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My patience was growing thin.
The soft notes of “Moon River” sung by Audrey Hepburn herself, enveloped us, enhancing the dreamlike quality of this unforgettable moment from the movie, but my mind was still on the prince.
I craved his lips so badly it hurt.
It was then that Oliver’s thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. His fingers gradually started moving up my arm.
My heartbeat suddenly quickened, and I felt the anticipation building within me. I was on the verge of exploding from the built-up sexual tension. I imagined my body parts flying in every direction, plopping into the water like bait for the fish. At this rate, maybe they would be the only ones who put their mouths on me, but by then I would be dead. I wanted Oliver to kiss me so badly, to feel his lips against mine. I could not stand it any longer.
Finally, as the boat approached the next display of Cupid pointing his bow and arrow right at us, Oliver turned to me, his eyes filled with an intensity that mirrored my own emotions.
This was it.
I was sure of it.
Without a word, he cupped my face and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration that quickly deepened into something more passionate. My nerves melted away as I lost myself in the warmth of his embrace and passion. His lips moved with a gentle urgency, and my hands found their way to his chest, his shoulders, behind his neck, and then through his hair. Time seemed to stand still as we kissed, the display inside the tunnel the furthest thing from my mind. I wanted to savor this moment, this kiss, the feel of his arms around me. I also did not want it to end.
I simply could not get enough.
The thought of stopping seemed impossible.
I wanted everything Oliver had to give me.
A loud bang and a sudden jolt startled us out of our kiss as the boat slammed dramatically through the double doors to take us outside.
Just like that, we were back to reality as I felt the breeze on my face. I was in a complete daze from that magical kiss and out of breath as the sights and sounds of the amusement park engulfed us once again. But before I could bask any further in the afterglow of that kiss, our boat glided past an amusement park employee, who froze in her tracks as her eyes widened. I did a double-take, wondering what that was all about. We passed another employee, and she threw her hand over her mouth, then curtsied.
“Your Highness!” she exclaimed.
Confused, I glanced at Oliver, then jerked my head back. His disguise had completely vanished. No sunglasses. No hat. To make matters worse, blue and pink paint from my face was now smeared across his chin, nose, and mouth. I didn’t know whether I wanted to laugh or die of mortification.
“Your sunglasses,” I urged him. “Put them back on.”
Oliver fumbled around, searching for them on his lap and on the floor of the boat. “Uh-oh,” he said, panic in his eyes as he realized they were nowhere to be found. “I have no idea where they are.”
“What about your hat?” I asked, even though I had a really bad feeling I’d knocked it off his head when I was running my fingers through his royal hair.
“Did I lose it again?” Oliver muttered, feeling his head. “I guess I did.”
We were approaching the ramp to disembark, where there were loads of people waiting to get on the boats. Heads were turning our way.
“There’s a storm brewing, Your Highness,” Mr. Stoic said from the seat in front of us. “We’ll need to take swift action as soon as the boat stops. Be prepared.”
“I’d like to apologize to you in advance, Grace,” Oliver said.
“What for?” I asked.
“I have this feeling we’re both about to go viral again,” he said.
Just then, a man shouted, “It’s Prince Oliver!”
The proclamation sent a ripple effect through the crowd. Camera phones were suddenly drawn, like pistols in a western shootout, all of them aimed right at us. In a swift maneuver, Mr. Stoic, the ever-watchful royal bodyguard, sprang into action, leaping out of the boat and extending his hand.
“We need to get you out of here. Now,” he said, his urgency clear. “Follow me, Your Highness. Please hurry.”
We ran, adrenaline pumping, through the turnstile. The pursuing crowd grew, some snapping photos and taking videos, while others screamed for selfies.
“Wait, Your Highness!” a man yelled. “Just one photo!”
