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lorirwritesfanfic · 1 year

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Niceness Test

Book: Desire & Decorum Pairing: Prince Hamid x MC (Daphne) Rating: T Word count: 9481 Reading time: ~38min (… 🫣) Summary: After receiving a box of childhood treasures, Daphne is challenged to prove she still would make it to Santa's nice list. Author’s notes:

Daphne Wang, Kyle and Stacy Evigan are creations of this author. The others characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios;

Yes, it's a Christmas fic. In May. I started writing this in December to answer @missameliep's ask and it became this monster of a fic with mini stories in it. Sorry not sorry;

No fictional kids nor fishes were harmed in this piece. Daphne and Briar just have a very "peculiar" sense of humor 😅

Warning: This piece contains brief mentions of adult material (alcohol abuse, solvent intoxication). Reader discretion is advised.

Ithaca (NY), first week of December 2022

Loud barks echoed from the lounge whilst Daphne set up the dining table for dinner. As she caught the sight of Maya running through the hallway, the front door opened. Once Hamid's laughter reverberated through the walls, it wasn't hard for her to guess what happened. Maya probably rushed to climb on him whilst Drake threw himself at Hamid's feet and his entire chubby body shook in excitement. Their pets were always happier when Hamid was home. A sentiment she wholeheartedly shared with them.

"Aşkım?"

"Just a second!" She answered and continued to fold the napkins.

But before she could finish it, she yelped as warm lips brushed against her neck.

"How dare you deny me my welcome home kiss, Miss Wang?" Hamid murmured against her skin.

"I wasn't denying you a kiss..." She spun around to give him a peck. "I was postponing it."

"And I hope you have a plausable reason for this."

"I do."

The lady pointed to the green napkins on the plates.

"You and the napkin foldings again..." He tsked.

"Hamidciğim, we're hosting our first Christmas Eve supper in three weeks! I have to prepare myself for it."

"By folding napkins into layered triangles?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen to wash his hands.

"It's a Christmas tree!" She protested.

"Is it?"

When Hamid returned to the dining room, she placed a small shiny star on top of every napkin folded into Christmas trees.

"Oh..." He nodded, admiring her handiwork. "I see it now. Nice touch."

"Thank you."

"But are we expecting guests or can we eat now? I smelled spicy chicken pad thai the minute I walked in." He pouted.

"You can eat, silly... I was just practicing folding the napkins while waiting for you."

"Thank you, my dove." He placed a kiss on her cheek and took a seat on the table. "You got a package from Mrs. Daly," he prompted.

"Finally!" She grinned and rushed to the lounge to search for the package. Daphne rarely could contain her curiosity about any mail they received, even if she didn't know the content. Once she found the package, the lady then opened a drawer to find anything sharp to cut the packaging open.

"Aşkım, can't you open it after dinner?"

"You know I can't wait," she replied as the letter opener cut through the brown sealing tape.

"But I'm starving!"

She giggled. Hamid never hid from her how much he disliked having meals by himself and she found it adorable that even their pets obliged to his request. Grabbing the package, she returned to the dining room, where Hamid and their pets had already started their meals.

"You didn't need me here." She pursed her lips.

"I beg to differ," he said with a wink. "What's in there?"

"I don't know. I just cut the tape. Give me a second."

Her lips curled upwards as she looked through the content of the package.

"Oh, man..." Her eyes gleamed as she picked up a rag doll wearing a traditional hanfu dress and hugged it. After unfolding a letter that was on top of the doll, she began to read it.

Edgewater, November 22, 2022.

Dear Daphne,

I hope all is well with you and Hamid. Do you remember that when we moved here, you accidentally ended up with my box of kitchen utensils and losing one of your boxes? Well, whilst cleaning the attic last week, I found this box among a few untouched ones that I believed it was Briar's old clothes and decided to send it to you. I'm happy to have found your missing box and, hopefully, its content will bring you as much joy as it used to when you were a kid.

Love, Pavarti Daly.

His brows shot up in surprise. "Is it the box you thought was lost for good when you moved to the UK?"

"Yeah..." Daphne croaked whilst she produced dusty sketchbooks and old opera playbills from inside of a pocket worn out Pucca backpack.

Hamid then sauntered over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Are you okay?"

"Mmhmm..." She sighed, returning the hug. "I thought you were starving."

"I am, but I can wait."

"Thank you… I needed this," she murmured, pressing her head against his chest.

"I had a feeling you did," he said, kissing her temple before looking down at the box. "Is that a Hello Kitty cellphone?"

"Yeah..." She then reached for the mobile and opened one side of the cat shaped device to inspect it. "How did you know?"

"Malak had one of these. This thing has the most annoying ringtones..." He made a face.

"They weren't annoying."

"If you were raised with Edmund and Harry, they certainly would've sided with me."

She playfully elbowed him, making him chuckle.

"Just so you know, I'm very attached to it."

"Why?"

Her thumb brushed against the mobile buttons. "This was my first phone. It was the first Christmas gift dad gave me. Mum didn't approve of it in the beginning. 'What would a twelve year old do with a cellphone?'" Her nostrils flared and lips twisted in scowl as she mimicked Mary's voice. "But dad said he needed a special line so he could talk to his favourite girl in the world. I was over the moon when he said that. And though mum set a bunch of rules for me to use it, she let me keep it."

"Vay, vay, vay...¹" Hamid marvelled. "Convincing your mother into accepting the phone is one thing. But winning his daughter's and former wife's hearts with one single line? Lord Vincent never ceases to amaze me."

"I know, right?" Daphne beamed. "I used that phone for years until dad bought me the Sailor Moon smartphone."

"The one that came with a selfie stick as shaped as Princess Serenity's wand you still have."

"The very same. But when I inherited my father's title, Lady Grandmother gave me an iPhone and said an accomplished lady should leave these childish things behind." Daphne looked down at the box and fiddled with the glittery wings of a fairy Barbie.

"I wonder how Lady Dominique would feel about the fact that I often make video conferences in an office cramped with action figures we use as bookshelf holders."

She giggled.

"What else did you get in there?"

"Curious, aren't we?"

"How can I not be? Look at this!" He picked up a photograph of two year old Daphne beaming as she wore a traditional qipao dress for lunar new year.

"Oh, I remember this! I still lived in Shanghai when mum took it. I think we were at a temple fair…” She said, analyzing the picture more thoroughly. “I haven't seen this picture in years!"

"One more reason we should keep looking. By the way, this is mine now," he declared, taking the photo frame back.

"Hamid!"

"Consider it my Christmas gift this year."

"But I already bought you a gift!"

“My dove, you have to stop spoiling me on Christmas…” He joked.

“I don’t! You keep confiscating things from me and then saying it’s your Christmas gift!”

“Lies…”

Daphne shook her head and continued to rummage through the box.

"Anything interesting?"

"Not exactly..." she answered, glancing at worn out Coney Island souvenirs, old movie tickets and dusty sketchbooks. "I'll probably throw some of these out though."

"Why?"

"Because they're old and dirty."

"You never throw away sketchbooks."

"But I have to see if they're in good condition or not. "

She grabbed a dirty teddy bear with a paw and an ear missing.

Hamid immediately sneezed.

"I guess some of these aren't worth keeping. Gesundheit," she said, offering him a spare napkin.

"Thank you. Aşkım, you don't have to throw it out. We can get it cleaned."

"It has parts missing. If we throw it in the washing machine or send it somewhere to clean up, the remaining parts might fall off."

Hamid looked at the worn out and dirty teddy bear. "Are you sure? You've been missing the content of this box for so long."

"It's just an old toy. I'll survive without it."

As Daphne continued to see the content of the box, Hamid's eyes landed a small bundle of notes tied by a red string.

"What are those?"

Daphne reached for the small pile of notes when it suddenly hit her. "Old Christmas wish lists."

"Christmas wish lists?" Hamid's brows knitted together. "I thought kids could only ask for one gift."

"No, you can make a list with everything you want and put it in the letter. But mum never let me ask for more than three gifts. She used to say Santa can't carry a full bag just with gifts for me. Most grownups, including both of my grandmothers, praised mum for it. They used to say it was a smart way to teach me about thinking of others and not becoming selfish."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from Mrs. Wang." Hamid smiled fondly. "So are these?"

"Draft lists. I made one every year and mum helped me choose three gifts and write the letters."

His brows shot up in surprise. "How old were you when you started doing wishlists?"

"Hm..." She squinted her eyes in deep thought. "Five or six, I think... I used to see mum making lists for everything we bought."

"Everything?"

"Yeah… She made these huge lists when we went shopping for clothes, or to buy the stuff she needed to customise any of her costumes or our clothes to make them cooler. It looked fun."

“Has anyone told you you’re adorable?”

"You do every time I do something you find funny or weird."

The couple shared a knowing smile.

"May I?" Hamid pointed to the bundles of notes.

“Sure.”

He then unfolded the paper and cleared his throat. "2003 list — Great year to start, by the way — Staedtler colour pastel pencils, Strathmore 400 Series watercolor pad, Powerpuff Girls dolls, Totally Spies board game... You were very thorough about this."

"Of course. I couldn’t learn how to use watercolour paint or markers if Santa got me the wrong kind of paper."

"Fair point." Hamid grinned and looked at another list. "Ohuhu Fine Line drawing pen, Barbie Fairytopia, Polaroid camera, Pucca backpack... It seems like you got a lot of those gifts," he commented, glancing at the box.

"Good kids usually do," she answered with a complacent grin.

"Oh, look who's being a smug..." He teased, nudging her playfully. "I doubt Santa would see it as a quality good kids must have."

"First of all, smugness won't make anyone end up on Santa's naughty list. And secondly, Santa isn't real, so—"

"What?!" Hamid mockingly gasped. "Santa isn't real?!"

She pursed her lips, trying to hide a smile.

"How could you let me believe in this nice old man that comes to our house all these years to bring gifts? Why do you insist on celebrating Christmas then?" He gesticulated profusely as he spoke, pretending to be offended.

The lady folded her arms. "Are you done?"

"Oh, the betrayal! The lies! You..." He made a dramatic pause, pointing his index finger to her, then placing a hand on his chest. "You lied to me, aşkım."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Get over yourself and go eat your chicken before Maya does."

Hamid then turned to the table, where their cat calmly approached his plate.

"Maya, no!"

He grabbed the cat as she yowled in protest.

"Allah, Allah… What's with you and spicy food, huh?"

Whilst Hamid and Maya seemed to be in a heated argument, Daphne giggled, petted her pug (who ate his food oblivious to everything else), and took a place on the table to make herself a plate.

Once the cat was back on the floor Hamid spoke again. "You didn't tell me how you found out Santa wasn't real."

"The flat we lived in when I was ten had central heating and no chimney. I got curious about how Santa would get in."

"Of course you did." He grinned. "What did Mrs. Wang say?"

"Mum said he'd just get in through the window. So I decided to hide behind the sofa and wait for Santa to open the window for him. Later that night, I saw mum placing the gifts under the tree and putting the cookies we left for Santa earlier back in the cookie jar."

"Aw... How upset were you?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say nine."

"Yikes!"

"Once mum explained the history of Saint Nicholas, I was okay with it. And it started to make sense why she never let me ask for a unicorn."

Hamid cackled. "Well, it also explains why you were always on the nice list."

"Hey!" She frowned. "I deserved to be on the nice list. I was a good girl back then! I still am!"

"Is that so?" A corner of his mouth lifted. "Do you mind if I put your level of niceness to a test?"

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Oh, that's easy." Hamid reached for his phone on the side table, typed something then showed the screen to her.

"How to be on Santa's nice list?"

"There's no better way to figure out than using Santa's parameters of niceness."

"Very well." She squared her shoulders and lifted up her chin. "I'm positively sure I'll crush it, but if you insist."

Hamid arched an eyebrow and chuckled before turning his attention back to the list on the phone. "Number one: leave milk and cookies for Santa."

"That's the first one?"

"And you're already failing it since you don't do it anymore."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"I don't make the rules." He raised his hands in defence. "It's a tradition of your culture. And you're not starting off so well, aşkım."

She folded her arms. "That's just one item. Go on."

"Number two: give your friends and family presents — yes; number three: do your homework — always; number four: be a good friend — absolutely, you're the best."

"Aw... thank you!"

"Of course." He winked and continued. "number five: do good deeds for your neighbours and community — Hm..." He scratched his stubble pretending to be in deep thought.

"What? I am a good neighbor!"

"Do you think our building manager would agree with that?"

August 2022

"You've got to be kidding me..." Daphne's nostrils flared as she approached the refreshments tables.

"My dove, settle down..." Hamid wrapped an arm around her as he tried to reason. "Nothing is going to happen. It doesn't matter if the majority of the residents and tenants don't have or want pets. Our building was already pet friendly before Mrs. Evigan moved in and it's illegal to forbid any of us to have pets."

"Then what's the purpose of this poll anyway?"

"She wants to reduce the noise in the building at night to a minimum and wants to know how many residents have pets," the building concierge, Mr. Carson, said whilst he poured himself some coffee.

"But all pets here are neutered and most of them are well behaved," Briar mentioned.

"That little spawn of Satan she gave birth to is much louder and causes way more trouble in here than all the pets of the building combined." Daphne fumed.

Whilst the concierge, Briar and a few neighbors close to them chuckled, Hamid gave his partner a look.

"It's true and you know it," Daphne affirmed.

"I think it's because of Mrs. Tilbury's dog howling," their next neighbor Kyle mentioned.

"But it's so unfair. Mrs. Tilbury passed away a week ago. The poor dog missed his owner." Briar frowned.

"The dog is not even here anymore. Her relatives took him away when they came by to gather her things this morning," Mr. Carson, added between small sips of coffee. "Oh, this is good stuff! Is it Turkish coffee?"

"Yes, it is." Hamid smiled proudly.

"Oh, I've been craving a good dose of caffeine all afternoon! Thank you, Mr. Osmanoğlu." The man took another sip in delight.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Carson. Please take one cup to yourself before you go back to the hall." Hamid grabbed the carafe to offer more coffee to the concierge.

"Okay, so what now?" Briar asked.

"Once we inform if and how many pets we have, we can come up with a counter offer to find solutions for the noise," Kyle, the neighbor, suggested.

"Our apartment has soundproof windows and thick drapes ever since Hamid moved in, but I don't know if everyone can afford it," Daphne acknowledged.

"Yeah, those aren't cheap. But it was very clever of the two of you to do it."

