Princess Undercover

chapter 3↠ r o o m m a t e s

Fortunately, due to circumstances, my mom gave me a black card for emergency uses. Considering this situation we were in was last minute, I could call it an emergency.

Felipe, was onboard with the idea, althought he had his qualms at the beginning. Most of them were focused on the consequences if ever I get caught. No, the queen definitely wouldn't be smiling.

Felipe was following me around as I walked around different boutiques that had men's clothes that fit me. I looked like a lanky, pubescent boy but it had to do.

I wouldn't go overboard and try to grow my own pecs. That's just too much work in the gym!

It was awkward at first, asking an attendant for my size. With the curious stares I got, they must've think I was delusional.

Currently, I was looking through racks simply grabbing everything in my size. Some shirts could actually be paired with anything and it was disappointing to say they were a size too big.

Turning to v-necks, I browsed the array of colors they offered and snatch them off their hangers. The grey and black one were a few sizes larger.

"Um, excuse me, but could I please get a smaller size for this?" I asked the guy arranging the racks.

"Miss, you are aware this is men's apparel, right?" he asked, brows raised and looking at me with mirth in his eyes. He must've think I lost my marbles but if fitting in was my goal, I'd have to look the part.

"Completely aware. If I wasn't that desperate, maybe I wouldn't risk it," I replied, still holding up the shirt.

I would have held back on a bit of sarcasm, but I just couldn't go around telling strangers, especially ones that I know nothing of, about the sticky situation I was in.

There'd be pandemonium, with the media spewing out ridiculous headlines. I'd end up being known as the princess who has caused the undressing of so many mannequins in a desperate effort.

That would not be good for the royal family's reputation, mother's specifically since she was known to be a good disciplinarian.

After visiting every single shop, I made a pit stop to the bathroom, walking along the endless marbel tiles of the mall. And let me just say, the little trip wasn't as short as I anticipated.

Finding a stall to change in, I spotted a recently vacated one at the end. I entered and began to get the men's wear out of the bag. Duct tape in hand, I covered everything necessary so that there wouldn't be a bulge on my chest. I tucked my hair inside a wig and wore on the alternate clothes.

It was painful, the sound of the duct tape already sending me on edge. Luckily, I could do things myself. Otherwise, I'd have to ask an understanding person to assisst me.

In khakis and a light blue polo, together with ocher colored loafers and my hair in dark brown wig, I was all set. But as I exited the bathroom stall I was in, I walked over to the mirrors and inspected the job I did. Women halted in their actions and stared at me.

It didn't dawn on me then that I looked like a "peeping Tom."

An older lady who was rounded and eyeglasses on the tip ofher nose, had her bag in hand, ready to beat me to it. If I didn't speak up sooner, another thing would be added to the misfortunes of the day.

"I'm going to a costume party," I blurted before the bag could knock me out in the face. The lady paused and inspected me carefully, hawk like eyes checking to see if I was lying.