A Shot with Prince Charming: A YA Romance Prequel Novella Read online

  A Shot with Prince Charming

  A Prequel Novella

  Maggie Dallen

  Copyright © 2021 by Maggie Dallen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Image © Shutterstock - Dean Drobot

  Cover Design © Designed with Grace

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  No Place Like Homecoming

  About the Author

  One

  Ruby

  Not many guys could pull off tights. But Jackson Messner? He made it work.

  I aimed my lens at the hottie linebacker who was currently dressed as the Princess Troupe’s very own Prince Charming.

  Oh yeah. He didn’t just make it work. He owned it.

  Then again, he owned the tights. Literally. The tight pants that came with the costume hadn’t fit, so Jackson had worn his football...pants. Leggings? Spats? Whatever. Same difference. They covered his bottom half, and they were exceptionally form-fitting.

  Edgar, the kid who normally played Prince Charming, had already left for college, and as the company owner’s son, Jackson had been asked to fill in.

  Or he’d been forced to.

  I turned my lens to take in the ever-harried Mrs. Messner as she fussed with Callie’s Belle hairstyle, attaching the gold tiara-like hair piece that went with her gold gown.

  My guess was Jackson had been forced into it. Mrs. Messner could be quite forceful when she wanted to be. I knew this because I’d been working as the troupe’s in-house photographer for the past two years, ever since I’d moved to this town. She turned to the room at large. “Any word from Savannah?”

  Callie shook her head, and the tiara was now crooked. “I haven’t heard from her, but I doubt she’d miss this.”

  Willow came out from behind one of Mrs. Messner’s portable changing screens, brushing out her long blonde hair so she fit the image of Rapunzel to a tee. It wasn’t even a wig, which was why she was always Rapunzel when that princess was requested. “Savannah has been waiting years for this.”

  I had to bite my lip to stifle a laugh. I liked Savannah. I really did. She wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea—she could be a bit of a diva—but she’d always been nice to me. Even so, it was kind of hilarious to me that anyone would even care which princess they played.

  Although, as Willow had explained to me the one time I’d openly laughed about the whole princess pecking order—there was a valid reason behind the jealousy and rivalries. The bigger the princess, the bigger the tips and the more gigs they could perform at. For years now, Kara Vance had been the lead blonde princess. Aside from Rapunzel, which was Willow’s domain, Kara had been the top pick for Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Elsa out of seniority. But she’d already left for college too, and Jackson and I wouldn’t be far behind. I’d be in New York next week to start at Columbia, and I had no doubt Jackson would be leaving around the same time.

  How did I know? He’d gotten into NYU, which started the same week...not that we’d ever talked about it.

  One didn’t just talk to Jackson Messner. I mean, he was nice and all, but he was also Jackson Messner.

  And me? Well, I was currently hovering on the sidelines, watching the scene before me through a camera lens. Like always.

  Jackson, meanwhile, was strutting around the makeshift staging area in the Vernons’ basement like he was the king of the kingdom. Or, the prince, I guess. He paused to study his reflection in a mirror.

  “But Savannah’s never late,” Mrs. Messner said. “And we need a Cinderella. That’s Maggie Vernon’s favorite princess, her mother told me so.”

  It was the seriousness with which she made this proclamation that had me stifling another laugh. I couldn’t help it. As someone who merely watched the princesses perform at these birthday parties, it was hard to fully understand the intensity that went on backstage.

  One would think performing at a seven year old’s birthday party would be all fun and games.

  One would be wrong.

  I pressed my lips together to hold back a snort of laughter, and Jackson chose that moment to glance over in my direction.

  I blushed. Of course I did. Blushing was all I knew how to do when face to face with real live guys. Especially when said real-live guy was Jackson Messner—popular, nice, beloved Jackson Messner. Football star, prom king, and boss’s son. And a prince, no less. At least, his mom forced him to be.

  Whatever he saw on my face had him giving me this cute, lopsided little smile. Like he was just as perplexed and amused by this whole princess situation as I was.

  I sank back even further into my corner. But not quickly enough.

  “Ruby can do it,” Jackson said.

  I froze, my camera hovering in front of my face as if that could shield me from the stares of every person in this room.

  Ruby. That was me. And the idea was—

  “Perfect!” Mrs. Messner said with a beaming grin in my direction that caught me off guard.

  No. Ludicrous! The idea was ludicrous. That was what she was supposed to say.

  “No. No, no, no,” I added for good measure. I looked around frantically. “Willow can do it.”

  “But then who would be Rapunzel?” Willow asked.

  Right. Good point.

  I pointed a finger in Callie’s direction, but she was already shaking her head. “Sorry, Ruby. I’ve got the Belle thing down pat.”

  Mrs. Messner nodded as if that made total sense. “It’s true. They’ll expect her to sing.”

  I swallowed. Singing. I’d forgotten about the singing. Everyone knew Callie had the best singing voice, so she always got the roles that were expected to burst into song. Her Belle was incredible. She made a pretty great Ariel, too.

