Cinderella for Hire

Before we went to the dinner that his relatives had arranged for him (mostly me, because they wanted to know me. Me! No one has ever done that before!) at this fancy-shamncy restaurant, we went to visit the Space Needle for a while after walking around the park.

The thing was, I didn't invite him out before the dinner. He did (after his workload for the day was done with). And I was so stunned I was momentarily paralyzed, until he threatened to draw on my face again. Now that I knew his side of the story, I think that he was dreading this dinner more than ever because lo and behold, it was hosted by the one and only Steven Fulton.

Personally, I think Nick was a bundle of nerves – especially since I knew a considerable part of his past and his relationship with his relatives that I was meeting tonight. It was kind of adorable in a way.

In the park, I told him everything about yesterday – why I met my parents with Caleb, mostly because he was particularly curious about that. I reassured him that Caleb didn't ask anything about Nick. Things were pretty passive since the night before, frankly. He didn't actually care if I wanted to go out with Caleb again, as long as I could take care of myself.

See? Passive.

It was almost sunset as we walked inside the Space Needle, taking in the panoramic view in front of us as I chewed on gummy bears. Nick was silent most of the time, his finger on his lips as he stared out at Seattle. I felt as if he was getting distant by the minute though so in order to not feel as lonely and a tad neglected, I pulled him back to reality by offering him gummy bears.

"When we get back to New York," he said, popping one gummy bear in his mouth. "Paint me something."

I was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"I'll commission you. I need a piece for the office anyway," he said, shrugging. "Only, you have freedom to do whatever you want. I prefer abstract paintings for office spaces though," he continued, smiling.

"But what if it's not good? What if…I'm not good?"

It had been a long time since I've painted anything on canvas anyway.

"Then make yourself good."

Silence again. We stayed at the same spot as the sun was beginning to set and Seattle was starting to light up – one building followed by another.

"About last night…" he trailed off, refusing to make eye contact with me, "can you please pretend as if it never happened?"

"Can't," I squeaked, smirking. "You don't have a say in it too."

"Worth a shot," he said, smiling weakly.

"Stop being so reclusive," I said. "To a certain extent, it's fine. But you're taking it to a whole new level. So, no. And tell me more stuff."

He frowned. "What? Like what?"

I shrugged. "You tell me. And to be fair, in exchange, I'll tell you something about myself."

"Why would I want to tell you or even know—" he stopped when he looked at my expression. "Oh, whatever," he sighed, exasperated before going into deep thought. "I used to want to be an architect."

I waited for an explanation but there didn't seem to be any. So I gave him a tiny push, asking him "why didn't you?"

"Ironically enough, I thought if I were to take architecture, my dad who was already fond of me would take me under his wing or something. So I took up business instead. And I still somehow ended up in his company anyway."

"I don't see why you're complaining though, you're living in a very comfortable life right now."

He ran his fingers through his hair in an exasperated manner. "I know, I should be thankful to say the least," he replied. "It comes with a lot of mess though. Sometimes I really hate trying to prove myself to everyone that I'm somehow where I am now not because I eased my way through life – I actually worked for it," he said. "I'm doing a damn good job, aren't I? But of course, no one sees it that way. They only associate my name with Richard Fulton."

For the second time in my life, I've seen his conflicted look again – personally conflicted. But in the end he just shook his head after he looked at me. "I'll figure it out."

"You will," I smiled, a smile that he returned with warmth.

I didn't know what was it – maybe it was the scenery presented before us, maybe it was the altitude or maybe it was the lack of lighting in the room when it night fell upon us. But truth be told, I was kind of…kind of…I didn't know how to explain the feeling really.

And if I didn't break this gaze between us, I realized, that feeling would linger on. And to me, that was something I really wanted to avoid.

But I couldn't break it. I wanted to know what was running through his mind. Damn, I really wished I was psychic.

This was crazy. This felt like the time I was in his office—

I blushed. Gosh, okay. Break off this gaze now, April.

His stare trailed away from my eyes, moving away until it finally landed on my slightly parted lips. And just like that, I became aware of everything and became even more self-conscious. He moved a little bit closer and I couldn't make any sense out of it. There weren't any press here to satisfy, there weren't any stuck-up relatives or pompous businessmen in suits to impress, to lie to. We weren't putting on our couple façade anymore because it wasn't necessary – there was just simply no reason to.

So why was I moving closer to him too?

Because you wanted his lips on yours, my subconscious whispered. And at that moment, Nick suddenly placed his hand on his pocket. I've seen that gesture way too much before to know what it meant. And I hated that I felt disappointed by it.

I turned away quickly as he fished his phone out of his pocket, lacking the grace he always had, muttering an apology as he answered it. "Fulton. Ah, Chloe. I'm a tad busy right now, can you just email me the agreement?"

As he moved a bit farther away from me, I felt a sudden longing…for what, I didn't know. And to make it go away, I reached inside the bag and took a fistful of gummy bears before stuffing them as much as I could in my mouth, chewing vigorously on them. It was hard though. It was hard to concentrate. I glared at the nightscape before me. What was it about glittering city lights and dim rooms and ARGH! I knocked on my head. Stop being so delirious.

When Nick got back and said, "sorry about that—" he stopped when he looked up from his phone just to see me with a mouthful of gummy bears, some of them were peeking between my lips. His bottom lip quivered slightly, twitching up in amusement. But then his phone vibrated again.

Damn, that phone.

No, April, not damn, that phone. That phone saved you from…whatever that was going to happen…

My face heated up again. Don't be stupid. The most he'd do is probably take out his fountain pen and bloody draw on your face again.

Ugh, I wasn't even in that family dinner yet and still I found myself being this mentally exhausted.