Stand By Me

once | dissonance

❋

LAUREL

"LAUREL, I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT. . . ARE YOU NOT GOING TO HIT THAT?"

Louis was looking at the small TV perched above the barista's counter, where it showcased Prince Antonio's numerous paparazzi pics from the past month. I grabbed one of the caramel popcorn kernels from the bowl we shared in the small pastry cafe and aimed straight for his head. He yelped, dodging it successfully before throwing a chip at my head in retaliation.

"What? You seriously haven't thought about that Prince in a week?" he laughed loudly, almost falling over.

"No, and I never will. I am repulsed," I declared, feeling my cheeks heat up and betraying the truth.

"Sure you haven't," Isabel rolled her eyes beside Louis. "Stop acting like you don't like thought of the Prince's butt imprint on your comforter. Like, he actually sat there. Did you know royalty sat down?" 

Louis stared at her, his eyes blank. "You're kidding, right?" 

Their conversation drowned out behind me, blurring out like someone had faded away the scenery. It's been about six days since the stalking encounter. I can finally cross being stalked by the prince of Spain off of my non existent bucket list. I hadn't heard from Prince Antonio, there were no signs of him on the news or any sleazy tabloid website, and there was certainly not another appearance in my bedroom, much to disappointment of Isabel. His partying ways were not in the media, he wasn't traipsing around Ibiza with two girls on each arm, and he hadn't blacked out in the middle of any big press conferences. He had gone off and vanished; there was absolutely no trace of the Prince in anything -- it was like he had never existed.

"I still can't believe it," Isabel's eyes flicked up from her Advanced Physics for Dummies textbook, setting it down on the glass table and clasping her fingers. "The Prince breathed the same air as the air in our dorm. . . He's seen my bed. Oh god. What if I left out my underwear?" She shuddered, and suddenly whispered, "Do you think he remembers what kind of panties I wear?"

"Okay, okay, you've officially lost it," Louis raised his hands in the air in surrender. 

Isabel raised her textbook in a mock attempt to smack Louis upside the head, but halted midway. "...Hey, Laurel? Are you good?"

I blinked, relaying myself back to where I was. After being fixated on the news reel - of which, the Princes were basically the only thing worth reporting these days, it seemed like - I was pulled back to the table we shared, where we were attempting to do homework. We had gotten tired of the same scenery of the university library or the bright colors of the lounge. Louis and Isabel stared at me expectantly.

"I'm fine," I nodded, my heart sinking at how I couldn't do homework with my two best friends. "I just wish I didn't have to work today, that's all."

Isabel reached over the table and placed her hand on mine. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know this scholarship thing has been bugging you, but I know it will look up soon. I've actually been looking at some more job postings online, and I can email you the links--" 

"I love you, Iz," I cut her off with her smile. "Thank you. But this piano gig at the hotel isn't too bad. Plus, I get tips, so a girl can't complain." 

I look down at the notebook lying in front of me at the table. In the corner of the page was a rough doodle of thermometer, labeled under "Scholarship Funds" written in bubble letters and confetti. It sounded a million times more exciting than it truly was. At the top was a goal of twenty grand, with little notches on the side to help keep track of what funds I accumulate. The thermometer was painstakingly empty, staring right back at me. Dread settled in my gut as I pictured the Phone Call. The Phone Call where my mom would finally call me, telling me to come home, because I've ruined a perfectly good scholarship.