"I know my cat. If we didn't take care of it right away, lockdown would've been more chaotic than it already was," Hamid explained.

"How about calling a vet and pet trainer to help? Maybe a professional to give us tips on how to reduce stressful situations for pets, how to keep them distracted..." Briar suggested.

"That's a great idea, Briar! Maybe Luke can help or recommend someone who can," Daphne mentioned.

"Or we just buy duct tape and give it to Stacy. Maybe she'll take the hint and manage to control that little brat," Briar joked.

As the group chuckled, the new building manager approached the table.

"The ninth floor residents are always laughing, huh... I feel inclined to join you almost every time," The tall and ash blond haired woman scrutinized each resident and stood next to Hamid.

"You don't say... How sweet of you!" Kyle replied, pretending to be pleasantly surprised.

"Of course! You are all so cheerful. It's a true pleasure to have residents like you," The building manager said, grinning widely at Hamid.

"We know," Briar answered, then mumbled to herself. "You almost make me hate my bff's partner for being nice even to people who don't deserve it..."

"What?" Stacy asked.

"Oh, it's nothing! Just an inside joke." Hamid promptly answered.

"About what?" The building manager asked.

"Cat memes!" Kyle declared.

"Turkish cat memes," Daphne added.

"Yeah, we have a lot of those." Hamid commented.

"I'm not very fond of cats. Or dogs. Or any animals for that matter..." The woman said.

"Yeah, you've made that pretty clear, Stacy," Daphne commented, giving the woman a subtle glare.

"My dove, please. We can handle this situation without confrontation." Hamid murmured.

"Maybe you can..." Daphne folded her arms.

"I don't hate all animals, of course..." Stacy continued to babble.

"We know." Kyle answered, forcing a smile.

"Your son, for example..." Briar mumbled, making the neighbor almost spit out his coffee.

"My Trevor got some gold fishes from his grandmother last week..."

"Oh, those poor fishes..." Daphne muttered.

"I know... It's like the fish killer girl from Finding Nemo..." Briar added.

"...They're very soothing, you know." Stacy affirmed as she tried to touch Hamid's shoulder.

"So I've heard. But I prefer pets with more capability to interact with me," Hamid commented, moving away from the woman to pour himself coffee.

"Oh, you brought Turkish coffee! How nice!" Stacy marvelled.

"I did. Your tea, my love." Hamid offered his partner a cup of tea.

"I see you two have different tastes... That's too bad..." Stacy said with a suggestive smile.

"That's called having your own personality," Daphne taunted, sipping her tea.

As Briar and Kyle suppressed giggles, Hamid wrapped an arm around his partner and smiled.

"I believe what Daph meant to say is that after over three years of relationship and almost two years living together, we learned to compromise."

Daphne gave him a side eye, but didn't argue.

"Words to live by," Kyle agreed.

"I see..." The building manager scrutinized the couple for a second then continued. "Anyway, before we continue the resident council meeting, can you pour some of your delicious Turkish coffee?"

"We're almost out of coffee, but I can—" Before he could answer, his phone began to buzz. "Sorry. I have to take this. My dove?" He gestured to the nearly empty carafe.

"You know what? Nevermind..." Stacy waved dismissively with her hand.

"Oh, don't worry. Daphne can make a killer cup of coffee." Hamid smiled at his partner and walked away to answer the call.

And to everyone's surprise, the lady didn't oppose it. "I'll be happy to make you a cup right now."

"But I—"

"Go back to your seat, Stacy." She gently pushed the building manager away from the table. "I'll take a cup to you."

As the woman walked towards the desk in front of the conference room, Daphne waved to her and turned back to the table to prepare more coffee.

Briar eyed her friend suspiciously. "Daph?"

"Yes?"

"Are you really making that tyrant coffee?"

After a few extra spoons of coffee, Daphne grabbed salt and pepper shakers and added them to the mug. "I sure am."

First week of December 2022

"She had it coming," Daphne said before taking a bite of the chicken.

"Aşkım..."

"She wanted to ban pets from our building!"

"She has no power to do that and you know it."

"She was hitting on you!"

"Was she?" He feigned shock.

The lady pursed her lips.

"She's not my type."

"Because she's blond, petty, and hates pets?"

"Yes. And more importantly, I only have eyes for British ladies from Edgewater." Hamid said, reaching for her hand across the table.

"Is that so?"

"They must be the daughter of the earl, of course."

"That's a very specific type of woman, Mr. Osmanoğlu." Daphne lifted a glass of water to her lips, hiding a smile.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," he replied, plastering his best smile. "Anyway..." Hamid then looked back at his phone. "I guess being a good neighbour is one more requirement you failed to accomplish."

"Whatever... Two items isn't a big deal. Proceed with the list."

"Okay." He continued to read the list. "Number six: donate to charity."

"Done."

"True. Number seven: be on your best behaviour all year."

"Done."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. What are you talking about?"

His grin widened.

January, 2022

Daphne winced as she walked out of the bedroom to join Hamid for lunch. Following her gynecologist orders, the lady decided to seek healthier choices to handle PMS. Yet, given how sore her legs were, she questioned herself how this could possibly be the healthier option.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" She cried out. "Ugh! Why even sitting down is so goddamn hard?"

Taking pity on his partner, Hamid helped Daphne sit on one of the kitchen stools. "It'll get better with time, aşkım. Have you stretched a bit today?"

"I did. It still hurts! And I'm not putting ice packs on my legs. It's too fucking cold today."

He arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"What?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Nothing. How about an Advil and a glass of water before lunch?"

"Don't we have anything stronger?"

"Ibuprofen will do just fine until the pharmacy sends the OTC cream I asked for. Here you go." Calmly, he handed her a packet of the medication and a glass of water.

"Thank you."

Once she took the meds, Hamid placed the dishes on the kitchen island and whistled as he put down two bowls with cat and dog food for their pets.

Her mouth watered at the sight of grilled salmon with mustard yogurt sauce, brown rice with cauliflower and lentils salad.

"This looks nice! I'm a bit surprised you added cauliflower though."

"I can make an effort sometimes..." He gave his shoulders as he sat across from her.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to."

"I can survive a meal with stinky vegetables. Let's dig in."

Whilst the couple chatted between bites and small interactions with their pets, Daphne hummed savouring pieces of salmon with the sauce.

"Hamidciğim, this sauce is marvelous!"

"Really? Do you see yourself having another meal like this again?"

"Maybe..."

"Maybe?" He grinned.

"Hold your horses, mate. I'm not becoming a gym rat like you. I barely survived jogging with Annabelle."

"Healthy meals are always a good start to a healthier lifestyle. By the way, I have to ask... Why jogging?"

"You know I'm not a sports enthusiast. What else could I do? And jogging seemed easy enough... Ann said 'just put on some gym shoes, training clothes and bring a water bottle'."

"Just because something looks easy it doesn't mean it actually is."

She made a face.

"Aşkım, perhaps you could've chosen something you like to do. It'll be easier to stick to it in the long run."

"Like what?"

"You love dancing. Why didn't you take a dance class? Plus, there are other exercises you might like to try like pilates, yoga..."

Pilates? Yoga? What was he insinuating with that?

The lady narrowed her eyes. "Why? Because it's what girls usually do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You think I'm weak, don't you?"

"What?" His brows furrowed in confusion.

"You do. That's why you're telling me to start yoga and pilates instead of jogging."

"Daphne, it was just a suggestion. Why would you assume I think you're weak?"

"Because you just did!" She snapped.

"I don't know how you came to that conclusion, but if you keep assuming the worst from me, I'm not sure if I want to. Now, if you excuse me..."

Hamid stood up carrying his plate, threw the remaining food in the trashcan and disappeared into the hallway.

"Where are you going?!" She yelled.

Already wearing a black leather jacket and holding his car keys, Hamid returned to the kitchen.

"Out."

"Out?"

"I have plans for later."

Daphne closed her eyes as she inhaled sharply. It was infuriating how often he simply stood up and left in the middle of an argument, even though he wasn't the kind of person who walked out of a fight just like that. Did he do that to piss her off?

"Have a good meal, Daphne."

Once the front door was slammed shut, Daphne screamed in frustration, knowing no one could hear her. Yet, in response, Maya hissed at her whilst Drake barked in clear distress.

"Shut up!" She yelled once more, making her dog hide in a small corner in the kitchen and the cat hiss once more.

The lady frowned. She didn't yell at her pets. Why was she so explosive all of a sudden?

As she finally understood the reason behind her outburst, Daphne closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Now certainly was a good time to seek some more effective ways to handle her mood swings.

...

Daphne's fingers pressed against the clay as she tried to shape the lump with her hands. Sculpture was a form of art the viscountess rarely tried. Molding things wasn't her forte. It was too messy to her liking. But while looking for ways of managing her mood swings, she recalled the day one of her professors mentioned the benefits of sculpting clay to reduce stress and anxiety and decided to give it a shot. After what happened earlier, she was willing to try anything.

Just then, the faint sound of the door closing followed by Drake's barks reached her ears. She furrowed her brows and glanced at the clock on the wall. Hamid was supposed to be watching a football game with his friends. He wouldn't be back anytime soon. Maybe she was mistaken. But once she heard his voice talking to their pets, she knew. It wasn't just her imagination.

Joy and guilt grew within her as she stood quiet, waiting for any sound he'd make as he walked around the flat. Was he mad at her? No, anger wasn't an emotion he nurtured for long. But he could be upset. Or disappointed. She honestly didn't know which one was worse.

As the sound of the TV reached her ears, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to walk out of the studio. But she couldn't wait. She needed to see him.

In the lounge, Hamid sat on the sofa, grumbling in Turkish at the players on the TV and taking a few swings of beer.

Hiding in a corner, Daphne gazed at him for a few seconds, chewing on a nail. She should say something. Preferably an apology. But what if she messed it up again? What if he didn't want to talk? He was watching the game after all. Ah, the guilt...

"I thought you said you'd stop chewing on your nails."

Her eyes went round in surprise. Wasn't he supposed to be watching TV?

"Are you lurking in the corner?"

"No! I— Um..." She looked down at her hands. "I thought you were going to watch the game with Yusuf, Bart and Vee."

"Annabelle had food poisoning, so Vee stayed with her."

"Oh... What about Yusuf and Bart?"

"Bart said I was too cranky today and Yusuf told me to go try to fix whatever was bothering me."

"Are you going to fix it?"

"I have to. I won't be able to sleep at night not knowing if you feel cramps and might need tea, a hot bag or a hug tonight. And I know you won't ask for help if we're still fighting."

The lady fiddled with the hem of her blouse as her eyes began to water. It was so annoying to realise how well he knew her.

"Can you come here and help me fix it?"

Daphne slowly walked to the sofa and took a seat beside him.

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you. I misunderstood what you said for something silly Ann used to say about Felicity Holloway back in A-Level years."

"What did she say?"

"Yoga and pilates are for people who can't handle a real sport."

"I don't know if I agree with that... Have you seen Alisha's and Sevim's videos doing yoga on Pictagram?"

"But I'm not going to be upside down in the first week of classes."

"Just like you're not going to be running one kilometre by the end of this week if you choose to jog again. You'll start slow with everything."

"Except dancing..."

"Well, isn't it a coincidence that dancing was the first exercise I suggested?" He gave a knowing look.

"Ugh, fine... I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'll go with you to the gym and ask the receptionist about the dance classes."

"You're forgiven, my dove."

As he leaned in for a kiss, Hamid pulled back and brushed a thumb on her chin. "Is it mud mask day again?"

"No... Why?"

"You have clay on your face."

"Oh!" The lady stood up and rushed to the nearest bathroom. "I was trying to make a clay sculpture. Touching clay keeps the person grounded and reduces mood swings. It's very soothing," she shouted whilst cleaning her chin and left cheek.

"Really? How's it going?"

"I couldn't do more than a weird ball and a lot of mess in the studio. But it's better than jogging."

He chortled. "Would you do it again?"

"Not without a few sculpting classes."

"No problem then." Hamid reached for his mobile on the coffee table and began to search for sculpture art classes.

...

Late May, 2022

"Yes. Absolutely! Yes, I can!"

Daphne's whole face lit up as the art curator who interviewed her for the internship spot in a famous art gallery in Ithaca gave her a few instructions before finishing the call. Getting any job at any art gallery was something the lady dreamed about for years. But working for one of her favourite contemporary artists was so much more than she could've asked for.

"Thank you! See you on Monday!"

Once she hung up the phone, Hamid abruptly stopped the car and turned to her.

"Monday? What happens on Monday?"

"Not much..." She answered, pretending to be calm. "Just my first day as a hostess/tour guide at State Of The Art Gallery."

"I knew it!" Hamid immediately unbuckled his seat belt and cupped Daphne's face with both hands to give her a tender kiss. "Congratulations, aşkım! I told you that spot belonged to you."

"Thank you," she answered with a timid smile.

"We have to celebrate it. How about lunch at that Italian restaurant you like?"

"But you just said we should eat something lighter because of all the junk food we had last night."

"Aşkım, you just got your first job at the most prestigious art gallery in Ithaca. We need pasta, good cheese and the best vintage we can find to celebrate!"

Daphne giggled in response. Over the years, Hamid became the first person she shared dreams and goals with. His enthusiasm and support for her accomplishments, no matter how big or small they were, were infectious.

As he started the car again and drove off, using a few voice commands, he continued. "You have to tell Lord Vincent about it. He'll be so proud of you."

Daphne smiled shyly. "I'll call him when we get home."

"Call the guys too. We have to go out for drinks later."

"I don't know... Maybe they already have plans."

"That they will cancel as soon as you tell them," he insisted. "Aşkım, this is your first job. The one that will help start your career! We have to celebrate now and the day you get your first payment. And you know the rules. All drinks will be on you that day."

"What?!" She glanced at her partner in horror. "No! Have you seen how much Ann, Vee and Bartie drink? I can't spend my entire first salary just on booze and snacks! Plus Edmund might come too! He's the worst!"

He chuckled. "It's fine. I can afford our monthly bills by myself. Besides, I doubt Lord Vincent will cut off your allowance until you get a higher paying job."

Daphne didn't say a word as she shifted uneasily in her seat. She knew the money wouldn't be an issue for them. She simply couldn't help wondering if she would manage to keep that job.

As soon as the couple arrived at the restaurant and took their seats, the lady grew quieter. She wanted to be happy. She got an amazing job opportunity. She'd be working with something she loves just a year before graduation. However...

"Daphne?"

"Huh?"

