After cruising around in private jets, it was quite the adjustment to fly economy once again, with the crowded seating, trying to keep my limbs away from other people, and the whole arduous airport process of security and collecting my bags and customs. While I may have had ins with the Princes of Nikoto and Aregano, the President of the United States of America had no personal soft spot for me so as to bypass typical airport norms.
If nothing else, I'd be upgrading to first class for my flight back to Aregano.
It was also strange to hear so many people around me in the airport talking with American accents. I didn't realize how used to Areganan accents I'd become, and it was jarring to hear so much American English.
I walked out of the airport, my suitcase in tow, and only had to wait a minute or so before a familiar dark blue mini-van pulled up in front of me. I'd never had a particular affection for the van—it was a vehicle, a means to an end—but now I felt my heart swell at the sight of it.
My mom, who was in the passenger's seat, was the first to jump out of the car. She ran and pulled me into a hug. She was plump, warm, and her familiar floral perfume filled my nose and sparked nostalgic tears in my eyes.
"Cassie!" Her hug was strong.
"Hi, Mom," I answered, hugging her back tightly. Over Mom's shoulder, I saw the side door of the van whip open and my brother Calvin jumped out with a big smile on his face.
"Hey Cass!" he called with a wave.
My mom let go of me, and Calvin came up to me and gave me a hug. My little brother, age sixteen, had a good five or six inches on me. I felt like I'd forgotten how much taller he was.
My dad came out of the driver's seat and in wrapped me a big hug. Dad was a fairly brawny man, and seeing his grin again made me feel like everything was right once more. "It's good to have you back, Cassiopia," he said.
"It's good to be home." I hugged him tightly.
Calvin loaded my suitcase in the trunk of the minivan, and we all climbed in the car. The van had a smell to it, not a bad nor good smell, but a specific smell that I hadn't really ever noticed before.
"I'm surprised you came," I said to Calvin, nudging his arm as Dad drove away from the airport.
"Well..." Calvin shrugged. "I guess I missed you."
"What was that?" I asked, grinning.
Calvin rolled his eyes. "I said I missed you, Cassie."
"You what?" I pressed.
"Oh, shut up," he snapped. Calvin looked a lot like me—not just our similar hair and eye color, but our nose and eye shape and even the mole on his cheek.
"I knew it," I gloated. "Also, I missed you too, Bud."
"Good," he grumped.
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I'd never realized that my house had its own familiar scent, like the van, but walking in felt so much like home that I could scarcely believe it. Over the next couple of days, I remembered how many things I loved about being with my family; I had forgotten how much I loved watching movies with them, how funny the banter between everyone was, and how nice it was to be frequently hugged again. There was something soothing about it. Mom would ask me all about the men in my life, and I gave her as many details as I dared. She still thought it was a bummer that Luke and I had broken up; "he was so cute," she'd say.
A couple of days after being home, I headed back to our little souvenir shop in Washington D.C. to work a shift that morning. The bell clanged as I unlocked the front door, and I was greeted with the familiar sight of narrow aisles brimming with random souvenirs. I walked towards the back counter of the store, opened up the cash register, and took a step back. As I surveyed the front of the store, I remembered the last day that I'd been behind this counter, back in early September. I never would have predicted that that jerk who had waltzed in here would be the catalyst for a whole new life.
A few minutes after we officially opened, the bell chimed, and I looked up to see who it was. In walked a short young woman—five feet and two inches tall, to be exact—with strawberry blonde hair and a smatter of freckles across her cheeks.
"Lydia!" I squealed, dashing from behind my counter as she rushed towards me to give me a big hug.
"Cassie! It's so good to see you again!" she cried.
Lydia told me she was going to keep me company during work, and in between customers coming in and out, she and I caught up more on our lives. It was fun to be around her again with her bright energy and her amusing declarations about life and how it worked. After my shift was over and I was replaced by a coworker (one who did not belong to my family), Lydia and I went to Five Guys for lunch. After getting our food from the counter, we found a plastic booth to sit at together.
"So, how are you feeling about all the men in your life?" Lydia asked me, taking a bite of her bacon cheeseburger.
I sighed. "Kind of crappy, honestly."
"I'm sorry."
"With Nikolas, it's less of a sharp pain now, but it's sort of this dull discomfort. I don't know. It's like a rock nestled in my stomach. When I think of him and Calista together—" I froze for a second. "It just...it just kind of sucks. But I am moving on. Now that I know it's over, now that I know that there's no hope, it's easier to open myself up, I guess."
"Hence Lord Harry?"
"Yeah. Hence Lord Harry."
"And Prince Coleman?" Lydia suggested, looking at me with her round, curious eyes.
I shrugged.
"It's okay if you like him, Cassie," she said.
I shook my head. "No, it's not."
"Yes it is!" she protested, perhaps a little more loudly than she should in a public place. "Who we like and who we don't like, that's not something we can really choose. It is just something that happens."
"I don't want to like Prince Coleman," I said. "He already rejected me, remember?"
"That was a long time ago," Lydia said.
"I can't do that again." I squeezed my eyes closed and clenched my fists. "It hurts, Lydia. It hurts getting rejected. It's like it sours my whole life for weeks." I opened my eyes to her sympathetic face. "I feel it, physically, in my heart. I'm moving on from Nikolas, and the last thing I need is someone else who will break my heart. Moving on from Nikolas to Coleman would be a disaster. A disastrous combo that would just be too much to bear."
Lydia didn't say anything for a moment. "Okay," she finally conceded. "But you know you can't stay friends with Coleman forever, don't you?"
"Why not? Because 'guys and girls can't be friends' or whatever?" I parroted the long-held belief of Lydia's.
She took a sip of her diet coke. "Exactly," she said.
"I don't believe that."
"Well you should." She popped a fry into her mouth. "Guys and girls cannot maintain a real, lasting friendship. Because as soon as you get into a serious relationship or he does, that's it. It's ruined. It's over. And assuming you are both straight, there are always feelings on at least one side of the party. You can be friendly, sure. You can be casual friends, even. But good friends? It's impossible. Were you and Coleman such good friends when you were dating Luke?"
I didn't respond.
"Look, your friendship with Coleman will end in one of two ways. Either you two will date, or it will end. There's no other real option."
