— Pretend to be my husband!
— Who? Me?
The guy crouching by the hotel entrance shoots me with a blue look. A summer cap, pulled far down over his forehead, covers half his face, and his lashes cast a long shadow onto his cheeks. A guitar stands next to him.
So this parking attendant is also a homegrown musician? Well, what difference does it make?
— Yes. You — I want to smack him on the forehead: this stranger’s cluelessness infuriates me. — Just for show. For the weekend.
— Why?
— It’s necessary. And later, you’ll owe me.
— Hmm... screw you... and the whole woods...
The guy stands up. Oh my God! How tall he is! I add tears to my voice:
— Be a friend, help me, please!
— A friend? Hm… Well, look— this bastard grins— don’t regret it later.
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#Bride-to-be #Poor Prince #Trap for Parents #Difficult Feelings