#Edgewater Group

[newconstructionsfl]

Aria Reserve Miami - The Tallest Waterfront Twin-Tower In The United States

[cloveroctobers]

NOTHING SWEETER — BODE LEONE: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: This will probably flop since it’s basically a ghost town in this tag but here I am! Plus it was also requested for me to write for Bode (again) lol which I don’t have a problem with, we love that guy over here. They’re wrong for going on break after giving us what they gave us! I also just want to say that I really miss Max’s curls but here it goes!!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 18.  “Damn, I hate pollen.” + 8.  “IT’S A DEER!” “Yeah, and?” “I CAN SEE IT!”

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

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Eve was lucky you loved her.

Being up this early on your first day back in Edgewater to give her a ride to Three Rock (her car was in the shop) was a lot to ask! Not really! but what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t complain a good portion about it on the ride up to camp?

“If I get you an iced coffee, would you love me again?” Eve pinched the space in between her brows, elbow resting against the car door.

You hummed while using one hand to tap on your chin, “Add in a Mozzarella, Pesto, and tomato bagel then we’ll talk.”

Eve twisted her lips upwards, “…that’s a thing? Whatever happened to a simple cream cheese with eggs and avocado?”

“You’re lucky I’m not asking for a soft boiled egg stuffed with caviar.” You respond as you reduce your speed once you cross the bridge, spying the familiar deli spot up ahead.

Eve scoffed as she side eyed you, “oh yeah, Switzerland done made you bougie.”

Which earned a laugh from you as you pulled the Toyota 4Runner into the small parking lot. If you weren’t a bundle of nerves you would have got out of the car with Eve to see what changed about the deli you spent many afternoons in with your old friends. However you let your mind wander a bit as you stared out into edgewater’s view.

You were home…except your childhood home was just a memory now that your divorced parents no longer resided in Edgewater. So you crashed at Eve’s although you were completely fine staying in a hotel since Jake talked you out of an air bnb after watching some movie called, “Barbarian,” and you were tired of hearing the statistics and other real life horror stories he pulled out of his ass. Eve was your number one best friend and she was more than willing to open up her place for a friend like you.

As you took up a interest in archery and later turned into a professional Archer, you were inspired to see what the world had in store so the sooner you got out of Edgewater, the better it was for you. Some just didn’t get it (your parents mainly, with your mother being an orthopedic surgeon and your father a fire chief before his MS took over) and expected you to start your own roots here. It was kind of a thing here in this small town, that you were to begin again and build your own legacy. However you were in the tiny group of odd’s that wanted more than the expectations hanging over your head.

Which is why you were proud to say that you’ve been participating in the Olympics every few years because of your passion for archery. Of course you had people down your neck all throughout your career but you still stood as tall as you could.

Now you were back home in the place that was full of doubts but the tightness in your chest wasn’t as noticeable the closer you got to camp.

“Thanks for dropping me off, I appreciate it.” Eve starts as she spots a few inmates hanging around on the yard already, “If you stick around for a minute I’ll even do you a solid and send Bode your way. Since I know it’ll be difficult otherwise.”

Taking a deep inhale you say, “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“Yeah well…if he stays on the right track this time he’ll be out even sooner.” Eve tells, “He’s still a big pain in all of our asses but I think it would do him some good to see you…you did come all this way.”

It’s been years since you last saw each other but you came back for Riley’s funeral and you reached out to Bode when he moved away to a few towns over and changed his last name. You tried to be there even being ocean’s apart but when Bode felt low, it always felt like he wanted to take the world on his shoulder’s and find a way to make it spin again. Yet that landed him in prison and Eve had no problem filling you in on everything in between.

Would he even want to see you? It’s not like your relationship turned sour or anything…it’s just been awhile being in contact with each other. You weren’t nearly this anxious seeing Eve and doubted you would be when you had lunch with Jake and Cara—which was still weird to you—But being near Bode was different from everybody else and you knew that.

“I did…didn’t I?” You loll your head to face Eve, who studies it for a moment before dipping her head.

She tapped her hand against the outside of the door, whispering into the spring air, “it’ll be fine. He’s in a much better headspace and you’re still family no matter where you disappear off to, you got that?”

A watery smile goes Eve’s way before she leaves you to collect yourself. You’re pulling your mirror down from the sun visor, patting underneath your eyes and beginning to second guess yourself. You were here for two weeks and there was no way that you planned on not seeing Bode. You ran into his parents just last night at the bar, craving some wings before heading to Eve’s, just to be received with warm arms and classic banter from the Leone’s.

They were the parents you could talk to more than your own. If you weren’t crashing at Eve’s then you would definitely be at the Leone’s but then Bode and Cara happened so that’s when some of the distance was created. They didn’t last, like most teenage relationships but out of respect you felt like it was the right thing to do.

It felt right being back, even if it was only temporary.

Maybe that’s just how you had to view Bode’s situation. He wasn’t a temporary kind of friend although you couldn’t socialize as much but you tried to be hopeful. Even climbed out of the car pacing back and forth, not paying much attention to anyone around until you spotted the green dust decorating the navy car.

Scowling in disgust, you swiped the arm of your jacket around the hood of your car before cringing at the greenery you wiped on your sweatpants afterwards.

“Damn, I hate pollen.” A voice comes from behind, which makes you slowly stand up straight and glance over your shoulder.

There he was.

Bode Leone, standing in the flesh, hands deep in his jacket pockets, and a small smile on his lips.

You fully turn to face him and tilt your head to the side, “Didn’t I tell you once before that Orange isn’t your color?”

Bode lifts his shoulders with humor in his blue-green eyes as he motions towards the spot on you, “yeah, well maybe green isn’t yours either.”

You scoff as you motion to your outfit, “what? You don’t think I’m pulling it off?”

The blond chuckles as he takes a step towards you, “As long as you don’t start itching then sure, whatever you say.”

“Oh,” you scratch at the back of your hand and shoot a glare at the man who’s got crinkles by his eyes now, “why did you have to go and say that Bode! Now I’m doing it!”

“Sorry! It’s just that I sorta remembered that you were sensitive to almost everything including air.” He says to you, teasing somewhat, now standing face to face with you.

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help but to smile at that. You didn’t know what it was growing up in high school, you were highly allergic to almost everything which landed you in the nurses office a lot but it seemed to relax as you reached your twenties and moved away. You always joked that maybe it was Edgewater that was making you sick. Yet the longer you stood in this town and interacted with not only Eve but Bode, you knew that wasn’t completely true.

“It’s good to see you, Bo.” You lightly shove his shoulder back while he nods in agreement, “can I give you a hug?”

Bode blinks the furrow of his brows away as if you were being ridiculous, “of course you can.”

And you’re cradling the back of his head while his fingers are at your spine, swaying from side to side in a firm but gentle squeeze. Then he’s burying his nose into your shoulder and the feel of the embrace tells you that this was meant to be.

When your eyes open, you realize that you could live just fine in Bode’s arms. You remember your final kiss goodbye in Drayscott, one month before you left the country and one month before Bode attempted to pull off a robbery—it was the sweetest thing—the kiss obviously! because it should have been happened. It didn’t come out of nowhere, it was full of intention, full of wonder and love but you were aware that it wasn’t the right time to be something more.

Maybe some day it could be.

Little did you know, Bode kept that memory not far away. He was kicking himself for the what if’s but when he manages to pull himself out of the blue, he thinks about the best possibility being you.

The both of you could be good together, could see the world together and he wasn’t sure how it all looked but he was willing to imagine.

A gasp makes Bode pull away, alarmed.

“IT’S A DEER!” You point, over Bode’s shoulder.

He glances over his shoulder to in fact see the said brown animal, peering at the two of you, “Yeah, and?”

