Page 116 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“I was born ready!” She puts on her seatbelt, and I start the car.

***

The driver parks the car, and before I can even open my door, Alexandra ’s already pressed her face to the window, her eyes darting around like she’s trying to take in everything at once.

We hop on a little tram that looks more like a train made of golf carts, and even then, Alex says it still hasn’t sunk in completely.

We get off at the entrance, and as soon as she sees the two options: monorail on one side, ferryboat on the other, her eyes light up brighter than the Christmas decorations on Main Street. We obviously pick the ferry. Because that’s where the real magic starts.

We head upstairs and Alexandra rushes to the railing, hands gripping the metal bar, wind tossing her hair around. And the second she spots the top of Cinderella’s castle peeking over the horizon, a single tear slips down her cheek. Then comes the smile, then the sigh.

“You good?” I ask.

She nods, her eyes still glassy.

“Yeah. It’s just that... this castle’s in every trailer, every break duringThe Wonderful World of Disney, at the start of all my favorite movies and shows... and now I’m here. And soon I’ll bethere,” she says, like I could possibly understand what that means to her. Then she turns around.

I stand behind her in silence. Because there’s nothing I could say that’s more beautiful than watching a girl meet her dream.

When we step off the boat, Alex’s still completely enchanted—walking guided by the attractions she spots, not by the directions we were given.

We’re at Magic Kingdom. Daniele was super clear that she got us the perfect itinerary, but with the time we’ve got, we’ll only be able to hit one park. Neither of us complained.

“One day at Disney is still a day at Disney,” Alexandra had said, laughing when I asked if it was okay.

My little partner hands over her personalized ticket – with Minnie on it, obviously – and runs off to the kiosk to get her “First Visit” pin. She pins it to her shirt, pride shining in her eyes, and then walks through the gates, straight onto Main Street, where the castle rises ahead, glowing in the morning light.

Right before taking another step, she turns to me – her eyes full of gratitude and barely-contained excitement. She walks over and wraps her arms around me. I pull her close, press a kiss to the top of her head, and she holds on even tighter. With her face tucked into my shoulder and her arms around me, she finally lets go. The kind of tears that fall quietly, not dramatic, just expected from someone who loves these stories as deeply as she does.

“Oh my God… we’re really here.”

She pulls back, wiping her face. I dry the rest of her tears for her.

“Wasn’t this the place you said you wanted to visit?”

“It was, but… it didn’t feel real until we got here.”

“We’ve got eight hours and a fifteen-thousand-kilometer park to explore. Ready?” I say, holding my hand out to her.

She takes it, smiling in a way that saysmore than ready.

It’s the end of November, and the entire park is already in full Christmas mode. Twinkling lights wrapped around garlands, massive decorated trees in every corner… and somehow, it all feels even more magical than I expected. The airhas that crisp fall feeling, light and gentle, with a steady breeze brushing against your skin like a soft, unexpected touch.

Every now and then, our wrists brush, and I can feel Alexandra ’s pulse. Her eyes shine with adrenaline, and her smile overflows with emotion. I try not to stare, but it’s useless.

She looks like a kid discovering her favorite place in the world, but the way she photographs everything around her makes it clear the only wrong part of that image is the wordkid, because none of this feels small to her.

She’s completely, genuinely mesmerized.

As we walk through the park, a few heads start to turn. We’re in public, and Vicious Bonds doesn’t exactly go unnoticed. But Hammer and the team are already on it. Like clockwork, they position themselves around us to make sure nothing gets in the way. A few people try to approach, but the team redirects them so smoothly it’s almost invisible—unless you’re used to watching it happen.

Alex steps ahead of me, her eyes locked on a souvenir shop. I already know what she wants before she says a word.

“You need a pair of ears,” I say. She nods, like I just read her mind.

“Ineeda pair of ears,” she repeats, with a pout so cute it’s borderline dangerous—and I take two steps back, because honestly, I need to forget that pout exists.

@Ale.atoria

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