Her Royal Highness

“Prince Sebastian of Scotland, my future husband,” she informs me. “That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

It’s not cool to stare, I know that, but this is literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

Getting away from here. Not having to deal with seeing Mason and Jude kiss against lockers. Not hearing Darcy’s I Told You So, or seeing Lee’s sympathetic looks.

But then Flora says, “But I so enjoy when you argue with me.”

I swear, if Flora could use her brain for something other than cooking up various schemes, she’d probably rule the world, but I’m too angry to be impressed.

Jude is kissing someone, and it’s not me, and I am such an idiot.

I’m struck by how wide-eyed I look, and how very un-me I am in my dress. But maybe this is me? Just another version of me I didn’t know was in there.

The morning the Challenge starts is actually sunny.
Okay, “sunny” might be too generous a term, but it’s not raining, and the clouds aren’t that thick, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s sunny. Scotland Sunny.

I stalk the mailbox every day, wishing I hadn’t waited until so late to apply for financial aid, wishing I hadn’t let my relationship with Jude dictate such a massive life decision.

“Big Romantic Gesture!” Saks cries. “Millie is going to declare her love in public! Oh my god, I think I might start weeping.”

“And I think I might start vomiting, so please don’t,”