Whilst the waiter expectantly waited for her to drink some of the wine and give her opinion, Daphne noticed Hamid's gaze, studying her face intently. Why was it so easy for him to know something wasn't right? This was one of those moments when she wished Hamid wasn't so perceptive.

Once the waiter poured more wine and left, Hamid placed his glass on the table and gauged her expression one more time before speaking. "For someone who just achieved their first professional accomplishment, you don't seem happy."

"I am." She lifted her glass of Chardonnay to her lips, so glad they were big enough to hide most of her face. "I just think it's a bit soon to celebrate."

"Soon?! The job is yours! You start in three days and it's Friday. It's the perfect time!"

"Yeah, but what if I don't go that well there? What if they fire me in less than a month?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Why would they do that?"

Color drained from her face as she held her glass mid air. How could her tongue slip like that? She barely started drinking!

"Aşkım, is something wrong?"

As Hamid reached for her hand, his brows furrowed in worry. Perhaps, it was time to tell him the truth. If things turned as bad as she expected, he would find out anyway.

"I did something..."

"Okay..."

"Something that can compromise my job at SOTA Gallery."

So many emotions seemed to cloud Hamid's handsome features it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"Isn't there a way to undo or fix what you did?"

"Maybe... But it's more complicated than I thought it would be."

Hamid moved closer to the table, looking more confused than before, lowering his voice. "Daphne, what did you do?"

"I..." She looked down at her hands. It was too embarrassing to admit it. "I fluffed up my resume and lied to the art curator who interviewed me."

"And...?"

"And?!" Daphne stared back at him in horror. "There's no 'and'! Things are bad enough as it is."

The diplomat let out a chuckle in relief. "Aşkım, tons of people fluff up their resumes and lie a little during the interview. I told you I only got the job at UK Parliament because they needed someone who could speak Korean fluently and I lied saying I could."

"But you learned enough to keep up a conversation with the ambassador of South Korea."

"No, I didn't. I was lucky Mr. Park has a good sense of humor and found my knowledge on K-dramas amusing," he corrected. "But back to you, what did you lie about?"

"Oil painting."

Hamid pressed his lips together, but the corners of his mouth were still lifted up.

"You're laughing."

"No," he said, doing his best to look serious.

"You are! I can see it. You're laughing at me." Daphne scowled.

"I can't help it... It brings back some interesting memories..." He smirked.

"Will you ever stop mocking me because of that night?" She grumbled and then forced a smile as the waiter returned with their entrees.

"My dove, it's okay," he said, pausing to take a bit of his entree. "You thought the studio had the proper ventilation for you to try oil painting. It was an honest mistake. Did I expect to find you dancing to Jefferson Airplane half naked in the lounge and saying you finally understood Sharknado? No. But it was—"

"Absolutely ridiculous? Embarrassing?" Something ludicrous that only an intoxicated person would do?"

"Perhaps for you. I'm still bummed my phone battery died before I recorded your speech about vampires being real," he teased.

"Hamid!" She hissed.

"I'd just record the audio. Your theory was too good to be forgotten."

Daphne heaved a tired sigh. She might lose the biggest opportunity of her career so far and her partner was mocking her for the night she accidentally got high on oil painting and Port wine.

"Why did you lie about that anyway? You have enough artistic skills and experience to boast about for days."

"The art curator, Ms. Giordano, has specialized studies in oil painting. I thought about impressing her with what I know about it."

"And you succeeded. You may not be an expert, but it isn't a subject you're completely illiterate about. You can keep up appearances whilst you learn more about it."

"But I told her I have a painting and she said she'd like to see it."

"That's not a lie. You have a painting."

"That thing I painted that night is rubbish! I shouldn't have let you keep it."

"But The Attack of Vampire Sirens is one of my favourite paintings nowadays! Annabelle liked it too. And it gives you something to show to one of your bosses."

"I'm not showing that thing to her!"

"You have to," he warned. "You have no other work in oil painting. And you have to keep up the lie. You shall never admit you lied just to get the job. Never!"

"I know! Everyone says Laura Giordano is mean, but she was kinda nice to me during the interview. If I say I lied, she might never look in the face again..." Daphne whined.

"Well, let's hope she didn't mean what she said or you'll have to paint again."

"No! Oil painting is evil!"

"It's summer... You can paint outdoors. Preferably in the balcony. Or anywhere windy. With no alcoholic beverages near you..." He suggested as his lips curled upwards again.

Her shoulders slumped.

"Aşkım, there's nothing to worry about. It was just a little lie you said so your mean boss would like you. If she's really that mean, she won't even remember what she said."

"Really?"

"No. But now you can finally share The Attack of Vampire Sirens on your social media." Hamid wiggled his brows.

"Ugh..." Daphne hid her eyes with one hand in frustration.

...

September, 2022

Daphne rubbed a few drops of oil between her hands and smoothened the length of her hair before pulling it into a ponytail. As she checked herself in the mirror, her nose twisted in annoyance as the dark tresses covered her sports bra. Has her hair ever been that long before?

She looked down at the long locks and moved her face from one side to another. Perhaps the issue wasn't the length. During her teenhood, she had time to change haircut and colours whenever she saw fit. Lately, however, she barely had enough time to braid her hair on her way to work or uni.

Staring at herself in the mirror again, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Do I really want to make any changes now?

She then walked back to her vanity dresser and grabbed her phone. Maybe Pinterest could help.

Among the many pictures on the search, a selfie in particular caught her attention. Sitting on a salon chair, Felicity Holloway smiled as the most popular hairstylist of Edgewater pressed his face next to hers. One could almost mistake them for being close friends. But Daphne knew better than that.

Initially recommended by Lady Dominique, Théo Cellier was a pleasant surprise to the viscountess when she moved to Edgewater. With his impressive skills on cutting and colouring hair, his knowledge about the latest trends in fashion and art and sharp sense of humor, Daphne grew fond of Mr. Cellier for a while.

Yet, their friendship didn't last long. Unfortunately, Mr. Cellier's beauty spa was popular among gentry folk for more reasons other than just a nice hair change due to his terrible habit of gossiping. Even this most innocent conversation a client of his had over the phone could be spread across the country within minutes. And much to her disappointment, the Foredales often were a common topic of the hairstylist's and his clients' malicious comments.

As she accidentally tapped on the picture instead of scrolling past it, it redirected to the hairstylist's Pictagram profile. Felicity's selfie was new, but with relatively low engagement, given the number of followers in the hairstylist's profile and the complexity of work done. She did look pretty with a cut that framed her face and a few light ash locks that brought more light to her sandy blond hair.

She snickered as her thumbs typed a message to DM Briar. But before she could hit send, she felt something gently falling over her feet. As she looked down, her dog whined, staring at her with pleading eyes whilst his walking harness and leash rested on her feet.

The lady smacked her forehead with one hand as she remembered why she was getting ready to leave in the first place.

"I'm sorry, sweetie! I got a little sidetracked here..."

She scratched his fur and put the harness on Drake.

"I'll put on a shirt and training shoes and we'll be out in a minute, okay?"

As the lady walked into the closet to finish getting dressed, the dog barked in excitement, she didn't mind to look. Drake was one of those extra friendly dogs who got easily excited about almost anything. He certainly found something in the room to play with. As long as he wasn't trying to eat her moisturizer again, it'd be fine.

"Ready to go? Oh hey, girl!" She smiled at Maya coming out from under the bed to rub her body against Daphne's legs. "I thought you'd sleep in the balcony all morning. You don't mind staying alone for a few minutes, right? Hamid will be back from the gym soon."

Whilst Maya stretched herself, one of her paws touched the screen of Daphne's phone and the cat laid on top of the device, the lady scanned the room, searching for it.

"Odd... I left it right here..." She said, approaching her vanity dresser.

Before she could search a bit more, the dog began to whine again.

"Oh well... I guess we'll enjoy the scenery together today, Drake," she said, bending down to scratch the cat's fur and picking up the leash to take the dog for a walk. A few minutes without her phone wouldn't do her any harm, right?

...

About one hour later

Daphne closed the door behind her to help Drake out the harness. Usually, the dog arrived home a bit calmer. But whenever he sensed the fragrance of Hamid's cologne in the air, it was harder to get him to settle down.

"I know what you want, but wait a minute! I can't take it off if you don't stay quiet."

"Stop torturing my dog and just let him come to me already," Hamid joked as he approached the entryway.

The dog began to shake his entire body, waggling his tail in joy.

"Great. Now it'll be impossible to get him out of the harness."

"I'll take it off when he's calmer." The diplomat then crouched down and beamed at the dog. "Gel, oğlum! Gel!²"

Daphne pursed her lips, but set Drake free to rush to his other pet parent.

"How was the walk?"

"Good. The weather was nice, Drake is getting stronger. We walked for twenty minutes today."

"Excellent! Well done, oğlum!" He then gazed at her with a curious look whilst still petting the dog. "Is everything okay, aşkım?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't bump into any unpleasant acquaintances today, did you?"

"Huh?"

"You know... People you dislike or who can easily make your blood boil such as your boss, Theresa Sutton... Felicity Holloway..."

Daphne made a face. "Good God, no! Mrs. Giordano is still in Italy being cruel in Italian to other Italians. Theresa and Felicity haven't returned to classes yet... Why?"

"Bartie and Briar just sent me a Pictagram post that made me wonder what could've happened so early in the morning for you to make such a nasty comment about anyone online."

"I did what?"

"Well, you are half British and you do have your grandmother's passive-aggressive sense of humor..." He rambled on, scratching his stubble in thought.

"Passive-aggressive?! But you always say I'm adorable!"

"Of course, you are, my dove." Hamid then stood up, pulled her into a hug and kissed her temple before he mumbled. "Most of the time..."

"Excuse me?!" She pulled away with a scowl. "Hamid, what on earth are you talking about?"

The diplomat fished his phone out of his trousers pocket to show it to Daphne.

Her eyes went round and jaw fell slack in horror. Among the comments on Felicity's selfie on Mr. Cellier's profile, the top comment was Daphne's.

"Too bad no amount of bleach and purple shampoo can make her soul as bright and shiny as her hair..."

"But I didn't post that!" She blurted.

"Are you sure? I've seen you say worse to her face..."

"I always try to be polite, even if she doesn’t deserve it. She is the one who starts with the insults. I wrote that to DM Briar!"

"Did you mistake the DM button for the enter a comment button again?"

"No! I didn't send it! I don't even know where my phone is!"

Hamid arched an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

"It's somewhere in the bedroom... I didn't have time to check properly. Drake started whining again, I didn't want to frustrate him now that he has more energy to walk."

"I'm not sure what happened, but we have to find your phone and a way out of this scandal because you're trending."

"What?!"

"Well, not you... #bleachgate is trending on Twitter NY and UK."

"Bleach gate?"

"Her classmates began to tweet about it, then our friends joined in telling how Felicity bullies anyone she might see as beneath her and the story spread. Gossip blogs here and UK tabloids are delighted with all the freely given content."

Daphne quickly read the tweets in horror. "Oh my god..."

"I gotta say that's quite an accomplishment to be trending right now. It's already noon in the UK and there's a Premier League match being aired right now."

Her shoulders slumped. "Hamidciğim, I don't want to be trending on anything. It was supposed to be just another dumb joke shared in a private chat with a friend."

"It's alright. We can fix this. Go look for your phone. I'll reach out to my contacts at The Sun and The Daily Mirror to see what can be done about this."

"Thank you."

After a quick search in the master bedroom, Daphne found the phone on the floor, under a very sleepy and grumpy Maya, who was clearly displeased to be woken up. Now in possession of her phone again, the lady read the news, tweets mentioning her and the tag and DMs from several people from her secondary school years, Felicity's classmates at Cornell, whilst Hamid worked from his phone and laptop.

"Oh... This is bad..." She commented, whilst scrolling through the tag search.

"It sure is..." Hamid added as he sat back on the sofa. "Three former members of Lochdale staff came forward to sue Felicity for racial profiling and harassment.

Daphne's head snapped to the side in shock. "Seriously?!"

"What? Didn't you expect the girl who bullied you and all of our closest friends for years to not be racist or not harass her parents' staff?" He gave her a knowing look.

"That's not what I meant... I just didn't know that accidentally commenting on Pictagram instead of DMing Briar could've caused this."

"I guess no one did..."

"What do I do now?"

"Not much. Mr. Cellier deleted the picture, but screen captures of the selfie and your comment are everywhere. You can come forward in your own profile and say your phone was hacked and apologise or you can leave it be?"

"Lying doesn't seem like a good idea..."

"I agree. Anyone who digs a bit on these British gossip blogs will figure out you two have a history and might see the 'hacked account' or the apology as a lie."

"But can I really leave it be?"

"Yes. You have no obligation to comment any further about it and your opinion about Felicity is the least of her problems right now. She can try to sue you for defamation, of course. But given that you won two lawsuits against her not so long ago and with all these new allegations against her, her lawyers will most likely advise her not to go through with it."

"Okay. I'm not going to say a word about it."

"Good choice." He nodded. "You owe me a kiss, by the way."

Daphne moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you again for doing this."

"No problem, aşkım."

Sighing in relief, she reached for her tea and continued to scroll through social media.

"You do know that not saying anything further also means not hitting likes on memes and other shitposts about it, don't you?"

"I'm not doing anything..."

"You just hit like on Annabelle's tweet of Bugs Bunny wishing you all a pleasant evening meme about the bleach gate."

"But—"

He stared at her and shook his head.

"Ugh... Fine..." she grumbled.

First week of December 2022

"That's so unfair! I was PMSing! I can't control my hormones," Daphne whined.

"Yes, you can. You have improved significantly since you chose to have healthier habits. But okay. Let's say Santa could excuse you for snapping at your loving life partner for no reason. Yelling at our fur babies though?" He tutted.

"But I apologised!" The lady pouted.

He chuckled.

"Okay, but you can't blame me for lying about my oil painting skills. You said it yourself it wasn't all a lie."

"You actually told your boss your favourite technique was impasto."

"But it's the truth!"

"You hadn't tried impasto until then. You just said it because you knew Mrs. Giordano is a Van Gogh fan. And don't even get me started on the bleach gate," he pointed out.

"It was an accident!"

"Posting as a comment was an accident. But what you said...."

"The woman made my life hell for years! What's a little dissing compared to what she did to me?" She insisted.

"I know. And I'm not judging you." He raised his hands in defence.

"Thank you."

"However..."

"Ugh..." She rolled her eyes.

