I storm into my apartment, my head still reeling from what just happened. This, this is crazy! I just gave a crazy stranger my name! Why did I do that?!

My old, bulky TV is playing in the living room. I hardly notice at first, I'm too absorbed in my own scattered thoughts.

He's insane! What on earth would make him think I would agree to marriage? I'd never do that! Would I? No- No of course not! That's impossible. People don't do that! Obviously he wasn't being serious. My gosh. I bet he's still sitting in the coffee shop, laughing at the joke he just pulled on the stupid college kid.

I rake my hands through my hair. Why am I still freaking out? It's over. I'm never gonna see him again. I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I need to calm down...

I come back to reality and I need to stay here. I start taking in my surroundings. I need to do the dishes, they're beginning to pile up in the sink. And the laundry, need to fold that so I can move those hampers back into the closet. The TV- I need to turn off the TV.

I walk into the living room, reaching over the couch to grab the remote.

"Prince D'Arcy Weston of the small European country Collis, flew into Springfield today to speak at the university," The perky news anchor announced. 

Gosh, why do I keep hearing about Collis? I dig my hand in between couch cushions and find the remote. Straightening up, I'm about to click the TV off when my jaw hits the floor. The news was showing footage of a dark haired man stepping out of a limo then being attacked by flashing lights and journalists. He looks at the camera, and I'm met by a familiar face.

"He's... He's..."

Suddenly the phone rings, taking me completely off guard. I scream in response and nearly throw the remote. I need to calm down. Eyes still glued to the screen, I walk to the kitchen counter and pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Good evening," a British accent crackles through the speaker. "Would I be speaking to Ms. Gypsy Morgan?"

"ARE YOU THE GUY FROM THE SHOP?!"

"I am."

"How did you get this number?!" I demand.

"From the phone book."

"Who are you?" I snap. "And what 'company' exactly did your mother own?"

"My name is D'arcy, and, well, it's not technically a company."

"Then what?!"

"Perhaps we should talk this out in person-"

"HECK NO, WESTON!" I yell. "THERE'S NO WAY I'M MEETING YOU IN PERSON UNTIL YOU-"

"Weston? You know my surname?"

"What, you think college kids don't watch the news?" I snap.

"I never made that claim. But now that you mention it, I suppose so-"

I should hang up the phone. Why am I even talking to this guy? For some reason my mouth keeps running, "Just because you're a 'prince', or whatever, doesn't mean you can just... just... prank people!"

"Prank?"

"Do you have any idea how crazy I've been going about this afternoon?! You know what?" I say, giving a dry laugh, "You almost had me."

"Gypsy, please, I think you're misunderstanding me-"

I slam the phone down, hanging up on him.