Passenger Princess

by Morgan Elizabeth

"You're right. Girls are watching; they're watching women in the spotlight and using what they see to shape how they believe they deserve to be treated and how they should act at any given moment. They're watching how we do or don't stand up for ourselves when assholes like that—" I jab my finger in the direction of where the man was. "Take advantage of us. And I hope they're taking notes on how they must stand up for themselves. When I was growing up, much of the media I saw told me to grin and bear it, to let it happen because, chances are, that woman did something to deserve it. She didn't dress right, or she said the wrong thing or encouraged some entitled man. But that's fucked. Why should I live my life any differently simply because men exist?" My chest is heaving now, and everyone around me is silent. "So yeah. I hope girls are watching. And you can take that quote and twist it however you want, but when I say it, I mean I hope girls are watching women stand up for themselves,

I hope they are taking notes. That's what the real Miss Americana should be, and that's the Miss Americana I'm going to be."

I've never had an assignment like Ava, and I mean that in so many ways. One who is so fucking mouthy. One who doesn't listen to a thing I ask of her. One with a penchant for trouble. One so gorgeous, it's distracting. One who is so goddamn tempting.

"She's a pain in my ass."

"When you're in California, bring her to me. I want to meet this beauty queen who has you so flustered."

"Say fuck it and kiss me, Jaime. I’m so into you, I can barely breathe even though I know you're the one person I shouldn't be thinking about."

"I like you enough to not want something bad to happen to you. I like you enough to want to keep you safe beyond it being my job. But I also like you enough to not want to fuck this opportunity up for you and to know we can’t act on whatever chemistry is between us."

God, he's nervous. Jaime Wilde, the giant bodyguard who gets paid to protect people, is nervous because he isn't sure how I'm going to take this utterly sweet act of kindness. I take a step closer, closing the gap between us a bit, then put my hand on his chest.

think if I could make a career of it, I’d be CEO of Making Jaime Wilde Blush. Honestly, it has a pretty good ring to it.

"Not until you admit it." "You're such a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?" "A pain in the ass that you like." He stares at me, thoughts moving behind his eyes, but I continue to smile because, slowly but surely, I'm winning him over. "You're tolerable, is that enough?" I'll take it, I think. It feels like a colossal win, all things considered. "Now get in the car, Princess," he says lower.

"That man never hated her. Even at the bar, he didn't hate her. He was annoyed with her, probably because she was the tenth woman to come and try to use her girlish whims to say hi to the band, but he didn't hate her. He was intrigued by her."

"He's kind, even though he pretends he's not. I like how he's sweet with Peach and that he puts up with my bullshit. I like that he lets me flirt with him and that he really, really wants to keep me safe and not just because it's his job. I like that he wants to find a way to let me be me. And I like that he knows I'm going to be crazy and wild and a little cringey, and he doesn't care. I don't know." I pause, staring at the ceiling. "I just like him." Silence fills the line, and with each second, my stomach gets more and more anxious, waiting for my friends to tell me how stupid this crush is, how I need to use my head and think about the real world. "Wow, I never thought I'd see the day when Ava Bordeaux admits she likes someone for real." "I have liked people," I say with a roll of my eyes, exasperated. "I mean, yeah, but not like…for real. Not like…this. This is different."

“Never thought I’d see the day he met his match,” Reed says, watching Jaime and me just a foot apart, me looking up at him and him looking down at me. “Much less a five-foot princess.” Finally, I break my stare down with Jaime.

“Did you just say yippee?”

“I think I've made it crystal fucking clear by now that I don’t hate you, Ava. I feel the furthest thing from it.”

“I’m annoyed with myself most of the time. Annoyed that I let you get to me. I'm obsessed with you, Ava. I’ve told you as much. You tell me all the time that I’m into you, that I like you. You spend every day fucking with me, flirting with me, telling me I'm in love with you, and then any time I do something marginally nice, you act surprised as fuck.”

“I deserve a man who, when he looks at me, when he says he wants me, he means it. He knows it to his bones. I deserve a man who is decisive. I don’t deserve this whiplash you’ve been giving me. I don’t deserve someone who kisses me like he's going to change my life, then ignores me and treats me like any old job. I deserve the world, and if you're not willing to give it to me, I need to know now."

I fucked up so huge because somehow, someway, I’ve started to fall for this big stupid idiot. And I’m just a job to him.

“So, has he admitted he’s head over heels in love with you yet?” a voice says, snapping my attention to Wes, watching me with a smile.

some ghost taking over my body when she offered to dance with Beckett. That same phantom that made me lift her, press her against a wall, and kiss her just days ago. The one that made me buy her ice cream when I should have been doing everything in my power to convince her I wasn’t into her. The one that had me buying cat toys and iced coffees before dawn the exact way she likes it, and books for her to read in the car. I'm losing my fucking mind.

Ava is mine, and it's time she finds out exactly what that means to me. That's when I hear a familiar woman’s voice speaking.