“I CAN SEE IT!” You attempt to lower your voice but the excitement got the best of you as you almost bounce on your toes.

Bode’s still lightly has a hand resting on your waist now, as they watch the beautiful creature sniff at the grass and carried on deeper and away into the woods.

“Are you telling me they don’t have deer out in Switzerland?” There’s amusement in Bode’s voice as he peeks back at you.

“I’ve been in the city mainly but it’s been awhile since I’ve really been one with nature, you know? Which reminds me, I’ll have to make time to go off roading with this baby one of these days. Or hiking.” You jam a thumb back at the car.

Bode nods, “you’ll be careful won’t you? Don’t get so easily impressed with animals, not all of them will have the best intentions.”

You were an animal lover back in the day, so much to the point you wouldn’t dissect a frog sophomore year, which landed you in the principal’s office.

“What?” You blow a raspberry, “I’m like freaking Princess Aurora. Animals love me.”

Bode squints his eyes, “…didn’t you get bit by a goat when we were like what? Fourteen?”

“You’re really killing my vibe man and I don’t like that.” You yank on the end of Bode’s hair who laughs again.

He raises his hands in surrender and grips your wrist from his head, “alright, alright. My bad but if it makes you feel better, I still have that scar after that horse kicked the shit out of me when we had too many drinks partying at Tamsin Kadoka’s farm.”

“Really?”

Bode nods, “yeah, right on my lower back and it’s shaped like Utah.”

You meet each other’s gaze before bursting out laughing in unison at yet another memory. He’s gripping your shoulder again while he’s got your attention, “just promise me when you’re out there in those woods that you’re careful. I’d hate it if something happened to you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual, Bo.” You state, “you just had to go on and choose firefighting huh?”

Bode shrugs, “Must be in the Leone blood.”

“Yeah, must be.” You murmur, staring at him like there’s stars getting ready to rise in your eyes and Bode can’t help but to lean forward to place a lingering kiss on your forehead.

His facial hair pricks you but you don’t mind.

“Leone!” A guard calls out, which means your time is up for now.

You hold his hand, interlocking your fingers, which he squeezes with a smile to match, eyes wandering all over your features, almost as if to tell himself that you are in fact really here.

“Until next time?” He questions.

You smile, “See you soon, Bode.”

And he grins at you, those crinkles by his eyes returning before he slips his hand from yours.

This was brief but sweet and you’re mentally kicking yourself for thinking that this could go wrong.

You’re watching Bode walk away from you and he can’t help but to jog backwards to get another look at you. Almost as if you would disappear again and you would never see him again. When he turns back around, heading to the guard on shift who announces the inmates need to get ready for line ups inside at the bunks, he meets up with Cole on his way.

“Who was that?” Cole nudges his chin in your direction.

You’re seated in the driver’s seat, window down, leaning on your arm as you watch the men in Orange make their way back inside.

Catching Bode’s eye, you wave before rolling your window almost all the way up and pull away from the camp site.

“Someone i would like to give the world and more to once im out of here.”

Cole is smirking but appreciates the honesty as he claps Bode on his shoulder, already knowing what that look is for. “Then let’s make it happen, Leone! Nothing sweeter than having something on the outside to fight for, you know?”

“I agree.” Bode pulls his gaze from your retreating car, finding himself standing up straighter as they awaited for Eve to start their day.

When Eve’s brown eyes set on Bode’s, he just barely tips in his head in thanks, which the woman echo’s as she carries on along the line.

Bode already can’t wait for the next day he can get reconnected with you in person again so, he bites his smile away.

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Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.

[ladylamrian]

Female Main Character: Clara Sinclaire

Pairing: F!MC×Ernest Sinclaire (married)

Summary: Countess Clara of Edgewater takes her lovely horse, Belle out for a ride 🐎

Word Count: 3.2K words

Rating: General (Fluff, Adventure, Rescue)

Warnings: none (Injury)

Choices Fanfiction Taglist: @lilyoffandoms ; @secretaryunpaid ; @blackcatkita ; @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @peonierose ; @jdstar88 ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @tessa-liam ; @mxdanni ; @rosepetals1 ; @stars-are-within-me ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @artbyalz ; @bri1234 ; @loreofyore ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; ... [I shortened my Taglist because my Readers wanted to be tagged for Nightbound. For the next D&D fanfictions (if there will ever be ones), nobody gets tagged unless requested] ; @choicesdecember2024 (Prompt: Home)

Comments via Reblog wholeheartedly welcome

Author's Note: Please have mercy on me since it's my very first Desire & Decorum fanfiction. If I ever write again for this book, I won't tag anyone unless it is requested. Inform me!!!

"I'm heading out for a ride.", his wife informed him as she climbed on the back of her horse, named Belle.

Ernest's expression softened. He knew just how much she cherished these moments with the mare.

"Very well, my dear. But promise me you'll be careful. Belle can be quite spirited."

"Oh, my dear and loving husband. Don't you believe in Team Clara-Belle?", she winked.

Ernest chuckled warmly at her playful remark.

"Of course I do, my love. I have the utmost faith in your skills with that steed. I just happen to like you in a single piece."

"Sure."

With a nod, he released her hand and called put to be safe.

"Be careful. And pat Belle on the nose for me."

Ernest watched her leave. His heart swelled with a mixture of love and worry. He hoped that Clara, with her spirited nature, stayed safe on her ride.

Countess Clara of Edgewater mounted on Belle. Next to her, other ladies on their horses, all eager and excited for a playful race in nature. The soft grass beneath them rustled gently, and the horses seemed to share in their enthusiasm. Clara's eyes glittered with a hint of mischief.

"Ready for a race, ladies?"

Everyone nodded, their horses pawing the ground in anticipation, which made Clara even more excited. She patted Belle's neck affectionately.

"Ready for a race, my girl. We'll show them the power of Clara-Belle."

When the little race finally started, all the horses lurched forward, moving as one. Each rider gripped the reins tightly. Clara, with her intimate knowledge of Belle's speed and the terrain, took the lead. The wind whipped through her brown locks.

The other ladies do their best to catch up, but Clara and Belle are a force to be reckoned with. Clara's skillful guidance and confidence created a seamless bond between woman and horse which propelled them further ahead with each stride.

The young countess laughed heartily, the feeling of triumph rushing through her veins. She patted Belle's neck as they continued to pull further ahead.

Clara glanced over her shoulder and smiled, seeing how far she and Belle had pulled away from the others. The wind rushed past her ears as she called out to her horse.

"We're leaving them in the dust, aren't we, girl? We're Team Clara-Belle, after all. Fast and strong."

Belle nickered in agreement, her strides became even more vigorous as if spurred on by her rider's excitement. The horse's powerful muscles rippled under her, propelling them further and further from the rest of the group.

Clara her focus on guiding Belle, suddenly felt a shift in the horse's stride. Before she could fully process what was happening, Belle let out a sharp whinny and stumbled slightly to the side.

"Belle?!!"

Clara's heart skipped a beat as she frantically tried to regain control, but it was too late. Belle's stumbling turned into a fall, and in a moment of panic, Clara was sent flying from the saddle, landing hard on the grass some distance away.

The rider's body ached from the impact, the shock of the fall left her breathless. She lay there for a moment, trying to assess the damage, but her focus was quickly diverted by a sound that chilled her to the bone... Belle's panicked whinny.

Clara's heart raced as she turned her head and discovered Belle struggling to get up. The beautiful mare twisted her ankle. Her hind legs buckled whenever she tried to put weight on them. Clara, despite her pain, stood up and slowly approached her horse.

"Belle, my girl..."

Belle still whinnied in pain as Clara approached. The animal's brown eyes were wide and filled with fear. It attempted to move but couldn't. The injury was preventing her from standing, let alone moving. Clara's heart aches for her beloved steed. Her hands trembled as she gently touched Belle's injured leg.