  My mouth went bone dry at the mere thought of singing in front of people.

  “Don’t worry, dear.” Mrs. Messner walked toward me with arms outstretched as if to embrace me.

  Or hold me captive.

  “No one expects Cinderella to sing.”

  Willow was nodding, all earnest and sweet with a hopeful look. “You can totally do this, Ruby. You just have to smile and look pretty.”

  “I can’t. I mean, I’m not. I mean, I don’t—”

  “You are.” Jackson was still on the other side of the room, but his words had me looking up with a start.

  “I am…” I repeated like a moron. “I am...what?”

  He pushed away from the wall where he’d been leaning, and he still wore that easy, slightly mysterious little smile. “You are pretty. All you have to do is smile. I’ll handle the rest.”

  “But...but…” I looked around for help, but it was clear none was coming. They didn’t understand. How could they? This was a room full of people who were totally comfortable being in the spotlight.

  I clutched my camera like a lifeline. My camera. Of course! “But who’ll take the pictures?”

  Mrs. Messner paused in her predatory stalking, and for a half a second, I thought perhaps I’d won. I almost let out a sigh of relief...but then Mrs.Messner’s smile grew. “I’ll take the photos.”

  I flinched, but it was Jackson who groaned. “Mom, no. You’re a terrible photographer. Remember what
happened at the Perlstein party?”

  Everyone in the room cringed, but I actually felt a stab of pain. Photographs weren’t something I took lightly. They were precious keepsakes. They were captured moments in time. Each photo represented a memory. The only true way to catch time and freeze it.

  And Mrs. Messner had ruined it. Honestly, it was hard to understand how she could have made such a mess of those photos. Luckily, the parents had some family members with a modicum of skill or the memories of that event would have been blurry and awkward until the end of time.

  “Okay, fine,” Mrs. Messner said. “Then I’ll find someone else to take photos while Ruby plays Cinderella.”

  “Like who?” Willow asked.

  “I bet Flynn would do it,” Callie said. Flynn was in Callie’s class at Lindale High, and a staple at our weekend birthday gigs. He worked for the catering company that was always hired for these small-scale local events and he’d made it clear ages ago that he wanted nothing to do with the princess end of things. Did that go for taking pictures?

  I assumed we were all wondering that right about now. I was pretty sure we all remembered the look of horror on his face when Mrs. Messner had been desperate for a last-minute beast to play opposite Callie’s Belle. Edgar had been away on vacation, Jackson had a football game, and Flynn...well, he’d straight up said no.

  Callie pursed her lips and added, “Maybe if we threw him some extra tips?”

  “You’d definitely have to pay him extra.” Jackson laughed. “No way would he do it out of the kindness of his heart.”

  Flynn wasn’t exactly what one would call a ‘team player.’ He was the loner of Lindale High. Jackson was one of his friends. Sort of. But it was the same sort of strange friendship that I had with the girls in this troupe. I doubted any of us would have been friends if we weren’t thrown together every weekend to play dress up or, in my case, take pictures of people playing dress up.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll ask Flynn, and you—” Mrs. Messner tossed a pale blue dress in my direction. “Get changed.”

  Two

  Jackson

  Flynn turned Ruby’s camera over in his hands like it was the first time he’d seen one as shrieks and giggles from little kids filled the air around us. Any minute now the party would be in full swing and we’d all be running around like lunatics. But for now, at least, we were enjoying the calm before the storm.

  “I can’t believe you agreed to this,” I said.

  Flynn didn’t look up. His scowl was partially hidden by the shaggy dark hair that fell into his face as he peered at the camera’s buttons. “Your mom offered to double my catering tips.”

  “She’s desperate,” I said.

  “Clearly.” Flynn glanced up. “But at least she’s not going to try her hand at photography again.”

  I let out a huff of amusement. My poor mom would never live down her terrible attempt to fill in for Ruby. “You sure you can do any better?”

  He tossed back his hair with a smirk. “I think I can handle it.” He arched a brow as he eyed my ridiculous costume from head to toe. “Beats having to play dress up, I guess.”

  I looked down with a wince. “I can’t believe I let her rope me into another pastel nightmare.”

  “Again,” Flynn added.

  He was right. This was hardly the first time I’d been dragged into my mom’s troupe, and it probably wouldn’t be my last. At least being away at school would make it harder for her to guilt me into a costume when her star prince had another commitment.

  My gaze was moving over the crew of little girls nearby to the back entrance of the house where Ruby was still getting dressed. “Again,” I agreed. “But like I said, she was desperate.”

  “Uh huh.” His tone reeked of sarcasm.

  I glanced over with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His expression was way too innocent. “Nothing, man.”

  But his smirk was already forming, and I crossed my arms to glare. “What? Just spit it out.”

