.  "Which would you order?" he asks, white teeth gleaming.

    Becky releases a little giggle and blushes.  Her cheeks have turned a rosy pink that is visible even in the dim lighting. 

    "Well, I'd probably have the beef," she giggles again and chews a strand of her hair whilst swaying on the spot. 

    "A girl after my own heart," Derren declares, "Beef it is,"

    Becky smiles again, jotting his choice down.  "That's an excellent choice, Sir," she says and turns to leave.  
    Wait, did she just courtesy at Derren?  Does she think he's some sort of lord?  He may have the accent, but trust me, he does not have the money.  And as of today, he's lacking the etiquette too. 

By the end of the meal, Becky has come over to our table about fifteen times.  Three of those times have been because Derren has called her over for her expertise on cattle farming, the capital of Finland and her advice on the best place for highlights.  I actually felt like a third wheel. I might as well have offered her my seat and gone around the restaurant playing waitress.

    "Desert?" Becky asks.

    "Definitely not!" I say quickly before Derren gets a chance to even speak.  "Just the bill, please," I just want to get out of here.  I can't believe it took me all those hours just to choose my dress.  I should have just worn pyjamas, because let's face it, there's no way Derren would have even noticed. 

    We stand up to leave the restaurant.  Becky comes over picking up the money (plus her incredibly generous tip).  "Hope you have a nice evening," she says.  I thank her even though I know it was only aimed at Derren.

    We walk outside. 

    "Oh, I've forgotten something," Derren says.  "Wait right here," and he disappears back into the restaurant.

    I'm left outside wondering about his sudden departure, so I walk over the the window of the restaurant.  I see Derren catching Becky's attention.  It's like watching some sort of animal mating ritual.  She turns and smiles completely ignoring the customers she's serving.  Derren gets out his phone and Becky is saying something to him, followed by a laugh.  Becky then sets down the plate she's holding and gets out her own phone.

    Oh my gosh!!!

    They're swapping numbers!!!

    I actually feel sick, and this time around I'll be aiming directly for him. 

If you can't be with him, be Cupid

 I have to admit that I'm rather a nice girl.  I have never pushed my way through just to get what I want, nor have I ever hurt someone on purpose just because they were standing in the way to where I wanted to get to.

    But.

    Although this 'diplomatic' approach wins you friends and makes you trustworthy and loved, it does hurt someone.

    You. 

    I adore being 'the nice girl' - I wouldn't have it any other way, but in retrospect I've noticed that whilst I try to help others, I seriously damage myself in the process.  I'm not saying that I condone selfishness, but in some cases it does have its advantages.

    Let me explain...

I was half an hour late for work.  This was insanely bad especially since that day a selected few of us were supposed to be going to a conference in the outskirts of London.  Which meant that when I finally arrived at my place of work, everyone was standing outside next to the taxis, arms crossed and tapping their feet impatiently.

    "I'm SO sorry," I say running towards everyone.  "It's a long story which involves my landlady, a spatula and an electric toothbrush," I stop speaking to take in some air, "I know that's no excuse but I'm really really really sorry,"  I smile angelically hoping I'll still be entitled to a Christmas bonus. 

    "That sounds like a perfectly legitimate excuse," Luke mocks with a lopsided smile.

    I melt as I see him.

    Let me introduce you to Luke.  Hmm, where do I begin?  Well, he's perfect.  And that's pretty much the end of the story too.  You ask any girl in the office to describe Luke and it all begins with a girly 'far off look into the distance' sigh followed by "He's yummy," and ending with, "He's coming this way.  Don't make it look obvious that we're staring!"

    I can safely say that I had been in love with Luke for about three months. (And yes, at the time I did think it was proper love.  I even had Mrs Luke Heath written on occasional post-it notes hidden in folders).  Three lovely months of work being a joy to come into every day.  Three lovely months of having the most envied desk in the world - it was right opposite his - and three lovely months of having no confidence or courage whatsoever to ask him out.  

Hannah dragged me into a taxi with her without me even getting a chance to catch my breath from my little sprint. 

    "In here, now!" she yells at me, her surprisingly strong arm pulling me towards the vehicle. 

    "What are you doing?" I ask once I'm seated.

    Hannah's face turns into a childish grin.  She's slapping her hands against her legs and is jumping up and down on her seat like a giddy teenager. 

    "Do you need the loo?" I ask cautiously.  She ignores me with a wave of her hand and a look on her face that says "Stop being silly". 