"Oh no! My poor Belle..."

A mixture of worry and pain as the young woman examined the injury. Her horse whimpered in response, clearly distressed and in pain. Clara knew that she couldn't move Belle on her own. Belle was too big and too distressed. Panic began to creep into the mind of the young countess as she searched around, hoping for anyone to pass by and help. But the area remained empty and silent. Her face was pale with fear. The realization of their predicament sank in. They're alone, some distance from the estate away. Both were unable to ride and unable to walk back. The only sound was Belle's soft, pain-filled whinnies, echoing through the quiet landscape.

Clara gently placed her shaking hand on Belle's neck, trying to soothe the frightened animal.

"It's going to be alright, girl. We'll find a way."

But the words felt hollow, filled with fear instead of reassurance. For a moment, they sat in silence. The horse's soft breaths were the only sound. The wind had picked up, the chill biting cold against their exposed skin. Clara already shivered in her thin riding clothes. They were miles away from any shelter, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. The thought of spending the night outdoors, injured and exposed, was more than a little frightening. But she pushed that fear down, focusing instead on the hope that someone would find them before nightfall.

When Clara tried to stand, she winced as her sore body protested. It was clear that the fall had left her with bruises and possible injuries, but she still pushed through the pain, gritting her teeth as she rose to her feet. She glanced at Belle and her heart broke at the sight of the helpless horse.

Clara looked around, trying to find something, anything they could use for shelter. The terrain was empty and flat, with no trees or buildings in sight. The wind gusted again, and she shivered, feeling how the coldness had already begun to seep through her clothes. The horse growing restless and agitated by the minute.

The woman sat back down next to Belle, trying to think of a solution. But the coldness was making her head fuzzy, and the pain in her body slowly clouded her thoughts. She wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to keep warm, and huddled closer to her horse for warmth.

"Ernest was right. I should have been more careful."

She let out a small, bitter laugh, and small tears welled up her eyes. Her fingers trembled slightly from the cold. She leaned her head closer against Belle, feeling the horse's soft fur. Trying to soothe herself, to think of a way out of this mess. The sound of the wind howling around them and it was getting darker.

Hours passed slowly, and the night was drawing closer. Clara was exhausted, her body ached and her mind fuzzy. The coldness now had settled deep into her bones, despite the small comfort that Belle's presence provided. The pain in her ankle, coupled with the soreness from the fall, made her breathing ragged. They're in the middle of nowhere, hurt, hungry, thirsty and exhausted.

Suddenly, the sound of horse steps was heard, which caught Clara's attention. She looked up, her heart fluttered with a mixture of hope and anxiety. The steps seemed to get closer, but the darkness made it hard to see anything. The injured lady strained her eyes, trying to make out the form of the approaching guests in the darkness. The wind howled around her, which masked the sound a bit, and for a moment, she was not even sure if it was her mind playing tricks on her or if someone was coming.

It took a little moment until Clara's eyes widened, discovering a figure on horseback approaching. She tried to get to her feet, but her ankle protested making her stumble. So she waved one arm and shouted desperately, trying to get the person's attention.

"Here! Over here!! Help!!"

The mysterious rider seemed to have noticed the movement and guided its horse in their direction, getting closer as the seconds passed.

As the rider approached closer, Clara could just make out the familiar features and stature. It was her husband, Mister Ernest Sinclaire, Master of Ledford. The young man looked panicked. His face filled with worry as he dismounted from his horse and rushed towards her and Belle.

"My Clara!!"

"Ernest?"

Ernest dropped to his knees beside Clara, his eyes scanning her body for any signs of serious injury. His hands moved gently over her skin, checking for wounds as his voice was filled with worry.

"My love, my sweet, my darling, my Clara, are you hurt?"

"How did you find us?"

Mister Sinclaire ran a hand through his soft hair, his expression tense, but a hint of relief in his blue eyes. He glanced at Belle before answering.

"When you didn’t return for dinner, I knew something was wrong. The ladies informed me about your sudden disappearance and looked worried. I saddled my horse and came searching for you."

"Oh Ernest..."

Her husband pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. His voice was soft but filled with worry and relief.

"My love, you foolish girl. You could have been hurt, or worse..."

"I'm sorry."

Ernest pulled back slightly, looking at her face. His heart nearly broke at the sight of her tired, bruised face. His hand raised to cradle her cheek with a gentle touch.

"I'm not angry, my love. I'm just so relieved you're safe. But promise me, promise me you'll be more careful from now on."

"I promise."

The young man gave her a soft smile, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead. He held her a moment longer before standing up, moving to check on Belle. The horse whimpered as he touched her. The injury was indeed painful.

He examined the injury with a serious expression. Running his hand gently over Belle's leg, checking the swelling and the stability of the joint. He looked up at Clara, his mouth set in a grim line.

"It's sprained at the very least. The poor thing is in pain."

"How will we get her home?"

He glanced at the horses and it took a silent moment until an idea slowly formed up in his mind. He knew it was not ideal, but they didn't have many options.

"My love, you ride my horse, and I'll walk. We'll have to build a travois. With branches and rope, we might be able to make something that can support Belle's weight without further hurting her leg. Me and my horse will pull the travois with Belle on it."

And with that, Ernest Sinclaire began to look around, hunting for long enough sticks and searching for rope or cloth that could serve as a support. The night was fully set, the stars their only light source in the pitch-black field.

As he worked, he glanced over at his wife, trying to keep his worry at bay. Clara's face was drawn with exhaustion, and he knew she was holding on by a thread. The travois needed to be done quickly. The sooner they could move, the better.

Eventually, Ernest managed to gather enough sticks and found some rope in his horse's saddle bag. With determination, he set work on building the travois, tying the sticks together and making sure they were sturdy enough to support Belle's weight.

As the travois slowly took shape, he looked up to see that Clara had managed to mount his horse, holding the reins with stiff, trembling hands. A wave of worry washed over him again at the sight of her. She should be resting, not worrying about all this.

When the man tied the final knots on the travois, he approached to his brown-colored horse and Clara. His voice gentle but firm as he spoke.

"Love, I need you to ride slowly and carefully. Belle's on a travois behind us and will be uncomfortable. You cannot jostle her too much. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ernest."

His heart broke at the exhaustion in her voice. He wished he could take away all the pain and worry, but they were still far from safe. He reached up, gently touching her knee.

"Clara, I know you're tired, believe me, I know. But we have no other option but to keep moving. We will rest once we're back home, once we've got you and Belle safe. Just hold on a little while longer."

"You're walking? Are you sure?"

"Yes, love. I'll walk beside you. It won't slow us down that much. And you need the rest more than I do. Just let me guide the horse while you hang on, alright?"

He took the reins and led his horse forward, gently encouraging the animal to step forward. The travois with Belle on it follows, its wheels making a soft grating sound on the rough ground.

As the party slowly began to move. The only sounds were the soft huffing breaths of the horses, the crunch of the wheels on the ground, and Belle's soft whimpers. Clara's eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, her body trembled with the cold and the exhaustion.

Ernest was also tired and focused on walking. He knew Clara and Belle were both injured and exhausted, and that every step was a challenge, but he pushed forward. When he glanced back at Clara, he saw how she was struggling to stay awake and on the horse.

"Love, you need to stay awake, you cannot sleep on the horse. Not yet. Just a little bit longer, I promise you'll sleep in a nice warm bed once we're back."

"I'm worried about Belle."

"I know, my love. So am I. But we're getting closer to the estate with every step. Sir Luke Harper will take perfect care of Belle. Soon, you can both rest. Almost there..."

