casablanca, ˚⊹ trent alexander-arnold

005. ❝grass is always greener❞

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.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

005.- "GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER"

It had been a week since Yara had last seen Trent.

Their last encounter was at the bazaar they had met at, after having shared a telling conversation over varied forms of espresso at Yara's favourite coffee stop.

She had assumed that his trip was over; that he had travelled back home. Until one night, when she had once again embarked on her evening endeavours amongst the streets of Casablanca, when she spotted him dithering on the spot right next to that bazaar.

"Trent?" Yara frowned under the high neck of her cloak. "What are you doing?"

"Hi," he responded sheepishly. "I waited here yesterday, but you never came."

Yara rolled her eyes. "I never go out on Tuesday evenings." she stated indignantly. "I'm busy..." she faltered, contemplating. "Working."

"Right well, clearly I didn't give up so maybe I deserve a little more than an eye roll?" Trent took a step closer to the girl.

"It was done in a joking manner." Yara told him softly, taken aback by the boldness of his proximity.

"Maybe I'm not in the mood to joke," Trent retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.

Yara sighed. "What are you plotting, English boy? Why did you wait here?"

"I came to ask you something." he quietly informed her, before raising his hand to her face and pulling her cloak down slightly. "Why would you hide such pretty lips, hm?"

As his knuckles gently grazed her jaw, Yara felt the electricity course from their point of interaction; all the way down from head to toe. 

Yara pushed his hand down gently, shivering under his touch. "What did you want to ask me?" she cleared her throat, trying to sound as unfazed by his actions as possible.

"If you'll let me take you out for dinner," Trent grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. The most inviting mischief Yara had ever experienced.

What he was proposing was logistically going to be a problem. She could never arrange plans, as she would have to inform her parents of them first. And then, she would have to have a group of security with her at all times, and that was if they even said yes. Which was in itself, highly unlikely.

Yara offered him a weak smile, somewhat pre-making reparations for the very possible case that she had to let him down. "When were you thinking?" she glanced at him earnestly.

"Right now?" He idly played with his fingers. Was he nervous?

"Right now?" Yara repeated, part shocked yet part elated.

"Yes, that is what I said, Faiza." Trent shot her a dull look.

"A bit last minute, no?" Yara laughed hesitantly, once again caught off guard by the name.