In Drunken Matrimony ✔️

Fifteen - A Recipe For Disaster

Hᴀʟʟɪᴇ

Nervous. Astonishing so.

An emotion etched on to Oliver's face too, as I call Charlotte to my room to seek her assistance in attire for this evening. I've offered for her to wear one of my many dress tops, in the hopes it will aid in her remembering that while my sister is certainly the devil in disguise, I am not.

"Do you even have the opportunity to wear all this stuff?" She asks in bewilderment, skimming her fingers across the fabrics of my hanging clothes.

"Most I wear once, then never again." I tell her truthfully as I observe my profile in the mirror, ensuring there is nothing for Helena to comment on. Not a smudge in my makeup, not a hair out of place.

Charlotte hums, in what could easily be understanding or derision, and pulls at a sleeve. "I like this." I cast a glance to the blush satin shirt she holds, beneath it strung a white body suit. "Would you mind?"

I shake my head and gesture for her to take it. She does, stepping briefly into my wardrobe to change. It suits her, far more than in ever did me - the buttons done, but left open enough so that the left sleeve slopes off of her shoulder and allows a peek at the body suit beneath. I tell her how good it looks, with upmost sincerity. "You should keep it."

"Seriously?" I nod emphatically as she looks down on herself. "It's probably worth more than my car." Laughing, I shake my head and make my way towards my clothes. "Are you sure it looks okay with the jeans?"

I critique her. "Tuck the front in." She does as suggested and already seems far happier with the fit, smiling beneath the curtain of mocha hair that shield her face as she bows her head. "Now, just to figure out what I'll wear."

"Isn't it strange for you? Dressing up to have dinner at home." Charlotte asks, sitting herself at the vanity I just vacated. "I mean, at home, we were lucky if my brothers put on a t-shirt for dinner."

Succeeding a laugh, I sigh, unhooking a few options of pants and tops. "I've never known different - we always dressed smart for dinner at home." She hums again. "Besides, Helena can be... particular, and I'd rather not give her ammunition to belittle me."

Out of sight, I dress myself - a sheer white top fashioned to resemble a blazer, with lapels and organza sleeves. The white vest top beneath it ensures my modesty, as I would hate to have a rerun of the disapproval I earned my last meal with family.

"Particular how?" Charlotte asks as I pull on my leather pants, tightening the buckle attached to keep the shirt tucked in.

"She's - well, she's just not a very nice person." I answer bluntly, showing myself with a small smile to Charlotte. "She's always been competitive; any opportunity to outshine."

"Sounds wonderful." She mumbles. I grimace.

Charlotte watches as I comb my fingers though the loose curls of my blonde hair. "Oliver has mentioned that you're not afraid to speak your thoughts," I trail off, not entirely sure how I can ask this of her without being wildly disrespectful.

"You want me to hold my tongue." She finishes my request without prompt. My eyes widen in concern. "It's alright. I am known to be quite problematic. Oliver's already asked me the same." I lose my held breath, prepared to thank her graciously, and assure her that I don't think badly of her, despite the rather concerning stories her brother and boyfriend have told me, but Oliver shows himself at the threshold of my door.

"Your wonderful sister is here." His sing-song tone is pained, brows risen as he silently urges me to join him. I nod in understanding, following behind him, and Charlotte behind me, as we continue downstairs, soon met by the shrill ring of my sister girlish laughter - laughter that often accompanies her shameless flirting. I find myself nearly dizzy at the notion.