casablanca, ˚⊹ trent alexander-arnold

004. ❝teasing❞

Trent held his hands up in defeat. "You're totally right, we are terrible."

"Not all of you." she nodded at him knowingly, and a part of him deep down hoped she had meant it how it seemed; towards him.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

004. - TEASING

"You know," Yara began, taking a sip of her cappuccino. "It seems like you're avoiding the question." 

Trent rolled his eyes. "I'm not. I'm in Morocco for work." he told her. And this time, he truly wasn't lying.

Yara narrowed her eyes at him. "I've seen you frolic about with no responsibilities both during the night and during the day. When exactly is it, that you actually do any work?"

"Well, for your information." Trent scoffed. "I've finished for the day. I worked from seven-thirty to eleven this morning."

"Doing what?" the corners of her lips crinkled upwards slightly.

"Nope," Trent shook his head, popping the 'p'. "Your turn."

"Fine." Yara sighed, contemplating how she would go about her answer. "I work up in the palace." she gestured behind her, although that wasn't even the direction of the palace. It was more for effect, she decided.

The boys eyebrows raised; he was either curious or dare he say...impressed?

Trent allowed his face to go lax once again, not wanting to give any of his thoughts away. "Doing what?" 

"I just asked you that and you complained." Yara pointed at him.

"I did not." Trent folded his arms. "Why are you so secretive, hm?" he bit his lip, and he watched her watch him with a smirk.

"Why are YOU." Yara retorted, even going as far as to mirror his body language and fold her own arms.

"I'm just reflecting off your words and actions!" Trent responded, easing his body language slightly as he didn't want to seem to the girl like he was actually confrontational.

"Well," Yara nodded at him. "Maybe I'm just reflecting off yours."

Trent leaned back in his chair. "Alright, so now we've reached a stalemate. You won't move if I won't move, and I won't move if you won't move. What now?" he chuckled.

"Stalemate." Yara repeated. "You like chess?"

"I play sometimes." he smiled at her.

She decided to move on from this, knowing how good she was at the game. "Alright. So tell me something that wouldn't breach Trent-fidentiality then. Where did you grow up?"

Trent laughed heartily at the word she had created. "A little commune called Larkhill, in the north of England."

"Is it nice?" Yara stared at him inquisitively.

"I'm not sure everyone would say that." Trent told her truthfully. "But to me, it's home. And I love home."

Yara's expression softened, and she exchanged with him a small, genuine smile. "That's a lovely sentiment."

"And you?" Trent grinned.

"Right here," Yara pointed all around them. "I'd never left the borders of this city until I was perhaps sixteen."