"The winter festival I liked. The dancing was fun."
Jack's sitting across from me, picking at the remainder of the snacks left on the platter. Despite everything that had happened recently, the selection was still moving ahead and I still needed to go on dates.
I chose to spend time with Jack, because he was easy to get along with and respectful, so he wouldn't bring up any of the drama.
And it helped to distract myself chatting with Jack, who was sitting causally across from me in just his nice dress shirt. His blazer hung over the back of his chair, as he had taken it off once we sat down.
"Yes, it was fun. Quite extravagant but they do it every year." I say and notice his eyebrows raise.
"Every year? Wow."
I nod with a smile, "Mum and dad love throwing events."
"You know what I find funny?" He asks, leaning back with a smile.
Huh? Hadn't I been talking about my parents throwing events. How was that funny?
Jack continues, "How weird it is that your parents are the king and queen. Like you're an actual princess. Every few minutes I remember and have to fix my posture or remember to smile."
That makes me smile. Jack was so easy to talk to and I got along with him well, so conversation was casual and relaxed.
I lean my elbows on the table, which I know is impolite but it was only the two of us anyway, and rest my chin in my hands.
"It's so weird hearing you say that. My life just seems normal to me. I'm used to it. Having a straight back when I sit down and giving a smile to a camera is just natural for me now."
"I bet. Growing up here would be so different." Jack says, automatically gazing around the room.
"What's your family dynamic? Are you all about the rules or more laid back?" I ask, taking a handful of the remaining grapes off the plate.
"Well, my parents are pretty chill. Jane and I have never been too crazy that they've needed to be strict or anything."
"That's sounds about right. You seem quite well mannered."
Jack laughs softly, running a hand over his short hair modestly, "I like to think so."
I run my hands through my own hair, fluffing out the long locks before looking back to Jack.
"Some of the selected boys I couldn't stand with what they would say. It surprises me seeing such lack of manners." I say honestly.
"Tell me about it. And it's sad I have to say, it was probably worse when you weren't around in the beginning." He admits to me and I raise an eyebrow curiously.
"Really?"
Jack nods, "It wasn't always about you though. Some would trash talk the place, others the staff or service. It was ridiculous. Is constant attention not enough for them or something?"
I breath out a laugh, finding myself smiling at his humour surrounding the situation.
"I can't expect they'd get much better than this palace." He adds.
"You'd think so. I hate people who are disrespectful when they sighed up and are coming here for free."
He agrees with me, "Exactly. At least the worst ones are gone now."
"Oh, but I've seen some interviews that some of the boys now back at home have been doing and it's even worse. They make up stuff about me being horrible or the treatment they received. It's terrible." I tell him, thinking of all the crap I've seen people like Victor telling to reporters.
"I didn't know about that." Jack says with a frown, "That's not good."
"There's not much I can do about it really, what's done is done. Now they are out of the palace walls we can't control what they say to the press."
"I guess so. You want the last biscuit?"
"We can share." I say, knowing how much Jack loves the digestives, so I pick it up and snap it in half.
As I hand Jack one half of the biscuit, he smiles and does a click against mine before we both take a bite.
~~~~~
After a boring lunch, a chat with my parents and a messy game of hockey with the selected boys, I found myself on another date.
Tate sits beside me on the couch as we flick through movies. We had turned the lights down, for a cinematic experience, and had a blanket thrown over us.
For my second date of the day I had chosen Tate, because we always had a nice time and he was happy to just watch a movie.
He's unusually quiet today though, and I wonder what's up. Tate barely meets my eye.
I reach my hand out to hold his to gain his attention. Tate looks over at me, surprised I had reached out to him.
"Is everything ok?" I ask, my brows furrowed as I examine his hesitant expression.
Tate pauses, putting down the remote and looking at my hand on his. He turns his hand over so he can entwine our fingers, then he looks up and meets my eye.
"Sorry. It's just...well I don't know. Everything that's happened lately with the Mason thing and Will leaving. I'm not sure if I should bring it up."
