The Thrill Is Gone

“And you’re sure they’ll send it to my dorm?” asked the petite young woman with bright pink hair. “Because if I have to, I'm fine with picking it up from here, I just really want to make sure that I’ll get my ballot. It’s my first election so I'm really nervous about this whole thing, especially since I really don’t know much about voting guidelines and . . . I'm just rambling now. Sorry, I bet you’re just like over this. You probably have to deal with people like me all day.”

“No need to apologize, voting guidelines are being updated continuously so it’s completely understandable to have questions,” reassured Paulina from behind the desk. “As for your inquiry, you can rest assured that your ballot will be mailed to the address you provided on the FPCA. It should arrive forty-five days before the election in November. It may arrive sooner than that or it could very well take a few more days, but it’ll get to you.”

“What if there’s a problem with the mail? Like the Brits make a mistake or something?”

“If for some reason, your ballot hasn’t arrived thirty days before the elections, then just come down to the embassy and we’ll have that sorted out for you. But, in all honesty, don’t worry about it. The UK has a very reliable mailing system, so I can say with great certainty that your ballot will arrive safely at your dorm.”

“Well that’s a huge relief.” She said. “I'm from Florida so that’s another reason why I'm so paranoid. It’s one of those, uh, swing states so I’d really like to be a part of the reason why we don’t fuck up as a state again and send another Republican to the White House.”

Paulina couldn’t help but chuckle. “I completely understand where you’re coming from.”

“Are you from a swing state too?”

“No, hell no,” blurted out Paulina, scolding herself for having cursed. She hoped the Voting Assistance Officer hadn’t heard her. “I'm from California, so we’re pretty much one of those states that Obama’s definitely going to carry.”

“Hopefully he’ll carry a majority,” she commented.

“I really hope so,” said Paulina. “And I was wondering, since you voiced your support for Senator Obama if you would be interested in an Obama/Biden button so you can help out the campaign by wearing it? We also have free bumper stickers.”

“I’ll take some buttons. I’ll put them on my backpack and bags. Do you think I can get at a sticker? I don’t have a car, but I have a bike and I’ve got a basket so it should work out.”

“I’ll give you a few extra so you can hand them out to any American friends you may have.” Paulina opened up the drawer that housed the items for Obama’s presidential campaign. “Here you go. We only have these two buttons. We’re getting a new shipment in a week.”

“These are good, thanks.” She placed a button on the strap of her messenger bag. “Well, anyways I got to go, but thanks for the help and free stuff!”

A satisfied little smile made its way onto Paulina’s face as she watched her fellow American walk away. It was another job well done for her, and judging by the empty office, it had been the last of her day. All that was left for her to do was to wait until Raquel, the Voting Assistance Officer said it was time to go, and that wouldn’t be long, it was nearly four in the afternoon. And unlike the main part of the embassy that was opened until 5:30 pm, their office was only opened until four.

As she waited for it to be time to go home, she tidied up the desks, and refilled the slots that were running low on different pamphlets. She wished that Raquel would just close up the office a few minutes early. It wasn’t like they were going to get any last minute visitors, but no; Raquel was very particular in her work ethic. She always closed up at precisely four o’clock, not a minute before.

Paulina suspected that if she wanted, she could’ve left earlier. She was only a volunteer so she technically didn’t have to be there, but she knew better than to leave the office before Raquel did. She might not have been employed by the American government, but she wanted to live up to the standards required of the American staff. That way Senator Kennedy wouldn’t feel like he made a mistake by having asked her to volunteer at the embassy, and for having vouched for her person to get her situated. And perhaps, someday in the future, he could help her get an internship or staff job with a politician in California or Washington DC. Perhaps that might seem like wishful thinking on her part, nothing more than a daydream, but in politics it’s all about connections. Connections were what get people internships; they’re what get people hired, and further the careers of aspiring politicians. The world of politics ran on connections, and despite her being in London, she wanted to do everything in her power to get some Americans talking about her. And surely, after her little exchange with Secretary Rice and her conversation with Senator Kennedy, there were a few more people back home that had heard of her.