"Aşkım, you are Christian. There are several Bible verses about loving and doing good for your enemies. I don't think a Christian entity known for doing good deeds to everybody would overlook that."

She folded her arms.

"You'll have to face that fact you'd be on the naughty list this year."

"All right!" Daphne scowled. "I don't mind if I only get coal for Christmas."

"Don't you?" Hamid raised an eyebrow.

"I'm an artist. I'd see it as an encouragement to make more coal sketches," she replied, doing her best not to look annoyed. It was just a silly test anyway. Besides, if she didn't want to be mocked for the rest of the month, admitting he was right would be for the best.

But before the subject died down, a sly grin played on his lips as he mumbled. "Hmm... Interesting..."

Something told her he wouldn't let go so easily.

County of Edgewater, December 25th 2022

Laughter echoed along Edgewater manor as The Foredales and closest friends ambled toward the lounge. Christmas mornings usually were the best part of the day for Daphne. Though they considered it an event, the family now was more inclined to skip formalities. Aside from everyone helping with the vast and delightful breakfast, they exchanged gifts and chatted until it was time to prepare for luncheon. She was more than happy to go back home and partake in this new family tradition.

As Lord Vincent, Lady Dominique, the Dalys and Veronica's mother chatted by the fire, the young ones gathered around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts.

"Darling, this is beautiful!" Bartholomew gushed over the glass bird house.

"Now the birds will always keep you company when I'm not around," Yusuf said, smiling fondly at his partner.

A unison "aww..." erupted among the women whilst Edmund looked somewhat confused.

"How will that attract birds?" Edmund mumbled in confusion.

"Put bird food and water on the little space in there and hang the house on a window or balcony for the birds to come," Daphne explained.

"Oh... that's cool." Edmund nodded.

"And really cute," Veronica added.

"And so romantic..." Briar swooned at the smiles Yusuf and Bart shared.

"I guess Bart got all his gifts. You can choose who's next now, my friend," Hamid suggested, sharing a secretive look with Bartholomew.

"Hm..." Bartholomew looked around the group and declared. "I say it's Daph's turn now."

"I'm cool with that," Daphne said with a grin.

"In this case, I'll go first." Hamid then reached for a large box under the tree and handed it to his partner.

The lady beamed at the sight of the pretty gift box and carefully undid the ribbon tying it. But as soon as she removed a few paper tissues, Daphne pursed her lips.

"That doesn't look like a 'aw... thank you, love' face," Veronica commented.

"I agree," Yusuf nodded.

"What is it?" Briar then grabbed the gift and glanced at the couple in confusion. "You gave her coal?"

"Me? Noooo..." He shook his head, pretending not to know about it. "Krampus dropped by last night and left this gift for her."

"So I guess Krampus also left a note saying 'Welcome to the naughty list, Daphne!'," Annabelle added, showing off the note that was inside the box.

"I bet he meant every word," Hamid said with a mischievous smile whilst his partner glared daggers at him.

"Is it me or does it look like a sex joke?" Veronica asked.

"What?!" Edmund blurted in horror.

"I thought so too," Bartholomew joked.

"If there wasn't a note allegedly from Krampus, I swear it'd be a sex joke," Yusuf teased.

"Maybe this is some sort of fetish related to the holidays," Annabelle surmised.

"Oh, for the love of God..." Edmund grimaced in discomfort.

"I don't know. I've seen fetish related to Santa, string lights, gifts. But Krampus?" Briar made a face.

"Oh, girl... If I got a nickel for every weird fetish and turn-on I've heard about..." Veronica taunted.

"And coming from these two, you never know..." Bart continued.

"Are my ears bleeding? I can feel them bleeding..." Edmund whinged as he shifted uneasily in his seat whilst the others (minus Daphne) laughed.

"All right, that's enough! Can we move on now?" Daphne cut off, still struggling to hide her annoyance.

"I know that face. You're in big trouble, Osmanoğlu," Annabelle whispered to Hamid, who simply chuckled.

"I think that's kind of the point." Yusuf tittered.

"Okay, let's move along. Here you go, Daph," Bartholomew then handed the lady a medium size box.

"Thank you, Bartie." The lady smiled in gratitude. But as she opened her gift, Daphne arched an eyebrow at her friend. "Bart?"

Bartholomew shared a glance with Hamid then pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh as his eyes met Daphne's.

"Ugh..." The lady rolled her eyes.

"What?" Briar asked as she peaked at the gift. "I don't get it... You like getting art supplies."

"This is different and both of them know why."

Bartholomew and Hamid chuckled.

The others then glanced at the gift box and found an art supplies kit for charcoal drawings.

"Well, at least now we know it's not a sex joke," Yusuf commented.

"Are you sure?" Veronica teased.

"Hey!" Yusuf whined.

The others doubled over.

"Can somebody go next? I don't feel like getting coal anymore," Daphne grumbled.

"My dove, you're not getting coal from everyone."

"Do you expect to believe you didn't tell everybody?"

"I didn't know." Annabelle raised her hands in defence.

"Me neither," Briar answered. "I would've joined the prank though..."

"Me too. You should've told us, mate..." Edmund joked.

"Sorry, eniştem³... Next time, I'll give you two a call," Hamid said with a playful grin.

"Excuse me?!" Daphne snapped.

"I'm joking... You're not mad at me, are you?" Hamid asked.

"Of course I am! You're mocking me, you got Bartie on board for this and I didn't get a single real gift until now."

"Hey, mine is a real gift!" Bartholomew protested.

"You're on thin ice, Bart. Very thin ice." Daphne hissed.

Hamid then wrapped his arms around Daphne, who didn't hug him back, but didn't pull away either.

"My dove, you are getting real gifts. Great ones, as far as I know. But when you said you wouldn't mind getting coal, I couldn't resist it. It's too much fun to tease you."

The others laughed.

"Will you forgive, aşkım?" Hamid murmured, kissing Daphne's shoulder to make his request more compelling.

"I don't know..." She said, pretending not to be affected by him. "Do I get a real gift from you?"

"Yes."

"How good is it?"

"It's very shiny, expensive, it has a colourless gemstone usually weighed in carats."

"Fine..." Daphne replied, doing her best not to smile. "I'll think about it..."

As Hamid kissed Daphne's cheek several times, Bartholomew prompted. "You know, diamonds chemical composition are quite similar to coal, so if you think about it—"

"Your thin ice is melting, Bart!" Daphne glared.

Laughter erupted in the group before they continued to share Christmas gifts.

______

¹ Vay, vay, vay: Turkish expression of surprise

² "Gel, oğlum! Gel!" : "Come to me, son!"

³ Eniştem: my brother-in-law

#choices fanfic #desire and decorum #hamid x mc #desire & decorum modern day au #lorirwritesfanfic #lorircreates #ocs ask

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missameliep · 1 year

Text

Second Chances - Chapter Twenty Four: The Undeniable Truth

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU

Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth (OC)

Rating: M (see trigger warnings in the notes bellow)

Word count: ~12K

Summary: During the drinking games, truths will be revealed and hearts will be exposed, but some are not the ones everybody had been expecting...

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster, Annabelle Parsons; Luke Harper; Theresa Sutton.

Notes:

* All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC.

* A huge thank you to @princess-geek for being my beta in this chapter and for all her support to my writing and this series.

* Non-English words translated at the notes in the end.

* Trigger warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking and dialogues with sexual implied content.

* This is my submission to @choicesficwriterscreations fic of the week and @choicesmonthlychallenge (prompts - friends/holding hands/forehead kisses).

Elizabeth approached Edmund, held his arm, and signalled for him to lean closer. “Is it safe playing with Theresa?” she whispered, “Won’t she gossip about us later?”

“I suppose you never played a drinking game with Annabelle,” Edmund whispered back, and Elizabeth shook her head. She never played any sort of drinking game because getting drunk and sharing personal information are her least favourite pastimes.

“Theresa never lasts long in the game,” he explained, lowering his voice, “and she will be too smashed to remember anything tomorrow. Probably the rest of us too. So, your secrets will be safe.”

“I don’t have secrets!” was her immediate defensive response, but the pitch of her voice gave away the statement was far from the truth.

“Then you’ll have no problems playing Truth or Drink,” he said with the hint of satisfaction in his expression that only a sibling ready to see the other falling flat on their bottoms can express.

Releasing the grip on his arm, Elizabeth lagged, regretting not thoroughly thinking this through.

What was I thinking? This is such a bad idea! I’ll get drunk and embarrass myself. Or worse, Briar will tease me about Hamid, and I’ll be mortified.

Slipping something stupid or inappropriate or worse the truth was simply overwhelming.

“Aren’t you coming?” Edmund asked, holding the door open for her, and she threw her shoulders back trying to balance the weight of her worries about everything that could go wrong tonight.

On her way outside, she’s met by Briar’s stare, holding Hamid’s arm for support. “What’s wrong?”

Gnawing at one thumb’s nail, Elizabeth said, “I haven’t played this kind of game since school and there was no drinking involved...”

“Be brave and honour your ancestor, a woman who had premarital sex with a man who was not her fiancé and engaged in swordfight on her wedding day. Total badass!”

“Sword fighting? Impressive,” Hamid remarked, and Briar promised to lend him the journal after she finished it.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.” Leaning forward and adopting a conspiratorial tone, Briar said, “And if the truth it too ugly to handle, lie. Just like everybody else.”

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth’s brows raised in surprise. “What’s the point if you don’t say the truth?”

Both laughed at her reaction and Hamid offered his free arm so they could walk together.

After assembling large bags of crisps, a plate with mini-sandwiches, a bowl of popcorn, cans of soft drinks and the four wine bottles Edmund and Annabelle retrieved from the famous Edgewater’s cellar – wine good enough to not give them a headache tomorrow, but not the vintage and expensive kind that would be missed – and one bottle of scotch from Edmund’s personal reserve for his own pleasure, the group re-joined.

Edmund glanced at the silent corridor before closing the door of the elegant guestroom. The crackling of the fire and the drumming of the rain against the windows were muffled by the exciting conversations.

This room was not selected because of the delicate floral wallpaper or the inviting furniture, but due to its remoteness, in the wing reserved for summer guests. There was not the slightest chance of Lady Dominique bursting in unless she was actively searching for any of them, which was very unlikely, considering she left to a dinner party in one of the neighbouring estates. Despite living in these lands for the better part of her life, the lady had greatly complained about the inconvenience of the pouring rain when she stopped by at the game room to hear about the picnic, and a few of them stifled laughs at the resemblance of Elizabeth’s own displeasure with the weather at London on several occasions.

Except for Theresa who didn’t really care for contemporary music but liked Mariah Carey, everyone else engaged in a passionate debate about the perfect music for the evening, advocating for their favourite genres. Annabelle, for instance, suggested one of her playlists with progressive rock and all-female rock bands.

“You can’t dance to that?” Briar retorted, and Annabelle snorted pointing at Briar’s feet resting on an ottoman. “First, you can’t dance anyway. Second,” she made a dramatic pause and a song started blasting from her mobile, “how can anyone not feel like dancing to ‘Bad Reputation’?”

To form a consensus was almost impossible considering the variety of playlists and genres each one vouched for. After fifteen minutes of debating, Hamid’s diplomatic skills proved effective in solving the impasse, and he offered to create a collaborative playlist with songs from everyone’s favourite playlists, and peace reigned once more.

With the music playing in the background, their attention focused on moving the armchairs and placing throw-pillows over the plush rug to make room for everyone around the hardwood oval cocktail table, where two of the bottles of wine and seven low ball glasses had been settled. With Annabelle’s assistance, Briar accommodated herself first. Despite Theresa’s presence – which was emphasised by the incessant chatter about a range of subjects that her fiancé had little to no interest in listening to, leaving Hamid, the most empathetic of the group, stuck with her for the past several minutes –, Edmund looked intently, as if entranced by the scene, or considering if he should take a seat at the cushion on Briar’s other side.

As spectators of the drama unfolding, Elizabeth shared a knowing look with Hamid, and for a moment she considered walking to her stepbrother and smacking the back of his head to bring him back to his senses. However, resorting to violence was not necessary. Without being incited by any of the presents, Edmund turned around and picked a different cushion, one that wasn’t beside nor facing Briar, and Theresa followed suit, sitting beside him.

Annabelle’s thirst for drama would not be sate just yet, a hint of disappointment visible when a mischievous smile was erased from her lips.

From the remaining three cushions, Hamid deliberately picked the one in the middle, and with an inviting smile at Elizabeth, patted the cushion at his right, the one who would allow her to sit beside Briar as well – which the man certainly assumed could make the choice easier. Taking the cue, Luke sat at his left, between him and Edmund.

“Everyone knows the rules?” Annabelle asked.

“Can’t I just drink? I’m not interested in the secrets or whatever...”

“You know that’s not how it works, Marlcaster. Anyone who doesn’t participate can’t be here. So, in or out?”

“Out.” Picking the bottle of scotch, he started to get up, but Elizabeth jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at him, remembering the times they were kids and he sneaked away with his friends to play videogames, leaving a crying Harry behind for her to soothe.

“No, you don’t!” she said with a firmer and louder tone than everyone expected, including herself. When every pair of surprised eyes darted to her face, she blushed and took a second to muster an inexpressible small smile. “It will be fun,” she pushed lively words through her teeth, while trying to telepathically warn him: “You’re not dropping Theresa with us!”

Startled by the intimidating tone he hasn’t heard in years and narrowed green eyes staring him down, he hesitated for a second before changing his mind and sitting back down.

Theresa looked happy at his change of mind, and he actively ignored Annabelle’s muffled giggles.

“As our hostess, Liz should start!” Briar rapped on the table, drawing a drumming sound.

“Alright. Let me see... Never have I ever... broken a bone.”

Hamid, Annabelle, Edmund, and Luke sipped their glasses, and it was time for the next participant.

With a mischievous smile, Briar looked around, and said, “Never have I ever... ghosted someone.”

“How is that possible if we’re all alive?” Theresa asked out loud, and Luke huffed with laugh assuming it was a joke – which in fact was not. As Hamid explained the meaning of the word ghosting in this context, Annabelle, who had been targeted by the asker, drank the content of her glass. Luke and Edmund did the same, then a hesitant Elizabeth took a small sip of the red wine as subtle as possible, but not subtle enough to escape Briar’s hawk eyes.

“You ghosted someone?” she gasped.

