Our Forbidden Love

VII : Carpe Noctem

Fallon's POV

My heart is brimming with joy and the warmth that comes from being surrounded by the people I care about.

Today has been one of the best I've ever had. Cataryna's driving, the couple in the backseat are already fast asleep, and I'm here, soaking in the beauty of Carolina's sunset.

If my camera could talk or move, I'm sure it would be complaining about how much I've been using it, even for the most trivial shots.

We've been invited to dinner at her family's place, since they have a vacation home about 500 km away from the park. I really hope tonight goes well.

7:34 PM

As soon as I turn on the radio, Only Angel by Harry Styles starts playing. It's one of those songs we used to play back in the day, when she would sneak her dad's car to pick me up from my strict house.

We would have a little makeout session at the backseat before it was time for school. Ah, good ol' days.

"Remember when we used to blast this song at 5 AM?" she says, with a playful smile.

"Miss Michigan, please keep in mind that I am capable of keeping memories vividly."

"Oh the wild things," she whispered, as soon as we entered a luxury subdivision.

"Did you drove all the way to my neighborhood from this place?" She nods.

"It's you, how could I not."

"But this is far— I thought you drove from the apartment nearby, now I feel ashamed, but also happy," I almost stuttered.

"I love seeing you happy," she pinches my cheek with her left hand, her eyes still focused on the road.

Why didn't we ever date? Right now, I just want to kiss that playful smile of hers. If we were the way we used to be, and we were alone, things would be different. But then again, I realize we've both grown into more mature versions of ourselves. We still like to indulge our inner children, and honestly, I don't think that's a bad thing.

The feelings you've made me experience— I never imagined I'd be able to express myself like this, let alone in poetry. But every day, you continue to surprise me.

The doors are tall and blue, modern in design, with golden knobs. Their family name, Michigan, is engraved in emerald stones.

"Feeling nervous?" she asks. I nod, even though it's not my first time here. I suspect they renovated during the summer, since the swing that used to hang on the porch is gone.

"Aw, baby." She gives my hand a comforting squeeze.

As soon as she had her key, she unlocked the door and gestured for me to go in first. Harriet and Hannah appeared behind me, still half-asleep. Naturally, our kids were exhausted.

I was greeted by the same tall, bald man in his office uniform. "You must be Demir, I remember you."

I nodded. "At your service, Sir. Thanks for the invitation."

He smiled. "Of course. I've already asked the cook to prepare three main courses and some side dishes. It should be ready any minute now," he said, leading me to their huge kitchen, with Hannah and Harriet following along.

Cataryna wasn't there—she was probably off getting something from her room.

The room was quiet for a moment, until Hannah broke the silence. "I love the new kitchen design, it suits it so much better."

"Thank you, Hannah. I actually did the sketch and chose the colors for the motif myself. It's nice to finally hear it complimented," he replied with a playful smile.

As far as I remember, Cat had mentioned her parents both worked as interior designers and civil engineers. No wonder their place looked like something straight out of Pinterest.

"I agree, Mr. Michigan. This place is definitely on my Pinterest board," Harriet added, just as Cat sat down beside me.

The cook and staff served the dishes onto their long, glass dining table.

I couldn't be the only one impressed by their skills. There was even a vegan option alongside a variety of seafood and meats.

We dug in and savored the rich, indulgent food before heading up to the highest point of the house. I lay back on the blanket, staring up at the stars that seemed to be watching over us.

The couple was sitting close, holding each other in a way that could only be described as romantic, the kind of love a poem might try to capture.

I hate to admit it, but I, too, longed for that kind of closeness.

"I, too, long for a romantic soul to tattoo her poetry on my skin with her tongue," Cat whispered softly, more to herself than anyone else.

"Likewise, Hayat," I murmured.

She turned to me. "Are you seducing me?"

"Guess," I teased, as she settled beside me, intertwining our fingers.

Cat looked at me for a moment, then slowly leaned in closer. Her mouth was near my right ear. "It's working, Miss Writer."

Her actions reminded me of a One Direction lyric, and all I could think about was how everything she did seemed to have magic in it.

I couldn't resist. Her charm was impossible to ignore, and the warmth of her hand felt electric.

She made me feel young, wild, and free.

"Carpe noctem, Hayat," I whispered back.

"I know," she replied with a playful grin. "It's really homophobic that we're not kissing right now."

"I mean, if you insist..." I said, joking.

I let her rest her head on my arm. It was past 11 PM, and we decided to stay a little longer before heading back inside to shower and rest.

Every time I looked at her, she reminded me of a Clairo song. She was the Sofia to my Claire.

Tonight, I just wanted to hold her close, to make up for all the time we'd missed.

I think we could do it if we tried, if only to say she's mine.