Style // 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

16.

Monday

"Stella, food's ready!" I knock on her bedroom door.

I quickly check the table behind me, laid out beautifully with home-made spaghetti bolognese dished up ready. Not the fanciest meal, but I know it's Stella's favourite. Served along with a large glass of her Barbaresco red wine. Again, Stella's favourite. A quiet dinner by the candlelight, the perfect way to end a hard day.

The perfect way to get back in her good books.

Stella is still mad that me and Elliot turned each other down. Still ! Even after I explained to her that we both agreed to not date- it wasn't just him getting rejected! She's told her poor nurse Sofia all about it, who then told my nurse Andrea at lunch, who then gossiped it all back to me in the afternoon. She has seriously been mad .All. Day. Long.

I stand by the table with a smile, watching as the door knob to her room twists. She struts out wearing a little black dress, chunky Dr Martens boots (which are mine) and a matching black trench coat. Her make up is done to perfection, and her hair is poker straight. Not exactly an outfit you'd wear around the house. She freezes to the spot as she gasps, her manicured hand hiding her gaping open mouth.

"Oh my God, that looks amazing Emma." Stella says quietly, flickering her eyes all over the scene infant of her.

"You're going out, aren't you?" I ask with a curt tone, crossing my arms.

She pauses, the hand across her face dropping down to hold her clutch bag. "Yeah."

Great. "Where are you going?"

"Mark is taking me to La Rontonde in Nice." She beams, her eyes glowing with excitement. "He's driving us."

"Oh, not too far away then huh?" I scoff with a smile, shaking my head. "Are you coming back?"

"Eventually." She shrugs, followed by a sudden 'ooo' sound, like an owl. "You should invite Elliot over!"

I exhale through my nose as I look down at the table. It is set up like a perfect date, a great way to get to know Elliot a bit more without being surrounded by rich, egotistical strangers in a club. However, the first person that comes to mind is the last person Stella wants me to think about. I look back to her, giving a convincing smile.

"I'll think about it." I say, which is enough to get back into her good books. "When is Mark getting here?"

Stella hums as she looks at the dainty silver watch on her wrist, swishing her glossy hair off her face. "Should be about now."

On cue, a horn beeps twice, catching our attention. I walk over to the window, peering down at the street below. A classic car in cobalt blue rolls effortlessly onto the pavement, the white race stripes glinting in the sharp sunset. A man in a white shirt and glasses steps out the car, sorting his rolled cuffs before leaning against the side of the bonnet. Even seeing him stood a couple floors down, I still can't remember his face from the night out.

"Bloody hell Stell, what car has he got?" I ask, my face practically pressed into the glass.

"A Shelby Cobra 427." She chirps, pulling a swanky pair of glasses out her pocket. "1967, it's a classic."

"Damn." I mumble, noticing a tourist passing by sneaking their phone from their pocket.

"See you tomorrow, let me know how it goes with Elliot!" She squeals, grabbing her keys and dashing out the door. "Thanks for letting me borrow your boots!"

"You didn't even-!" I cut myself off as the front door slams. "Ask."

I stay close to the window, waiting to see Stella go off with Mark. The lawyer mindlessly looks around as more and more phones slip out of pockets, some people not bothering to be discreet. Half of the cameras come to a pause as Stella sashays out the building, a broad smile on her face as she approaches Mark. I scoff as they peck each other on the cheek, acting like a posh couple made of money. They're going to be just as bad as each other.

I pull my phone from my pocket, using one hand to put two bowls over the food on the table to keep it warm. I open up my texts, my thumb pausing as Elliot's name is just underneath Charles'. I'm partially tempted to text Elliot, like Stella told me to do, but the urge to text Charles is stronger. Elliot's name disappears as I open Charles' text, my ears burning as I start typing away.

I take a deep breath, going to the kitchen to grab two clean bowls from the cupboards. Back over at the table, I place one bowl over each of the bowls with spaghetti bolognese in, hoping it keeps them warm until someone else gets here. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open up my texts. I'm partially tempted to text Elliot, like Stella told me to do, but the urge to text Charles is stronger. I still don't have any romantic connection with Elliot, wouldn't this be misleading him? Elliot's name disappears as I open Charles' text, my ears burning as I start typing away.

Me
Fancy coming over?
Stella's out for the night
Homemade bolognese included lol x

Charles
I'll be there in 5
x

A warm feeling flows from the middle of my chest and throughout my body, biting back a childish grin as I put my phone down. Five minutes to doll myself up, challenge accepted! I make my way into Stella's room without a second thought; if she's allowed to take my stuff, I can take hers! Stella's got more clothes than I do! I find a short, black, tight fitting skirt with a slit in the thigh, along with an ivy green, Ralph Lauren, v-neck sweater that matches perfectly. I run back into my room to find a pair of cream socks with white frills on the ankles, then check my hair just before the buzzer rings. 

I dash out to the door bell, noticing Charles on the camera waiting for my reply. "Who is it?"

"You already know." Charles grins, winking at the camera. "Come on, don't leave me standing out here."

"The door's open." I reply. "Don't rush."

I kept my tone soft and sweet, my eyes lighting up as I see him yank the door open. I unlock my front door, standing in the doorframe with one hand keeping it open. My ears perk up, listening to the footsteps dashing up the stairs.

Mark you better f*cking keep Stella busy tonight.

Charles leaps up the stairs two at a time, his eyes landing on me as soon as I'm within his sight. His eyes rake up and down my outfit (courtesy of Stella), landing on my skirt for longer than the rest. A grin starts to broaden across his lips, and his racing pace turns into a calm stroll. I watch his every footstep, resisting the urge to storm up to him, grab his collar and drag him into the apartment behind me. Thankfully, I manage to keep my feet glued to one spot, right until he's in front of me.

"You got here quick." I tease, looking through my lashes.

"You called, Miss Morgan." He says, his hands going to my hips and walking me back into the apartment. "And the devil's daughter isn't here to kill me!"

True!