"Oh." I say, not expecting that, "I'm not sure if I want to talk about it."
"That's ok. I really just want to make sure you're ok." Tate says, giving me a small smile, then frowns, "And I don't know what happened with Mason, and I'm not even sure that I want to. I'm sorry you had to experience whatever he might have done, you don't deserve that. It...it disgusts me that people, men especially, do that kind of thing."
I stay silent, suddenly feeling a rush of emotions. Tate bringing it up wasn't bad, it just made me think about it again. What Mason would have done if I hadn't stopped him.
"This is why I didn't want to bring it up." He says as he looks at my face, "I'm making you upset, sorry. It was disrespectful of me."
I shake my head, wanting to tell him it's not his fault that there's tears in my eyes.
Tate lifts my hand up that he is holding and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it softly.
"Thanks for being there for me Tate. That's all I need right now." I say and he nods, going back to looking for a movie to watch. I'm glad he stopped talking about it and we could just relax with a film.
We choose a movie and it plays, but I don't remember much and think I fall asleep half way through anyway.
~~~~~
As I awake I imagine being in Tate's arms or sleeping on his shoulder. I would awake after lying on top of him and he would be watching me sleep like cute movie couples, but it's not like that at all.
I open my eyes to find myself stretched across the couch, sleeping on my side as I cling onto a pillow. My hair is messed and my cheek sore from being pressed into the couch, and I imagine a red mark on my face from it.
Glancing over to Tate, he's leaned back in his same seating position from earlier, fast asleep, and snoring softly. He's stolen the blanket and has it pulled closer to himself.
I go to wake him up, tugging at his blanket a few times before he begins to stir.
"Wake up sleepy head." I hum softly as I sit back up beside him, to which he groans and slowly opens his eyes.
Tate's looks around and spots me, giving me a lopsided grin as he runs a hand through his disheveled brown hair, "Hey Charlotte."
His sleepy voice, lord have mercy.
"I'm surprised no one came to wake us up." I comment as I look around to the door that's closed.
Tate rubs a hand over his sleepy eyes, "Yeah, I must have fallen asleep pretty early on because I don't remember a thing about the movie."
"Neither."
Tate opens his arms out and does a scrunching thing with his hands, "Come here."
I look as him with a smile, confused.
He doesn't give up though, still holding his arms out to me, "C'mon, cuddle please."
I giggle at his cuteness before falling into his arms. He sighs and relaxes with me against him, and I realise I could get used to Tate's hugs.
"Do you know what time it is?" Tate asks me and I lift up off his chest to shake my head.
"I don't know. It's probably nearing midnight."
"Do we have to go? We could stay and cuddle for a bit longer. C'mon C, please."
"As much as I want to, we can't stay here all night."
"Aw. Well I had fun, even though I don't really remember the movie."
"Maybe next time we can actually stay awake for it."
"Yeah, I'd prefer to have a date where I'm not snoring for half of it. I bet that's not attractive." Tate rolls his eyes with a smile.
"I think it's adorable." I say in return.
"Hey, before we go back, do you think we could stop by and check out my paintings? I'd love to show you what I've done."
"Oh, yes, I'd love to see what you've been working on."
"Excellent." Tate stands up and takes my hand in his, "Let's go."
~~~~~
"Woah, this is a cool set up."
Tate led me to his painting room, an area that was probably unused that he had made into his personal studio. Pretty much the whole space was covered in white sheets to protect the carpeted floor and the few bits of furniture pushed to the far corners.
Easels and canvases, complete and half finished work was scattered around the room, along with so many different tubes and cans of paint there was too many to count.
"Yeah, it's a bit of an organised mess to me." Tate says as he runs a hand over his brown hair with a shy laugh.
"It's got a nice smell." I comment.
