I have been known to have a flair for the dramatic. It often makes me think of Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, when she shows up to a baby's party unannounced, bent on revenge after she isn't invited. Maleficent is kind of a dramatic fashionista in her own right, wielding a black cape, trailing smoke behind her while she moves, all while sporting a glint of vengeance in her eyes, ready to bend things to her will.
I find it inspiring, even if that is a little messed up. But I don't think getting upset over not being invited to a baby's birthday party is cool. I do, however, appreciate going all out when you have been burned. Maleficent was the baby's aunt after all. That's how the story goes, right?
So I took a page out of Malificent's book, determined to bend things to my will... but not in an evil way. Just in a productive way.
But that didn't stop everyone from hesitating, questioning the plan I had come up with once we knew who we were dealing with as the clock struck 2 AM on the sleep-deprived group still sitting in Katherine's living room.
"That plan could majorly backfire," Delle said, crossing her arms. "We could lose big and your reputation would be destroyed over nothing."
"But if it worksâ"
"We'd get it all taken care of in one swoop," Aiden agreed. "Allie has a point. Tate, you need to leak that picture and ask out Susan."
"No," Tate said, his voice like steel, refusing to bend.
"Tate..." I said, turning to look at him. "We need to catch who did this. Iz got hurt."
He stood up, angry. "I know that. But if we do it this way, it could destroy you."
I swallowed, unable to meet his eye line. "It won't."
"You can't control that Allie. You've taken enough emotional beatings. I won't do that to you."
I stood up, sensing his frustration to my core. Understanding why he hated the idea, even if it was necessary. "Tateâ"
He barreled on. "And going in there without one of us with you isn't my favorite plan either."
"Have you forgotten that your girl took down a professional boxer? I think she can take care of herself," Aiden said, offering me an encouraging nod, one I returned.
A look of betrayal crossed Tate's features as he looked between Aiden and me. "Oh, now you two are getting along?!?" He scoffed, running his fingers through his hair, muscles taut with frustration. "You picked a terrible time to make that happen!"
I took Tate's hands in mine, offering them a tender squeeze. "Tate. I need you to trust me."
"I do," he insisted placing his forehead against mine. "But asking me to throw you to the wolves isn't something I can do," he breathed, voice fragile.
I sighed, brushing several chocolate brown strands away from his face. "I understand." Tate's shoulders slumped with relief as Delle and Aiden groaned in unison, irritated that we would have to start over with a new plan.
I rubbed my temples, exhausted. "Can you get me a cup of coffee?"
Tate nodded and cupped my face, thumbs grazing my cheeks. "We'll figure this out, Allie. I promise."
Delle eyed the door, before looking back at me once Tate had disappeared into the kitchen. "Okay, I know you don't actually want coffee," she said, keeping her voice low. "So why..." she trailed off when I snatched Tate's phone from the couch.
"Don't judge me and keep a lookout," I muttered.
Aiden snorted and moved to lean casually in the hallway, keeping an eye out. "You continue to surprise me, Winters." I couldn't tell if it was a compliment or not but didn't have time to analyze it.
In classic Tate form, he didn't have a password set up to keep people out of his phone. His lock screen opened immediately and I quickly found the picture in his recent messages.
"Allie!" Laliana hissed quietly, trying not to move. Iz and Misty were fast asleep on the couch, Iz's head on Laliana's lap, while Misty laid against Laliana's shoulder. "Don't do it! He is going to be so mad!"
I dropped his phone back on the couch and looked up at Laliana. "Too late."
She stared at me with wide eyes. "Oh... Allie." I had never heard her sound so disappointed.
"I know, I suck," I muttered, hating the way she looked at me. Knowing an identical look would soon be plastered across Tate's face. "But I can't do this anymore."
"We need to get you home. You can't be seen with Tate. Not until this is all over," Delle said pulling down the notes she had taped up to the fireplace. My heart hurt. I didn't want to duck out into the night. To go another day without getting to see Tate and tell him how I felt.
"And you have a date to set up too," Delle reminded me. "This only works if you make a spectacle of it."
"But... what about Thanksgiving dinner?" Laliana asked, looking alarmed. "You are all supposed to spend the night. Katherine will be crushed." I snatched up my jacket, busying myself with putting it on, pretending to be strong. To be unphased by the fact that I was going to lose another holiday with people I cared about.
