Mandy Hubbard - Prada and Prejudice

I can't believe I just said that. I can't believe I implied he'd he so stuck on me that he wouldn't pay attention to the other girls and his supposed duty to find a wife. A Duchess forHarksbury.

"I would not wish you to leave if it is not your desire."

I nod and swallow the boulder-sized lump forming in my throat. I don't know if he feels quite as strongly for me as I do for him, hut he does care about me. And it feels good.

"Thank you."

We turn back to the sky again, and I edge closer to him. I feel strange, dressed in my jeans and T-shirt, while he is still dressed as he always is. It makes it so painfully obvious that we're from different worlds. Worlds that will never see one another. Worlds much too far apart.

I turn toward him, so my cheek is resting on the cool grass. When he looks back at me, his eyes nearly blend with the blades until all I see is a sea of intense green.

And then I do it. I edge closer to him, close my eyes, and kiss him. His lips are as soft and full as before, but I enjoy it this time, because my mind isn't reeling like it was. I lose myself to the moment as he presses back against me.

It is perfect. It is everything I want it to be and more.

And then we both retreat, and I open my eyes.

He moves his arm so that it wraps around my shoulders, and I have somewhere to rest my head, and then I snuggle up against him and close my eyes again, as the heavy draw of sleep lulls me under.

I must have fallen asleep on a rock. It's digging into my shoulder blade. I scrunch up and start to roll over, but then freeze.

It's not just a single rock. It's a giant one. Like concrete.

I go numb as I realize what this means. It can't be... I ease open one eye, and then in an instant I'm sitting upright and looking around. And all I see are cars. And people in blue jeans. And street signs. And I smell smog and I hear radios crackling in the passing cabs.

I close my eyes for at least ten seconds and then open them again, but it's all still there.

The twenty-first century.

I can't stop my face from falling. I'm back. Just when I'd realized I don't want this at all, I'm back. My shopping bags are strewn around me. I'm wearing jeans. A T-shirt. My heels.

I glance back to realize the Prada shop is still a few yards behind me, just where I'd left it. I'm sitting in the exact spot I'd fallen down.

I never left at all.

I stay put for a few moments as a pounding headache fades.

Alex. Emily. Even Victoria.

They were all make-believe. Some figment of my banged-up brain. That means the kiss... God, I made it all up! Every single thing!

I want to lie back down, close my eyes, and go back. I want horrible soup and stiff corsets and lumpy mattresses. I'll trade it all to see Alex again. To go to Emily's wedding.

A man trips on my foot and then has the nerve to glare at me, even though he basically kicked me in the shin.

Yes, I'm definitely in the twenty-first century.

I scramble to my feet and wipe the dirt off my jeans and lean over to pick up my bags. And then I notice them.

My heels. My beautiful, damaged heels. I glance over my shoulder. Yes, the Prada shop is definitely still behind me. I've gone maybe four steps from the door. Nowhere near enough to ruin the heels like this. They're scuffed, dented, and scratched.

I gather up the rest of my bags, my grin in full-force. It wasn't fake. It wasn't make-believe or a dream or anything.

It happened. As sure as the mud on the heels, it happened. There's even a dent where the front door of Harksbury bounced off the toe.

I don't know how or why or anything, but somehow, I was there. I danced with Alex and helped Emily. I played a piano for a duke and a countess, and I ate more exotic animals than I ever wanted to.

But it happened. I don't understand it; I only know that the last month was real, and it was the best of my life.

I sling the bags over my shoulder and practically skip down the block. No matter what happens next, no matter what happens for the rest of my life, I have something no one else will ever have. An adventure to rival Indiana Jones. A crazy month that can never be replicated.

I continue in the direction of the hotel, feeling oddly out of place and right at home at the same time. A clock chimes somewhere in the distance. I wonder if it's Big Ben.

I wonder what time it is.

"Excuse me," I say to the first woman I see. She's wearing a sundress so loud I have to squint to look at her. "What time is it?"

"Two-fifty."