"Ya think so? Many people can't stand the smell of paint." Tate says, moving over to a small stool that's sat in front of an empty easel. He rolls up his sleeves, as to avoid getting paint on I assume and I try not to let my eyes linger too long. I move around, glancing at each of the canvas as I pass.
Tate had done many beautiful pieces of different locations around the palace, and a stunning one of the scene at our last date, the city skyline in the background of the rooftop setup.
It was a nice spot to paint, with a stained glasses window on one side of the sitting room, which was shining through moonlight at this time of night.
"No. I like it. It's not too...." I pause as my eyes land on the painting in front of me. The last canvas is full of gentle strokes that show a scene of the gardens, the fountain somehow managing to still glisten through the artwork.
But what catches my eye isn't how well he's captured the detail or the careful painting of the clouds.
It's the person that's painted into the image. Me.
Sitting cross-legged on the grass, a few steps away from the fountain and slightly off center, is myself, reading a book outside. I was painted small in terms of the scale of the image, but it was definitely me. I'm looking down, unaware I'm the subject of a painting, dark hair covering my face.
"You put me in one of your paintings?"
Tate becomes shy, his ears doing that cute thing where the tips turn pink.
"Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I should have asked you." He says as he runs a hand over the back of his neck.
"No... it's fine. I had no idea you took a photo of that to paint."
Tate shrugs, "I was looking for inspiration. I took my camera around and that seemed like the perfect landscape. You just looked so peaceful."
I did look peaceful. Even in painting form you could tell I was relaxed, content reading on the grass. No doubt it was one of many of my romance books I had been attempting to get through recently.
I couldn't get over the fact that he painted me though.
"You're really talented." I say, admiring all the impressive work he had done.
"Thanks. I just hope you don't find it weird I painted you. Sometimes I just do things without thinking."
I put my hands on my hips and give him a teasing look, "You haven't been taking pictures of everyone and everything have you?"
"No, no. I have just been doing pictures of nature and things. I'm not a creep."
"Thank god. I thought for a minute you might have some weird obsession with me or something."
Tate chuckles, picking up a paint brush and moving to grab a blank canvas, "Well, I do have a liking for you if that counts."
"That's not weird, because I have that liking for you too." I say, seeing as he starts to paint.
Tate nods, focusing on the painting with the hint of a smirk across his face.
I sat down on a clean bit of the floor and rest my chin in my hands.
There was something nice about watching Tate paint. Despite it being late, the moonlight that shone through the windows gave the space a glow, setting a peaceful mood for creating artworks. Tate sat, totally focused on his work as he painted, starting a new scene from a picture of the palace from the outside.
There are several work stools around and I sit and watch as Tate works. Every stroke of his brush seems therapeutic.
Tate then pauses and looks over to me, "Oh, sorry if I'm boring you. You don't have to stick around if you want to go off and get some proper sleep."
"It's alright. I'm not all that tired at the moment."
"You can paint if you want." Tate offers, "Or just chill or whatever."
He goes back to painting, but is clearly aware of me looking at him because his face flushes red. His eyes flick over to mine and he gives a nervous smile.
"Do many people in the palace know about you painting in here?" I ask and he pauses to answer.
"No. Only a few of the staff who helped me set it up. I would never let the cameras come in here or show anyone my artworks unless I wanted them to see. I like my things to be personal, and not constantly monitored by photographers for the world to see, ya know?"
"Yeah. Sometimes the camera crews can be annoying. It's disturbing how much I can find on the internet about myself." I say honestly.
"That must be awful." Tate comments, frowning.
I shrug, "Eh, it's not so bad."
Tate focuses back on his painting and I realise I've been distracting him with conversation.
"Maybe I should leave you to paint." I say, standing and walk over to him, "I had a good time tonight T."
"I had a good time too." Tate says and looks up at me from his seat on the painting stool.
I wasn't sure how to say goodbye. Do we hug? Kiss?
I ended up placing a kiss on his cheek and waving goodbye as I move around the artworks to get out.
~~~~~
A/N: What are your thoughts on Tate?