Minutes, hours, a lifetime seemed to pass. But eventually, the familiar sight of Edgewater estate came into view. The buildings were faintly lit in the distance, and relief flooded through Ernest's chest. They made it. They're safe. He glanced back at Clara, a small smile on her face too.

When they reached the stables, he took the horses into their boxes, then turned back to Clara, helping her down from the saddle and supporting her tired body.

The man pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

"My love, you did great. You're safe now. We're home."

"Ernest, my love... You saved us."

He held her close, his arms tight around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his exhaustion finally caught up with him. He could see the other staff running out to help, but for a moment he just held Clara and ignored the surroundings. His heart filled with gladness that they were in Edgewater, safe and together now.

"You need to get warm and rest, my love. Let the staff help you inside. I need to take care of Belle."

"But she's my horse."

"I know, Clara. Belle means a lot to you. And Sir Harper is very skilled and will take good care of Belle. But you need to rest too. Let me take you inside."

"Yes, please."

Ernest nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist to support her weary body. He helped her walk slowly towards the house, his movements gentle and caring. He could feel how tired his Clara was, and it pained him to see her like this. But he knew that soon she'd be warm and comfortable, safe and sound in their manor. When Ernest noticed her stumble, he reacted quickly. He caught her, pulling his wife gently against his side, holding her up. His eyes scan her face, filled with worry.

"Careful, my love. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm good. Just tripped, but I'm good."

"Good. Hang on to me, Clara. We're almost there."

"Ernest, I'm the countess of this estate and look like a mess. Hurry upstairs, I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"My love, even when you're exhausted and disheveled, you're still the most beautiful countess and woman in all of Great Britain.", he chuckled and kissed her cheek. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but tease her wife a bit.

"Ernest..."

His heart lightened at the sight of her expression as he continued walking towards the house with his arm tight around her waist.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You know I'm right."

Eventually, they reached the front steps of the house, where only a few of the staff were awake. The rest of the house and family members were already asleep, unaware of the events. The doors of the estate opened for them, and the warm light from inside shined out into the night. Ernest guided Clara through the threshold, his hand still on her waist, supporting her.

"I want the bed now."

"Of course, love. The bed, some food, clean clothes... You'll have it all, anything you want. First, let's get you upstairs. You look like you're about to fall over."

He led her to the staircase, his pace slow and patient as he took the time to help her up each step. His own blue eyes heavy with tiredness, but his care for her never wavered.

Eventually, they reached their chambers. Ernest helped his wife inside. A welcome sight after their long journey. The bed looked soft and inviting. The warm fireplace was already lit and crackling.

He guided her towards the bed, helping her to sit down, and leaned her against the piles of pillows.

"You're safe, my love. You're home."

"I hope Belle..."

"Shhh... My dear Clara darling... Sir Luke Harper will now take good care of her tonight. You need to rest and trust him. And we'll check on Belle first thing in the morning."

"Thanks."

"Of course, my love. It's the least I can do. Now, lay back. You need to rest."

Ernest smiled softly, watching as Clara closed her eyes and started to drift off. He reached forward, gently tucking the blankets around her, making sure she was comfortable and warm. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. They're safe, they're home, and she's finally getting the rest she so desperately needed.

The morning sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as Ernest and Clara made their way down to the stables. The air was crisp and chilly. The morning dew still clinging to the grass. When the couple reached the stables, the familiar sounds and smells of the horses filled the air. The husband lead her towards Belle's stable. His heart was heavy with concern as they didn't know what condition the poor horse might be in.

The horse was lying down, several soft bedrolls and blankets placed beneath her to provide some comfort. A fresh bandage around Belle's injured leg. Immediately, Clara hugged Belle, which brought a soft smile to his face. Ernest could see the relief and love in Clara's eyes as she gently caressed the horse's head. Belle whickered softly, but she responded to Clara's touch and her muscles relaxed slightly.

It was clear that the horse and the countess shared a special bond. A connection that went beyond mere friendship. They're practically inseparable. Two souls joined together by their mutual strength and spirit. That was Team Clara-Belle.

[zilabee]

Snippets from Ticket To Ride, by Larry Kane, a reporter who accompanied the Beatles during the 1964 and 1965 US Tours:

- My own positive relationship with the Beatles was formed early on. Despite my cynical scepticism at the beginning, I became a fan, not only of their professional personas and their music, but also of the individuals they were. What impressed me most about all of them was their indisputable naturalness and, to varying degrees, the depth of their humanity and their lack of phoniness. Another unaffected aspect of their behaviour that was special to watch and be around was their relationship to each other.

- At one point on the tour, as I interviewed Brian Epstein, I mentioned how he seemed so protective of the Beatles. "Well, it is a simple proposition," he explained. "They are special. I believe in them. They should not be compromised or taken advantage of in any form."

- The Dallas police brandished their rifles openly; this was the first time in America that the Beatles had seen rifles at the ready. I got the impression that we would be well protected on this leg of the tour, but the raising of rifles only reinforced the anxiety that the Beatles were feeling. The expressions on their faces, their eyes wandering around, gave me the feeling that they were concerned about their safety.

- On the flight to Ohio, the Beatles seemed joyful. Paul walked up and down the aisle, winking that Paul wink and acting as host of the day. At one point, he stopped by some members of the group Exciter and said jokingly, "Coffee, tea or me?" On the plane Paul was also the biggest walker. He didn't like being confined.

- I knew we were in big trouble when the upholstery of the car's ceiling [started] getting lower, closing in on my face. By sheer force, the eager crowd, jumping on and pressing against the roof of the car, was pushing the metal roof into a dent that evolved into a sinkhole.

Ringo's smile was a wonder to watch.

- The next morning I discovered that the Beatles, or someone in their party, had urinated on the carpets of their suite at the Edgewater. This was the apparent 'plan' Lennon had mentioned to have the last laugh - or in this case the last drop - against local merchants who had planned to cut the rug up and sell it.

- I realised for the first time that this sceptical, cynical reporter was beginning to fall for the music of the Beatles. I was even humming out loud along to the tune, and I continued to do so throughout the evening. Was it the repetition, the hearing of these songs over and over, or was the music beginning to stir my spirits? Whatever the reason, listening to the music was making me feel happy. (Aug 64)

- I was curious, "How many of you have tickets?" Only a few raised their hands. Once again, hundreds, maybe thousands for all I knew, were travelling - and travelling without a chaperone - just to get close to the Beatles. Remember, in those days, teenage girls travelling alone without a parent or guardian was unheard of, but on this ride they were legion.

- Watching Brian Epstein watch the Beatles in complete absorption was one of the most educational sideshows of both great tours. He truly loved their music.

- Much has been said about the static between Paul McCartney and John Lennon after the breakup. But on our tours, we saw nothing but a sensitive closeness between all of them.

- Brian Epstein and Derek Taylor were initially prohibited from getting in making them quite upset. Epstein was also furious that day because Ringo wasn't wearing a tie.

- One of the girls got through and made a wild dash for the elevator. She tripped on a rug and fell to the floor, trapped beneath the weight of two cops. It looked like a football scrimmage. The tape of my conversation with the girl is missing, but I will never forget some of her words. She said, "They're all scumbags, those cops. They suck." She got up, dusted herself off, left the hotel and made it to the street, where she received a round of brief applause from her soulmates.

- The flight from Cleveland to New Orleans featured a magnificent pillow fight, with Lennon and Jackie DeShannon leading the combatants. It was fascinating to watch John Lennon leaping up and down the aisle and - with that eager smile and those penetrating eyes - toying with the pillows and his targets like a five year old in a playground. Practically everyone aboard got involved until a flight attendant, giggling uncontrollably, broke it up.

- One vivid image I'll never forget is of an ice-cream vendor who stopped in place, stared at the Beatles on stage in front of the grandstand and started crying. I said to him, "Is something wrong?" He replied, "No, their music just makes me very happy."

