Dreams and Reality.
1205 Words
Wait. What?
I blinked at the note, then at the trolley, then at him.
“Did you just casually summon Gordon Ramsay?”
Prince Aaron sat up. “He owes me a favour,”
I released a playful snort. “Of course he does. You probably promised him knighthood,”
He looked mock-offended, trying to fight the amused twitch on the corners of his mouth from breaking into a smile. I found it very cute. “You make it sound absurd.”
“Just kidding,” I joked, leaning over and inhaling deeply. Whatever assortment of dishes that lay underneath these glass domes smelled delicious. My stomach growled louder in response, but I didn’t even care.
I lifted the first glass cover, and it was the Beef Wellington sitting there, a perfectly golden and crusted shiny pastry wrapped around a perfectly cooked pink juicy steak. Stupefied, I lifted another lid, revealing the famous Lobster risotto, a set of thick chunks of lobster tails gleaming in a savoury buttery sauce. Another cover revealed seared scallops sitting on a cloud of creamy puree dotted with tiny pearls of caviar.
There were roasted vegetables, crisp potatoes, chocolate tarts dusted with gold flakes, champagne-soaked strawberries, and even a stack of blueberry muffins still warm from the oven. Alongside them sat yoghurt, oatmeal, a bottle of red wine, two crystal glasses, and a selection of juices and water.
I must've let out a childish giggle, because when I glanced at Prince Aaron, he was leaning back on his elbows, watching me with a small, amused smile. I paid him no attention and grabbed a fork, reaching straight for the Beef Wellington, my mouth already watering.
“Forgive my lack of cutlery expertise,” I said wistfully while cutting down a big piece with my fork. As I placed it in my mouth, I felt all kinds of emotions at once, and an involuntary moan escaped my lips. Completely forgetting where I was and who I was with, I stood up and did a little happy dance.
When I turned to Prince Aaron, he had already whipped his phone out, and I was sure he was making a video— clearly recording me. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“This is what I call witchcraft,” I exclaimed joyfully, with a mouthful of beef Wellington.
“You mean Gordon's a wizard?”
“How dare you call him by his first name?” I teased, taking another bite. “But yes he is. Animal sacrifices, a good measure of the barks of trees and plants and maybe a pinch of water in a cauldron,”
For the first time in the hotel room, Prince Aaron burst out laughing. I was caught off guard by how handsome he looked when he was relaxed and unguarded.
“You are a hilarious person, Ingrid. It's just Gordon Ramsay.”
“Not just. That’s the most privileged thing I’ve ever heard. Do you know I literally survive on noodles that bounce?”
He gave me a playful, skeptical look. “How does that even work?”
“Trust me, you don't wanna know,” I said with a grin. “Switch places with me and find out. Anyway, this is incredible, and I'm having the best meal of my life.”
Prince Aaron dropped his phone on the bed and scooted closer, crossing his legs as he sat beside me. He meticulously took a spare plate and served himself some beef Wellington, and took a small bite.
“This is the usual,” He said, shrugging his shoulders. Then I watched him in mock horror as he piled dish after dish on his plate.
He shot me a confused eyebrow. “What?”
“I had assumed you weren't hungry,”
“After everything you put me through this evening?” He winked at me. “‘hungry’ should be an understatement.”
“Uh-huh,” I snorted, “it is no wonder you have the stamina of a war horse,”
Prince Aaron let out a choked laugh. “I think that should be a compliment,”
“Is it?” I said, eyeing the chocolate tarts. “Maybe I shouldn’t add to your already inflated ego.”
We ate together like that, teasing and laughing. For once, I forgot who he was. I forgot that tomorrow, I’d be back in a stuffy, suffocating classroom pretending not to hear the nasty whispers about me. I shook my head and decided to focus on the food and the moment. It was something that I may never get back.
By the time we were halfway through dinner, I was stuffed like a Thanksgiving chicken. We finally moved away from the trolley, and I flopped back on the bed, my hand clutching my balloon-sized stomach.
He noticed me smiling to myself. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said softly. I was hesitant to speak. Then, after a pause. “It’s just that…..I had a really good time today. It doesn’t feel real.”
He leaned back against the headboard, releasing a soft sigh. “Maybe that’s the point.”
I tilted my head slightly, studying him. “You sound sad when you say that.”
He was quiet for a long moment before answering. Then he spoke, his tone changing, quiet but heavy. “Ingrid… there’s something you should understand.”
I turned to face him. “What?”
“This…tonight. It can't happen again.”
It confirmed what I already knew. But it didn’t stop the slight crack in my chest. The lights in the room dimmed before my eyes.
“I know,” I managed to say, fiddling with my fingers. “It would be unrealistic to expect anything more,”
He hesitated, then said, “I envy you, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You are literally a prince,”
He let out a soft, almost sad laugh. “Exactly. I was born into a life where every step is decided for me. My words are reviewed, my actions are reviewed, and someone somewhere has an opinion about how I should breathe. But you….you get to choose. Even when life gets hard, you still get to choose.”
I looked down at my hands. “You think I have freedom because no one cares what I do. That’s not freedom, your Highness. I'm invisble, and people like me struggle hard in the real world,”
He turned to me then, his gaze soft. “I would rather be invisible like you,”
I gave a small and bitter laugh, shaking my head. “You wish. I'm a high-school dork. The one that's always laughed at. I'm here beside you because I need the money for my future prospects.”
I paused and took a breath, and before I could say more, a familiar shadow hovered over me as he pressed his lips against mine, shutting out my words. Then he pressed a kiss softly to my forehead. I was dazed as I felt the butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“I wouldn't change my opinions either way, Ingrid.”
I chuckled at that. “We'll see.”
- Writer
