Unknown Beauty | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Three: W-Wedding?

[I'm not waiting for a prince, I'm waiting for the one who thinks I'm his princess]
-Unknown

"You're such a baby," Asher laughed as Fallon crossed her arms grumpily, only reinforcing his statement, "It's barely a scratch," he motioned to her knee where the ground had viciously tore her skin apart like a wild animal.

Okay, it was three slightly red lines about an inch in length each - but it had still stung a lot.

Getting up off the navy blue swing, Fallon narrowed her eyes at Asher as he sighed and snaked his arm around her waist, leading her away, "Where are we going, anyway?"

Just that morning, Asher had woke her up unexpectedly and ordered her to get ready and meet him in the park just outisde the apartment. As she was waving and about to fire questions out her mouth like bullets, her feet had somehow misplaced themselves and she had tumbled over thin air - hence the injury on her knee.

"I won't say that it's a surprise because that'd be cliché," he began as Fallon swiftly intercepted.

"-oh thank goodness, you're telling m-"

"-but I'm not telling you either because that'd ruin it."

Fallon quickly shut up, unhappy with his response, "Fine," she harrumphed, turning away from him to look over at the pavement opposite them, a comical noise escaping her.

"Don't be like that," he sighed at her, his eyes flitting to her briefly as he tightened his hands in his pockets, "I'll give you a clue?"

She turned to him, waiting for him to continue.

"I packed you a spare change of clothes," he stated vaguely, a dimple embedded in his cheek as he amusedly smiled at Fallon's irked expression.

Ten minutes later of quarrelling like queen bees over a hive, Asher sealed her mouth with his right hand and covered her eyes with his left. She paused for a moment before trying to pull them away, "What?" she jabbed him in his hard stomach as he relentlessly kept his hands over her eyes.

Fallon managed to peek through a gap in his fingers as he started walking forwards, approaching a modern building with redbricked walls and a huge sign on the front that Asher's middle finger was hiding. Asher guided her forward, interested to see how she would react to being back in such a familiar place.

"Please don't run out on me," he said, looking down skeptically at Fallon's slim figure which was held captive against his body.

Her heart leaped a mile at his words, "What? Asher? Did you bring me to a slaughterhouse?" she started to anchor her feet into the ground, the dirt pushed further into the soles of her trainers as he only laughed, "Don't laugh! Am I going to see a baby sheep get murdered like a turkey for Thanksgiving?!"

"Let's see," he answered, a cheeky glint in his eye as Fallon reluctantly started walking again due to Asher's impatient shoves.

Fallon felt the rocky ground beneath her transition into a squeaky floor as Asher dropped his hands and gripped either side of her waist instead, making sure she didn't leave. Eyes slowly focussing like a camera, Fallon felt her blood run cold.

Orange, polished floors. Sturdy bars and beams. Heavily padded, blue mats. Vaulting tables and long stretches of navy coloured material.

She was in a gym.

"What are we doing here?" she asked bashfully as Asher attempted to scan her face for any other emotion apart from fear.

He retracted his hands before nodding confidently at the man - the owner of the gym - who was waiting quietly at the back, having not been noticed by Fallon. Fallon gasped as gymnasts began to file in, clad in beautifully designed leotards with sophisticated buns atop their heads. They began to morph themselves into shapes - no, letters - until all movement stopped and Fallon could decipher the hidden message.