"I'll make sure she understands," Aiden said, pushing off the wall. "I'll call the car. Misty and Delle, you are more than welcome to stay the night. My mother would insist. And that includes Thanksgiving tomorrow." He sent a quick message out on his phone, keeping his eyes averted. "She will be making too much food for anyway."
Delle, paused, trying to decide if he was messing with her but then nodded. "Thanks," she supplied. The single word sounded painful to say but it was a start.
"Thank you, Aiden," I said, grabbing my purse and making my way to the front door. "I'll wait for the car outside." I paused, turning to look back at everyone. "Tell Tate I'm sorry."
Laliana began to protest, but Iz stirred pulling her back to silence, not wanting to wake her up. Aiden offered me a single nod. Then before I could change my mind, I walked out the door, forcing a plan into motion that would bring everything to light, even if it threatened to destroy me in the process.
...
Pretending to be okay should be considered an art form. And like most forms of art, it is painful to master. The road there is often fraught with growing pains that leave the wielder unrecognizable to the life before the stretch marks they've earned.
My own skills could be boiled down to creating art in clothing form, pretending my world was completely fine, convincing myself that my heart wasn't one beat away from being broken, and refusing to believe that the cyber world had the power to put me in a "canceled" box.
Stubbornness wasn't always a terrible thing. Not when the world told you that it was done with you, and you laughed in its face, asking it where it got the authority to choose who you were going to be, or how you were going to live? And to come back later when it had enough common sense to learn it wasn't the decider of your life choices.
I had learned that lashing out often gave the internet the response it wanted. Choosing to defend yourself often fanned the flames and standing silent, watching people argue about who you were based on a two or three-sentence tweet was incredibly difficult, even if it was necessary.
That silence had resulted in three things over the last two days...
One. After I leaked the image of my kiss with Laurence and left in the middle of the night without a word of goodbye, my name once again exploded across the internetâAn apparent trend of my life. The picture had sparked an endless number of articles, tweets, and comments declaring me a villain. A heartless, calculatedâ yet very stylish villainess who took men like a black widow, devouring them once I was done with their hearts.
An unfortunate playlist that I was very acquainted with.
But instead of destroying my clothing sales like I had expected it to, they continued to spike and people wanted more. The world wanted to see a clothing line in partnership with Royals Fashion. A rival line, to go against the soft, yet sexy couple outfits I had released with Tate as the model.
#RoyalWinter was trending. Buyers believed I was in the middle of a love triangle and were obsessed with the idea that I could potentially release a new clothing line with my secret lover.
It was utterly ridiculous, but I had come to learn that betrayal, heartbreak, and love triangles sparked people to stand up, screaming for the side they believed deserved to win. And now even though I was absolutely hated by half the internet, my clothes were not. They were a banner of expression, even if the expression was used to hate me. The internet is weird.
The second thing that had happened was silence. It had been two days since I had seen Tate. No texts, no calls. Nothing but quiet. It was justified, even if it stung. After all, I had tricked him into giving me his phone, revealed my secret shame with it, and left without a word.
Delle had made it clear that once the plan was in motion, I couldn't see him until everything was in place. And now there was nothing I could do but work, forcing my fingers to focus on every stitch, every fold, every crease, weaving something together in far less time than I liked. But I needed a spectacle, and the best way I knew how to create one, was in clothing formâ unless punching was involved.
And although it was my idea for Tate to pursue Susan, it didn't stop me from eating a full cake while binge-watching the rest of Crash Landing on You, wanting to fast forward my life to when things would hopefully be less ridiculous. But since that wasn't possible, I spent my Thanksgiving weekend eating alone, watching Kdrama's, working, and suddenly wishing I could be back at the Dalton's house, eating too much pizza, and debating over Delle's terrible penmanship.
And the third thing that happened was something I never thought I would agree to, let alone come up with. I had scheduled a very awkward date night that would have the paparazzi drooling for hours. Fantastic.
I stood inside my office building, sporting a dress of my own design. A black finger-length bodycon dress clung to my skin like a tattoo. A slit ran up the right side of my thigh, and small spaghetti straps cut across the paneled plunge neckline. It was a spicy number that showed more skin than I normally chose for a night-out outfit, but it would do the trick for what I had planned.
Now I just needed my date to play their part.
I did my best to ignore the paparazzi waiting like piranha on the other side of the glass as I fidgeted with my dark blood red stripper heels before pushing my high ponytail across one shoulder.