Granted, the ones that heard about her via Secretary Rice were going to be unimpressed by her, but the other ones, the ones that heard her mentioned by Senator Kennedy might very well be amused by the story, and perhaps they may even remember her name. Oh, who was she kidding, they weren’t going to remember her name. They’d probably just refer to her as that girl that politely told off the Secretary, and that would be the end of that.

With a soft sigh, she glanced up at the clock, willing it to be four already, but it was barely 3:58. And since time always has a way of dragging on, when one is bored out of their mind, she knew those two minutes were going to be sheer torture for her. She was ready to rush outside, and have a weekend free of helping Americans register to vote, but her excitement would have to be contained until she was clear of her volunteer duties. She had to actively keep herself from fangirling over the fact that on Saturday morning, Olivia and Alfred were going to make the drive up to Edinburg for the jazz festival.

After so many months of having to listen to them ramble on about how much they fancied each other, Alfred was finally going to make a move, and Paulina knew in her heart that by the time Alfred and Olivia came back from Oxford, they were going to be a couple.

“Paulina?” called Raquel, snapping her away from her thoughts of Scotland. “Paulina!” she called, more forcefully.

“Yes, Mrs. Anders?”

“It’s four,” she stated, slipping on her coat.

Her face lit up. It was four! No more filling out forms and looking up information. Her weekend had officially started, and after uttering a hurried goodbye to Raquel, she slung her bag over her shoulder and bolted out the door. She moved at a brisk pace, wanting to get out of the building and into the sunshine as soon as she could. It was one of those rare, picturesque sunny days that reminded her of California weather, and it was a crime for her to have been cooped up for as long as she had. She was meant to enjoy the sun, to relish in its warmth and run around with her hair blowing in the wind.

The moment she stepped outside, she took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with sweet sunshine. She knew she must’ve looked crazy to other people, but after three days in a row of clouds and light showers, the warm weather and sun were a most beloved addition. When she had her fill of the sun, she ran down the steps leading up to the embassy, and then practically skipped along the cement path.

“Afternoon Frederick!” she called out to Lord Fellowes’ chauffeur. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is, Miss.” Frederick replied.

She had to actively stop herself from asking him to just call her Paulina. She knew that if she were to ask that of him, he was only going to tell her that it would be improper to refer to her as such, there were rules in place, rules that had to be followed. That was the speech he’d given her the first three times that she’d asked him to call her by her given name. And it was, undoubtedly, the speech he would continue to give if the occasion so arose.

“I trust you had a pleasant day at the embassy.” He said as he opened the door for her.

“I did. Thank you for asking. It was busy throughout most of the day, so there was quite a bit of work to be done, but it was enjoyable nonetheless” She waited until he slipped into the driver’s seat before continuing to talk. “And your day, Frederic?” she asked, politely. “How has it been?”

“It has been a fine day, Miss.” He started the car. “Would you care for music or would you prefer if I pointed out landmarks again?”

“The landmarks would be fantastic if it’s not too much a bother.” She buckled her seatbelt and nestled into the seat, getting comfortable for the ride to Wilton Crescent.

As soon as they started moving, Frederick began to give her a tour of the landmarks. He didn’t touch on the usual ones that professional tours focused in on. He mentioned more obscure locations that they’d pass that were just as rich in history, and she enjoyed learning new things about the city. It always amazed her just how much London had seen in the centuries that it had been around, it was surreal to her, and she wished that Frederick could just give her a tour of the entire area, but the twenty minute drive to Wilton Crescent didn’t allow for that. It only allowed for a few landmarks to be well mentioned, and whenever they were two or so blocks away, she unknowingly tuned him out and began focusing on composing herself to spend the evening with Lord and Lady Fellowes.

The fact that she had been there every evening for the past two weeks wasn’t enough to make her fully comfortable around them. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. She felt comfortable enough around Lady Fellowes; the older woman was very much fond of the young American, and their conversations regarding novels and film adaptations, served to endear the young woman to her. But it was around Lord Fellowes critical gaze that Paulina felt uncomfortable. He always wanted to speak politics, he always wanted to have lengthy discussions regarding foreign policy and other hot topic issues, and those conversations always exhausted her, because she had to make her points without offending him, and that wasn’t always easy. As such, pep talks were an absolute necessity for her, so that whenever she walked into their home, she had a confident smile and an amiable look on her face.