I thank her and then resume my walk. Two-fifty. I wasn't out long. Probably not even a full minute. I look at my shoes again, just to be sure they're still as scuffed as ever. I love them. I love every scratch and dent and mark. They're perfect.

I walk easily to the hotel, as if the shoes were made for me. As if they're sneakers and not three-inch heels.

I miss Alex.

I wonder if he remembers me at all. If no time passed here... what if the same thing happened there? What if the whole month starts over?

No, I can't believe that. If I remember him, he must remember me. Emily must be on her way to marry Trent. Victoria must be as grouchy as ever. It's simply not possible that they could all affect me so much and they wouldn't even remember me. I was there. I know it.

The hotel comes into view while I'm still thinking about it, and I slow down. Mrs. Bentley could be anywhere. I so don't need to get caught, on top of everything else.

I slip into a side door using the room key and walk up two flights of carpeted stairs, my steps muffled. They're nothing like the grand marble staircase of Harksbury.

I swipe my keycard again on the door of room 312. Once inside, I drop all my bags and head straight to the bathroom.

A shower sounds like heaven. I wonder if it's possible to run out of hot water in a hotel room.

I think I'm about to find out.

I'm sitting in a chair on the balcony, watching the traffic in the street below, when I hear a knock on my door. It echoes across the room. I stare for a long while. Some crazy, wild side of me wants it to be Alex, even though that's totally irrational.

I can't really get over losing him in an instant. He was there when I fell asleep. Gone when I woke up. I wasted a month, thinking he was a jerk, and just when I realize he's a good guy, I'm gone.

I leave the balcony and manage to tangle myself in the sheer curtains flapping in the breeze. By the time I'm at the door, someone is knocking again.

I open it and my hopes are dashed. It's Mindy. She's standing there in the same jeans and pink cami as the day I left. The same cami as this morning. "Hey."

"Oh. Hi," I say, one hand still on the doorknob.

"So, urn... "

Does she look nervous? Is that possible?

"Me, Angie, and Summer are going to sneak into a club tonight. And, uh, I wanted to know if you're interested," Mindy says, staring at the carpet.

Oh my God. She is nervous. The whole time I thought she was ignoring me because I was an embarrassment. Is it possible she just didn't want to put herself out there either?

I guess we have more in common than I thought.

I'm just standing there, staring at her.

"I was going to invite you earlier, in the bathroom, but you just kind of ran off," she says.

"Oh. Uh—" I pause for a second. To be honest, room service and sleep sounds too good to pass up. Maybe a pint of Ben & Jerry's to drown my sorrows.

How could he be gone just like that? The first time I've ever felt like I was falling in love... and now we're two hundred years apart. Talk about a long distance relationship.

"Urn, I don't know."

"Come on, you have to. When is a chance like this going to come along again?"

She has a point. A nightclub in London. It would definitely be different from that ball at Harksbury. And when this is all over, I'll be back home again. Friendless. After a month with Emily, I can't go hack to that. I have a chance to change it all.

Starting with tonight.

"Okay. Sure."

Mindy grins. "Awesome. We're all getting ready in my room if you want to joins us. Room 315."

I don't tell her I already know that. "Okay. Let me grab some stuff. I'll be over in a minute."

Mindy dashes off before I can change my mind, slinking along the walls like a secret agent. I almost forgot we were supposed to be doing this all on the down-low.

I pick up the shopping bags near the door, where they've lain since I dropped them over four hours ago. I dump them on my bed and sort out the clothes. Tight hoodies, tees, tank tops.

I pick a teeny little tank top with lace across the top and pair it with new jeans. I don't even have to wonder what shoes I'll wear: it's Prada all the way. I grab my makeup case and curling iron, even though they both feel foreign in my hands, and head down the hall, barefoot.

Tonight, my life changes.

Tonight, Rebecca and Callie become one. And I'm never going back.

When Mindy opens the door, pop music assaults my senses. I wish it were classical. I wish it were like the band at the dance.

I wish I could dance with Alex again, silly little do-si-dos and dips and spins.