Epstein: I'm very much a Beatles fan. I've probably felt everything that any, um, male Beatles fan ever felt. All the various things I've liked, I think, is what the fans have liked, both in their music and their general manner. To me, in terms of popular music, the Beatles express a cross quality of happiness and tragedy. And this is basically what the greatest form of entertainment is made up of. They in fact do original things. Their songs are always new and different. So are their performances.

- Suddenly I heard the smashing of glass and watched the people inside the lobby rushing toward the windows. When I arrived by the windows myself, the scene was ghastly. Three girls were lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from head and facial injuries. A fourth was up on her feet and trying to stop the blood flowing from her knees. The force of the crowd had pushed these kids through the glass.

- One of the press cars, the one I was in, had a brief upside down experience. Overzealous fans mobbed our vehicle, began to shake it wildly, and ended up rolling it over onto its side. We remained stuck inside for several minutes before the highway patrol were able to right us.

- Ivor Davis (on seeing the Beatles meet Elvis): "We stood a few feet away, trying not to make them feel like prize horses at stud being watched over the fence to see if they'll mate."

- The flight to Indianapolis was subdued, but thankfully it was also short and uneventful. […] Travelling down the aisle later, John broke out a big smile and said, "So how are the nameless, faceless, unidentified news whores doing tonight?"

- Paul was the master host, providing a welcome that made the extremely nervous fans at home and comfortable. In Baltimore, I watched three girls and a boy leave the dressing room and, in the hallway outside, break into tears. They were tears of relief and joy.

- In a corner, John sat quietly and reached into his jacket for his cigarettes. He pulled out a thinner cigarette from his pack, a marijuana joint, and thumbed his lighter to start it. But before he was able to light the joint, Brian Epstein took a quick detour away from chatting with me and a few others, walked over to John, and glowered at him, shaking his head. John slipped the object of his desire back into his jacket pocket, pulled out a legal smoke from his pack, and lit up.

- Art Schreiber: "They were lonely, isolated from the world, both on tour and at home. They couldn't go anywhere. Remember, aside from all the fame and glory, they were young men, barely out of boyhood. I've always been a pretty tough reporter when it came to the people I covered, but let me tell you, they were terrific. I actually started feeling close to them. They really opened up. I was also impressed with how bright they were. They knew how to treat people. They were terrific."

- Paul would look left and right, and wink to a face in the crowd. It was a sexy form of eye candy, tantalizing the crowd with his head gyrations. Paul was a world class flirt when it came to the fans. And they loved him back.

Kane: Will you ever be anything but the Beatles? Paul: We are the Beatles, that's what we are.

[hedgewitchgarden]

By Julia Kane. April 27, 2023. On an overcast Saturday in March, Serina Fast Horse stands in a ring of freshly planted, 12-foot-tall willow cuttings. Soft white buds are just beginning to emerge from their gray stems.

Easing the tips of the willows toward the center of the circle, Fast Horse holds them in place while another volunteer ties them together with twine.

Fast Horse and about three dozen others have gathered at Shwakuk Wetland, five acres of land situated between a residential neighborhood and a freight warehouse in north Portland, just south of Columbia Edgewater Country Club.

In time, the trees they plant and gently shape will grow into a willow dome—a living structure people can gather around for ceremonies, educational programs or just to enjoy the space.

Shwakuk, which is pronounced “show-kayk” and means little frog in Chinook Wawa, is a unique site co-managed by the local Indigenous community and Portland’s Bureau of Environmental Services.

When the city acquired the land in 2016, it was a pumpkin patch.

Since then, the team responsible for stewarding it has worked to restore the wetland. Now it’s used to to cultivate first foods, medicines and basketry plants.

It’s also reconnecting area residents with the land.

Fast Horse, who is Lakota and Blackfeet, serves as a community liaison on the Shwakuk project, bridging the gap between the local Indigenous community and city employees.

Since getting involved with the project, the 28-year-old Portlander has also gone on to found Kimímela Consulting. Her goal is to bring the Indigenous community into environmental decision-making processes at the city and state level.

“When we’re able to come together and uplift Indigenous knowledge—and learn from each other, too, because there are things from western science and ecology that are important for restoration—we can change these systems to be more regenerative,” says Fast Horse.

“Indigenizing” not “de-colonizing”

For Fast Horse, the choice to use the word Indigenize rather than decolonize is intentional.

“When we say Indigenize, it’s centering the Indigenous perspective and being forward-thinking instead of centering colonization and that experience,” she says. 

In restoration work, the Indigenous perspective hasn’t often been taken into consideration.

“Our program has always used native plants, but the selection wasn’t necessarily based on the Indigenous communities’ needs or desires,” says Toby Query, a natural resource ecologist with Portland’s Bureau of Environmental Services. “It was more about what would survive and what would fulfill our agency’s goals as far as shading the water, wildlife habitat and structure, and so forth.”

At Shawkuk, the Indigenous community put together a list of desired plants, which included first foods, medicines and plants used for traditional crafts.

That list has guided Query and the rest of the team involved in day-to-day restoration work at the site.

So far, they’ve had success at growing tule, a sedge used in basketry and canoe-making, along with yarrow, a medicinal plant, and camas, a plant with an edible, bulb-like root. They’ve also planted yampah, a wild carrot.

Instead of spraying herbicide, the restoration team uses vinyl from old billboards to block the sun and kill invasive grasses. Sometimes, they’ll braid invasive grasses around native plants, like yellow dock, horsetail and cattail, so that they stay low to the ground and do not choke out other plants.

“It takes a lot of effort to do it,” says Query, who has spent many hours braiding reed canarygrass alongside workers from Wisdom of the Elders, an Indigenous-led group. “While we were doing it we were enjoying conversation, and it was kind of a healing process.”

Query has implemented many techniques he’s learned from the Indigenous community at the 20 or so sites he stewards across the city.

“It’s really informed what I plant, and how I take care of plants,” he says.

Tending parties, wild tea

Healing is a critical element of Indigenizing restoration work.

In fact, says Fast Horse, “my deepest wish for this work is to bring folks together and to heal our relationships to each other and to the earth.”

At Shwakuk, she’s brought people together by helping organize “tending parties” that attract members of the local Indigenous community, students from Portland State University, city employees and others.

The groups learn about a site, spend a few hours helping with a restoration project and gather for lunch.

Oftentimes, Judy BlueHorse Skelton, an assistant professor at Portland State University who has helped lead the Shwakuk restoration, will make tea for everyone.

She makes the tea using a sprig of Doug fir gathered onsite, and sometimes rosehips, Oregon grape and western redcedar.

“We’re taught that to sip tea together is to become a relative, or to form a relationship,” says BlueHorse Skelton, who is Nez Perce and Cherokee. “It’s also deepening our intimate relationship with the plant world. It’s a big part of Indigenous traditional ecological and cultural knowledge, and it’s embedded in the work that we’re all doing.”

Intern to owner

Restoring Shwakuk was pivotal for Fast Horse, who first got involved with the project as an intern with Environmental Services.

“I was able to be an internal advocate to make sure what the community was saying was being upheld in a really meaningful way,” says Fast Horse. “I would be in these internal meetings, and so that perspective got woven throughout the process.”

In those meetings, the impact that she could have as a community liaison became clear.

From Query’s point of view: “To have somebody that has an Indigenous perspective, but is also willing to be part of the agency side of things, and to be able to walk between those two cultures has been really important.”

Fast Horse began giving presentations about lessons learned from Shwakuk and found that other city agencies and organizations wanted Indigenous input on their projects, too.

Portland has recently become more proactive about reaching out to the Indigenous community. The city hired its first full-time tribal relations director, Laura John, in 2017—a move BlueHorse Skelton says has been “immensely transformative.”

