Why Not Us

Bailey's POV

Bailey woke up to urgent knocks on his door and his mother barging into his room while rain slammed against the windows. He looked at the clock on his bedside and after a few seconds read it was just before nine. His mother clearly didn't care that it was a Sunday and that his schedule was empty. Bailey was about to say something but when he looked into his mother's eye he decided it was best not to.

"You should've been more careful!" She exclaimed, tossing a few newspapers onto his bed.

"Haven't me, your father, and our PR team told you to check your surroundings before doing something like that, or meeting someone in private," She frustratedly said. He didn't know what she meant so he grabbed the closest newspaper. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw it. Right on the front was a big picture of him and Maisie hugging in front of her house from the day before matched with a headline, "CROWN PRINCE BAILEY, IS HE DATING?".

The blood drained from his face. Bailey didn't know what to think or what to do about this, he almost laughed but instead, he looked at his mother hopelessly. All he could see was disappointment mixed with frustration.

"Put some clothes on," She hurriedly said, and he did exactly that by grabbing his crown-covered pajama pants and black t-shirt off the corner of his bed. Bailey follows her out of his room and through the hallways down the stairs and to a meeting room with her personal assistant, Henry Abbot. He was an old, short, chubby white man with matching white hair. He could hear people rushing outside the now-closed door.

"Are you two dating?" Henry said, staring coldly.

"No, she's my friend," Bailey annoyedly answered, "It won't be that hard to fix, I'll issue a statement and it'll be yesterday's news," he ended. The Queen rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm sure we all know it's not that simple dear," She sighed.

"Do what you want then, but I will not say we're dating," He said, trying to stand his ground. They dismissed him and he wandered down the hall and made his way toward the kitchens.

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He ended up spending an hour and a half reading through the newspapers with a cup of coffee in hand. Some were just funny, saying that he would be a father or that he and Maisie were engaged because she was wearing a ring in the picture. It made him laugh, all the articles were wrong. Bailey had no interest in Maisie, ever.

Bailey grabbed the TV remote from under the newspapers and flicked it on. He changed it to a news station that was interviewing people on the streets about how they felt about his and Maisie's scandal. Some people were upset while others were confused because it was public knowledge now that he would be hosting some galas to find a woman to marry. Most of the interviewed people said they were happy for the supposed couple and went on with their days. He felt sad for a moment, letting the fact that he really had no privacy settle in but then he started to laugh. He laughed at the people who believed he was dating Maisie. He laughed at the fact that he didn't have any freedom with what he wanted to do. He laughed to just make himself feel better, and make it all seem okay.

Bailey saw someone go past the opened parlor doors, and then backtrack staring at him. He immediately stopped laughing and then looked back. It was the warm curly-haired mystery boy. They smiled at each other and the boy waved at him with his rosy blush then kept walking in his tailored uniform.

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Bailey tightened his copper tie while walking through the old corridor with his mother sternly behind him. He could feel her icy gaze on his back. He paused for a moment to look at his mother. She stepped towards him and straightened his tie then patted his shoulder signaling him to sit on the antique chair waiting for him. And that's exactly what he did, like many times before, like he had watched his brother do too. Bailey shook the tall black-haired man's hand and then sat down with a countdown before the interview started.

Later on, his mother would be forcing him to do this again, but for a different person, and it would hurt.