Looking intently at the glass in her hand, Elizabeth mumbled, “Once. Long ago... It was… yeah… it was no big deal…”

“Really?” Briar’s voice and eyebrows raised. “You, Elizabeth Victoria Foredale, were absolutely fine ghosting someone who I assume fancied you?”

“That’s not my name!”

“Don’t change the subject!” Briar pointed a warning finger at her, trying to hold in a laugh.

Elizabeth sighed and gnawed at a cuticle, “Fine. I might have sent an anonymous gift basket from a fancy bakery… because I was feeling bad for him…”

“Now, I believe it.”

“I wish the girls who ghosted me would’ve been that nice…” Annabelle mused, “Carbs would make it easier having my ass dumped...”

“Unless they weren’t gluten free…” Briar chimed in.

“Good point. That would be the final blow.”

“Why not simply saying you were not interested?” Hamid inquired, not a hint of judgement in his tone, but her face was already burning with all the attention her honesty attracted – and a bit of shame for admitting it out loud in front of him.

“Poor social skills,” she sighed, understanding what Briar meant before. “Now can we move on?”

Annabelle was next and a playful smile curled her lips, while eyes full of mischief focused on her target. The question darted from her lips with intent. “Never have I ever kept a secret crush from people in this room.”

Edmund’s gaze flicked over to Annabelle, and his fingers encircled the glass, but he didn’t lift it; instead, he let his palms splay over the table, watching the others, to see if anybody was going to take a drink or point a finger at him.

After a moment of dwelling if her crush was indeed a secret or not, considering at least half of the presents were aware of it, Elizabeth also decided not to drink.

Resting her chin on her palm, Annabelle chewed on a crisp and muttered looking directly at Edmund, “I was expecting someone to drink…”

“I’m absolutely transparent,” Hamid said, “none of my crushes could ever be a secret.”

“Me too,” Briar piped in. “I’m an open book.”

“Then you must tell me,” Theresa pleaded, “I don’t know who your crush is!”

“Right now?” Briar gulped. “Zero crushes!”

“What about Woods?” Edmund threw the question and with an impassive expression resumed sipping his drink. The attention of the group flicked from him to Briar.

“I wouldn’t call it a crush... He’s a... friend.”

“Woods?” Theresa echoed the name, trying to figure out who they were talking about. “You mean the butler?”

“Yes, he’s a butler and the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”

“Doesn’t that mean you want to be more than friends?”

“I... It’s...” Briar stuttered, and Edmund looked away. While she tried to find a definitive answer, her cheeks reddened in an extraordinary occurrence. “I don’t, Theresa. What we have is perfect.”

Theresa flooded Briar with questions about Woods and her love life, but most remained answered.

“Let’s not dally. Theresa, I believe you’re next.”

“Never have I ever... hmmm...” Theresa fidgeted with the pendants of her bracelet while looking at Elizabeth. “Never have I ever… being arrested.”

Only Annabelle drank.

“Twice.” She raised two of her fingers, sating the curiosity of the others. “Protesting.”

Propping her arms over the table, Theresa leaned and tried to meet Elizabeth’s eye. “What about you, Eliza?”

“Me?” She pointed at herself. “What about me?”

“We’re amongst friends here…” she said in a honeyed tone, “Not even once? Not even for a tiny, teeny crime? Shoplifting, perhaps?”

Like a fish out of the water, Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed without emitting any sound, and she considered how to reply to this questioning without being terribly rude, even though that was one of the occasions courtesies could be ignored. Before she decided, Briar laughed at the inquisitiveness, and blocked Theresa’s view of Elizabeth’s face. “What are you? A cop?”

Theresa laughed, but it was a nervous kind of laugh and not her regular one.

“No, of course not! I’m not investigating her… I mean… I’m being… nosy, like we ought to, right?” she stuttered and averted her gaze, making her words sound even more unconvincing. “That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?”

There was no answer to the questions, only more chewing sounds before the game resumed.

“Your turn, Marlcaster,” Annabelle said and contemplated him for a second. “Why is your glass empty?”

The glass was pushed in her direction. “I need a refill.”

She poured more wine, filling the short glass to the rim. Edmund stared at the content of the glass as if expecting the Bordeaux to offer him a viable idea, until his blue eyes flicked to Annabelle, and a barely-there smile curled his lips.

“Never have I ever… gotten a tattoo.”

In a mix of complaining about being unjustly targeted in this game, and complimenting the fine wine, Annabelle drank first, followed by Luke and Elizabeth. Edmund’s jaw dropped at the sight of his stepsister drinking.

“You? You have a tattoo?”

“I actually have two,” Elizabeth said offering a proud smile.

His blue eyes widened, unblinking. “Lady grandmother will have a stroke if she ever finds out!”

“Since they’re very well concealed, she won’t find out, unless one of you tell her, which I hope you won’t.”

“I can testify they’re absolutely hidden from sight!” Hamid said causally, and the eyes of the one he was speaking about darted to his face.

“Dude!” Elizabeth exclaimed lifting both hands.

“I’m complimenting you for doing an outstanding job hiding them. I saw you on your bathing suit and there was no sign of tattoos. Not that I was checking for tattoos, but... Good job!” He raised his thumbs in approval, meanwhile, Edmund shook his head, muttered something unintelligible under his breath and gulped the content of his glass.

Chuckling, Annabelle interrupted the questions about the design of Elizabeth’s tattoos and the pleas to see them.

“Alright, we get it. Liz’s got tattoos and Hamid’s thirst... Luke you’re next.”

They played more rounds and soon emptied two bottles of wine and consumed half the food. The more Theresa drank, the less her questions seemed coherent with her early line of investigation on Elizabeth’s life and the more inclined she felt to ask about everyone else’s, for undisclosed reasons Hamid’s love life seemed to have piqued her interest the most.

It was safe to say that despite the sheer embarrassment of sharing details about her life, Elizabeth was enjoying herself. Perhaps it was the fact that by that point the alcohol had released part of her inhibitions, perhaps the laughter and funny stories her friends shared eased her. Even if the prospect of Edmund cracking under pressure seemed less likely to happen, she was content, but sleepy. Stretching her arms over her head, Elizabeth yawned, even though it was only a quarter after 10pm.

Edmund pulled the cork of the third bottle of wine, which fell to the floor and rolled, disappearing underneath the sofa.

Annabelle looked around holding one of the empty bottles, and declared, “I believe it’s time to change games. What do you think?”

“Definitely. We’re not really finding out anything interesting, except that Luke is a Potterhead.” Her words carried her disapproval, and he raised his hands to the air, correcting her, “I’m not. I told you: my ex was obsessed; I learned by osmosis…and most of it against my will. It’s not like I was going to comic-cons with her and cosplaying…”

“I bet you dressed as Harry at some point…” she giggled while pouring more wine on hers and Annabelle’s glasses.

He chuckled and averted his gaze.

“Ohmygod! You did it!”

Without looking at anybody, he licked his lips and answered quietly against the rim of the glass, “I certainly did, but it was definitely not for Halloween…”

His words stirred Briar’s curiosity, and she leaned forward, elbows on the table, completely focused on him and the information he was half-offering. She tried to meet his eyes, but he averted his gaze, while sipping his drink, and her mouth rounded when realization dawned on her.

“Roleplaying, Luke?” Briar cried, and he shrugged. “Naughty!”

After a few unanswered follow-up questions about his sex life, the nosy woman finally dropped the subject.

“We’ll play Truth or Drink. You know the drill. Whoever the bottle points at must answer the question or drink!” Annabelle announced wringing her hand.

“What about Hamid, he’s not really drinking...” Briar said grinning and pointing at the small glass filled with diet coke. “It won’t be fair to us.”

“Why aren’t you drinking? Is this a religious thing?” Theresa shot the question, and Edmund chided her.

Hamid waved his hand signalling it was okay, however Elizabeth glared at Theresa, finally showing irritation at the nosy woman inquires.

“You don’t need to answer that, Hamid,” she said softly to him.

“It’s alright, Liz,” he replied, resting a hand over the one of hers lying on her knee. “You guys want the long or short version?”

“Long!” Briar and Theresa cried in unison.

“I used to drink,” Hamid started.

After drinking the entire content of the small glass, he rolled his lips inside his mouth. When they rolled back out and parted in a wide grin, Elizabeth forced her eyes to focus on anything else, because she shouldn’t be staring at him or his lips like a cartoon hungry wolf.

“You must understand two things: the first one, Annem’s family is well-known in Türkiyefor being descendants of Ottoman Sultans and for its many politicians. They are ultratraditional and awfully strict when it comes to public opinion… And second, when I was eleven, my family moved back to Istanbul after living in Canberra, and our lives changed completely… suddenly there were journalists following me and my sisters around, trying to find any dirty on us to shame Dede[1] Emir and Dayı[2] Eren, and Annem’s constant surveillance… I couldn’t leave the house by myself, except to go to school… I felt trapped. –”

“A gilded cage is still a cage”, Elizabeth remembered the words he told her once, finally realizing its meaning.

“– Until my father was assigned to the embassy at Boston and we moved again. I was fifteen, starting high school and it was like someone released me from a cage. I was free and eager to experience everything possible before being sent back to Istanbul and facing the life planned for me... Moderation wasn’t an acceptable choice.”

“That sounds like a dangerous combination,” Luke pointed out.

“It was fun and liberating. For a while, at least…” he paused, and poured himself more diet coke. “Besides drinking quite frequently without my parents’ knowledge, I’ve done a couple of other things that could be considered dangerous and imprudent, like riding motorcycles, skydiving and hitchhiking a plane.”

“You did what?” Annabelle and Luke gasped at the same time.

“Haven’t I told you that story? This is one of my proudest accomplishments.” Hamid looked around for confirmation and met the astonished faces with a wide grin. “My friends and I were at this party at school and bored out of our minds. After we had drank all the vodka we snuck in, someone suggested going to the airport because ‘how fun would it be if we could hitchhike a plane!’”

In his narrative, he used the charming tone he adopts whenever telling one of his famous anecdotes; words and cadence carefully picked to entertain, like he did at dinner the night before. This time, Elizabeth caught his act, noticing the theatrical hand gestures and smiles when he talked about his friends, sons and daughters of politicians or diplomats like himself, and suspected he was purposedly trying to divert from the original subject without giving away his intention. Most of his stories are about other people, and the ones focused on himself, usually reinforce his charming and fun personality. Humorous self-deprecation is not to be expected from him.

Briar guessed, “I bet it was you who suggested that?”

“To this day, Lewis insists it was my idea, but I swear it was Amalia’s… she wanted to go to New York, I only suggested flying would be faster. Anyway… we went to the airport, and I sweet-talked one of the flight attendants to introduce me to someone in charge of flights… we happened to come at the perfect time... Two hours later we’re on a plane to New York.” Hamid added with an ear-to-ear grin, “Bono Vox’s private jet.”

“No way!”

“How did you even–?” Luke muttered, trying to figure out what to even ask, and Hamid shrugged his shoulders, with a too proud of a smile.

“I asked nicely.”

“Did you meet Bono?” Annabelle asked.

“Unfortunately, no. But I met someone from the crew, and she got us backstage passes to the shows at Chicago and Philly, and we met the band. My friend Melissa got to sing with Bono.”

“Who’s Bono?” Theresa asked, not holding her tongue anymore.

“U2’s lead singer. Songwriter. Activist,” Annabelle replied, sounding more offended by the ignorance with each word she mouthed without recognition.

“Sings old people’s music,” Briar whispered, and Theresa giggled, drawing an exasperated sigh from Annabelle.

The more Elizabeth learns about Hamid, the harder to believe that he could not find her tedious.

“The drinking,” Edmund said, more interested in the story than anything that happened in the game so far, “if it was so amazing, why did you quit?”

Hamid’s gaze flicked to him, and he tilted his head. “Who said it was amazing?”

“Cool friends, flying in musicians’ planes, concerts… you painted a very appealing picture.” Edmund gulped the scotch in his glass.

“I see your point… I realised I cared about the thrill and adventures, and I don’t need to drink to have any of those...”

“Sounds fake,” Briar murmured to him, “but okay.”

Laughing at Briar’s jest, Hamid added, “...and there were much tastier things to put in my mouth whatsoever.”

“Now I believe you!”

“Very mature,” Annabelle complimented. “Many people abstain. And not only for religious purposes. So, to even things out, if you’re all in favour, we’ll play a round of Truth or Dare exclusively with Hamid. Whenever you don’t want to answer, you need to submit to a dare of our choice!”

“Can we still drink?” Edmund asked, and Annabelle squinted her eyes at him, and he took that as a permission to drink an entire tumbler of scotch.

“I have nothing to hide. But maybe we should make it more interesting… If I answer all your questions, you’ll submit to a dare,” Hamid said, indicating the group of friends with a wave of his hand, Annabelle looked around searching for confirmation and offered her hand.

“Agreed, –” Annabelle shook hands with Hamid. “– But no dares involving leaving the country.”

“Sounds fair, but incredibly boring.”

Briar clapped her hands and pointed a finger at Elizabeth. “Lizzy, you ask first. Don’t disappoint Lady Clara!”

“Can we ask anything?” She looked at Hamid for confirmation.

“Anything.”

Hamid’s eyes, pools of dark and warmth, locked with hers, an invitation to his inner world. She held the power to ask anything from his past, present or future. Anything.

Elizabeth pondered if she should ask a question Hamid wouldn’t want to answer, which means no dare of his in the end, or one that he would in fact answer. The second option was much more tempting to her curious nature. The only issue was coming up with one unrelated to herself or the interrupted conversation of that afternoon – something incredibly hard to do with his thumb stroking the back of her hand this gently, like it was the single most important thing he had to do this evening.

She realized they were holding hands underneath the table and couldn’t help wondering when this became such a trivial occurrence and not the kind of event capable of causing a turmoil. Nevertheless, it felt absolutely right.

Overwhelmed by infinite choices and her own fears of exposing herself, instead of diving in, she decided on dipping her toes.

“What –” She paused, cleared her throat, and started over, “What do most people assume is true about you but in fact isn’t?”

Taking a deep breath, Hamid’s free hand raised to his hair, and his fingers combed it back twice. The unusual long silence made some consider he would ask for a dare instead, judging by the gloating expressions and meaningful looks shared.

“There’s a persistent belief that I’m a playboy who treats women as trophies… disregarding their feelings...” He shifted in his place uncomfortably, as if he were sitting over thorns. “But I am anything like that. I’m not... heartless... promiscuous… or incapable of having a serious relationship because I never had one. And I hope that is not what you think of me,” he said looking into her eye and she replied with a slight shake of her head, even if occasionally she wondered if the picture painted about him was an exaggeration or matched his true self.