Two years ago, Fast Horse founded her own company, Kimímela Consulting, based in Milwaukie, Ore. She’s continued to act as a liaison between the Indigenous community and various agencies and organizations.

Most of her work has to do with land restoration, but she’s also working with Portland State University to rename a street. The campus’ Native American Student and Community Center is currently located on a street named after President Andrew Jackson, known for enforcing the genocidal Indian Removal Act of 1830.

“She’s been providing a voice and venue for the Indigenous community, including students and folks across all agencies, to get involved—including just the average community member who may not have a voice,” says BlueHorse Skelton.

A reconnected future

According to BlueHorse Skelton, the work that Fast Horse is doing to ensure the Indigenous community is part of decision-making processes is critical.

“When cities look, today, at how to heal, how to begin to restore, how to protect what’s left,” says BlueHorse Skelton, “we have to be part of it.” 

She sees Fast Horse as the first of a new, emerging generation of Indigenous leaders in the region.

“As some of us become elders, who carries that work forward?” BlueHorse Skelton asks. “That’s Serina.”

“A lot of times people put us in the past, and that’s a huge misconception,” says Fast Horse. “We’ve always been adaptable people. We’re not trying to revert back to anything, we’re going into the future.

“We’re all interconnected in this physical and spiritual plane. With Indigenous knowledge, we can reconnect to that and live in a way that is more in line with natural systems that are regenerative and life-giving.”

[missameliep]

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”.

[galaxymermaid214]

—“are you blushing?! that’s adorable.” for Aayla and Max!

Max would never admit it.

He would never admit how much he enjoyed having Aayla around. How much he looked forward to their philosophical conversations and heated debates (a very welcome change from the dullards he was used to conversing with in Edgewater). How much it pleased him to know he was the one she trusted to have her back while on these dangerous missions.

And he refused, absolutely refused to admit how often he thought about holding her in his arms.

They had managed to clear out the group of outlaws guarding the facility on Monarch. But just as Aayla was about to give the all clear, she spotted one that had been in hiding making a run for the back of the building.

"Now where do you suppose they're off to in such a hurry?" Aayla mused. She rose from her position and hurried to follow after them, but she was so focused on her quarry, she failed to notice the small, steaming pool of sulfur she was about to step into.

But Max didn't.

Acting quickly, he grabbed her with his free hand and, in an impressive show of strength, yanked her away and pulled her flush against him. Aayla let out a startled gasp, partly from the suddenness of his action, and partly from how surprisingly solid his chest was.

"May I suggest you worry about where you're going first, Captain?" he rebuked, his tone a mix of annoyance and relief.

"Well, that's what I have you for, isn't it?" Aayla replied, looking up at him with a smile.

He quickly turned his face from her, still intent on scolding her. "I won't always be here to protect you. And you'll need more than pretty words if you expect to survive any length of time in these Architect-forsaken wilds."

"Right, right, point taken." she relented. Never mind the fact that she had saved his tail from being sniped by a outlaw just earlier today, but it wasn't worth picking a fight over. Not when he was this close to her.

...wait, why was he still holding her?

"If you wanted a cuddle luv, all you had to do was ask."

He immediately let go of her.

"D-Don't be absurd!" he shouted louder than he meant to, glaring daggers at the cheeky woman in front of him. One could easily mistake the reddening in his face for anger. But she saw straight through that faux outrage, and decided to press her luck.

"Are you blushing, Vicar?" she giggled. "That is adorable!"

"I am NOT blushing." Max stated through gritted teeth, his darkening face betraying his words. "And I am not continuing this juvenile banter with you." he added as he marched past his giggling mess of a Captain to scout ahead.

It might have been a touch mean of her, but for all the times he got under her skin, a little payback was warranted.

Besides, Aayla enjoyed catching him off guard. Those rare times she could break past the stuffy Vicar façade and see a different side of Maximillian, one that she was quite anxious to get to know better.

But she would never admit it.

Good to know in the midst of my Luis Serra brain-rot I can still write for these two. Thanks so much for the prompt, @lamiahypnosia !

[nancypullen]

Monday, Monday

Oh, I can’t wait for the day when Monday no longer means Mickey dragging down the hallway to sit in front of a screen all day.  He’s good at his job, and most days he actually enjoys it (that might be stretching the truth a bit), but he’s a little over a year from retirement and the grind is getting to him.  I bite my tongue and do not point out that he doesn’t fight traffic, he doesn’t even have to put pants on if he doesn’t feel like it, and his lovely assistant provides a delicious and nutritious lunch every day. He’s got it better than a lot of people, but no one wants to hear that when you’ve worked since your teens and you’re ready to relax and reap the benefits of all that hard work. In other words, Mondays around here are still a bummer.  I try not to be too chipper and I made Monday my bathroom cleaning and laundry day just so I can suffer a little in sympathy.  I probably have a better time cleaning toilets than he does at his desk.  In other news, it was raining Etsy boxes at my house today.

  I’ve used all but about three dollars of my gift certificates and I think I chose wisely.  Garden stuff, hobby stuff, a little jewelry, and this little mouse came all the way from the UK.

Now she’s here to keep my art room tidy.   Anyone recognize her? That’s Hunca Munca from Beatrix Potter’s  A Tale of Two Bad Mice.  She and her husband, Tom Thumb, left their mousehole because the temptation of a dollhouse was just too much.  Once inside the dollhouse they were so disappointed that all of the delicious-looking food was fake that they made quite a mess. SHe felt awful about it and now very early every morning Hunca Munca tidies the dollhouse before anyone wakes.  I’m hoping she’ll do the same around here. If not, at least she makes me smile.

And in the name of tidying up, I’ve been trying to make the most of the pantry space and get it organized.  This was the vision I had...

Yeahhhh, I don’t have that kind of pantry.

I have a long way to go, but I’ve labeled areas so I can start placing similar items in groups and eventually I’ll have lots of pretty baskets ad labeled containers.  But for right now it looks like this.

That’s just one corner. I also have sections for table linens, small appliances, baking stuff, and so on. It’s not pretty yet, but it’s functional.  Even though it’s not pretty, I have to admit that I love opening the doors and seeing Ina Garten smiling at me.

Right now I’m really wishing I’d painted the walls behind those ugly metal shelves.  You know darn well I’d paint them a soft, pale pink and make it all girly. Great, now I’m thinking pink and you know once I get it in my head....Mickey will hate hearing this idea.  I’d also love to replace those wire/metal shelves with some dark stained wood.  Bet he’ll fight me on that.  You all already know I’m going to have a pink pantry with dark shelves, right?   Anywayyyy, big weekend coming up.  The Edgewaters are escaping for a romantic weekend and that means that Little Miss is staying with us.  I’m brainstorming some fun stuff for us to do, but entertainment will not be a problem - my sister is driving over on Saturday morning!  She’s down from Maine for the winter and she wants to pop in and see us.  Actually, she wants to giggle with the grandgirl and I think it will be a hoot to see that her Grancy has a sister.  I’ll tell her we’re like Elsa and Anna except very, very old.  I’m sure the three of us can stir up some fun.