    "I think Luke might like me," she says.  The words don't register straight away so for about three seconds I just stare at her with a blank look.  But once they're finally digested...I still stare at her with a blank look.

   "Umm...what?" I ask, unsure as of what to do.  I desperately don't want her to know that I may have planned the names of my future children with this man. 

    "Last night at work after you left, Donna was joking around about 'office crushes' and Luke said that when he first started working here he liked three girls," she jumps up and down in her seat again, her black, short hair static now.  "He said," she pauses and swallows followed by an enormous grin, "that he liked Natalie for a bit, Faye and ME," she then starts clapping like some hyperactive seal. 

    My heart sinks a little when I hear that I'm not on his list.

    But then I realise that I started working here after he did so instantly this makes me feel a teeny bit better.

    "I just really like him," Hannah continues.  I follow her gaze out the window where we see Luke walking past us and getting into the other taxi.  He flashes a smile our way and I capture it, even though I now know it's all lost hope.  I look over at Hannah who is still looking out of the window despite the fact that he is nowhere in view. 

    "I really like him," she repeats again with a hazy smile.  It's almost a hurtful smile - as if she likes him so much that her life would shatter without him. 

    Oh dear. 

    I may have planned my wedding with this man, but Hannah has probably already booked the church. 

    The taxi starts moving and I stare out, seeing London roll by. 

    "You have to help me get him," she demands like she's starved for so long.  "You're good at all this manipulation stuff,"

    "Manipulation?!?" I shockingly reply.

    "Persuasion," she corrects herself.  "I meant persuasion,"

    But somehow I don't believe her. 

At the conference I spend the entire time with Hannah jabbing my arm and asking me whether Luke is looking at her.  He doesn't once glance her way but her puppy-dog eyes look so eager that I cannot say no.   "He did about five minutes ago," I whisper a lie hoping that she will leave it alone for a while.  But she doesn't.  In the 1 hour and a half that we are seated in the meeting, I have made two lines worth of notes and most are worthless.  Added with the lateness in the morning, my future at this company was not looking particularly bright.

    I was thankful for the twenty minute break we were given but I barely had any time to take a sip of water before Hannah's tight claw found its away around my arm. 

    "Come with me," she whispers and drags me past everyone. 

    "If you come back late, don't bother coming back at all to the meeting.  Twenty minutes, understand?" the assistant manager yells our way.  I try my best to nod in agreement but Hannah is far too quick and before I could even turn around, I was already around the corner. 

    "I don't want to get fired, Han," I tell her.

    "Oh don't be silly.  You'd never get fired," she pokes her head out to see if anyone is within earshot.  Once she's inspected she leans in,  "I need you to talk to him.  Pretty please can you find out if he actually likes me?" her eyes widen as she pleads and I can't say no.

    I mean, what exactly am I supposed to say - Sorry Hannah but I'm sort of in love with him too so it would be too bizarre to set him up with my friend.

    But I can't say this.

    So I agree.

    Like the idiot that I am.

Back in the meeting room and Luke is talking to Donna and the boss of the company.  I don't want to interrupt so I skirt my way around them hoping that they'll notice me and invite me in the conversation.          

    Hannah has completely disappeared.

    Traitor, I think. 

    The threesome are far too engrossed in an article they read in the paper that morning.  I can hear the words 'fiscal' and 'corruption' but cannot for the life of me work out which topic they're speculating about.  I knew I should have bought The Times instead of Elle that morning.

    "Anyway, I'll leave you to it," the boss says and walks away. 

    Donna turns and notices me loitering like a loner.   "What are you doing?" she demands, eyeing me up and down as if I'm a reckless child who's been playing out for too long. 

    "Nothing!" I shout back rather too quickly. 

    "...right.  Well, I better get the laptops set up.  Fifteen minutes to go," she smiles at the two of us and leaves. 

    Luke moves towards me, that sly smile sweeping my rational thoughts away.  "So," be begins.  "What have you learnt today apart from the fact that 'advertising is good' and 'we should do more of it'?

    I cringe.  "You saw my notes?"

    He nods.  "Fancy getting a coffee?  It doesn't appear to be your day today, does it?"

    I just smile and follow him out into the corridor. 

    "You dashed out quickly last night," he states as we scan the building for coffee machines. 

    "Did I?" I try to think back to the previous night.  Why did I dash out?  And then I remember.  "Oh, my flatmate angered the landlady again.  I had to go and sort it out before we were homeless," I tell him. 