“Good,” he whispered, and his lips parted into a wide grin that stole her breath.

That was a perfectly good answer, wasn’t it? Unproblematic. Romantic even, if she focused exclusively on the fact he was concerned about her opinion and not that they were surrounded by people and can’t carry on this conversation... However, before her musings went far, Briar shared her strong indignation.

“It’s bloody 2018! Your sex life – or mine or anyone else’s – should be nobody’s business,” she said looking around, searching for approval, and Theresa pursed her lips, not entirely sure if the criticism wasn’t about herself, who is an avid consumer of celebrity gossip in general.

“Some take pleasure speculating… and trying to label others’ behaviours...”

“And making money out of it,” Annabelle added. “Don’t forget there’s a whole business profiting from people’s private lives. Scandal sells tabloids – or these days gets the more clicks…”

“At Türkiye, my pictures have definitely enriched some newspapers’ owners, and brought shame to my family’s name...”

“Why? Being slutty doesn’t make you a bad person!”

“I wouldn’t refer to myself like that, but I agree,” he laughed. “To be honest, I don’t really care about what they write about me... But I know it’s a privilege of being a man from a wealthy family; things would be completely different if I were gay or a woman…”

“Or both,” Annabelle pointed out.

“I like a good gossip like the next person... but I really don’t get it. What’s the matter if you like it casual? Or one-night stands? If it’s consensual, it’s nobody’s business,” Briar concluded with fire in her eyes, “Judging people by number of partners or how frequently they shag is utter tosh!”

“Well said!” Annabelle clapped and Briar bowed with a little flourish of her hands. “Now that you got it all out of your chest, can we move on? It’s your turn to ask.”

In a second, Briar’s face changed completely. She flashed the widest and most mischievous grin at Hamid.

Taking a deep breath, her lungs filled with enough air to sing the chorus to Wannabe and Annabelle, Elizabeth and Luke laughed before snapping their fingers at the rhythm. Edmund and Theresa who weren’t present when Hamid told his sisters used to dress him up as one of the Spice Girls looked utterly lost.

When her nasal voice faded, Briar pushed an imaginary microphone in his direction. “Which Spice Girl, Hamid?”

Despite the smile, he shook his head slowly and muttered words under his breath that were not the answer; Elizabeth wondered if any of those were curse words, considering his preference to swear in languages other than English.

“Sporty.” The word was pushed through his smile while he failed to look unaffected by Briar’s victorious grin.

“I knew it!” Briar cried. “Now we need visuals!”

“Not happening.”

“Don’t be so confident, Lizzy can ask your sisters...”

“Supposing she in fact knows one of my sisters, she wouldn’t do that,” he replied not missing a beat, but the teasing words might have reached the intent when Elizabeth didn’t side with him immediately.

Stealing a sideway glance at her, he only got a shrug and a non-reply in the form of a small smile.

Sipping the wine, while he insisted on the subject and the fact his sisters and Elizabeth obviously don’t know each other, she giggled against the rim of the small glass. His reasoning and insistence amused her. For a change, she got the upper hand and would enjoy every second of this. Like this wine. Sipping it bit by bit.

“Maybe I didn’t have to ask...” Elizabeth said softly putting the empty glass down.

“And you didn’t tell them?” he taunted, referring to Annabelle and Briar who were enjoying this almost as much as her. “Impossible.”

“Are you calling me a gossip now?”

“Absolutely not. But I fear you’re trying to trick me into believing you have befriended my sister.”

“Sisters,” she corrected. “And last week your aunt and two of your cousins from Adana dropped me DMs too.” Shaking his head slowly, with a teasing smile with a hint of the tip of his tongue peeking, he leaned forward, his eyes searching for any hesitation.

“Show me your mobile.”

“You don’t believe my word?”

“Frankly, no. There’s no evidence supporting your allegations, Miss Foredale. I’m afraid the court will dismiss the case,” he taunted, using legal jargons learned from TV shows.

Perhaps it was the casual atmosphere or his long nose almost touching the tip of hers, the warmth of his breath or intense gaze unwavering from her eyes while he slowly retreated... Perhaps it was a combination of all the above. Whatever it was, it encouraged her to search in her foggy brain the perfect story to convince him of the seriousness of her allegations. She remembered one of the first anecdotes Faiza and Hande shared about their younger brother after he shared a picture of her sitting at the park after jogging with the hashtag #londonsmostbeautifulsmile.

“Then how do I know about the incident with your mother’s ring?”

In slow motion, the self-satisfied smile vanished from his lips and so did the glow of his skin. While his brain processed the information, the sides of his neck and cheeks turned a darker shade.

“Yok artık[3]!” he spat. “Who told you that? Was it Faiza?”

“Stop speaking in code!” Briar cut them off, “I want to know it too!”

“Me too!” Theresa and Annabelle piped in.

“Then you’ll have to ask Hamid.”

“Is it worth?” Annabelle who would be the next asker inquired, and Elizabeth shrugged dismissively, it was in her hands to decide, but judging by his reaction it could be a question to make him yield.

The other took a moment to consider if it was the sort of knowledge worthy of her question or not and debated with Briar in hushed tones.

“Such bigmouths!” he sighed running a hand through his face. “That story is so embarrassing!”

“It’s so not! It’s cute!” Elizabeth said, and he raised his head revealing a wide grin and his skin had darkened even more, a hint of redness reached the tips of his ears. “I can’t believe I made you blush!” Elizabeth laughed and fished a handful of crisps from the bowl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugged. “I don’t blush.”

“I also thought you didn’t...” she said offering him the bowl. “But you do. And it’s adorable.” The tip of her index finger touched his face, and the skin of his cheek was as warm as his smile, confirming her assumption. His lips spread even further, and his cheeks rounded beneath her lingering touch, dimples forming on each side of his face and eyes squinting.

“My turn,” Annabelle announced, and his attention was drawn to her. “Have you ever had a sex dream with anyone in this room?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him, and he smiled and answered quickly, no hesitation whatsoever, “Yes, I have.”

Excited cheers and teasing followed.

“Really? Who?” Briar inquired not holding her curiosity.

“That is another question,” he said, “and you already asked yours.”

“Was it me?” she pressed, “I know one can’t fake the kind of chemistry we had dancing last night, but I only see you as a friend. Please, keep me out of your dirty dreams.”

“Now you’re breaking my heart,” Hamid laughed it off, and soon the game moved on.

“Who would you rather date Donna Bowman or Felicity Holloway?” Theresa asked and leaned forward expectantly, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes not hiding the annoyance.

Hamid plastered his most alluring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“They are both attractive women, each with a particular beauty. Making me choose one over the other seems absolutely unfair, don’t you agree?”

Hamid’s words were so convincing that pleased Theresa, who nodded. Briar however didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him.

“But that’s the point. You must choose or you’re not really answering the question... And if you don’t answer, it’s time for a dare, innit?” She looked at Annabelle for confirmation, and Hamid inhaled deeply and shook his head slowly.

“Donna.”

“Oooh! She’ll be so thrilled!”

“Did you roll your eyes again?” Hamid asked Elizabeth, who looked away, but realized he had been observing her reaction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she said focusing on the breadcrumbs she was picking from the table and throwing at an empty plate, keeping to herself how the mere mention of Felicity and her minion’s names bothered her.

“Can she do that?” Briar asked pointing at Theresa, hands typing on her mobile underneath the table.

“Theresa, you know the rules! You can’t share the answers.”

“Alright,” she put the mobile away, but only after pressing ‘send’.

“Your turn, Marlcaster.”

“I didn’t think of a question.”

Briar raised her hand in the air as if she were in school. “I have an excellent one!”

“Me too,” Theresa said and whispered something in his ear, and he grimaced.

“I’m not asking that.”

“Please! I’m dying of curiosity!”

He downed the amber liquid, and said, “You can have my question…”

Showing gratitude, Theresa kissed his cheek and addressed the other man eagerly, “Hamid, if you could kiss anyone in the entire world, who would it be?”

Unlike the other question, this time, Hamid stole a furtive glance at Elizabeth, and smiled the kind of wide and open smile that dimples his cheeks and almost makes his face glow.

There were no introductory words, flattery, or praise to women either present or absent, just a simple and direct answer.

“Elizabeth.” Her name was softly spoken, rolling out of his tongue like a melody, and her heart skipped a beat.

The intensity of Hamid’s bright and intense eyes on her was unbearable. Allowing herself a moment to process this reply, she lowered her gaze.

The kissing part wasn’t that surprising – only a few hours before he said he wanted to kiss her –, but the fact that given any option he would still choose her over any model, movie star or a childhood crush was mind-blowing! And the boldness of being this frank without assurance whether her reaction would be? She could never! Even after drinking, she would never put herself on the spotlight to the judgement and opinions of others.

Her heart was pounding louder than ever, so loud she heard nothing from the room in a while, not acknowledging the chorus of Aww and Ooh and “Kiss him!”stirred by his answer or his sigh when her hand slipped away from his, not out of displeasure but to wipe the gelid sweat damping her palms on her jeans.

“I’m baffled you’d still choose her after what happened!” Theresa blurted out, and she received confused looks in return that encouraged her to explain the point. Her words flowed in that characteristic quick pace of hers, “Considering she broke up with you to be with Ernest Sinclaire, I thought you would pick anyone else, really… Unless you are trying to win her back... are you? In that case it would be so romantic!”

“O quê?[4]” Elizabeth gasped.

Amused, Hamid glanced at Elizabeth, whose cheeks haven’t had the chance to return to their natural tawny beige tone. “You broke up with me?”

“I didn’t break up with him!” she assured Theresa.

“You’re dating both!?” Theresa’s nasal voice raised to a shrieking level, and she covered her astonishment with a hand, before her fingers resumed typing on the mobile, ignoring the previous chiding about it.

Pretending to be offended, Briar tried to stifle a giggle and asked, “I am your English best friend, and you didn’t tell me any of this?”

“Halla halla! She didn’t even tell me and I’m the boyfriend!” Hamid sighed. “Since I was in the dark, I need time to process…” His hand covered most of his face, but Elizabeth could still see the grin he was hiding underneath.

The whole thing was hilarious to Hamid and some of the presents, who cackled; even Elizabeth cracked a little smile at his acting skills when he dramatically sobbed. However, Theresa who was completely in the dark misunderstood the heaving of Hamid’s chest with real crying and expressed profound sorrow – she is a notorious gossip but not a heartless woman.

“I’m awfully sorry. Mum is right, this is a flaw of mine: I always speak too much and without minding the consequences. But I didn’t know it was a secret! I swear! Donna showed me the pictures of you,” she said pointing at Hamid and Elizabeth, “and Felicity is always ranting about you and Mr. Sinclaire. She says she’s worried about him and not jealous at all; but believe me she’s so utterly jealous that you caught his eye! And with all the buzz online, I assumed everyone knew!”

Hamid uncovered his face, and asked, “Am I the last to know?”

“Stop with this nonsense!” Elizabeth said, poking Hamid’s arm. “Tell her the truth!”

“Why are you so eager in denying it?” Hamid asked raising his gaze to meet hers, despite the lilt of laughter and the grin that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, there was something vulnerable hinted in his question, “Is it that embarrassing that someone assumes we’re dating?”

“No, it’s not – I’m not – That’s not the point,” she stuttered. Raising one index finger to request a pause, she reached the wine glass and chugged it under Hamid’s attentive gaze. She blinked quickly in a failed attempt to unblurry his face, and he took pity on her.

“Fine. Theresa, your sources are incorrect: there was no breakup because we were not dating in the first place. Therefore, Elizabeth is free to date whoever she wants, including the dashing Mr. Sinclaire,” he said quickly and turned back to Elizabeth, “Satisfied?”

“Then you confirm she is dating Sinclaire!”

“You’re impossible!” Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “What am I to do with you?”

Hamid grinned, his cheeks dimpling even further. “I have plenty of suggestions...” he whispered into her ear, and the huff of his chuckle fanned her neck, causing all the hair in her body to stand on end.

“So, are you or are you not?” Theresa asked, too eager for an answer about the Sinclaire affair.

“Are you already tired of asking me questions? Am I boring you?” Hamid asked Theresa with a mocking pout, momentarily saving Elizabeth from further questions.

“Moving on,” Annabelle clapped. “Luke, your turn. Last question.”

“That’s right,” Hamid teased, wringing his hands, “only one question and then I can reveal my dare!”

“Don’t brag before you hear Luke’s question...”

“I don’t have anything to hide.”

“We need a great question, dude.”

“Don’t worry, Liz, I got an excellent one.” Luke grinned and leaned forward to face the other man. “Who was the person you thought about the last time you got off?”

Hamid’s eyes widened when his brain processed what he was being asked, and the cocky smile vanished from his face.

“Dare,” he said firmly.

“Are you sure?” Annabelle asked for confirmation, and when he nodded, Briar and Luke high-fived.

The group moved to the couch to confabulate, while Hamid remained quiet, chewing on some crisps. To ruffle his feathers, some of the words were deliberately spoken louder.

“Naked selfie...”

“Dick pic...”

“Unsolicited dick pics are not funny!” Annabelle chided.

Cheeks reddened by the alcohol, Theresa laughed loud, “I know someone who wouldn’t mind receiving one.”

“Me too,” Briar jumped in, and Elizabeth glared at her. “I didn’t name names. Yet.” Her guffaws joined Theresa’s.

Edmund’s eyes rolled and his gaze fixed at the ceiling, and it was hard to say whichever bothered him more about the women’s exchange.

The deliberations and goading continued without stirring the desired reaction until Briar whispered in his direction, “Shave his head.”

“No one is touching my hair!” Hamid objected firmly, holding a hand up, and Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief.

“Seriously? That’s where you draw the line?” she asked, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“I'm not ashamed of my body.” His intense gaze stole her words, and she sipped the wine to have something to do with herself.

“Easy there,” he warned, trying to take the bottle away from her.

“I’m half-British,” she slurred, barely mispronouncing the word, and spilling some of the wine when she evaded his move. “I can hold my drink.”

By this point, every tiny glass gulped made her speech more slurring, and her cheeks redder.

Luke raised from his place, and announced, “We dare you to stay outside for five minutes –”

“That’s easy. I lived at Moscow,” Hamid brushed off, but Briar cut in, “Shirtless! And doing jumping jacks!”

Undeterred by the increasing level of difficulty, he got up and pulled the orange jumper over his head and the white t-shirt in one movement, and asked Elizabeth to hold them.

