A Prince in Fairytales

Meeting Mia had thrust Wes into a world of surprises.

But he couldn't find it in himself to complain. If anything, it endeared him to her more. Never in his life did he feel this intrigued by someone.

She was full of irony. One moment, he worried she would break down from nerves, then the next, he marveled at her surge of confidence. Her contradicting words and actions were nothing short of compelling.

“So, you wanna be my wingwoman?” he asked with a smirk, to which she nodded firmly. ‘Oh, she wasn't kidding.’

“I-I wouldn't call it ‘wingwoman,’ though.”

“Hmm… Then, maybe 'fairy godmother'?”

“W-Well, uh…” she fumbled for a second, then giggled, “Anything to get your princess, I guess.”

His heart leaped, and he smiled from ear to ear. Though he acted like he was just humoring her, he realized at some point that he desired to see her again, regardless of the reason. He wanted to talk with her more, to get to know her better.

And he wanted to do that as the person he was right now.

“Thank you, Mia. I'll be relying on you,” he said, hope and joy brimming in his chest.

She beamed and pumped up her fists. “Y-Yesh! You can count on- Ow!” 

Not only had she spoken with a lisp this time, but she'd also bitten her tongue. The sight of her holding back tears caused the corners of his lips to twitch uncontrollably. But he resisted and placed a hand over his mouth, trying not to fluster her more than she already was.

'Truly an interesting girl.'

Before the spell broke, Wes wished he could indulge himself a little bit longer in this dream-like encounter.

---

The driver opened the door to the backseat of a glamorous black limousine.

Deafening screams rippled through the crowd within seconds. Cameras swiveled and clicked, pooling the night-clad streets with flashing lights.

Before them was a staggeringly handsome young man with golden hair as lush as honey, eyes resembling the clear, blue sky, and a god-like figure. He wore a pair of classic desert boots, sensually casual trousers, and a light linen button-down that was halfway open, exposing his chiseled chest.

"Kyaaa! He’s here!”

“Our sunshine! Our prince!"

“I love you! Marry me, please!”

“My God! You’re so hot! So perfect!”

"I'll die for you, Wes!"

Wes Ashthorne, the nineteen-year-old actor and model behind the title, “Sun Prince,” and successor to the world-class business colossus, Ashthorne’s.

His attendance alone ensured the success of tonight's fashion show. As the main face of the summer collection, and also the front of other massive campaigns, he stood above them all. He treaded the red carpet, weaving through the mob of fans and photographers, his magnetic aura effortlessly commanding attention.

Fellow male brand ambassadors lined up ahead, waiting to enter the venue alongside him. He took the center position. Now all gathered at the entrance, the supermodels turned to their spectators and struck out their poses.

Wes moved in a smooth motion; one hand brushed his hair back, and the other slid down to his hip with his thumb lightly tugging at the edge of his pants, revealing a glimpse of his packed abs and toned abdomen.

"KYAAAAA!!!"

The audience erupted in shouts and cheers, driven absolutely wild by the sumptuous sight. It lasted longer than he preferred, and even then, the noise didn't lessen. Eventually, he stepped into the building with the others, headed straight to the dressing rooms.

“Good work out there, Wes,” one of the men chimed, followed by another, “Yeah, you’re really born for the red carpet. See all those ladies fawning over you? I swear, it’s gonna be chaos on the runway too.”

“As far as I recall, only the VIPs are allowed inside,” Wes pointed out. He knew because he possessed a list of the guests, nearly half of whom he'd invited himself.

“Not surprising, considering who’ll be there.” The rest of the group of models joined in. “The entire Ashthorne family is coming, right? You see, my parents and sister will be around, too. Mind if I introduce them?”

“Oh! I’ve always wanted to see the Ashthorne's CEO in person.”

“I’m a fan of Ms. Claire, in particular. Your cousin is such a great musician!”

“I wonder if Caleb will be with her this time. It sure is busy being a sports star.”

“Say, Wes. What if we hang out together at the after-show function?”

His lips curved up, and his gaze sharpened. He’d already predicted that the conversation would follow the usual pattern of polite flattery and veiled requests—a game he played his whole life. It was all too dull and tedious, but somehow, also useful.

“Xander Quin, right?” With a composed smile, Wes addressed the person who first mentioned his family. “I believe I already met your younger sister.”

“Alice?! That's great!” the man exclaimed, visibly thrilled. “Isn't she charming? Ever since she first saw that new movie you starred in, she wouldn't stop talking about how much she's crushing on you! She even dreams of becoming your personal stylist one day. Believe me, she adores you. I bet she left quite an impression, huh?”

Wes narrowed his eyes, a cold shadow settling over his still smiling face. Memories of the sticky warmth and bittersweet smell that had clung to his skin flashed through his mind. But almost at the same time, the image of a certain young woman and her handkerchief appeared.

He inhaled deeply, knowing for himself why he mentioned Alice in the first place. With that, he proceeded to describe the general location of the café to Xander. He then named the nearest high school—Mia’s school.

“Does your sister study there?”

“No way. She goes to a private school.”

“But does she know anyone who does?”

“Hmm… Not sure. I wasn't even aware there was a high school in that area. Must be pretty small.”

It did have less students than most, and it definitely wasn't prestigious. But it's close to a commercial district, making it fairly known among locals. Moreover, it’s a top choice for some for its low tuition fee and inclusive environment.

Those are based on the results of his research so far, which would’ve been unnecessary if it weren't for one predicament —

It just so happened that both Wes and Mia forgot to exchange phone numbers, or even discuss when and where they would meet. Though he had learned her last name, she wasn't responding to his message requests and didn't seem active on social media.

They'd agreed to see each other again, yet they failed to take their means of communication into account.

‘It was my fault. She seemed really worried I’d strip any second, so she finished as fast as she could, and we talked for long enough. I should've asked when I had the chance.’ He sighed internally, his chest heavy with regret.

He doubted Mia and that girl were acquaintances, much less go to the same school together, especially since he didn't even see them interact back then. Still, he’d grab onto any possible leads, though investigating her basic information was the furthest he would go. It would be boorish to probe for a lady's contact details without consent, even if he was more than capable of doing so.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I have to decline your invitation to hang out,” he said with a disarming smile, returning to their previous topic. “I’ll be meeting someone afterwards. I won’t even be at the dinner party."

The group fell into shocked silence, then someone voiced out, “That's a first. Is it a date?”

Instead of answering, Wes spared them a meaningful glance before turning to leave, all while they could only stare curiously.