Free Waiting for Prince Harry by Aven Ellis Page B

can’t. And I think my heart is about to leap out of my chest from the way he is smiling at me right now.
    Harrison clears his throat. “I’ve got to finish getting ready, but come back here after the show is over so we can meet up.”
    “Of course I’m coming back here,” I say, grinning. “I’d be one crappy bodyguard if I didn’t.”
    “Oh you’d better be at my side the second this show is over Kylie Reed,” he says, his eyes dancing at me. “Or I’ll have to put you in the penalty box."
    Okay, so I have no idea what a penalty box is, but if it’s with Harrison Flynn, I’m so in.
    “Good luck,” I say, laughing.
    “See you after the show.”
    I turn and leave him to get ready. I take a second to tweet his picture out to the followers of Boutique Dallas. Then I walk around and snap a few more pictures, including one of the stunning Ashlea Kelly, and begin to exit the dressing area.
    But as I look down at Laurel’s phone, I notice her Twitter account is blowing up. I go over and see Harrison’s picture is being retweeted at a rapid rate. I scan through the retweets and comments.
    OH MY GOD FUCK IS HE HOT
    Squee! Abs and Chest!
    WHEN DOES THE LIVE FEED START? OH MY GOD! CANNOT WAIT!
    WHERE ARE MY HANDCUFFS? I’d cuff him to the dressing room door and have my way with him!
    Handcuffs . . . Handcuffs were mentioned on that Flynnbabes page! I look at the Twitter name, and sure enough, it is @BridgetFLYNN22.
    I find my spot near the end of the runway, where I can take good pictures of the models, and although I know I probably shouldn’t do this, I access the Flynnbabes web page while I wait for the show to get started.
    I swallow hard and open it up.
    And holy shit, the page is imploding with the picture I tweeted of Harrison with the open white shirt on.
    I scan down the posts and comments, which are being reloaded at a rapid fire pace:
    I want to LICK that chest
    White Shirt Alert! White Shirt Alert!
    Excuse me, girls, he’s just coming from MY bedroom
    HARRISON FLYNN RUINED ME. NO OTHER MAN EXISTS
    I click out of it, rattled. This is what women say about him. They go psycho when a new picture is released. They would do anything to be in the same air space as him. Harrison Flynn has his pick of any woman he wants, and so many women would give him whatever he wanted, no questions asked.
    I swallow hard. Yet somehow, Harrison is spending time with me . And seeing endless possibilities between us. How’s this even possible? Because from the way he spoke to me the other night when he uttered those words, I don’t think he was thinking endless possibilities as his friend—
    Suddenly the music fades and Laurel steps on to the front of the stage with a microphone.
    “Welcome to the Heat of Summer Fashion Show, benefiting the fight against women’s cancers,” Laurel says, all bright and smiley. A large applause goes up. “As the manager of Boutique Dallas, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight . . .”
    She goes on to thank the owner of Boutique Dallas, Miranda Davis, who comes up to the mic and speaks. Then Laurel goes on to thank all of our sponsors, the stylists, the staff of Boutique Dallas, etc. and finally she says the best words ever.
    “Let’s start the show!”
    A big cheer goes up and the music changes to Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi.” The lights dim and focus on the white carpet.
    And Harrison struts right out in his D&G suit to open the show.
    My hand is shaking as I try to take a picture. I have never seen such perfection in all my life. His red curly hair is jelled and tousled; the suit is smoking hot and fitted exquisitely to his powerful athletic frame; his super sharp black dress shoes finishing out the outfit just right.
    The crowd erupts the second he turns on the platform and faces the crowd. I mean, women of all ages are going crazy the second he turns!
    Ashlea Kelly appears from the other side of the stage, and she links her arm through Harrison’s. They strut down the