Protecting the Royal Idiot

Protecting the Royal Idiot - Chapter 11

Hey everyone~! I'm still pretty unsure of whether or not I should write a 3rd person POV chappie, so I'm holding off that idea until someone gives me a GREAT reason of why I should. Otherwise, I'm not going to write one.

Thanks for reading! :)

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Chapter 11

"Jenna," Alan's voice said, gently shaking my shoulder. I groaned and involuntarily smacked him with a pillow. Alan sighed and grabbed the pillow, taking it away from me. I yanked the covers up over my head.

"If you get in trouble with George for being late, don't blame me," Alan said impatiently. I heard the pillow hit the ground. Who's George...?

I stayed in bed for a while before the words processed. Who else could I get in trouble with but Mr. BTM? But even more important... George is his name?!

I shot up straight in bed, throwing my covers off me. I changed out of my pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a striped shirt. I decided to wear my combat boots, just for the fun of it. They're not that ugly, either. So why not?

I ran, no, sprinted down the halls, glancing at every clock I passed by. After passing like the fifth wooden clock, I already realized I was going to be late anyways. And besides, it's not like being late is a new thing for me. I slowed down, my sprint gradually turning into a leisurely walk.

It took a few more minutes to reach the door to the back yard. I watched Mr. BTM, aka George, yelling at Alan. Alan was on the ground, doing push ups. I hope this isn't because of me. I sighed loudly and slid open the glass door.

"What is he doing?" I asked wearily. Mr. BTM glared at me. "Join him!" he shouted. I flinched and dropped to my hands and knees. I got into the right position, and then I started doing push-ups.

About fifteen push-ups later, my arms were starting to feel like jello. I glanced over at Alan, who had his teeth clenched and was still going strong. I stopped for a second, staring at Alan in awe. How can any human being even do that many push-ups?!

"Why are you--" I breathed, gasping for air. Alan shot a look at me, his piercing gray eyes glaring at me. He clenched his teeth.

"Your fault," Alan told me breathlessly. My mouth hung open as I did a few more push-ups. "You kidding?" Alan quickly shook his head. His muscles were bulging with each push-up. I frowned at the ground. I don't even know how this is my fault, but if Alan's putting up with the punishment, I will too.

I had this sudden burst of energy, which I used to accomplish doing twenty more push-ups... before landing flat on my face in the grass. I relaxed there for a moment, shutting my eyes and resting my gelatin arms.

"Wha--!" I squeaked, feeling a heavy foot land on my back. I squirmed and wriggled, trying to get that stupid foot off of me. I tried kicking the foot, but my boots wouldn't reach. I pushed the ground, trying to slide out from under the foot.

"This is what slackers get!" Mr. BTM shouted at me. I lifted my head, getting annoyed by the sharp grass that kept getting in my nose. I looked hopelessly at Alan, who was still doing push-ups. He stayed focused on the ground, and I let out a shriek of frustration.

"This is abuse!" I screamed. Mr. BTM just snorted.

"This is training," he told me sternly. I winced, feeling myself being crushed under Mr. BTM's stupid freakin' foot. "What would you do in this situation?!" Mr. BTM shouted at me. I frowned. So now he's turning this into some sort of twisted lesson. Okay, I see how it is.

I tried rolling over onto my back, but I couldn't move. I tried grabbing Mr. BTM's boot, but I couldn't reach it. I tried pushing myself off the ground, but I couldn't before I was pushed onto the ground again.

"Once again... this is abuse," I breathed. I realized there was nothing I could do to get myself out of this situation. I sighed hopelessly, letting my limbs rest at my sides. I closed my eyes. I'm going to be flattened like a pancake.

Unless...

"Wait..." I said, lifting my head, "what's that butler doing with all of those guns?"

Mr. BTM immediately whipped out his giant machine gun and spun around, removing his boot from my back. I quickly rolled out of the way and stood up. I smirked as Mr. BTM did a few double takes. He spun around and faced me, putting his gun on safety and putting it away. I grinned at him. He glared at me, but then he grudgingly gave me a thumbs-up.

"Not the way I would have gotten out of the situation... but good job," he said through clenched teeth. I guess I scared him good with the butler-with-the-guns bit. I chuckled to myself. Or maybe I just got him really mad. But whatever mood he was in, I was in a good one for being able to fool him.

"So now..." Mr. BTM started. I stiffened. Uh-oh. I don't need another round of training. Not after that. I bet the back of my shirt has a giant boot print on it now. Mr. BTM exhaled a breath and relaxed his shoulders.

"Nevermind. Training's over," he said, squaring his shoulders again. I jumped in the air cheerfully. I watched Alan drop to the ground, just as I had, only he rolled over onto his back. He grinned at the sky. I walked over to him and peered down at him.

"We're even," I said with a smile. He just shut his eyes, still smiling. "Sure, why not," he said peacefully. I smiled widely, turning around to start heading inside, just in time to see Mr. BTM run a hand through the little bit of hair he had left and mutter something under his breath. I laughed inwardly, mentally celebrating my victory over him. I strutted back inside confidently.

I hopped up onto a bar stool, putting my elbows onto the counter. One of the butlers was drying the dishes, and he turned around to look at me. "Can I help you?" he asked simply. I nodded happily.

"May I have a glass of your finest sparkling stuff?" I asked politely. Well, isn't that a first? The butler's eyebrows furrowed together as he opened the cupboard. He poured me a glass of the bubbly liquid, handing me the glass. He left the bottle on the counter. He gestured at it with his gloved hands. "Non-alcoholic," he said sternly. I rolled my eyes.

"Obviously. I wasn't planning on it," I said, taking a sip of the fizzy stuff. The butler just walked into the kitchen. I grinned at the fancy little glass in my hands.

"Are you celebrating something?"

I jumped, nearly dropping my drink. I spun around in the bar stool, only to find... guess who.

"Actually, yes I am. And I swear, if you spoil my mood..." I said to Ryan. He rolled his green eyes, taking a seat in the bar stool next to mine. He grabbed a glass, pouring some sparkling stuff for himself. I took another sip of my own, smiling. "Don't count on it," he told me. He held up his glass. "Let's make a toast, then. What are you celebrating?" I grinned, holding up my own glass.

"A toast to fooling Mr. BT... I mean, George," I said gleefully. I clinked my glass with Ryan's, finishing the rest of the liquid in my glass. Ryan finished his in one sip.

"So how'd you fool the old man?" he asked curiously. I smiled at the memory, even though it was only a few minutes ago. "Told him the butler was taking his guns. That got his dirty boot off my back," I said proudly. Ryan chuckled.

"Is that a figure of speech?" I shook my head. "Nope, he really had his stupid boot on my back," I said. Ryan raised his eyebrows. "That's abuse," he said. I glanced at him.

"That's exactly what I said," I laughed. Ryan smirked at me.

"You know... you're terrific when you're in a good mood," he said. I rolled my eyes and smiled back at him. "Don't count on it," I said, repeating what he said before.

"Nahh, you'll always be happy with me around," Ryan said cockily. I gave him a flat look. "Totally," I said sarcastically. I started twirling the little glass in my hands. "I don't even like you," I added. He let out a little laugh. Then I lifted my face and his green eyes looked into my brown ones.

"Ohh," he grinned, "but you will."

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Have a happy new year, everyone! <3