  “Just wondering if you said yes to help out your mom or if you dressed up in tights and a plastic sword because you realized this could be your last shot with our beloved photographer.”

  “What? I didn’t—” I shut my mouth with a huff, ignoring Flynn’s low laugh at my expense.

  “Fine,” I said. “That might have been part of the reason.”

  “Part of the reason. Yeah, okay.”

  “Fine. It’s the only reason I’m here.” As I spoke, I sought her out again through the rapidly forming crowd of parents and kids. But she still hadn’t left the house yet, probably still at my mom’s mercy.

  “You’re both leaving for college next week, right?” Flynn clapped a hand on my shoulder. “It’s now or never, dude.”

  “Right,” I said, shaking off his hand along with his patronizing tone. “No pressure or anything.”

  Flynn chuckled again.

  “I’m so happy I can amuse you,” I grumbled.

  Flynn gave a little snort as he lifted the camera’s lens to his eye and scanned the party. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of hilarious. I mean, dude…you’re Prince Charming—”

  I shot him a glare.

  “No, seriously. You are the closest thing that our school has seen to a real live Prince Charming. You’ve got the looks, the grades, the nice guy reputation, you’re on the varsity football team—”

  “Are you going somewhere with this?” I asked.

  He leaned back against the table that he’d set up for refreshments with a cocky grin that annoyed the crap out of me. “It’s just kind of hilarious that you can have any girl you want from that school...and you want her.”

  I leaned in close with a growl, defensive anger rushing through my veins. “What do you mean ‘her’?”

  “Whoa, easy Prince Charming,” he said with a laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. “You know I love Ruby. It’s just ironic that you like the one girl who won’t give you the time of day.”

  My chest deflated as my anger left just as quickly as it had arrived. He was right. It was probably funny...for him. For me? Not so much.

  “You’ve had two years, man,” Flynn went on.

  I kept my eyes on the house, waiting for her to appear. Waiting for my heart to trip over itself like it always did when she was near.

  “Are you finally gonna man up and ask her out already?”

  I sighed loudly. “Have I mentioned how much I wish I hadn’t told you about this?”

  “About your crush?” He said the word with a taunting tone.

  “How old are you, anyway?” I shot back.

  He gave me his notorious lopsided smile—the one that typically spelled trouble. “Old enough to know that if you don’t make a move soon, someone’s going to beat you to it.”

  I turned to him with narrowed eyes. “That someone had better not be you.”

  His answering laugh set me on edge. Quite frankly, it was insane that she was still single. She’d gone to Lindale High for two years, and as far as I knew, she hadn’t dated anyone. Why? No clue. Maybe she didn’t want to date. Maybe she had a long-distance boyfriend. Maybe she was waiting until she got to college.

  I could spend hours coming up with potential reasons why she’d shoot me down. I’d become something of an expert at psyching myself out when it came to Ruby.

  There were so many things I didn’t know about her. Like, why she never went to any parties, or why she always sat by herself in the cafeteria when any one of us would have welcomed her at our table. Even Flynn, and he prided himself on being a loner.

  The backdoor opened and Callie and Willow came out with beaming smiles, instantly gaining the wide-eyed attention of the girls now swarming the lawn.

  Flynn clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Showtime, bro.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I squared my shoulders and plastered a grin on my face as I headed toward the others, skirting the edges of the crowd that was already flocking to Callie and Willow.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand why little girls went so gaga over princesses, but as this business was how my mom had kept a roof over my head ever since my dad split, I wasn’t about to complain. If I hadn’t had football practice most weekends, there was no way I would have avoided being a regular player in this little troupe. As it was, I was a stand-in when she needed an extra guy or was especially desperate. Like today.

  She’d need to hire some new cast members, and soon, now that most of her troupe was heading off to college. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

  For today? I had my own problems. I wiped sweaty palms along the crappy polyester tunic.

  Today was the day. This was it.

  No chickening out.

  My internal pep talk was interrupted by a small herd of little girls who were talking amongst themselves at a pitch so high I was afraid every dog in the neighborhood would come running. They cut me off, and I found myself walking along the lawn’s tree-lined edge to keep from being run over by the little tykes who’d launched into full-blown insanity now that there were princesses roaming about.

  Where was Ruby? She couldn’t be hiding. I flinched. Then again, she totally could. It was no secret that Ruby hated being the center of attention. Savannah and I had an ongoing joke about how Ruby was going to just throw up on the hostess’s shoes the next time they called her up in front of all the guests to thank her specifically for her hard work.

  But much as Ruby hated the spotlight, she was definitely a team player. Always ready to pitch in and help. Most of the time she ended up helping Flynn, whose company almost always short-staffed these events. Sometimes I’d find her in the house with my mom’s emergency sewing kit fixing up a tear when an excessively handsy little kid got a hold of one of their skirts.

  I rubbed a hand over my chest as I paused at the side of the house, waiting on her. Ruby would show. Eventually. She wouldn’t let my mom down.