Take Care {Prince Royce Fan Fiction}

8. You Don't Know What's Inside

"Fucking with a goddess and you get a little colder."

- BANKS, "Goddess"

/// Prince Royce ///

"So. why are you still here?...If you don't mind me asking. Your flight landed a while ago. You need a ride?"

"I called a cab.", said Aralon curtly

'Where is it?", I asked.

"Not here yet." She was so stubborn, but so was I.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is it ever gonna get here?"

"I was gonna get something to eat first.", she said, not directly answering my question. Her tone was soft, yet assertive. The thing about her was that she was soft spoken, but she didn't take people's shit. I wasn't sure how those too worked together, but somehow they did.

"Never came, huh?" She didn't answer me. "Great, then I guess I'll be joining you for lunch."

'Who says?", she asked.

"Says the guy with your ride.", I told her. "Are you always like this, Aralon?" I liked saying her name. It was different. It had a nice ring to it.

She stopped walking to look at me. "Like what, Royce?" I was starting to think the bored expression on her face was a mask for something else.

"So...I don't know...closed off."

"I guess I am...well, because I just am.", she said, continuing to scan the row of restaurant chains that lined both sides of the airport. "Is it all fast food down here?"

"Why?", I laughed. "Do you and McDonald's have some long, unspeakable past?"

She glared at me. "Haha." She rolled her heavily made-up eyes. "You know what they put in their food?"

"I'd rather not know and be able to enjoy my 'burger" in peace.", I said. "But I'll let you in on a little secret."

"What?", she asked in a very unamused tone.

"Over in the next wing, there's this little Cuban place. La Carreta. You might like it. I'm pretty sure their picadillo isn't made of synthetic pink slime."

/// Aralon ///

"So, you gonna pay me back in full?", asked Royce, taking a bite of his "ropa vieja".

"You want me to pick up your tab too?", I asked. "Besides, it seemed like you were against the idea of me paying you back in the first place."

        He laughed softly. "That's not what I meant. I meant I wanted more than monetary payment." He must've noticed the questionable expression on my face because he laughed again. "Not like that, Aralon. I mean the story."

        I sighed. "You really wanna know, huh?"

"No, I have no interest whatsoever.", he said sarcastically. "Of course I wanna know."

"What's it to you, though?", I asked curiously.

"Why?"

"Well, you've asked an awful lot of questions, Royce. I think it's fair to at least ask you one."

"Touche." He pushed la ropa vieja around on his plate a little. "Well, is it safe to say I'm just interested?"

"In what?"

"You. That's all. I just wanna know what you're all about. Who is Aralon?" He said with the theatrical passion of a  movie director trying to evoke emotion from an actor.