When they pulled up the house, she ran a hand along her trousers, trying to get out any wrinkles that may have appeared during the drive over. And as usual, she reached out to open the car door, only to find that Frederick was already in the process of opening it. It was simple things like that that she had trouble getting used to. Frederick walked slightly ahead of her, and held open the main entrance for her. There, standing in the entryway, was Edmund. He had been waiting for her for the last five minutes, and when she finally showed her face, he greeted her politely and then ushered her into the parlour where Lady Fellowes sat awaiting her arrival.

“Miss Balcázar.” Lady Fellowes greeted her warmly, standing from her seat on the couch. “It is such a pleasure to see you again. Please, do come in.”

“The pleasure’s entirely my own, Ma’am.” Paulina walked towards her and then exchanged kisses on the cheek with Lady Fellowes. “It’s always lovely to visit after a day at the embassy. Thank you for inviting me.”

“There is no need to thank us, Miss Balcázar. If anything, we would be thrilled to have you stay with us.” They had offered Paulina a room in their home while she volunteered at the embassy. “As we said, we have quite a few rooms available that you could very well stay in.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose, Ma’am.” Pauline lied.

“It would be no imposition, not in the slightest. And I am quite sure your quarters would be much more suitable than that cramped studio.”

The American Embassy had – at Senator Kennedy’s insistence – given Paulina a small studio in the apartment complex where most of the embassy staff lived. It was a very small studio, very cramped, it was less than half the size of the apartment she had in Oxford, and if she was to be perfectly honest, she didn’t like it, not in the slightest. But she appreciated the fact that she didn’t have to crash on Alfred’s couch like she had originally planned on doing.

“Although the size may not be ideal in the studio, the location is. It’s only a ten minute walk from the embassy.”

“And the embassy is a twenty minute drive from here. I daresay a drive may just be more comfortable.” Lady Fellowes smiled. “But since you are determined to not stay here, I must simply press you to keep accepting our dinner invitations.”

“It’s not that I'm determined not to –”

“Then you will honor me with a visit next weekend.” Lady Fellowes stated as if she would have her way. “Lord Fellowes is to travel to France. I personally don’t care for the country. It’s quite overrated in my opinion, so I will be staying in London while he goes abroad. And I would very much appreciate if you were to join me on those days. There is a polo match that must be attended and I would quite like to take you as a guest. Would that be agreeable for you?”

It wasn’t agreeable at all. Paulina had been planning on doing what she does every weekend, spend time with Harry, have a few drinks, shag and cuddle.

“Very much so, Ma’am,” replied Paulina, smiling reluctantly.

Lady Fellowes clapped her hands together. “Lord Fellowes will be pleased to hear this, quite pleased indeed. Would you care for a spot of tea? Lord Fellowes phoned ahead to say that he would be in a bit late, so our dinner shall have to be pushed back until 7. I do hope that is fine with you?”

“It is, Ma’am. I’ve no plans until ten.”

Her eyes flickered with interest. “Do you have a date?” she asked, casually.

“I do.” Paulina confirmed, remembering that Harry had told Paulina it was alright to tell his aunt that she’d been dating someone for awhile, that way when their relationship became public, Lady Fellowes would know it had been going on for quite a few months. “My boyfriend and I are going dancing.”

“Your boyfriend?” she was visibly shocked by the revelation. “I believed you single. Did you not say you were single?”

“I didn’t. I believe you mistook my silence on the subject of relationships as evidence that I was not in one.”

“I daresay I did.” Lady Fellowes was displeased. She’d entertained hopes that Paulina would do for her nephew. “Tell me of your suitor? Is he American?”

“No, he’s British.”

“And does he study at Oxford?”

“No, Ma’am. He’s never been particularly fond of school, so he forewent higher education.”

“Does he work, then?”

“In his family’s business,” replied Paulina, smiling coyly.

