Chapter 14

Eeeeep here you go :)

One eye peeks open as I hear whispers all in my room. There's more than one, but no more than five. Normally my maids wake me up in a full-blasted attempt to pull me out of my luxury and into the bath, but I took my bath last night in hopes to clean myself off from the memories. Ignoring the voices, I directly pick out Mary's, Anne's, and Lucy's, so I roll over and doze back to sleep.

But as I do this, my bed feels almost heavy, so I pop my eyes open to meet Maxon, staring straight at me with a smile on his face. "Good morning, sunshine." He beams extra wide when he knows he has my attention, pulls his camera out from behind his back, and snaps a picture of me.

I widen my eyes in surprise from both Maxon and the flash of the camera, and I hear a bout of laughter from my maids in the corner of the room. They flip on the lights, and I grab my pillow, covering my eyes. "Noooooo," I complain. "I don't want to get out of bed."

"Who says you have to get out of bed?" Maxon asks, and I can hear the smirk on his face. I pull the pillow down so I can see his expression, and I am right. He is wearing a smirk, and a rather large and sarcastic one, too. "But, I have you reserved all day, remember? And there's not much room in the schedule for you to sleep, so I guess I say you have to get out of bed."

Maxon steals the pillow from me, exposing me to the light in the room. I groan again, and my maids pull me out of bed. I turn my head over my shoulder to see Maxon watching me with a smug expression, fluffing the pillow and placing it under his head. He smirks as he pretends to sleep, making me yearn for my bed. I stick my tongue out at him, and he returns the favor, then shuts his eyes and rolls into a halfway-fetal position, looking absolutely adorable as he sleeps.

I brush my teeth, and well, too. My maids pick up on this, and they all nudge each other because I brush my teeth for an extra minute. But, knowing Maxon and me, a few kisses will be exchanged today. They ran a brush through the tangled mess of my hair, soothing it down to it's straight, natural being. And for not washing it this morning, it actually looks good. The bathroom is quiet as I ready myself. I apply a slight bit of makeup, and my maids grab a halter beige dress that is pretty scandalous. It's shorter than most of my dresses, and the halter shows a little more cleavage than normal.

I gape at them, and they smile at me innocently. They must've made this dress for this occasion. I roll my eyes, and they all laugh again.

As I slip on the dress, they all gasp, but Lucy is the first to say something. "Wow, Lady America. You look absolutely beautiful."

"You say that about every dress I put on," I point out, grinning.

"Very true, it's just because you are very beautiful." Lucy sighs as I make my way over to the mirror to admire myself. I do look pretty - I look my best in a day dress that I've ever looked in the palace. "You are going to be an amazing queen one day, Lady America. And I hope we still work for you when you are queen,"

I pivot on my feet to look at them. "You three know that there's only a fifty percent chance that I'll be queen, right? The King isn't too fond of me. But if I do marry Maxon . . ." my voice trails off at that thought. Marry Maxon. Wow. "If I do marry Maxon, of course you all would be my maids. I wouldn't have anyone else. And I'd order you all to make yourself pretty dresses and wear them at all times so you guys would feel what it's like to feel pretty." I murmur, smiling genuinely at them.

The maids stare at me for just a little bit longer before they push me to the door, escorting me out. Maxon is now sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for my entrance. When he sees me, his mouth forms an 'O', and he mouths the word "wow," dropping his jaw.

I blush madly.

"You look ravishing, America," he whispers as he stands up, pulling me into a hug. "But, like I said earlier, there's not much room in the schedule for you to sleep or for us to be standing here and me complimenting you like crazy. So, I am going to grab your hand, and we are going to go out to the gardens where the chefs made us a nice breakfast to enjoy. Sounds good?"

I stare at him. "You spoil me, Maxon Schreave."

Maxon grins proudly. "That's my point, Miss Singer. I spoil you and you love me in return."