Everyone followed when he marched to the balcony’s door, eager to see if he would go through. When he cracked the door open, a cold drift invaded the room and Edmund’s cheeks turned rosier. The rain had stopped but the floor was wet, and Hamid visibly shivered with the gust of wind, but brushed it off when asked by Elizabeth, throwing her a wink and a smug smile.

“What if he falls?” Elizabeth mumbled to Briar, who had wrapped an arm around hers for support. “The floor is wet.”

“Then you’ll take care of him,” Briar laughed. “Just look at the bright side. And at those abs.” She exaggeratedly bit her lower lip in a suggestive way, and Elizabeth looked away.

Meanwhile, Annabelle snapped her fingers to get Theresa’s attention. “Your mobile, please,” she said extending one hand with her palm up. “You must quit texting Donna and you can’t send pictures of Hamid to her or else you are out.”

Theresa tried to deny it and argue, but the other was firm in making her abide by the rules, and lastly, she conceded.

“I’ll return to you later,” Annabelle said tucking the mobile into her trousers pocket.

When Hamid started the jumping jacks, the others cheered and clapped – but not Elizabeth. At first, she searched for any indication he was too cold outside or hiding the discomfort of an injury from the riding incident. However, the more she looked at him, the prouder he looked with the attention. The more she stared at his bare torso, the more her hungry eyes focused on his physique and the less her brain processed anything else.

Cradled by her arms, his t-shirt and soft jumper exuded Hamid’s favourite perfume, the sensual fragrance reserved to “special occasions”, an invitation to sinful thoughts. While on the one hand, every second slipping by in the timer Luke has set in his mobile was another one her willpower prevailed against the primal urge of burying her face on his clothes; on the other hand, it meant soon the challenge would be over.

Halfway through the dare, Hamid huffed a loud breath, almost a laugh, smiled and winked at her. She bit her lower lip, watching the wind blowing against his back, dishevelling his hair.

“Do you need a napkin?” Briar whispered and her eyes darted to her face in confusion. “To wipe the drool.” Elizabeth’s hand brushed her own mouth and chin, even though she was pretty sure the other was joking.

Luke’s mobile rang, and the dare was completed.

They waved him in, and Hamid kept the door wide open, allowing the wind to blow their hairs, while making a show of saying it was absolutely agreeable outside and inviting them to the balcony to breath the evening’s fresh air. When he finally came by to retrieve his clothes, all the soft black hair in his arms was standing on end, like it did that day when she held his arm to appreciate the luxuriant scent of his perfume.

“You’re cold.”

“Will you warm me up?” he asked in a soft voice only she could hear, and the rosy on her cheeks had nothing to do with the gust of wind this time.

With a sly smile, he took a long deep breath, and flexed his muscles to make his athletic body even more evident. Standing in front of him, Elizabeth’s gaze travelled downwards from his well-defined and hairless chest to the visible V-cut in his abdomen. Her reaction seemed to please him, and he took his sweet time putting on his t-shirt.

“You should’ve asked him to strip down to his underwear!” Theresa’s voice resonated and Edmund gasped her name, almost dropping his tumbler, and Briar cackled. “Oooh! Did I say that out loud?”

Briar replied, “Maybe next round!”

Both let out loud guffaws and clinked their glasses. Theresa downed the liquid and laughed a little more by herself.

“It seems I’m a little... tipsy already.” She said pulling her dishevelled hair back. “I’m going to –” A loud hiccup interrupted her, and she burst out laughing. “Are you coming?” her whispered question to her fiancé was too loud, and he replied he would stay.

“Good night!”

Her lips missed Edmund’s and she pecked his chin before walking away.

“Didn’t I tell you, Eliza?” Edmund asked looking at his stepsister.

The woman was rubbing Hamid’s hands, who looked too pleased at her fussing over him, and stared at him confused. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

Annabelle growled, “How did we run out of food?”

“Well... we’ve been here for hours... and Briar,” Luke pointed at the friend beside him, turning a bowl upside down to eat the crumbs. Briar protested, but not so vehemently, since ate most of it.

Annabelle and Edmund volunteered to bring more food. While the others chatted, Elizabeth dozed off against Hamid’s shoulder. He encircled her with his arms, bringing her closer, and she sighed contently.

Several minutes later, Edmund and Annabelle returned with half of a Bundt cake, scones, bags of crisps and more wine.

Hamid observed Elizabeth repeatedly sticking her finger on the piece of cake in front of him and licking it, even though she said she wasn’t hungry. Ignoring her protests, he insisted and fed her half the slice and a handful of onion crisps. They smiled when he jokingly pulled the crisps away before she could bite it, and even more so when she bit his finger as a joke.

Spinning an empty bottle of wine, the game resumed. Encouraged by the intimate atmosphere that settled after Theresa’s departure, the questions became increasingly personal. And even Elizabeth showed less discomfort with the questions – though maybe she was a little too tipsy to understand everything her friends were talking about.

“I thought that only happened in porn!” Edmund exclaimed after Hamid replied affirmatively to the question if he was a member of the “Mile-High Club”.

“Sometimes, the desire is too high,” Hamid joked with a gleeful smile.

“How can one even... focus... on that… with the turbulence?” Elizabeth asked. “And people around? What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not going to lie, that’s part of the thrill.”

Laughing, Briar threw a crisp at Hamid. “We should send you to horny jail!”

The bottle spun and pointed to Elizabeth, who propped her chin on one hand and barely could keep both eyes open.

“What’s your biggest turn on?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, it’s easier to point out the things that turn her off like sloppy kisses, smokers’ breath, and manipulative men, but as for turn ons, does she really have one? She can only think of one person that turns her on lately. Hamid’s image occupied her mind, his strong arms, and the way a simple touch of his hand can almost make her combust. However, she wasn’t drunk enough to say this, so she settled on the much less controversial “Making me laugh.”

“You have a clown kink or something?” Briar teased, and Elizabeth laughed.

“No, but it is... just... being funny can be really attractive...”

After a few more questions, Anabelle spun the bottle and it pointed at Hamid again.

“Oral sex: receiving or giving?” she asked him.

“I won’t deny how good receiving is,” he paused and flashed a mischievous smile at the asker, “but I’m a giver. I may travel the world, but my favourite place is between a woman’s legs.”

His answer got him an enthusiastic cheer from Brian, who nudged Elizabeth with much too force, almost knocking the glass off her hand.

“Something else we can agree on,” Annabelle said raising her glass, and he clinked his in an improvised toast.

“A skilled tongue in more ways than we thought…” Elizabeth stated and giggled to herself, receiving amused looks from the others.

“You definitely drank too much,” Edmund said, placing the bottle out of her reach, and Hamid proceeded to gently remove the glass from her hand.

“No! I’m fine!” She retrieved it and gulped the remaining deep red liquid with a grimace. “The room stopped spinning a while ago.”

The others shared knowing looks, and Annabelle proposed, “Last question! Everybody answers! If the world was ending tomorrow, and this was your last night on earth, what would you do?”

“Time to get naughty!” Briar clapped her hands.

“Not necessarily,” Annabelle said, “It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“But I want to get naughty!” Briar laughed loudly. “I’d spend my last night doing all the naughty things I’ve postponed. And, of course, I’d call my mom and tell her that I love her.”

“With that mouth?” Annabelle teased, “You should call her first!”

Loud laughter and jokes followed. However, Elizabeth couldn’t understand what they were saying. Eyelids incredibly heavy, it became a herculean task to keep them open. She let her head rest against Hamid’s shoulder again. A welcoming warmth surrounded her. Through her lashes, she saw Hamid’s arm holding her steady.

Why was I afraid before?

She blinked and their faces blurred, becoming indistinct like the unfamiliar faces of passengers when the tube is rushing past the stations. Briar addressed her, but it felt like she had been speaking through the thickest of glasses. Someone called her name, and she raised her head, searching the voice.

“What about you, Liz?” Hamid asked softly, touching the side of her face, “The world is ending tomorrow, what would you do tonight?”

Last night on Earth. There’s much to do, even more to say. Where to even begin?

“Maybe with what you want the most?” Hamid offered, and her eyes flicked to his, so adoringly staring at her. Can he read my mind, or did I say it out loud?

Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and her speech had turned much slower and broken than usual, “Alright… Let’s see… I’d tell... father I love him… and am grateful to be his daughter. And I’d do this: surround myself with people I care about... like I am now –”

Briar hugged her with one arm, and Annabelle formed a heart with her fingers, and when Edmund started talking, she cut him off with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not done,” she said, and her voice was a little louder and more slurred, “Before the world ends, I’ll call Professor Richards and tell him to go fuck himself and stick those bloody books up his bloody arse that bloody bastard –”

“Whoa! You can swear!” Hamid’s eyes widened and he laughed, drawing her attention back to him.

“You! I’d tell you that –” She buried her face on Hamid’s chest, mumbling a string of unintelligible words against his orange jumper, before taking a deep breath and looking him in the eye – or at least trying to – with a wide smile. “You smell good and have a cute belly.”

“Sorry? What did you say?”

“I like your belly. It’s wavy.”

“No, no, no! Before that!”

Ignoring his pleas, she turned around, returning to the previous train of thought.

“I want to make a bonfire. Huge.” She opened her arms to the fullest and gesticulated, accidentally hitting Hamid’s forehead with one hand. “With all Richards books I could find at the library and bookshops too. Then I’d make a bonfire in front of his house. A massive one!” She gesticulated widely again and made whooshing sounds to represent the fire.

“Liz, that would take time and sounds exhausting, go back to the loving part. That’s where you should focus your energy,” Hamid suggested, opening his arms to an inviting hug. “Surround yourself with love.”

“I can help!” Briar chimed in, and Elizabeth turned around to face her. Hamid’s exasperated sigh could be heard on the other side of the room. “I know where to get a cart!”

“A cart. That’s perfect!”

“Right? The two of us, Lizzy,” – Briar’s hands danced between the two of them – “unstoppable. Our bonfire will put Guy Fawkes’ night to shame! We burn the books and toast marshmallows!”

“I love marshmallows! Oh! You’re the best,” Elizabeth moved closer, and they hugged each other. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

“Jealous?” Annabelle whispered to Hamid, and he clicked his tongue.

“I’d rather hear a non-drunk confession,” he whispered back, “one she would remember later.”

“Wise,” she said and patted his shoulder.

The clock on the wall marked a quarter past 1am when the first chords of “Happier” blasted from Hamid’s mobile.

Elizabeth shrugged out of the knee-length yellow cardigan, oblivious to the disaster that followed its descent. It knocked down a glass and red wine spilled pooling over the surface of the table. Raising to her feet to dance with Annabelle and Luke, she managed so much as to stumble, bump one knee on the table, swear like a polite eight-year-old and fall back down.

“You’re sloshed,” Briar laughed, while placing napkins over the spilled drink.

“I’m not,” Elizabeth denied, though the way the room swayed betrayed her statement. “Maybe a bit tipsy... I just need to lie down for a sex... Sec!” They cackled at the slip up and Elizabeth lied down on the floor.

Picking up her cardigan before it got stained with wine, Hamid held his hands to her. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. I’ll take you to your room.”

She tried to stare at his face, but it was impossible with the light over his head doting him an angel-like bright halo.

“I’m not sleeping,” she said, unwilling to admit how tired she was or disappoint her friends, “I’m dancing.” Her hands moved wildly at the rhythm of the song, and she laughed.

“Then dance with me.”

Meeting his gaze, she agreed, and he helped her up. Encircling her waist with both arms, he steadied her and swayed gently, as if they were American teenagers at one of their high school dances. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t what she meant by dancing.

“That’s not how you dance this song...” With a sudden squirm, she wiggled out of the embrace to demonstrate but her flats couldn’t find purchase in the rug.

Faster than the pull of gravity, Hamid prevented her from falling onto her buttocks again.

Briar mouthed something she couldn’t understand while Annabelle and Hamid spoke in hushed tones. She couldn’t understand a word they said but judging by the serious expressions on both their faces, she suspected it was about her.

“I’m not drunk!” she slurred, and Hamid turned his attention back to her, using one hand to take the hair away from her face.

“Of course not,” Hamid said softly, “You’re tired. It’s been a long day...”

“Yeah,” she sighed and waved him closer to whisper in his ear, “Is it impolite to go to bed before my guests?”

“Absolutely not. You can ask Annabelle, she’ll confirm. Besides, Edmund is here... He’s second-in-command.”

Settling this matter, she accepted his help, even though she wasn’t ready to part from him, still hoping she would muster the courage to steal a moment alone with him. Wobbling her way out of the room, she leaned on Hamid, wrapping her arms around his midsection, and giggled. This right there was happiness! No worries in her mind, and Hamid beside her.

Walking through the long and dimly lit corridor, Elizabeth kept singing and Hamid insisted that she remained quiet as a mouse. The best he got was a compromise in humming the songs instead of singing out loud.

Without any accidents or unwanted encounters with judgemental family members, they made into the main area, spotting the bright lights from the crystal chandelier downstairs. The family wing was just ahead, after the staircase, and he only needed to get her inconspicuous to her room. There were several doors on both sides of the hallway and Elizabeth stalled talking about random paintings and asking about his room instead.

“Which one, Liz?” he insisted using his lowest tone possible, and she blinked and tried to make her eyes focus on his face. “Is it this one?” He pointed at the first door on their right.

“I don’t know. What d’you think?”

“Not much, since I’ve never been to your room...” he chuckled and pulled her closer so she would not roam and stumble into a console table nearby, risking breaking one of her grandmother’s precious bibelots.

“Briar knows my room,” she said, “Let’s go back. And we can dance some more.”

Ignoring the arm holding her, she suddenly turned around and stumbled forward. Hamid caught her and couldn’t help giggling too. His apt fingers pulled the hair away from her face, and she could anticipate how close his lips were. But when her gaze focused on his face, she found neither the sight of his beautiful smile nor those bedroom eyes he had been generously offering her this evening. His eyes were wide, and he looked somehow shocked.

Did I do something wrong?

He wasn’t truly looking at her, she realized, but at something over her shoulder.

There was no time to ask anything. Hamid pushed her back into the corridor they came from. Looking over his shoulder, he pushed her into one of the small alcoves in the hallway, and her back hit the frame of the portrait of one of her ancestors while her mind raced.

Is that a portrait of Viscount Vincent, the one father was named after? Oh, wait! That’s not what I was supposed to think about! I need to ask what he’s doing. Is he about to kiss me?