    "Hence the landlady, the spatula and the electric toothbrush this morning?"

    "Oh no.  Today was unrelated to that,"

    He turns his head around and gives me a quizzical look.  "You're a strange little thing, aren't you?" he smiles.  I can feel my cheeks turning a rosy red so I look away, telling myself off for feeling like a lovestruck teenager. 

    Hannah.  I must talk to him about Hannah.

    "It's a shame I left quickly because apparently I missed out on the fun conversations," I smile.

    He raises an eyebrow. 

    "I hear that when you first started to work here you had your eye on three ladies," I nudge him with my elbow. 

    "Can no one keep things to themselves at that bloody place?  Did Donna tell you?  That girl has a big gob,"

    I laugh at his annoyance. 

    "You know, Hannah is a lovely girl," I blurt out hoping it's subtle enough. 

    "She is," his expression gives me nothing.

    "I can't believe you were brave enough to blurt out that you fancied someone right in front of them,"

    He just shrugs and carries on walking.

    "Do you still like her?" I throw at him because there's nothing else I can say.

    "Well," he begins, "I don't think you can truly get over someone completely," he gives me a lopsided smile and we walk on.  "I think she's smart, funny, great company to be around," then turns towards me, "also very attractive.  So I suppose there will always be this magnetism with us,"

    Hearing this does hurt.  I have to admit that.  I'm so happy for Hannah and the fact that the guy she adores seems to adore her back, but listening to this is rather painful.  I have no idea why but I push it further.

    "Wow," I say, swallowing as if I'm trying to keep down the pain of it all.  "I think you and her would make a lovely couple," I smile sweetly, but my mouth is filled with a bitter taste. 

    He says nothing more apart from, "Oh look, coffee," and casually we walk back to the conference room. 

I managed to avoid Hannah's eager prods through the remainder of the meeting and just kept turning around and whispering, "I'll tell you later,"

    Once we were safely cocooned in the taxi, she wasted no time at all in interrogating me. 

    "What did you talk about?  Where did you go?  Was it just the two of you or did Donna come as well?  Did you manage to find out whether he still likes me?  Oh gosh, you didn't tell him I like him, did you?  How long did you talk for?  Will he be working tomorrow?  Can we swap desks just for tomorrow?"

    "Hannah, stop!"

    "Sorry," her mouth has stopped moving, but it's like I can hear her brain working away, asking all these questions and waiting impatiently for answers.

    "He said that he doesn't believe that you can truly get over someone,"

    Hannah's eyes widen further - a feat I didn't think possible. 

    "He said he thinks you're attractive, smart and funny, and he likes your company," I tell her. 

    She lets out a happy yelp and starts jumping in her seat again, although much more this time and is making the taxi sway.

    "Careful, they're going to think we're doing something dodgy in here," I say looking outside to see if anyone has noticed. 

    "I can't believe he likes me," she whispers to herself and sinks in her seat. 

No landlady debacles get in the way the next day so I manage to get to work on time.  I've only seated myself down for two seconds, when again the Hannah claw comes out from nowhere and drags me with full force to the other side of the office. 

    For a second I panic and fear that I may have got the whole conversation with Luke wrong and Hannah has found out that he doesn't like her, but one look at her beaming face erases that thought from my mind.

    "You will never believe what happened last night,"

    I wince at the idea. "I think I can guess.  Please, no details," and I start to walk back to my desk. 

    "Oh, it's nothing like that," she slaps me playfully on the arm (the same arm that has a team of bruises from her inhuman grip).  "We met up for a drink and got talking.  And now we're sort of dating,"

    Her words swirl in my head, washing away any ideas I may have had about Luke and me.  And it hurts. A numbing pain ripples its way through my body - as if my blood has drained away from every organ and is only focussing on cushioning the cracks of my heart.  Everything has changed - I now don't come into work with a crush on someone I work with; I come in every morning with a crush on my best friends' boyfriend.

    "That's fantastic," I say aloud, maybe a tad too enthusiastic.

    "We have you to thank.  You little matchmaker,"

    "Well, I had to be good at something," I joke.  "I'm really happy for you," and that's no lie.  I truly am.    But I can't stop the the niggling feeling deep inside me that's mocking me, "Well done, genius! You just matched your best friend and the guy you're in love with.  Now deal with the pain!"  I could have avoided this entire thing.  I could have kept my mouth shut and just let them find their way naturally.  And here I was, coming to work everyday seeing the guy I liked with another girl.  The girl that I helped him get.