“Ah.” Lady Fellowes wasn’t the slightest bit impressed by the picture Paulina was painting of her boyfriend. A young woman as studious as her deserved better. “His family business is in Oxford, I take it. Is that where you met?”

“No, Ma’am. We met in London.”

“In London?” she said, surprised.

Paulina nodded. “I was in London with my best friend, when I ran into him for the first time. Then we ran into each other again in Oxford when he was there with his family, and again in London. Fate kept throwing us in each other’s paths so we eventually began seeing each other and now we’re together.”

“That’s quite romantic.”

“Thank you, I like to think so as well.”

Lady Fellowes paused for an appropriate amount of time before saying, “It is a pity though . . .”

“What is, Ma’am?”

“That you have a boyfriend. I am sure you are quite happy with him, but . . . oh, no I shan’t say a word.”

“Please do speak whatever is on your mind, Ma’am.”

“But what is on my mind, are simply suppositions I have made through observation.” Lady Fellowes said, quietly. “They may very well prove to be false. Though, if I am to speak in earnest, I do genuinely think there is truth to my beliefs.” She wanted Paulina to implore for her to tell her, all she needed was a bit of encouragement and she would say what was on her mind.

“I would very much like to hear, what it is you have to say.” Paulina encouraged.

“Well,” she sighed, “If you must know, I suspect my nephew has . . . that is to say, since your arrival, he has dined with us thrice, and has called several times in the evening to sit with us. I believe him partial towards you, that perhaps an attachment may have been formed on his behalf, and you do quite well when you are in each other’s company. The conversations always seem lively and there are smiles on both your faces.”

“Not to sound rude, Ma’am, but I think it’s impossible for anyone – male or female – to not smile when in the presence of such a charming young man.”

“That is true. He is incredibly charming, got that from his mother, you know. Diana was always very charming, very amiable. Harry is her equal.” Her eyes clouded with emotion, making it clear that she was thinking of her deceased sister. “I hope you do not think me impertinent for having voiced my opinion. Like I said, I could very well be wrong. Even I am not all knowing, though I do fancy that I am from time to time.”

“I could never think you impertinent,” reassured Paulina. “Your company is most invigorating, and I very much enjoy the time I have been fortunate enough to spend with you.”

Lady Fellowes chuckled softly. “When you speak like that, you make me quite certain that you will have a long, successful political career.”

“How so?” asked Paulina, confused.

“Because you know exactly what to say,” said Lady Fellowes, smiling. “Oh dear!” she exclaimed. “We’ve not yet had our tea. Look at me, sitting her, going on and on while my guest has not been tended to, give me a moment, please.” She left the couch and stepped into the entryway where she ordered Edmund to send them tea and a few light sandwiches with Sandra. “Terribly sorry about that,” she apologized. “The tea shall be along shortly. I even told them to bring honey since you’re so fond of it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Does your mother put honey in her tea?” inquired Lady Fellowes.

“Yes, her and my dad, love putting honey in tea. Um, well, everyone in my family does to be honest. We’re all mad about honey, and whenever we visit out relatives in Utah, we always stop by this honey shop and stock up.”

“That is quite the dedication to that particular brand.”

“If you were to try it, I daresay you’d have a crate shipped out. It’s that delicious, and I always end up having to fight with my brother, Luis, over the last jar, because he’ll literally keep it in his room so no one else can get to it.”

“Luis is the youngest of your brothers?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” confirmed Paulina. “He’s the one that came along with my mom in late June.”

“Did they like the country?”

“They thought it very beautiful, though the weather didn’t agree with them.”

“They missed the sunshine,” she said, knowingly.

Paulina nodded.

“Do you miss it?”

“At times, I do, but I’ve always been so much of an anglophile that I lose myself in my surroundings, and can usually do a good job of not being hung up on the cloudiness, though there are times, when that fails and I end up sulking.” Paulina chuckled. “But in all seriousness, I wouldn’t trade this experience for all the sunshine in the world.”

“That’s quite a statement for a Southern Californian to make.”

“It is.”

“May I ask where your Anglophilia stems from?”