The idea was suddenly too appealing. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her fingers closed around the soft fabric of the jumper, and she expected his lips to level with hers.

Instead of the expected pleasing touch of his mouth, a hand covered her puckered lips. Her eyes searched for an explanation, and with his free hand he pressed an index finger against his own lips to request her to be silent.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered into her ear, and her eyes widened. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs became too loud to ignore.

Was it grandmother coming back home? Her blood froze. The idea of being caught like a misbehaving teenager, almost sobered her up, until she remembered she wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was not like that one-time sneaking drunk into her friend Renata’s home without waking her mother. She’s old enough to drink. There’s nothing wrong going on – if you don’t consider the fact Hamid is acting odd and not kissing her when they are finally alone – and even the prim and proper lady Dominique gets a little tipsy from time to time and laughs in an unladylike fashion in the company of Mrs. Sinclaire and their friends – even though she prefers her granddaughter not to mention that fact.

However, Hamid seemed determined in his mission, even if it meant trying to hide them both in a place that could fit only half of her body and the light over the portrait was probably giving away their presence. But why would she protest when his entire body was pressed against hers like this?

Hamid’s chest heaved and his breath fanned her face. She looked up, trying to meet his gaze, but he was too focused on the incoming presence to notice her attempt at making flirty eye contact.

Hand still over her mouth, he whispered, “It’s your father.”

Somehow, he pressed even closer, no space left between them or the wall, and an involuntary urge to laugh grew inside her. As if reading her thoughts or the meaning behind the shake of her shoulders, Hamid’s eyes widened.

Looking over Hamid’s shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her father’s back, going up the stairs and straight towards his room. Fortunately, the sound of footsteps faded, and a door closed in the distance with a barely audible click.

His hand moved away, and her lips followed instinctively, but he didn’t seem to notice the aftereffect, still looking to where Lord Vincent disappeared.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said softly, his gaze flicking back to hers, “but I thought you wouldn’t want to meet anyone.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, the frame still pressed against her back.

“Let’s go back and–”

“Third door on the left!” she blurted out, suddenly wanting to get there as soon as possible.

“Are you positive?”

She pushed his chest freeing herself and pulled him by the hand. Hamid used his other hand to steady her while following her bouncing confident steps down the corridor.

When they reached the door, as a precaution to not end up bursting into the wrong room, Hamid asked to check if it was empty. Cracking the door just enough to let the hallway lights flood it, they both peeked inside.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“My room!”

“Not so loud,” he pleaded, and she held his hand again, pulling him inside with her. “Come in!”

His eyes roamed free for a few seconds, taking in the decorations and little details that distinguished the room from the others before the lights were dimmed. His gaze moved again, finding Elizabeth leaning against the desk with eyes barely opened.

“We’re here… alone…”

Were it anybody else, Hamid would have no doubt what that meant. But in Elizabeth’s case, he assumed the lights were hurting her eyes and her legs were faltering. And that’s the reason he offered to come and assist her through the night. She drank too much.

“Do you need help to –” Hamid stopped, thinking about the best phrasing in this situation. How to suggest aiding her in changing her clothes or taking her to the bathroom without sounding like a total creep? Freshen up, perhaps? Scratching the back of his head, he felt self-conscious about the entire situation. It was not often he needed to think through how to offer this kind of help to the utterly shy woman in front of him who takes his breath away even after an eleven-hour flight, with wrinkled clothes and messy hair. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered to come here in the first place. It’s different when it’s not one of your sisters you’ll offer help with this sort of thing.

The silence stretched and Elizabeth didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, instead, she kicked her flats and said, “You owe me a dance.”

Fifteen minutes ago, she was asleep in his shoulder and now she had an urge to dance. How was that even possible?

Walking closer, she reached his hands and her fingers intertwined with his. Her hips swayed from side to side in the rhythm of a mysterious tune she hummed.

“Don’t you prefer to go to bed?”

“Are you trying to bed me?” she tried to wink suggestively but slowly blinked instead.

He laughed, considering what sober Elizabeth would think about this phrasing and exchange.

“Right now,” he said as softly as the touch of his hand on her arm, “my only concern is the hangover you’ll have.”

“Chato! Muito chato![5]” She poked his chest. “You are spoiling the fun, mister Osmanoğlu.”

Holding a laughter, he walked away and filled a glass with water and brought back to her.

“First, drink this. Then we dance.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Please. You’ll thank me later.”

Her eyes flicked from Hamid’s face to the glass, and she gulped the whole content. With the sleeve of her blouse, she wiped the water running down her chin, and he refrained from using his thumb to remove the remaining drops underneath her lower lip, and removed the glass from her hand.

“I’ll bring another glass. It’ll help with the hangover...”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not drunk!” she huffed in protest.

“I have a feeling you'll need aspirins too. Do you have any?”

“I don’t know...” she shrugged.

“Can I take a look around?”

“Are we dancing now?” she asked following him, and he held her arms gently.

“Stay here,” he helped her sit on the bed, “very still until I come back.”

“Are you leaving me?”

“Just for a second. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Everybody says that, and they lie,” she sighed, closing her eyes, and let her body fall back on the bed.

The en-suite was his best shot at finding medicines, therefore he began his search there.

When Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open, she was alone in the room. Dragging her feet, she managed to reach the wardrobe and pick a load of clothes, which were thrown at the bed. With little effort, the long-sleeved blouse was pulled over her head, and she was too focused working on removing her pants to notice the footsteps returning from the en-suite.

“I've found the aspirins,” Hamid announced while walking into the room. The unexpected sight of Elizabeth half-undressed caused him to stop suddenly, and he almost dropped the glass of water. “Why are you striping?” he gaped, and immediately turned around.

“Hamid!” she cried and stumbled back on the bed, jeans freed from her foot and flying over her head. The mobile inside her pocket tumbled to the ground with a dull thump. “I’m changing,” she said sitting on the bed, and folding her arms in front of her chest to cover herself.

“You should have warned me.”

“You were gone.” Getting up, she pulled the plaided pants up, and hopped once to adjust it.

“I told you I was looking for aspirins.” Sighing, he placed the glass on the nightstand and peeked over his shoulder, after she kept mumbling unintelligible words in Portuguese.

“Do you need help?” he asked without looking at her, and definitely not peeking at the pink lacy bra whose sight his brain was too fast to imprint.

“I need only to take my bra. Don’t turn around!”

“No! Leave the bra! Please!” Back turned to her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“But it’s uncomfortable...”

“You just take pleasure in torturing me, don’t you?” he asked looking up and she didn’t know if he was talking to her or to God.

“Just a second…”

She finally unclasped the hooks and did her best to slip the straps off her shoulders, and pulled it from inside one sleeve and then the other, and finally removed it from underneath her shirt and hid in the pile of clothes.

“You’re absolutely killing me here, Liz!”

“Okay... I’m done.”

Hamid looked at her, and even though the pink plaid shirt of the pyjamas was buttoned incorrectly with a few buttons missing the right holes, she looked stunning with her long hair cascading down her shoulders. Getting up from the bed, she danced around the room in fuzzy socks, slowly getting closer to where he was standing. He couldn’t hide the smile when she pulled a complex set of steps without stumbling once.

“Dance with me?” she asked, offering her hand and a small smile, and he accepted. “We need a song!” she announced and started patting her legs. “What’s wrong with these pockets?”

“There are none. You changed.”

“Right! Give me your mobile!”

He obliged, depositing his mobile in her palm, but not without remarking that she was a very bossy drunk. Her fingers moved over the screen, and she stared at it in confusion.

“You do it,” she said returning the mobile, “I can’t read Turkish...”

“It’s in English. And the icons look the same...”

His fingers glided quickly over the screen, searching for a mellow song to lull her to sleep. After considering the options in one of his “date night playlists”, he selected ‘Sunrise’ by Norah Jones. He hit play and placed the phone over the nightstand, returning to where she was standing.

The melody and the singer’s soft voice filled the room, and Hamid placed his hands gently on her waist.

“This is nice,” she said softly, and he agreed.

Unexpectedly, she closed the distance he had purposefully put between them by throwing her arms around his shoulders. Tilting her face up, she nuzzled his neck, and his heartbeat picked up.

Taking a deep breath, her perfume invaded his nostrils. When the tip of her nose brushed against his sensitive skin on a path to his jaw, he shivered, overwhelmed by the sensations her closeness stirred. He could no longer hear the music, only focusing on their breathing.

When his eyes fluttered open, Elizabeth was on her tiptoes, a hand on his shoulder for support, and determination in her eyes. Deflecting her attempt to kiss him, he tilted his face up, but she rested a hand on his cheek and tried again.

Grabbing her hands with gentleness, he rested them on her sides and pulled away, being met by her offended glare.

“What's wrong, Hamid?” she mumbled, “Have you changed your mind?”

“Liz, you are drunk,” he whispered.

“And I really want to kiss you.”

These words, he has been wanting to hear them for weeks, but he cannot let himself trust in them now, not when she is inebriated like this. His heart aches with the disappointment in her eyes when he doesn't allow her to approach.

His next words are chosen carefully.

“If you'll still feel the same way tomorrow, say one word and we'll kiss until we're both out of breath.”

Her lower lip quivered, and she averted her gaze. “What if this is the only way I can tell you that?”

He cradled her face and tilted it up so she could look into his smiling eyes. “Our first kiss should be special and memorable, like what we have, and not a drunken whim... I have a feeling we’ll talk about it for the years to come… and I believe this is not the first kiss we deserve nor the story you’ll want to tell…”

Lowering her eyes, her cheeks were reddened by embarrassment and he gently kissed her forehead.

“We have time. And if you don’t mind, I still wish to dance with you.”

Elizabeth allowed him to encircle her waist and bring her closer again. While they swayed slowly, her face rested on his chest and her hands moved up and down his back. Her shoulders shook with her giggles and Hamid could not refrain his curiosity anymore. Pulling away, he looked down at her face. “What is so funny, canım benim[6]?”

“Your jumper is so soft. I like it.”

“I’m pleased that you do.”

“Take it off.”

“Excuse me?” he stopped swaying completely and stared at her.

“I want to borrow it. It seems so warm...”

“You want to undress me to borrow my clothes?” She nodded. “That’s... rather unexpected. It’s the first time I receive such a proposition...”

“Can I have it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I have a feeling, if I lent you, I’ll have to clean it from vomit and it’s a brand new and very expensive jumper.”

She pouted, but he remained firm.

“Then I crave to see your…” she said, gesticulating vaguely in front of his chest, “body... Show me.”

“It’s too late to objectify me.” He twirled her and deftly pulled her back to his chest, and she snuggled. “I’m sure we can find something as soft as this one in your own closet. Are you cold?”

Yawning, Elizabeth rested her head against his chest, just as he wished.

Taking the cue, he slow-danced her towards the bed and helped her sit down.

“Will you stay?” He nodded, and she smiled. “Good. I want to lay my head on your chest.”

“The jumper. I got it.” He said while collecting the clothes splayed on the bed to put over the desk.

Giggling, she crawled to the middle of the bed and threw a glance at him over her shoulder. “It’s not the only reason.”

Pulling the covers up, she invited him, and Hamid’s eyes fixed at the ceiling and a string of foreign words left his mouth.

“Is that your prayer before bed?”

A huff escaped his nose, and he smiled. “Sort of...”

Taking off his shoes and his jumper, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned off all the lights, except the lamps on the nightstands. He looked at her over his shoulder and laid on the bed over the covers. Elizabeth quickly moved closer and rested her head on his chest. His steady heartbeats pounding beneath her palm.

“This is nice,” she whispered, “Are you comfy?”

“Very much,” he replied, playing with the curls of her long hair.

“Good. It’s important to keep guests comfy. That’s what my grandmother always says.”

“I cannot picture her ever saying comfy, but alright.”

She chuckled and the laughter merged into muffled sounds against his chest.

“I didn’t understand a word you said, Liz.”

“Which bone did you break?”

“Bones. Left arm, the tips of two toes on my left foot and the big toe on the right foot –” he lifted his right hand and brought closer to her face “– and this little finger here.”

“How?”

“Skating, football and trying to teach myself an ancient martial art.”

She took his hand in hers and observed his fingers. “Which martial art?”

“I tried to break wood like Bruce Lee.”

Her head shook when she giggled, and her hair tickled his arm, Hamid couldn’t imagine a more delightful sound coming from her mouth. Actually, he could, but he pushed the idea away.

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

“Aw... So, baby!” she said with a baby voice, and adjusted herself on the bed to look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“Excuse me?”

“The last question. Why picking the dare if you have nothing to hide?”

“Don’t you know?” he asked softly, “My answer was obvious to everyone present, but it would make you more uncomfortable. And I didn’t want that...”

“Oh,” she gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t… Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I... I don’t know… I… you were cold because of me.”

“I didn’t mind. And you rewarded me with plenty of attention… I think it was more than worthy it. Now, sleep. Goodnight, aşkım[7],” he said softly and kissed the top of her head.

“What did you say?”

“Goodnight, Liz.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“All that alcohol is disturbing your hearing.”

Ten minutes later, she was snoring with a hand over his chest. He held and kissed her hand before removing it. Considering she'll probably need to go to the bathroom and bathe, it was probably for the best to text Annabelle and propose her to change places with him. Carefully, Hamid lifted her arm and moved his legs first, his feet soundless touching the carpeted floor. When he stood up, her voice sounded hoarse behind him.

“Don’t go, Hamid. Please.”

Her face was illuminated by the soft light from the lamp. With her eyes closed, she reached for the pillow he had been lying on and held it tight. “I don’t want to be alone,” she mumbled, “I’m tired of being alone.”

Notes:

[1] Dede – Turkish word that means grandfather.

[2] Dayi – Turkish word that means uncle from the mother’s side of the family.

[3] Yok artık – Turkish – similar in this context to “No way”.

[4] O quê? – Portuguese – means "What?"

[5] Chato! Muito chato! – Portuguese – it means boring! Very boring!

[6] Canım benim – Turkish – term of endearment that means “my soul” or in the context “my dear”.

[7] Aşkım – Turkish – used as a term of endearment “my love”.

#desire and decorum fanfic #desire and decorum modern au!#prince hamid #prince hamid x oc #oc: elizabeth foredale #hamid x elizabeth #briar dally #annabelle parsons #luke harper #edmund marlcaster #theresa sutton #tw: drinking #tw: swearing #tw: sex mention #choicesmonthlychallenge

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