The Prince's Bride (Part 1) - J.J. McAvoy Page 0,82

workers can only call you miss, ma’am, or Your Highness,” Wolfgang interjected from behind the steering wheel, which made both Gale and Iskandar look at him.

However, funnily enough, Iskandar looked more annoyed than Gale did. Iskandar began to speak but only to Wolfgang. His tone, the glare, and how Wolfgang sat up straighter told me he was definitely in trouble.

“Sometimes, I feel bad for the kid.” Gale snickered, whispering to me, “Wolfgang knows the rules, but he gets so excited that he forgets himself. Each time he does, Iskandar the Rock tells him the page of the rule book he is breaking.”

I sat up to see, but he didn’t have a book on hand, and I then realized. “He memorized all the rules, by pages?”

Gale nodded. “He graduated first in his military class. He is the fifth generation of his family to do so. To people like him, the royal protocol and family are a religion. As playful as I am, I never tell him to forgo protocol. It would be like telling the Pope to stop quoting scripture.”

Was the whole nation loyal like that?

Would I be able to live in that type of world?

I wanted to experience a normal date, and there was nothing more normal than going to the movies. I had it all thought out. She would pick some sad, romantic woman’s film. We would hold hands, and I would try to distract her a bit. However, the moment she chose some Stephen King horror film, I instantly regretted my decision to come.

“Enjoy your movie,” the lady said from behind the counter.

“Thank you!” Odette said happily, turning back to me.

I smiled, trying not to give away the fact that I hated horror movies with a passion. “Do you want popcorn?” I asked her.

“They sell kettle corn.” Her eyebrows wiggled with excitement, which helped defuse the tensions in my shoulders.

Instead of worrying about the movie, I focused on the fact that American food sizes made no sense to me. Odette clearly said a medium, and yet they gave her a bucket the size of her head.

“This is a medium?” I questioned.

“Yeah? Do you want a large?” she asked in return, clearly not understanding what I meant.

“If this is a medium, what does a large look like? Do they give you the machine?”

She glanced down at the bucket and then chuckled. “Sometimes, I forget you’re from Europe. Everything is so small there.”

“No, everything is proportional there.”

“Dude, are you getting the popcorn or not?” Some teenager asked, bored with me, reminding me of the customs agent when I first came here.

“We will just share. Can I get a Sprite also? Do you want one?”

“Yes, thank you...” my voice trailed off as I saw the massive cup they put the drink in. All I could do was look at her.

“Stop judging us. See, this is why Americans feel like you are all stuck up.” She giggled.

“Because we are concerned about your overall health?” I shot back.

“We were pretty healthy when we beat your ass during the revolution,” the teenager muttered as he rang us up.

Odette held back a snort, sticking a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

“For the record, I am not British,” I said, handing him a hundred. “But if I were, I would tell you that it has been over two hundred years, so find a new insult.”

“Why? And we can’t break a hundred right now,” he said, giving me back the money.

“That’s what you get for trying to argue with a teenager,” Odette teased, giving him her card. “I guess this is on me.”

“Sorry, your card is declined.”

The way her head whipped back in horror made it all worth it. “What do you mean, declined?” she questioned.

“I mean, it says to call the bank,” he said back to her.

“Here try this,” Iskandar said behind us, reminding us both he and Wolfgang were still here.

“You were saying?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

Her lips pursed as she glared at me. “Our movie is in theater eight.”

Right...the movie.

You can do this, Gale. It is only a movie. It is not real.

“Is it over?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

I peeked back up at the screen only to see the melting, white face of some demon woman, causing me to scream and her to snicker. “You are not funny,” I whispered back at her.

“I can’t believe you’re this scared of horror movies.” She giggled, eating her popcorn as if we were at the park.

“Horror movies are meant to scare you. Therefore, I am having a natural