“It stems from my dad.”

“Your father?” she repeated, unsure as to whether she’d heard correctly.

“I know it sounds odd, but my dad absolutely loves British rock n roll. When he was a teenager in Mexico, he would stay up late to listen to a radio station that played rock from America and England. He says that he’d always be a little sleepy when he went to work the fields with my grandpa Aurelio, but that humming the songs he’d heard in the night was always worth it. My grandpa would scold him and say not to listen to that music, but my dad wouldn’t stop. And it’s his love of rock, which made it so my brothers and I were raised on the music of Pink Floyd, Rod Stewart, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Cat Stevens . . . I can go on and on. In fact, my dad loves Pink Floyd so much that he almost made Floyd my middle name.”

“Floyd?” repeated Lady Fellowes, eyes wide in shock. “Why on earth would he try to make that your middle name? He could have very easily put it for one of the boys.”

“Well, there’s actually a story behind it. Before I was born, I was a lazy baby. Does that sound right? I hope it does. What I mean to say is that I didn’t really move around much for most of the pregnancy. My mom was always scared that she couldn’t feel me kick, so she went to the doctor a lot to make sure I was alive, and I was, I just didn’t move. So one day, my mom was sleeping and my dad put on an old Pink Floyd vinyl of his, and Echoes started to play. He said that right when he put his hand on my mom’s belly, I kicked. Apparently, I kicked so hard that she woke up.” Paulina chuckled softly at the thought. “I think it’s weird that that was the moment I decided to kick. My mom had to have heard Pink Floyd during her pregnancy, but I suppose she hadn’t heard that particular track. And from that moment on, whenever the song was put on, I would move around.”

“Are you still fond of the song?”

“Very much so,” she smiled. “I'm a massive fan of Pink Floyd, but I'm very grateful that my mom refused to let Floyd be my middle name. I personally think Paulina Aureliana Balcázar sounds infinitely better than Paulina Floyd Balcázar.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Paulina Aureliana Balcázar has a ring to it, even if I butcher it with my accent.” Lady Fellowes smiled warmly. “Ah, the tea has arrived,” commented Lady Fellowes when the door opened and Sandra walked in carrying a tray. “Thank you.”

“Will that be all, Ma’am?” asked the blonde in a soft voice.

“Yes, that will be all for now.” Lady Fellowes tilted her head to signal that she could leave, and then returned her attention to the tray set before her. “There’s nothing quite as refreshing as a fresh cup of tea.”

The two women proceeded to prepare their tea, and once their drinks had been sweetened to their liking, they delved into the third meeting of their two woman book club. The idea for the book club had come from Lady Fellowes, whom thought since they had such fun discussing literature, that they should set aside a day to discuss one particular novel. The first novel had been Sense and Sensibility, the second had been A Tale of Two Cities, and their current topic of conversation was Jane Eyre. They discussed the novel for hours, not even noticing when Lord Fellowes stepped into the parlor. He had to speak rather loudly in order to gain their attention. And it was with reluctance that the two women followed him to the dining room.

Dinner passed quietly, as it always did. Inquiries were made about their days, they discussed whatever news the media had focused in on, and then Lord Fellowes would complain about one thing or another, and Paulina would feign interest and concern. When the dinner ended, they moved into the sitting room, where they watched the night’s news in silence. The quiet always unnerved Paulina. In her home, when her parents watched television at night, they were always talking and randomly bursting into laughter. There was never silence, not around them, that was why she couldn’t watch her shows around them, because she knew they’d talk right through it. She wondered what it’d be like to see Lord and Lady Fellowes act like her parents, but she quickly cast that thought aside, they didn’t behave like that. They were serious people.

After the first block of news ended, Paulina mentioned that she best be on her way. As usual, they pressed her to stay the night, reassured that it wouldn’t be a bother, but Paulina told them that she had plans for the night and had to be on her way. Paulina excused herself from Lord Fellowes and was then walked to the door by Lady Fellowes whom told Edmund to get the car ready. Seeing as how their chauffeur had gone home for the night, Edmund found himself obligated to drop Paulina off at her apartment. She had a feeling that he would’ve much rather stayed at home, if she were in his position she knew she’d prefer that, but as a true gentleman’s gentleman, he treated her with the upmost kindness and respected, as he drove her home to the apartment complex.