I roll my eyes and groan, somewhat sarcastically. He chuckles, grabs my hand, waves goodbye to my maids, and pulls me out the door. He guides me down the maze of the hallways, turning until we reached the grandeur of the staircase, and he picks me up like a baby, carrying me down the stairs. I playfully slap him and try to get him to put me down, but he doesn't; he beams a toothy smile as he descends the stairs.

I like this Maxon. He's carefree and loving and not stressed. Right now, he has no worries in the world. He acts like a child, and I'm okay with that because his childhood was stripped from him as he prepared to be a king.

As we approach outside, there's a gingham blanket set up with a picnic basket placed delicately on it. I smile, and turn my head to Maxon who intently ogles at me. Cupping his face, I tell him, "I love this. You're amazing."

"No, I think you're the amazing one."

He sets me down gently on the blanket, then he sits down right next to me. I reach for the basket because I'm starving, and Maxon chuckles. I turn my head, send him a playful glare, and go back to the basket, pulling out a bunch of fruit, tarts, and other breakfast foods. I then grab two plates, and hand him one. I don't let go though, and we play a little game of tug-of-war.

"Oh, so you're in a playful mood, Miss Singer?" He asks sardonically. Maxon pulls me into his lap, and begins tickling me, holding me strongly.

I laugh nonstop, trying to escape Maxon's grasp, but he is too strong. He tickles my stomach mostly, and then his hands tickle the back of my neck, which is my weak spot. I begin kicking while I laugh, which causes Maxon to burst out in a bout of laughter.

"You're so feisty!" He breathes through his chuckles, calming down a bit. "But actually, I'm hungry. So if you give me your plate, I'll let you go. If you don't, you'll be punished for breakfast treason and your punishment is ticklement."

"Is 'ticklement' a real thing?"

"No, and neither is breakfast treason. But I'm a prince, so I can make it real," he grins overbearingly, and I pout my lips as I hand him the plate. "Thank you. Wouldn't want your ticklement, would you?"

I giggle, grabbing my own plate and putting some fruit on it.

As we eat, Maxon tells me about the meetings he attended before the rebels attacked yesterday. They were, ironically, about the rebel attacks, and one meeting was specifically about what each group wanted. I remember my meeting with the rebels, and I debate whether I should tell him or not.

Pratt wants to confide in me, and if I told, would he tell Maxon about Aspen and me? The thought shutters through my mind. If Maxon found out from a guard, he'd be devastated. It must be from me, when he finds out. I must tell him soon, anyways. My heart quickens at the thought, and I decide I'm not going to tell him today because we are already having a lovely day.

The weather is impeccable. The sky is cloudless, and the temperature is fair. Even though it's close to Christmastime, Angeles is always warm, unlike Carolina. Right now, there might be snow on the ground. I sigh as I think about home. But then I look at Maxon, and I realize I am home.

We spend the time from breakfast to lunch outside. Maxon tries teaching me to shoot an arrow at archery or play a game called croquet, both of which I'm terrible at. He makes fun of me for being so bad at both the sports that I chase him around the garden outside. When I finally catch him, I tell him to try playing the piano or violin or guitar or even sing well. He mimics me by pretending to play piano gracefully, and playfully slap him and he picks me up once again, this time not putting me down.

"Well, I'll have a maid bring you a violin and we will have you play for me. I love it when you play music." Maxon pulls me into an alluring hug, and he stands there, just hugging me.

"What's the purpose of all of this? Of today?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Maxon glances down at me. "When I was standing in that safety room and you didn't come down, I freaked out. I thought I lost there was confirmation that you were taken by a rebel, everyone freaked. Even my father," he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I was so devastated. And so angry with our guards for letting you slip out of our hands. You're precious to me. And when I saw you, I wanted to spend all day with you. Because I can."

My cheeks flush a pink color. He wanted to spend all day with me because he cares about me. And he just proved it to me.

"Will you please play music for me, America? I love it when you do," he asks so sweetly, nuzzling his nose in my hair and planting a kiss on my head. I nod, and he calls over a maid to go get a violin from inside the castle. We stand in each other's embrace, and he gently rocks me, and my heartbeat quickens.

He must've really been worried about me yesterday during the rebel attack.

