From England, With Love

Fruit Punch

"What do you mean? I'm just trying to be friends with him." He feigns innocence.

"Why?" I whisper angrily.

"He's cute, what can I say." He shrugs and opens his door. "If you've got a problem with that you can tell me about it later at the ball." He smirks, walking into his room and letting the door slam behind him before I can respond, leaving me on edge and angry.

My mind splits into two. Do I tell Pete that he appears to have some kind of stalker, and risk freaking him out? Or do I let it slide and hope Michael doesn't come back...

Heading back into our room, try and remain as natural as possible. Pete is amusing himself by looking round the room, the soft smile playing on his lips and the sparkle in his eye persuading my to hold my tongue about Michael. I want tonight to be perfect for him.

"Do you want tea?" He asks with a giggle, picking up the empty plastic kettle from its place on the desk. 

"Only if there's crumpets," I scoff, looking around.

The bathroom is by the main door, and opposite is a narrow wardrobe and floor length mirror. In the main  section of the room is a... double bed.

"I see the others were right," Pete observes, perching himself on the edge of the tall mattress, running his palms over the linen, "maybe this is a shitty fanfic."

I sit down next to him, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning in to him. He stiffens a little.

"What are you doing?" He asks, shyly, and I shrug.

"You know how all the shitty fanfics end, right?" I say quietly, my gaze landing on his lips.

He flushes a deep red colour, so I assume that he knows what I'm getting at. I smile and plant a kiss on his forehead before standing up.

"Don't worry, Pete, I'm not about to undress you right here and now. Besides, we haven't got time - we need to meet the others outside their room at 6:30." I turn to the suitcase and unzip it.

All of a sudden Pete leaps up and places his hands on the lid of the case. 

"I... I don't want you to see my suit just yet. Can you turn around?" He pleads, and I oblige him by staring at a wall. 

I hear the rustling of fabric as he removes the mysterious suit and takes it into the bathroom. Just as I start to turn around he calls out a panicked, "wait!". Returning to where I was, my curiosity rising, I listen out for familiar sounding objects as he continues to rummage through the suitcase. He takes something inside a plastic bag into the bathroom, and then his quiet footsteps return for something else. The temptation to turn around is almost unbearable as he takes something else, something noiseless, out the bag and I hear one of the bedside drawers open, and then close a moment later. 

"You can turn around now." He says, a big sense of satisfaction and relief in his voice. 

I turn around.

"Happy now?" I ask, taking my own suit out of the bag and hanging it in the wardrobe. Pete nods happily and heads back to the bathroom to begin what I can only assume to be the long transformation process. 

I too start to get ready, every now and again tossing a glance to the suspicious bedside drawers. I keep Michael out of my head as best I can, desperate to not let my temper to get the best of me. Pete didn't say he felt bothered by him, so I shouldn't let myself get so worked up. 

My suit is navy blue, and my shoes and tie black. Not exactly a revolutionary colour palette but Brandon assured me that I looked "well fit," and so I bought it. I regret not using the shower before Pete conquered the bathroom, from under the door of which steam is pouring and the sound of a hair dryer can be heard.