“Goodnight Miss Balcázar,” he spoke as he held the car door open for her. “May have you have a pleasant night.”

“Thank you, Edmund. I hope you have a lovely night as well.” She smiled kindly before making her way up the steps to the apartment complex.

At the front of the entrance, to the right of the main doors, there was a card reader in which she had to swipe the card the embassy gave her. Once she was granted access and the doors opened, she had to make her way to the main table where two security guards had to check her identification and swipe her driver’s license to ensure that she was indeed Paulina. When they verified that she was indeed who she claimed she was, Paulina took the elevator up to the third floor and walked to her studio.

On most days, she made a habit of standing in the doorway and pursing her lips as she longed for her apartment in Oxford, but on that night, she completely forgot about the fact that the studio was about the size of her bedroom back in Azusa. She was running late. Harry was going to pick her up in a half hour, and she had to take a shower and get dressed for a night out. She’d initially planned on washing her hair, but knew that she wouldn’t be able to dry and style it, so she just gave her body a thorough scrubbing and then started doing her make up, hoping that for once Harry would just be late. But he wasn’t. He was precisely on time, and when the front desk called to ask her if she had a visitor, she’d only just started doing her eyeliner. She asked them to let Harry up, but since Harry didn’t provide them with an identification card, he was forced to wait down in the lobby while she did her best to finish up.

“Finally!” exclaimed Harry when she exited the elevator. “Was worried you’d changed your mind on me.”

“And who says I haven’t? My other bloke’s waiting outside.” She scrunched her nose at him. “But in all seriousness, I'm sorry about keeping you waiting. I honestly just got in from your uncle’s a little bit ago.”

“That late?” asked Harry.

She nodded. “He was at work late, so we had to wait until seven for dinner and then, well, you know how long dinner with him drags on.” She took in a deep breath. “Shoot. I haven’t even said hello.” She paused. “Hello mi Güerito.” She smiled and pecked his lips lovingly. “How are you?”

“Doing well enough,” he answered. “Better now that we can get going. Here, let me have your bag.”

“I can carry it.”

“Of course ya can carry it, but I’d prefer it if I did.”

She handed her bag off to him. “Always such a charmer,” she teased.

“Well, I’ve got to be. It’s part of the job description.” He joked entwining his fingers with hers as they stepped outside.

A soft laugh passed through her lips. “So how was your day?”

“It was quite eventful actually. Remember how I mentioned that I wanted to learn how to fly military helicopters?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, I finally asked my father if it’d be alright with him. He didn’t give me a direct answer, at least not at first, kept saying that we would talk about it another time, but I kept pestering him, and eventually, he promised he would talk to my Gran about it.”

“That’s great! Hopefully, she’ll give the okay and you can start studying.”

“Ugh, don’t call it studying.”

“What am I supposed to call it then?”

“You can refer to it as my learning to fly. I know, I know, learning means the exact same thing as studying, but learning just sounds better, and less daunting.”

“You’re so weird.”

“I know, you remind me of that almost everyday.” He chuckled.

“Only because you need reminding,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“How was the embassy?” asked Harry as they approached the car.

“It was alright, just helped out some people register to vote and then I had to make some pamphlets for the office area, very exciting stuff.”

“With all that excitement, I'm worried you might not be up for any dancing.” He said as he opened the door for her.

“As if!” she exclaimed, stepping inside the car. “I'm always up for dancing and drinking . . .”

“And shagging?” he asked, winking.

“We’ll see.” She smirked, and that smirk made it perfectly clear that there was indeed a shag in his future. “Where are we going again?” she asked when he climbed into the drivers seat.

“Mahiki,” he replied. “It’s brilliant, drinks are always first rate and my mate’s the promotions manager.”

“Does that mean you frequent it often?” she asked.

“Fairly often, yeah,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead as he drove.

“Do you think it’s a good idea for us to go to a bar that you frequent often?”