Her feet kick as she giggles, and Wes's face is tipped up with a smile playing on his lips. He's enchanted, the way everyone feels around Ava. They look like they belong. They look like a couple having a great fucking time like they’ve been together for some time. Comfortable. Too fucking comfortable.

“Me? What the fuck was that, Ava?” “What was what?!” “You and Wes," I say in hissed tones, punching the button for the elevator. “He was being nice! God forbid, right? We were just talking about the pageant and⁠—” “That man gave zero fucks about pageants. His eyes were glued to your tits. He wants to fuck you, Ava.” She throws my hands in the air in irritation. “At least someone wants to!” With her words, my body goes stiff, but Ava ignores it, continuing on. “At least someone wants me, shows interest in me. At least someone is fucking going for it.”

“You don’t get to kiss me, fuck with me, tell me how bad you want me one morning, then spend the next few days doing everything in your power to not even brush your arms with me. You don’t get to get jealous when you’ve had all the chances in the world to make me yours and never taken them. You don’t get to keep me on a string, at your beck and call for when you decide you want to take me out of my box and play with me.” She stabs her finger into my chest like she wants it to hurt. "I told you in there you needed to make a decision about what you want from this, from me, and you walked away.”

“You're always so mouthy with me; let’s put it to good use. Open up, baby.”

"You're saying Ava, the take-no-shit one, the hyper-self-confident one, the one who has told me that I’m in love with her for almost two months now, isn't sure how to act? My Ava, who flirted with a rock star just to annoy me," he says, and I let the chill run through me with the way he calls me his Ava. "Is suddenly nervous about how to act?"

"I told you, I'm a decisive man. I see what I want, decide I want it, and I get it, and you're what I want. I'm not letting that go easy." One hand leaves the bed to cup my jaw as he drops down, planting a small kiss on my lips, leaving me lightheaded.

I don't trust anyone else to take care of you."

I think I'm going to love this new version of us.

Where I miscalculated was becoming utterly obsessed with her, and then barely a week after finally claiming her as mine, having to watch her date a dozen men right before my eyes. It's my own personal version of hell. We're barely twenty minutes and four dates in when I should probably start getting nervous for the health of my teeth. All this grinding can't be good for them.

Stop letting these assholes touch you, Ava.

Stop being a brat, Ava.

Stop rolling your eyes at me, or I'll give you a reason to make them roll. Promise?

My woman is going to be the death of me; that much is for certain.

Shoulders back, tits out, you got this bitch, runs through my mind, and I remember why I'm here, what brought me here. I'm Ava motherfucking Bordeaux. I won an entire nationwide pageant on a whim. I can handle a bunch of petty ass bitches who think they're better than everyone.

Hot and a team player? God, could he be any more perfect?

When I look over his shoulder, Regina stands, her jaw tight and irritated. I wink at her, enjoying my win just a bit too much.

"For helping me today. Really." "I'll always come to the rescue for you, Princess."

She stares at me, and I think, for what might be the first time, I've successfully shocked Ava Bordeaux. An accomplishment, if there ever was one.

"Jaime, I can't⁠—" "You can, I'll reward you, baby."

"Fucking soaked from your book, aren't you? Dirty fucking princess." "From you," she groans,

"That's right, Ava. Because whose pussy is this?"

"Jaime! I can't believe you made her sign an NDA! I'm so sorry, I'm not actually a drama queen, he's just very protective,"

"What..." I look around. "What is this?" "I'm taking you shopping." "You're…you're taking me shopping?" He smiles wide and nods, crossing his arms on his chest. "You're taking me shopping, and you closed down the entire store so I could buy books in peace?"

"Oh my god," I whisper, and he suddenly looks on guard. "What?" I take a step closer to him, closing the gap between us. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, nothing at all. It's just…you're so into me," I whisper, letting a hand trail up his front until my hand is on his shoulder. "You have no fucking idea," he says before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. It's a sweet kiss, not completely devoid of the fire that always seems to be burning in the background, but this time just a press of lips on lips. His are soft and warm, the scruff of his chin grating along mine as my hand moves to his neck as his hand moves to my waist, pulling me in tight.

"Now go shopping."

of my shoes in my sneakers. "However many I can hold, Princess." "Is that a challenge?" My eyes move to his arms before leaning in to grip his bicep that my hand could barely get a quarter around. "I bet you could hold a lot of books."

"If you promise to read some of your favorite scenes out loud to me, I'll buy the whole damn store."

We're hand in hand, Jaime holding Peach's leash as she chases a butterfly. It's hilarious seeing big, bad Jaime Wilde holding a pink, glittery leash attached to a harness with tiny strawberries on it, a kitten prancing around, but somehow, it works.

"Ava, I would move in with you tomorrow if it wasn't too much or too fast for you. We've spent three months at each other's side, every waking moment together. The thought of not having that when we get back makes me sick, though I'm willing to take this at your pace. So yeah, there will be a second date. And a third date. If I get my way, a one-hundredth date. A take-my-last-name-and-put-a-ring-on-your-finger, date down the line if I'm really lucky."