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missameliep · 1 year

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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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