“I’ve got my wig on.”

“Harry,” she said his name softly. “Your wig does a good job of hiding your appearance, but if we go somewhere where your friends are, and they’re drunk, they may be vocal when they see you, and then everyone will know before I'm ready for everyone to know.”

“That’s true . . . I hadn’t even thought of that.” Prince Harry furrowed his brow, thinking of where they might go. “We’ll go to Wyld then. Yes, that’ll do quite nicely. It’s still a fair space, they play good music, and it’s not a favorite of my mate’s so we should be fine.”

“Sounds great,” she beamed.

Just as Harry had suspected, his friends weren’t at Wyld. Instead the club was packed with young adults, some celebrities, some models, but mostly normal patrons that didn’t live in the limelight. And despite the fact that there were celebrities there, Harry felt comfortable in the crowd. His face didn’t stand out, not in the dimly lit room and definitely not with the alcohol coursing through everyone in the space. He was just another bloke at the club, and content with his anonymity, Harry and Paulina had a few drinks at the bar before making their way over to the dance floor.

He led Paulina by the hand, maneuvering through the crowd to get them a decent spot, and when he was content with the bit of space that he’d managed to get them, they began to dance to the music. The first few songs were the sort that each person had to dance in their own space, but eventually the house music gave way to the chart hits, and when Low by Flo Rida ft T-Pain went on the speakers, the space disappeared between Henry and Paulina. He placed his right hand on her hips, pulling her in close as she rolled her hips and grinded into him. Halfway through the song, she turned around, and straddled his left leg, she was now the one that had her hand firmly on his hip, and she used him to steady herself as she started to bounce her ass. She got low on him, her eyes never leaving his blue ones that were clouded with desire.

Harry, unable to handle the sexual tension mounting between them, did the only thin he could to alleviate it. He pressed his lips roughly against hers, and there, in the middle of the dance floor they started making out. Her hands grabbed onto his derrière as he used his to keep her face. For awhile their dancing ended altogether. All they could do was kiss. And it wasn’t until they needed a drink that they pulled apart. They practically ran over to the bar to get waters since they had to drive back, but the bar was packed, and since Harry wasn’t a prince, he had to hunt down the bartender to get their drinks served.

Paulina was fine with waiting at the end of the bar. The dancing and kissing had taken a lot out of her, so she leant against it for support as she waited for Harry to get back with their bottled waters. With her right hand, she fanned herself, wanting desperately too cool down and stop sweating as much as she was. That was the one thing she hated about going to clubs, they were always too hot and being pressed against so many strangers in a dance floor, always left her smelling like other people. She was going to have to shower before they got intimate, they both would.

“What’s a pretty bird like you doin’ all alone?” slurred a man who looked to be in his early thirties.

She ignored him in hopes that he would just keep walking.

“Ah, I see what you’re doin’ playing hard to get. That’s what pretty birds always do, they want to be chased.” He got closer to her; she could feel the heat from his body. “S’alright though, I'm always up for the chase.” He thought he was being smooth.

The alcohol in his mind had made him forget that his breath stunk of vodka and that his advances were unwelcomed. He was so drunk that when he saw her body tense, he took it as a sign to go onwards, and without a second thought, he placed his hand on her bum and gave it a light spank.

“Oi!” she bellowed, spinning around on her heels. “What the hell’s your problem?” she yelled over the music as she shoved him away.

“Why ya gotta be like this? We . . . we was having a lovely –”

“You were flirting and I didn’t say shit because I wanted you to get the hint that I wasn’t interested!” she snapped. “But your drunken self had to get all handsy!”

Her screaming had garnered attention, including that of Harry’s, and instead of waiting to order their drinks, he rushed back to her side.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you screaming?”

“This idiot just grabbed my ass and spanked me!” she told Harry.

“You wanted it!” argued the man, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open.

“I didn’t even talk to you!” she cried in frustration. “You’re just fucking drunk and you grabbed my ass!”

“Can ya blame me though? You’ve got a massive bum!”

“Oi!” growled Harry. “That’s my girlfriend, you’re talking to.”