Just breathe and pretend you don't want to punch them all in the face. Pretend they are slices of chocolate cake and aren't out to strip you for parts and post them online.
A heightened level of camera flashes told me that my date had arrived, spurring me from the building and out into the cold November night air. Laurence Royal moved through the crowd, meeting me several feet from the door, lit up by camera flashes, sending his face int sharp contrasts, highlighting his immaculate features.
He sported a black button-down slim-cut shirt that pulled taut across his chest. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pop of dark blood red on the inside of the cuffs that matched my shoes perfectly. The collar was popped, revealing the same splash of color around his neck.
His jet black hair was styled with gell in a mess of waves at the top and cut short at the sides in the most flawless state of sexy bedhead I had seen. The dude may suck at the details but he really knows how to rock a hairstyle. Stubble ran along his sharp jawline, giving him an edge that erased the put-together man I had first met.
Weaving our fingers together to keep us from getting separated, I pulled him back towards the car. "Nice outfit," I said into his ear.
"Great design," he replied over the roar of questions that filled the sidewalk, complimenting my work. I had sent him the shirt last night. If we were going to be seen in public together as an item, I couldn't risk him showing up in something horrendous.
"Just one quick fix." I reached over with my free hand and popped the top button of the shirt to make him look more relaxed. "There. It's supposed to be worn like that."
Laurence swallowed, looking away, a muscle working in his jaw. "Thanks." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "I assume you already know how good you look?"
I laughed, "Yes. But thank you for the almost compliment."
"How long have you two been dating?" someone from the body of paparazzi shouted, breaking our stride. Laurence blinked, bewildered by the sudden attention. I pulled him faster. He wasn't used to the blaring, and incessant prying into his private life. I was and I nearly stooped to throttling them on a regular basis.
"Why'd you pick him over Tate?" someone else asked.
"Don't say anything," I whispered into his ear. He gave my hand a squeeze in agreement as we continued to move, attempting to move past the bodies and make it to the car.
"Is it true that Tate is dating someone else?" a lone voice called.
I paused for a beat, my heart suddenly stuttering. The air left my lungs, making me feel like I was drowning. I forgot how to move.
This time, Laurence pulled me forward, and after he threw open the door to the back seat of the car, we climbed inside, giving my lungs room to start up again. "All clear!" I shouted.
Then we pulled away from the curb, watching the bodies grow smaller until they bled into the darkness left behind by the night.
"I don't know why you suggested I stay in the car," Aiden said from where he drove in the front seat.
I took in several deep breaths. "Because those jackals would have assumed I was dating you and neither one of us could fake that without barfing."
Aiden laughed. "Good point. He okay back there?"
Laurence looked pale. "Remind me why we are doing this?"
"Because we need to lure people into a trap and in order to do that you and I have to go on a pretend date, make it big, and pretend to be..." I waved my arm, trying to make it sound less awkward. "...madly in love."
Laurence leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Gee, that shouldn't be hard. This is not going to send me to therapy at all." He offered me a smile before I could say anything, guilt snaking through me.
"So Ms. Wintersâ"
"You really should be calling me Allie."
"In public yes. But right now, this will make things less complicated for me." It was my turn to lean my head back against the seat, feeling like the worst person in the world. "So..." he started again, "where are we off to on this sham of a date?"
I leaned up on my elbow, taking in Laurence with a mischievous grin. "Tell me, are you against starting fights?"
Laurence blinked, waiting for me to start laughing, fully expecting it to be a joke. When I continued to wait for his answer, completely serious, he raised a brow. "Um... yes." He sounded unsure of his own answer. Crossing his arms, he turned to look at me fully, attempting to read me.
"Then you are really going to hate what we are about to do," I said, smiling against my better judgment. The smile just made me look unhinged when I talked about engaging in violence as a completely proper way to spend an evening. Yeah, he's going to regret agreeing to this.
"Oh, I don't know..." Aiden said from the front seat, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "Could be fun."
Laurence looked between us, raising a brow. "You two have a weird idea of what is fun."
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Thank you for reading chapter forty-seven! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
So much is happening! Why is Allie on a date with Laurence?
Do you think Tate is angry at Allie for what she did?
How do you think Tate is handling his date with Susan?
CHAPTER QUESTION - What is your favorite holiday tradition?