The sky is a bright blue, and nothing but the smallest breeze disturbs the water. My fingers run through his hair, my fingertips gently and carefully touching his scalp. He smiles at me and leans against the tree behind him, closing his eyes, while I run my hands through his hair. He starts to hum softly"What song is that?" I ask.

         He opens an eye. "It's not a song. It's just something I'm making up." He smirks.

         "It's pretty."

         With a smile, he lifts his hand to my cheek. "Not really. It's just a silly tune."

         I giggle. "Why would it be silly?"

         He pauses for a moment. "I don't know."

         "Well, if it had lyrics, what would it be about?"

         He looks out to the water, watching the ripples in the shallow pond. A deer rustles through the trees on the other side of the water. She looks at us, blinks a few times, and then continues on her way.

         "If it had lyrics..." He looks back at me. "It would be about a man who was the richest man in the world. He had everything he could ever want. But no fame or glory could cover up his loneliness. He wanted only one thing, but no one could give it to him since he's always been so self-centered and arrogant."

         I lean my head slightly to the side. "What was it?"

         He leans forward slightly, looking at me intently. "Love. He had many fan girls, but none of them knew him for who he really was. Until he met one girl."

         "And who was that?"

         Leaning forward even more, he rests his forehead against mine.

         "You."

"Rise and shine!"

            Orange and red light bursts behind my eyelids as I hear the shades open at my window. I groan and roll over, stuffing my head into my pillow.

            "You need to get up now," my uncle hollers at me. I know he's standing in the doorway, watching the maid trying to gently wake me up.

            "No I don't!" I yell into my pillow. "I don't need to go today! It was your idea!"

            "Sweetie," my maid says gently as she pokes my shoulder. "We got your outfit hand-made, remember? Think of all the trouble it would be to return it."

            I sigh heavily. Just because she has a shy personality, doesn't mean she doesn't know how to guilt-trip.

            "Those boys are all waiting out there, and you will go out there and give them a chance!" shouts my uncle. I hear his loud footsteps coming towards the bed, and then my sheet has been thrown off of me and pain is shooting through my bicep as he grabs me and yanks me out of bed and into the arms of my maid. I stumble and she catches me. "Get dressed," he orders, and then leaves the room, slamming the door shut.

            My eyes are still adjusting to the light in my now-bright room. "Come on, dear," the maid says softly. "Let's get you ready."

            She leads me to the middle of the room and makes me stand still, and then she rummages through my closet, finding the dress bag I had stuffed to the back. She pulls it out and opens it up. "I'm sure you'll change your mind once you get to know some of them," she says as she motions for me to get changed out of my pajamas. I oblige, but I roll my eyes.

            "I don't think so. They're all prissy, pretty boys who use their parents' money," I say, as I get undressed.

            She raises a brow at me. "If I may be so bold to say, miss, but if those boys are like that, then what does that make you?"

            I look at her with a smirk. "That is too bold to say." I like my maid; she understands how I think. Around my uncle, she's quiet since he's the head of the house, but around me she's snarky and fun.

            "I beg your pardon, dear," she says with a laugh as she motions for me to step into the purple satin fabric she's holding out.

            I sigh and take a step in. "Wait a second," I say. She looks up at me. "What did you mean by 'if those boys are like that'?"

            She's silent for a moment, and then she scratches her head. "Did I say that?"

            "Yes you did! You met them already!" I exclaim. She quickly pulls the dress up around my shoulders, not making eye contact. I stop her from turning me around to do it up and grab her shoulders. "So?"

            "So what?" she asks, frazzled.

            "Was he there?"

            For a moment, she stares at me, and then she scoffs and forces herself out of my hold. "I don't understand teenagers. One minute they're dreading going somewhere, and the next, they're excited!" She swivels me around and starts doing up the laces on my back.

            "Please," I say quickly, "you need to tell me! Otherwise I won't go down-stairs!"

            She finishes up the laces and I turn around again to face her. She's observing me with a keen eye. "If," she starts slowly, "I tell you that he's not downstairs, and you're completely crushed, will you still go downstairs and at least talk with the boys who did come?"

            I nod. "Yes. I promise. I'll give them all of my attention, like a good hostess!"

            She's observing me again. "And if he does happen to be there, will you promise to also pay attention to the other boys too?"

            I hesitate, and then sigh in defeat. "Yes."

            She grins. "There's a good girl!"

            "So?!"

            "I'm not telling you," she says with a shrug. I gape at her as she grins and leads me to the vanity table off to the side.

            "What?!" I exclaim as she laughs and sits me down in the stool. I pout into the mirror. "That's unfair."

            She laughs again. "Life isn't fair, miss. Now, let me do your makeup." She pokes my cheek. "Stop pouting, it doesn't become you."

            I compose my face and let her rinse my face with a cool face cloth, and then use powder and cover-up. "Can you not put too much on?" I ask. "It irritates my skin." I just don't like makeup at all.

            "Alright," she says, toning it down a little bit. Once she's finished with my makeup, she does my hair. I hand her the brush that was on the table and she gets to work on my bed-head. After that she grabs some hair from the sides and pins it in the back, leaving the rest of my hair to spill down around my shoulders.

            "There," she says once she's finished. I look up into the mirror. My eyes are accented with a soft blue eye shadow and dark eyeliner, and my bangs fall over my forehead, the ends near my shoulders curling slightly. My dress is purple, with simple purple spaghetti straps and it’s shorter in front and long and see-through in back, like a cape attached to my waist.

            "You look beautiful!" she exclaims with a squeal. She claps her hands and lifts me from the chair by my shoulders. "Let's go downstairs now, okay?"

            "I don't know..."

            "Huh?" she asks.

            "I don't know if I can do this. What's the point of doing this, anyway?" I ask.

            She hesitates, and then sighs. "Your uncle is in dire need of some publicity. It's not as bad as it sounds," she quickly adds, "those boys downstairs are here only because of a promised contract, yes, but your uncle is letting you choose so that you can be happy."

            "And it’ll be just for a few months, right?" I ask softly.

            "Right," she answers with a smile. "It'll all be over before you know it!"

            I sigh and think it through for a moment while my maid runs to the next room to get my shoes.

            My uncle's business has only been getting bad reviews, and no matter what he does, he can't get any good publicity. Therefore he told me a while back that having a young niece would be good for his company. I didn't understand at the time, but now I do.

            Have a fake relationship with a famous person in front of constant cameras for a few months to draw attention, and then Uncle will use my “boyfriend” and I for advertisement for his products (he owns a clothing line or something). The plan is simple: meet the guy at a "party" held at your uncle's place, fall "in love" with him, and then once your uncle has gotten enough publicity and enough income to last a while, you can break it off. That's it.

            "Let's hope so," I say under my breath as my maid comes back into my room with ridiculously high shoes.