“Sorry mate, can I,” he hiccupped, “have a go with her? I’ll bring her back in ten minutes. Hmm, better make that five.”

Harry should’ve thought things through. He really, honestly, should’ve thought things through, but in that moment he transformed into a territorial caveman that needed to show the drunken idiot that he was not going to tolerate anyone talking to his girlfriend like that, and the only way he could think of doing that was by punching him in the face. So he punched him. He punched him once, twice, he punched him until the drunken man realized what was going on and started punching back. Paulina reacted immediately; she ran towards Harry and grabbed him by the belt, hoping to drag him off. The last thing they needed was for him to get arrested for fighting at a bar, but nothing she did worked. She tried wrapping her arms around his midsection to forcibly carry him off, but he and the drunk kept jerking around so much that she couldn’t quite get a hold of him.

“STOP!” she yelled. “STOP IT!”

He didn’t stop, and the bartender, having grown frantic, called security to remedy the situation. The security guards were two burly men that were shaped like former rugby players, and the moment Paulina saw them, she jumped in front of them, trying to convince them to let her Harry go.

“That man grabbed me inappropriately,” she said. “That’s molestation! In America it’s sexual assault and my boyfriend was just defending me. You can’t get him in trouble for defending me from a pervert.”

“Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to just step aside,” spoke the sandy haired guard.

“But he was protecting me,” she said. “How can someone get in trouble for protecting someone else? What if the molestation had escalated? What if he’d tried to drag me off somewhere? My boyfriend was doing a service!”

“If that’s so then your boyfriend won’t get into trouble, now excuse us, we’ve got to break this up!”

Paulina was going to protest further, but the men were faster than her. They immediately ran at the pair that was on the middle of the dance floor. Harry had the young man pinned down and was demanding that he apologize for having spoken to Paulina like that, and the drunken young man was just flailing beneath him, trying to throw Harry off.

It came as a surprise to Harry when a pair of beefy arms grabbed him by the shoulders. Harry instinctively pulled away, hoping to be able to get himself far from there, but when he jerked away, the man reached out to grab him by the shirt, but instead of grabbing his shirt, he grabbed . . . oh, he grabbed his wig. In one forceful yank the dark haired wig came off, revealing his gingery head of hair. The guard looked from the wig to the young man, and by the dim light coming from the light display, he was able to recognize the face.

“Your Royal Highness,” he declared, stumbling backwards in shock.

The murmurs erupted almost instantly. There was a Prince in their midst, and he’d just gotten into a fist fight.

“Forgive me sir,” apologized the security. “I should not have been so forceful.”

Paulina couldn’t stand idly by any further. She wasn’t about to let Harry stand there and become a sitting duck for the cell phones and cameras that were already being pulled out of bras and pockets. So she rushed towards him and grabbed him by the hand.

“We need to leave.” She told him, her voice desperate. “Let’s go!”

He didn’t protest. They both knew that no good was going to come of their evening. They were fucked, and they had to get out of there. They couldn’t stay in public anymore. They had to think. They had to reason, and as they ran out of the club and down the lobby of the hotel in which the club was located, Paulina began to think of everything that she was going to have to do. She’d have to delete her Facebook account, she’d have to ask her friends not to give anyone information regarding her and tell her family not to speak to strangers. She was going to have to make drastic changes to her life.

“Henry, stop!” cried Paulina when she realized that they were going to rush out the front doors, but it was too late, she’d lost herself in her thoughts and in his rush to leave, Harry had led them onto the sidewalk where a handful of paparazzi were looking to snap pictures of someone famous.

The paparazzi that had overlooked Harry on the way in now recognized him. There was no one in England that couldn’t identify Prince Harry’s fiery red hair. And the moment they saw it, the moment they realized that his lips were bloodied up, and that he was holding hands with a stranger, they lifted their cameras up to begin their work. When Harry saw the cameras being lifted, he instinctively took off his jacket and wrapped it around Paulina’s head, hoping to shield her from the flashes that would soon overtake them, but he wasn’t quick enough, one photographer was able to snap a picture of the terrified young woman.