The maid, one I cannot place a name to, runs back outside with a violin and a bow in her hands. I thank her graciously, and she curtsies before running back inside. I take a deep breath, pull out of Maxon's hug, and place the violin under my chin. I hold the bow in my right hand, and steal a glimpse of Maxon. He looks giddy, like a little child at Christmas. I smile and begin playing.

I play my mom's favorite piece from memory. It's a happy piece - very vivid and lively. I close my eyes, not even needing to watch myself gracefully move my fingers to play the right notes. I have it all memorized.

May's face pops into my head, as well as my parent's. They watch me play with such grace and intent, and they are crying. May is sobbing, because she misses me so much. She cries with a smile on her face, mesmerized by my music and my presence. I feel tears forming in my own eyes, and one slides down my cheek as I finish the last note.

My eyes flutter open, and I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes, hoping Maxon didn't see me cry. But he did. He looks almost confused.

"It reminds me of home," I tell him, holding the violin firmly in my left hand. "The Carolina home. Not this home, because I'm here obviously."

"You think this is home?" Maxon whispers, stepping closer to me. I nod, and the expression on his face is unreadable.

I nod again.

"This is the most nerve wracking thing I've ever done," Maxon whispers, grabbing my hand. My heart drops into my stomach. Is he sending me home home? Did he do all of this to send me home feeling bad about myself? "America, I -"

"You're sending me home." I state quietly, staring down at the grass below our feet. "Why did you lead me on this whole day thinking you just wanted a simple date day with me when you are sending me h-"

"America! Stop!" Maxon shouts, very on edge. He is nervous, and he releases one of my hand to tilt my chin up so I lock eyes with him. Then, he chuckles anxiously. "I'm not sending you home, America. I, I, well . . ." he trails off, unable to find the right words. He takes a deep breath, quickly brushes his lips against mine, and then takes another breath.

"It's been you the whole time, America. Every day you've been here, it's only been you. And I want you to spend the rest of your life with me. No, wait, that's a lie. I need you to spend the rest of your life without me. Because without you, my life is empty. I love you, America, more than I love anyone or anything. You're the center of my universe. My life revolves around you. I think to myself, 'Where can I fit America into my schedule today?' and no matter how busy I am, I make room for you.

"So, there's one question I want to ask you, America." Maxon takes a deep breath, lets go of both of my hands, and gets down on one knee. "America Singer, will you marry me?"

And in that moment, I begin to sob.

"No, no, please don't cry, I'm not good with women crying," Maxon shrieks, getting off of his knee to pull me into a hug. I then burst into laughter, because I remember him mentioning that a while ago. "Whattaya say? Wanna marry me, Miss Singer?"

And I still laugh as he opens the little black box, revealing a beautiful, single circular diamond the size of my pinky fingernail. It's mounted on a platinum band, and the tears fall harder from my eyes. "It's traditional," Maxon whispers, trying to find more reasons for me to say yes.

But, he didn't need any other reason but one.

"Yes, Maxon Schreave, I will marry you." I tell him through my tears, holding out my hand as he slips the ring on my finger.

I glance up at him, who watches me with delicate eyes. They're laced with tears, and they fall from his eyes. Once the ring is on my finger, his lips press to mine with passion and gentleness. "America, I love you so much. I love you so much I don't know what I'd do without you." He tells me through the kiss, and then kisses me again. "Your mine," he breathes, and I feel one of his tears hit my face. "All mine."

When Maxon pulls away, he stares at me with a smile. "I meant to do that tonight, but I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I still want to spend the rest of the day with you, America. With my fiancée," he mutters, and I break out in a wide grin through my tears.

I'm Maxon's fiancée, and it feels so good.

"All mine," he repeats again, pulling me into a hug.

AHHHH SDLFHSDLJFKSDHFSDHFJKSDFJ hi guys did you enjoy I hope you did because I did :) :) :) :)

14 is my lucky number, can you tell? hahaha

And if you think the drama is gone now because America and Maxon are engaged, y'all are crazy :)