That said, here’s my quandary.  The Miss Universe pageant is Saturday night.  You know how I am about that particular event.  I’ve been doing my research, getting glimpses of national costumes, hoping for a peek at evening gowns.  I’m excited.  So, do I turn it on and let the grandgirl stay up past her bedtime to see princesses from around the world?  If I do that, there will be running commentary.  Also, her parents may not want her watching a pageant. Do I record it and watch it Monday night after we return her to her rightful owners?  I’d have to be very careful not to watch or read any news that might spoil it.  Does this seem frivolous - yes, of course. Would I give up pageants forever for weekends with her? Absolutely. But this is my Super Bowl and I enjoy the heck out of it.  I’m thinking I’ll play it safe and watch it on Monday.   I really don’t need her telling her parents that she stayed up and watched a show where women walked around in swimsuits in exchange for a big diamond crown. Mmmkay, I think I’ll head upstairs and take a bubble bath.  The mister is watching the Georgia-Texas game, apparently this is a big one.  If I go take a bath now I can stay upstairs and turn that tv to murder.  Either that or I can browse pink paint samples for the pantry.  Mickey will probably consider that a crime. Hope you’ve had a pleasant Monday.  If not, then I’m glad it’s over. May the rest of your week be surprisingly fun. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[books-to-add-to-your-tbr]

Title: The Prom

Author: Saundra Mitchell, Bob Martin, Chad Beguelin, Matthew Sklar

Series or standalone: standalone

Publication year: 2019

Genres: fiction, LGBT+, romance, contemporary

Blurb: 17-year-old Emma Nolan wants only one thing before she graduates: to dance with her girlfriend at the senior prom...but in her small town of Edgewater, Indiana, that’s like asking for the moon. Alyssa Greene is her high school’s it girl - popular, head of the student council, and daughter of the PTA president. She also has a secret: she’s been dating Emma for the last year and a half. When word gets out that Emma plans to bring a girl as her date, it stirs a community-wide uproar that spirals out of control. Now, the PTA - led by Alyssa’s mother - is threatening to cancel the prom altogether. Enter Barry Glickman and Dee Dee Allen, two Broadway has-beens who see Emma’s story as the perfect opportunity to restore their place in the limelight...but when they arrive in Indiana to fight on Emma’s behalf, their good intentions go quickly south. Between Emma facing the fray head-on, Alyssa wavering about coming out, and Barry and Dee Dee basking in all the attention, it’s the perfect prom storm. Only when this unlikely group comes together do they realise that love is always worth fighting for.

[izafoodie]

Terra, One Thousand Group and Major Food Group Break Ground on Villa Miami in Edgewater - PROFILE Miami

Terra, One Thousand Group and Major Food Group Break Ground on Villa Miami in Edgewater  PROFILE Miami http://dlvr.it/TGh5wc

[tennis-sports]

Edgewater Tennis: A Local Gem for Tennis Enthusiasts

Nestled in a vibrant community, Edgewater Tennis has become a go-to location for players of all ages and skill levels, offering a fantastic blend of competitive play, skill-building opportunities, and a supportive community. Drawing inspiration from the structured, skill-driven approach of Tennis Prime, Edgewater Tennis is tailored for both beginners and advanced players, blending accessible programming with expert coaching. Here’s a closer look at what makes Edgewater Tennis an outstanding option for anyone looking to get involved in the game.

A Focus on Comprehensive Coaching and Skill Development

One of the standout aspects of Edgewater Tennis is its dedication to fostering player growth through structured coaching. Following an approach similar to that of Tennis Prime, Edgewater Tennis prioritizes foundational skills, focusing on proper technique, agility, and endurance. The facility offers a range of programs for players at various skill levels, ensuring that everyone can advance at their own pace with high-quality guidance. Coaches work one-on-one and in group settings to instill the basics while introducing advanced strategies as players progress.

Youth Programs: Inspiring the Next Generation

Youth development is a primary focus, with tennis lessons designed to inspire and equip young players with the skills they need for lifelong enjoyment of the sport. Edgewater Tennis’ youth programs place an emphasis on making learning fun while focusing on discipline, teamwork, and respect for the game. Through drills, exercises, and competitive matches, young athletes learn tennis fundamentals and develop a strong foundation for future growth.

Advanced Programs: Pushing Skills to New Heights

For experienced players looking to refine their skills, Edgewater Tennis offers advanced training programs, including intensive clinics and private coaching. These sessions are designed to help players improve their game through drills that enhance footwork, precision, and strategic play. The facility also runs competitive leagues and tournaments that give advanced players a chance to test their skills in a competitive environment.

Community-Centered Events and Social Leagues

Edgewater Tennis understands the importance of building a community around the game. From social leagues to friendly doubles tournaments, the facility provides plenty of ways to meet other tennis enthusiasts. Events like round-robin tournaments, family tennis days, and social mixers make it easy to connect with other players, share tips, and enjoy the game’s social aspect.

Top-Notch Facilities and Court Accessibility

Equipped with well-maintained courts, Edgewater Tennis offers both indoor and outdoor options, accommodating play in various weather conditions. The facility makes it easy for members to reserve courts through an online booking system, ensuring they get ample time to practice and play.

Personalized Player Development: The Tennis Prime Approach

Echoing Tennis Prime’s approach to personalized player development, Edgewater Tennis adopts a tailored progression system that emphasizes mastery at every stage. Coaches track each player’s improvement and adjust training plans to target specific needs. This individualized attention ensures that players are continually challenged and progressing, resulting in a rewarding and dynamic tennis experience.

Conclusion

Edgewater Tennis stands out as a premier tennis destination that champions skill, community, and growth. Whether you’re a beginner eager to learn or a seasoned player looking to sharpen your competitive edge, Edgewater Tennis offers a welcoming space and a structured pathway to improvement. With its dedication to excellence and a supportive community, Edgewater Tennis is not only a place to play but a place to belong.for more details visit tennisprime.

[urgefitnessedgewaterpark]

Website : https://www.urgefitness.com/edgewater-park/

Address : 4355 South Route 130, Edgewater Park, NJ 08010

Phone : +1 609-216-7456

URGE Fitness is New Jersey and Pennsylvania’s best and most affordable 24-Hour Gym and Personal Training fitness center. New weights and state-of-the-art machines compliment a schedule of the hottest group fitness classes, including Aerial Yoga, TRX, Zumba, Cycling, and much more!

Business Mail : edgewaterpark@urgefitness.com

[computerrepairgroup3]

Computer Repair Group

WEBSITE: https://www.computerrepairgroup.com.au/

Address: 32 Edgewater Drive Bella Vista NSW 2153

PHONE: 04 3111 1111

Computer / Technology

Computer Repair Group is one of the leading Computer Repair Service Centres in Sydney, Australia. We are a gold certified Microsoft Partner and offer data recovery, software solutions, network setup, onsite installations, fault finding, upgrades and new or replacement parts to all of our clients. Our mobile vans also carry a huge range of new PC’s and peripherals such as switches, modems, routers, printers, laptops, video cards, memory, dvd-roms and much more. We have built a reputation of customer satisfaction through technical excellence and friendly staff.

Keywords: Data Recovery, Password Recovery, Desktop Fault Finding, Laptop Fault Finding, Desktop Repairs, Laptop Repairs, Ethernet Printer installations, Wireless Printer installations, Network Upgrades, Wireless Installations, Backup solutions, Mobile Services

EMAIL: office@computerrepairgroup.com.au

[virtualofficeforyou]

Virtual Offices Sizzle in the Magic City

From the gleaming towers of Brickell to the vibrant streets of Wynwood, Miami's business landscape is embracing a new trend: virtual offices. These services are reshaping how companies establish their presence in one of Florida's most dynamic and diverse markets.

In downtown Miami, where Biscayne Bay views come at a premium, entire floors of sleek high-rises are now dedicated to virtual office spaces. These services offer prestigious Brickell Avenue or Biscayne Boulevard addresses to businesses ranging from Latin American startups to European firms seeking a foothold in the Americas.

"A Miami address opens doors across two continents," explains a fintech entrepreneur using a virtual office. "It gives us credibility in both North and South American markets, even though our team is distributed across the hemisphere."

The trend extends beyond the urban core. In Coral Gables, known for its Mediterranean-style architecture and international business community, virtual offices are helping boutique financial firms and law practices maintain a prestigious address without the overhead of traditional office space.

