THE SECRETS WE KEEP.

- THE SENTIMENTAL QUESTION (PART 2).

hey everybody! this chapter is a lot longer than the other part but it was one of my favourites to write, i truly have loved conversing to you all the next step joe and dianne have taken in their relationship. my main question for today, if perhaps you did not see my late night tweet (i'm guessing not!) is that, with dianne travelling back to australia right now, it gave me a MASSIVE muse to write oneshots. i was just wondering, if you would be interested in seeing my writing in these short little bursts would be something you'd be interested in. let me know in the comments and i hope you enjoy this chapter!

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DIANNES POV:
"Dianne Buswell, you are a princess," Liv's under the breath mutterings embodied her satisfaction in the sharp recovery success. Successing an attire try-on for her approval, an instant surge of shock squashed the tranquility acquired after the tireless afternoon dash of celebs and pros receiving full makeovers at the unbalanced match of her masterpiece upon my face. Swiftly, a replacement shade of rouge was applied to my lips, nicknamed the ridiculous term of 'flamenco red' - an intensity tinge Liv could only wish to wed. While Liv hauled helpless artists away from their serene tea breaks, my eyes inspected the various makeup products scattered across the tables surface area, then along the LED light fixtures, catching a glimpse of myself in the reflective surface, this mirroring display stimulating minor grins. There was never an occasion to exist that a compliment in appreciation of my looks would willingly trickle off my tongue into the earshot of surrounding individuals. Whether the finest choice of glam squads in all of London caked my face from powder to foundation or the premier couturier tailoring a ballroom to my exact measurements were working their Fairy Godmother magic on me, there was no chance that my opinion of myself could reflect in a positive fashion. Yet, in a shock occurance, the woman in the mirror did not seem like myself in any way. My duplicate twin paralleled the frayed images of a 50s model or actress, accoutre head to toe in pure spite attire towards the derogatory media outlets slandering her marital relationship issues. Vermillion ripples had been foamed luxuriously that the locks fluttered to the floor with elegance, adorning an elaborate turquoise feather to bind any rebellious escapes. The powdering was a light dusting, discreet on first glances, assumed to be natural beauty, but the striking red lip exuded a fiery confidence to the crowds. Finally, her gown, the masterpiece it was. A truly inspired creation from the many women who preceded her existence. A ruffled skirt that is a replica shade to the turquoise head piece against a sparkling cream bodice that shimmered underneath the simple ceiling lights, creating anticipation for the real event.

The disturbingly distracting reflection to my intellection meant that the two sets of palms clasping around my shoulders perturbed me out of this appeared self-absorbed stare and into the tangible reality of surrounding open saucers. Joining me in the mirroring display was Janette and Aljaz, with sneaky grins plastered across their lips, portraying that ideal of retaining more information than inclined to disclose. "You're needed for a steal please Di," Janette raised a question, tightening her controlling grip around my body. Before the chance arose for my queries to her question, my body was lifted from the chair and tugged in a familiar pathway, one at which my foots retraced many hours prior.

Our little journey, licensing an observation of the crew and producers fabrication from this once vacant lifeless studio into a momentous room of huge significance, came to its concluding halt in the acquainted archway. While their fingers still clutched the loose fluff coat concealing the brew of internal body heat, their tight hook cementing the balls of my feet to the carpet, it permitted my eyes a surveying inspection of this little square box for any indication of our visits purpose. Instantly, that collection of unruly tresses belonging to none other than my dance partner tugged the corners of my lips into the thick skin of my cheeks. Aljaz's trust was deposited into the safety of Janette to maintain her firm grasp of me, his hand slithering around my side to gently strike the wood with his fist in a beating sequence - a presumed signal agreed beforehand within this new found friendship. As my head lightly span in their direction, both attentive figures were lost from sight. "Wow.." a familiar utterance ahead of me caused my head to jerk in that direction, an immediate heart swell at the sight of this man fiddling with his jacket from the nervousness of the upcoming night.