wearing lifts in their shoes.
As they went on like that, I smiled to myself. Those two were like a couple of peas in a pod. Like Jack and Jill, only more hardcore and far more entertaining.
An hour into the dance, it was turning out to be a perfectly normal and pleasant evening until his highness, Chance Darling, showed up and added an unexpected twist to my night.
Ah, Chance Darling.
What could I possibly say about Chance Darling?
Let me start by asserting that I think every girl has a different idea of what a “totally hot guy” is. But, I also think that there is a certain level of attractiveness a guy can reach that, no matter what a girl’s specifically into, she will agree that he is by definition a good-looking fellow.
Chance Darling was one of these good-looking fellows. He was the Prince of Clevaunt, grandson of King Midas, and most girls considered him to be the hottest thing since two-wheel-drive carriages. To put it in its plainest terms, he was a charmer, a ladies’ man, and a perfect young royal by all traditional standards. In addition, his physical appearance could’ve best been described as a cross between a fairytale’s ideal prince charming and a well-toned personal trainer.
So did I personally think he was handsome? Of course. However, despite his outward immaculateness, he definitely did not cause me or my friends to swoon on sight like so many of the other girls at Lady Agnue’s.
Why?
Because you could give a dirt-bag a pearly white smile and a fancy suit, but he’d still be a dirt-bag.
This punk, as Jason referred to him, was snide, conceited, and more self-absorbed than a kitchen sponge. Holding a conversation with him was like talking to a mannequin in a store window—if mannequins were endowed with a sense of self-importance and an impressive dose of narcissism, that is.
Appropriately, Chance was Mauvrey’s man. With their similar levels of superficiality, attractiveness, and their horrible personalities, the two of them had been a natural couple for years. So, knowing all of this, you can understand why the following surprised me so much.
“Good evening, Crisanta,” Chance said.
He bowed formally as I used the back of my hand to wipe the residue pastry crumbs from my face. “Uh . . . Hi, Chance,” I responded.
“Crisanta, would you do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor?”
I glanced over at Blue and Jason with a “ What the heck? ” expression on my face. They shrugged in confusion.
I cocked my head at Chance, but he didn’t seem to be joking.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Completely,” he replied.
Chance extended his hand and I stared at it apprehensively. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mauvrey and her cronies across the room. Her face was so red with anger as she glared at me I thought steam was going to start pouring out of her ears.
As much as I really didn’t want to dance with Chance or create any more animosity between Mauvrey and myself, there were rules. I had to accept Chance’s invitation. Not because I didn’t like breaking rules. That was sort of my nature. But Lady Agnue and Madame Lisbon both happened to be within earshot at the moment, so if I chose to go rogue then and there, they would’ve surely gone ballistic. As such, I unfortunately had no choice but to accept the prince’s inexplicable offer.
I sighed, extending my own hand. “Sure, Chance. Why not.”
He took my palm in his firmly and twirled me onto the dance floor with great pageantry.
The couples were currently in the midst of a Viennese Waltz so Chance put his right hand around my waist and took my right hand in his left. We danced in silence for several minutes and I was shocked that his highness did not correct me on the mistakes I made with my footwork.
Finally, I decided to ask what anyone who saw us together was undoubtedly thinking.
“So, uh, Chance, just out of curiosity . . .” I began. “Why exactly are you dancing with me and not Mauvrey
As they went on like that, I smiled to myself. Those two were like a couple of peas in a pod. Like Jack and Jill, only more hardcore and far more entertaining.
An hour into the dance, it was turning out to be a perfectly normal and pleasant evening until his highness, Chance Darling, showed up and added an unexpected twist to my night.
Ah, Chance Darling.
What could I possibly say about Chance Darling?
Let me start by asserting that I think every girl has a different idea of what a “totally hot guy” is. But, I also think that there is a certain level of attractiveness a guy can reach that, no matter what a girl’s specifically into, she will agree that he is by definition a good-looking fellow.
Chance Darling was one of these good-looking fellows. He was the Prince of Clevaunt, grandson of King Midas, and most girls considered him to be the hottest thing since two-wheel-drive carriages. To put it in its plainest terms, he was a charmer, a ladies’ man, and a perfect young royal by all traditional standards. In addition, his physical appearance could’ve best been described as a cross between a fairytale’s ideal prince charming and a well-toned personal trainer.
So did I personally think he was handsome? Of course. However, despite his outward immaculateness, he definitely did not cause me or my friends to swoon on sight like so many of the other girls at Lady Agnue’s.
Why?
Because you could give a dirt-bag a pearly white smile and a fancy suit, but he’d still be a dirt-bag.
This punk, as Jason referred to him, was snide, conceited, and more self-absorbed than a kitchen sponge. Holding a conversation with him was like talking to a mannequin in a store window—if mannequins were endowed with a sense of self-importance and an impressive dose of narcissism, that is.
Appropriately, Chance was Mauvrey’s man. With their similar levels of superficiality, attractiveness, and their horrible personalities, the two of them had been a natural couple for years. So, knowing all of this, you can understand why the following surprised me so much.
“Good evening, Crisanta,” Chance said.
He bowed formally as I used the back of my hand to wipe the residue pastry crumbs from my face. “Uh . . . Hi, Chance,” I responded.
“Crisanta, would you do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor?”
I glanced over at Blue and Jason with a “ What the heck? ” expression on my face. They shrugged in confusion.
I cocked my head at Chance, but he didn’t seem to be joking.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Completely,” he replied.
Chance extended his hand and I stared at it apprehensively. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mauvrey and her cronies across the room. Her face was so red with anger as she glared at me I thought steam was going to start pouring out of her ears.
As much as I really didn’t want to dance with Chance or create any more animosity between Mauvrey and myself, there were rules. I had to accept Chance’s invitation. Not because I didn’t like breaking rules. That was sort of my nature. But Lady Agnue and Madame Lisbon both happened to be within earshot at the moment, so if I chose to go rogue then and there, they would’ve surely gone ballistic. As such, I unfortunately had no choice but to accept the prince’s inexplicable offer.
I sighed, extending my own hand. “Sure, Chance. Why not.”
He took my palm in his firmly and twirled me onto the dance floor with great pageantry.
The couples were currently in the midst of a Viennese Waltz so Chance put his right hand around my waist and took my right hand in his left. We danced in silence for several minutes and I was shocked that his highness did not correct me on the mistakes I made with my footwork.
Finally, I decided to ask what anyone who saw us together was undoubtedly thinking.
“So, uh, Chance, just out of curiosity . . .” I began. “Why exactly are you dancing with me and not Mauvrey
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