Miami Beach is putting its own spin on the virtual office trend. Some providers offer clients access to beachfront meeting rooms and networking events at trendy hotels. "It's about blending business with the Miami lifestyle," notes one service provider.

The bustling Port of Miami is driving demand for virtual offices among logistics and import-export businesses. These services allow companies to have a presence near the port without the need for large warehouses or offices. "It's crucial for our operations, but we don't need to be there physically every day," explains a shipping consultant.

Miami's role as a gateway to Latin America is amplifying the virtual office trend. In Doral, often referred to as "Doralzuela" due to its large Venezuelan population, virtual offices are helping entrepreneurs from Latin America establish a U.S. presence. "It's a low-risk way to enter the market," says an economic development official.

The trend is also impacting Miami's growing tech scene. In Wynwood, known for its street art and innovation hubs, virtual offices are helping startups maintain a hip address while working remotely. "It gives us the Wynwood vibe without burning through our funding on rent," a software developer explains.

However, the virtual office boom isn't without challenges. In a city known for its networking culture and face-to-face dealings, some worry about the loss of personal connections. To address this, business groups are organizing events specifically for virtual office users. A chamber of commerce representative explains, "We want these businesses to feel part of Miami's vibrant community, even if they're not physically here every day."

Some virtual office providers are getting creative with their offerings. In Coconut Grove, one service includes access to sailing club facilities and boat charters for clients. "It's about integrating business with Miami's nautical lifestyle," the owner states.

The trend is also influencing real estate development. In areas like Edgewater and Little Haiti, new mixed-use projects are incorporating virtual office services. "We're designing for a future where work arrangements are more fluid," notes an urban planner.

Local economic development agencies are taking notice. They're exploring how virtual offices in Miami could be leveraged to attract more international businesses to Miami. "It could be a gateway for companies to establish a presence here without the initial hurdle of securing physical space," a city official suggests.

As Miami continues to evolve as a global business hub, virtual offices are providing flexible solutions for companies of all sizes. From finance to tech, these virtual spaces are becoming as much a part of the Miami business scene as Cuban coffee and Art Deco architecture.

Whether housed in modern skyscrapers or converted warehouses, virtual offices are helping Miami businesses stay competitive in a rapidly changing work environment. In a city known for its diversity and innovation, virtual offices may be the next big thing in how business gets done in the Magic City.

[fervidus]

tw: gun violence

Liana Obasi was born to parents Solomon and Irina Obasi in Edgewater, California. Raised as an only child, Liana believes that she is fortunate that she has always been a social butterfly. She was fast friends with a lot of the kids in Edgewater. Two years younger than Bode Leone and Jake Crawford, she was well acquainted with them, Eve Edwards, and Riley Leone due to her father also being a firefighter with Cal Fire. She was engrossed in cheerleading from elementary school onward and would switch between obsessing over different crafty hobbies every few months.

When she was a sophomore in high school, her father was killed on the job. Devastation didn't begin to cover her emotions and this was only further compounded by her mother having to make the tough decision to move them to Texas with her parents as she didn't make enough as a part time waitress at Smokey's to afford their lives in Edgewater. Despite her grief, Liana pushed through her remaining years of high school and even made a national competition with her cheer squad. She got her work permit when she was 15 and worked after school to help take some financial stress off of her mom and be able to afford more of the things she wanted to do to preoccupy her mind.

Upon graduating from high school, Liana really had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. A gap year working two jobs turned into eventually deciding to get a business degree at an online university. She wanted to turn her passion for crafting into a career, especially as the boom of small business continued to grow with websites like Etsy. She has honed in specifically on making custom signs, keychains, and lots of crocheting but she also likes to try to pick up new things and see how well they sell. Liana kept a job as a bar manager, even as her small business ventures started to pick up to keep an extra cash flow.

In the romance department, Liana tended to fall hard and fast, but her relationships never seemed to make it past the six month mark for long if at all. Her longest term relationship was with a woman named Willow Chapman. They were together for a year and a half when Liana got the call that her mother had been killed at a shooting at a community pop up market. Living in a world without both of her parents felt extremely isolating and while she had her mom's family, her girlfriend, and a group of friends surrounding her, Liana withdrew into herself.

She tried for six months to go through the motions, but realized nothing was getting better. Her heart yearned for the happiness of her childhood away from the hustle and bustle of Austin, Texas that had been her home since. In a rather rash decision, Liana broke up with Willow and packed up all of her things. She gave her grandparents the keys to her mother's small home and boarded a plane to her hometown of Edgewater in search of a sense of familiarity and comfort. She gets a job at Smokey's Tavern as a bartender and is shocked to find out how much has changed since she's been gone.

[kumarumang5566]

The Best Places to Stay in Winter Garden, Florida: Hotels and Rentals.

Located just a stone's throw away from Orlando, Winter Garden, Florida, offers a charming escape from the hustle and bustle of city life. Whether you're visiting for its historic downtown, vibrant cultural scene, or proximity to the area's renowned theme parks, finding the perfect place to stay is essential for a memorable trip. Here are some of the best options for accommodations in Winter Garden, Florida:

1. The Edgewater Hotel

Nestled along the shores of Lake Apopka, The Edgewater Hotel combines old-world charm with modern amenities. This boutique hotel boasts elegantly appointed rooms, many of which offer breathtaking views of the lake. Guests can enjoy complimentary breakfast at the on-site restaurant, as well as access to the hotel's fitness center and outdoor pool. With its prime location in downtown Winter Garden, The Edgewater Hotel is within walking distance of shops, restaurants, and local attractions.

2. The Historic Edgewater Hotel

For those seeking a truly unique experience, The Historic Edgewater Hotel offers a glimpse into Winter Garden's past. Originally built in 1927, this recently renovated hotel features cozy rooms and suites adorned with antique furnishings and luxurious linens. Guests can unwind in the hotel's courtyard garden or explore the nearby Plant Street Market, home to a variety of artisanal vendors and eateries. With its historic charm and convenient location, The Historic Edgewater Hotel is a favorite among travelers seeking a one-of-a-kind stay.

3. Vacation Rentals

For a more personalized experience, consider booking a vacation rental in Winter Garden. From cozy cottages to spacious villas, there are plenty of options to suit every budget and preference. Many rentals offer fully equipped kitchens, private pools, and outdoor grilling areas, making them perfect for families or groups. Plus, staying in a vacation rental allows you to immerse yourself in the local community and experience Winter Garden like a true local.

4. The Garden Bungalow

Located just steps away from downtown Winter Garden, The Garden Bungalow offers a cozy retreat for couples or solo travelers. This charming guesthouse features a private entrance, queen-sized bed, and modern amenities such as a mini-fridge and coffee maker. Guests can relax on the bungalow's private patio or take a leisurely stroll to nearby shops and restaurants. With its intimate atmosphere and convenient location, The Garden Bungalow is ideal for those seeking a peaceful getaway.

5. The Grove Resort & Water Park

For families looking to experience the magic of Orlando's theme parks, The Grove Resort & Water Park is an excellent choice. Situated just a short drive from Walt Disney World Resort, this sprawling resort offers spacious suites with fully equipped kitchens, separate living areas, and private balconies. Guests can enjoy access to the resort's on-site water park, multiple swimming pools, and full-service spa. Plus, with complimentary shuttle service to the area's theme parks, The Grove Resort & Water Park makes it easy to explore all that Orlando has to offer.

In conclusion, Winter Garden, Florida, offers a diverse array of accommodations to suit every traveler's needs. Whether you prefer the charm of a historic hotel, the comfort of a vacation rental, or the convenience of a resort, you're sure to find the perfect place to stay in this quaint town. So pack your bags and get ready to experience the magic of Winter Garden!