Pessimist

33 - Event

"Dean, come help me with this dress." I called out from my room, currently stuck in a South Asian style dress Ayesha was kind enough to lend me for her party later today. I was out of breath from the struggle, my arms frozen above my head and face scratchy from the sewn in diamonds as I waited for his footsteps.

I could feel him pause at the scene, taking me in and I only sighed in defeat. I looked like I was stuck in a wormhole of pretty fabric. The dress was long enough that I didn't need to wear any leggings underneath, standing in my underwear and bra as Dean failed to hide his amusement.

"You look nice." He said lightly, grabbing ahold of the end of the dress and yanking it down. Once it fell past my knees I blew hair out of my face and playfully shoved him aside, seeing him dressed and ready in shalwar kameez Ayesha's brother let him borrow.

"And you look like the white boy my mom told me not to tangle with."

His amusement only rose as he sat on my bed, watching me clip my hair back so I could start my makeup.

"Will the other aunties only see me as a white boy as well?"

"No, you'll be treated kindly. I, however, will be seen as a disgrace...I fucked you before marrige."

I could see him slant his head to the side in confusion. "We never fucked."

While smearing primer on my face, I turned. "You've seen me naked, baby. That's enough scandle to put me in jahannum."

"Jahannum?"

"Hell."

"Fuck."

I cracked a smile at that, moving onto my other products and Dean stayed silent, watching me intently from the bed. My hair was already washed and dried, the curly strands resting half an inch above my shoulder and I would probably leave it out. The dawat or get together Ayesha was having was set at a banquet with dozens of guests, and when it came to brown people you could never be overdressed.

I had finally finished my face and set it with spray, going over to my bed to strap on my heels when Dean gently pushed me to sit, switching our positions so he was the one on his knees in front of me with one of my heels in hand. Silently, I put out my feet with a fresh pedi I did myself yesterday and reached out to run my hands through his hair.

"You've met Ayesha's family before, right?" I asked to fill in the silence as he worked on securing the strap.

"Twice." He shrugged. "It was at Zayn's sister's wedding."

"Zayn has a sister?"

"He has two."

"Goodness, I thought he was an only child. He never brings them up."

"Well he is the youngest," Dean slid my lehenga up so he could bend forward and kiss my inner thigh before moving on to the other foot. "Both of his sisters are married and gone. They have about four and six year difference to him."

"Ah, that makes sense. Will Zayn's family also be coming then? It seems like their families are close."

Dean was silent for a few seconds making me frown as he finished strapping my other foot. I sat up, taking his face in my hands.

"Not close?"

"Zayn's parents went through a messy divorce...his father wasn't very..."

Ah. I understood immediately, instantly feeling sad for Zayn. Growing up with a parent who didn't love you like they're supposed to was heartbreaking and damaging.

"He would sometimes stay over at Ayesha's house when things got too bad and then eventually moved out."

"I'm glad he has you." I told Dean, finding his friend group so precious. They may not have been family by blood, but they were every bit more than mine ever was.