Let’s backtrack: One, somehow, I’m suddenly a nationwide pageant queen. Two, the pageant I won hates me and wants me to resign so my newly founded archenemy can take the crown. Three, I have a chaperone for the next three months because they want to watch my every move and force me to resign. And four, my new buddy system friend is the grumpy bodyguard I drunkenly flirted with when he stopped me from entering a VIP section a few days ago.
