I survey my handiwork. And feel pretty pleased with myself.
Bottle of champagne, check. A bowl of fresh strawberries, check. A picnic basket filled with small sandwiches and cakes plus a thermos of coffee - check, check, and check.
The food was laid out beautifully on a dove gray and blue picnic mat surrounded by throw pillows. The pièce de résistance was a bouquet of peonies my sister assured me no person can resist.
All my efforts too woo Dara have gone sideways for one reason or another. But today, I am pulling all the stops.
It is true that I do not see her that way. But I also do not know her yet. Maybe it was too early to give up on making this work. Maybe we could at least become friends.
It wouldn't be so bad to marry a friend, right?
Or who knows? Maybe I was capable of love. Maybe love was just around the corner.
Except the only thing rounding the corner and heading towards my picnic was a pair of corgis. Running full speed, determined to trample over my optimism.
I step into their path, hoping to block them. One of them stops at the sight of me. But the other dog, the one with the blue bow, decided to leap. It lands on my chest, knocking me into the grass. Not satisfied, it proceeds to lick my face. The second dog decides to follow suit. Great.
I wanted to be indignant - but a laugh bursts through me instead. And I find myself rubbing the soft fur of both dogs, encouraging their playfulness.
"What are you doing to my dogs?"
I open my eyes.
Metawin. Of course.
I sit up as the dogs walk over to their master.
"What are you doing here?"
"Last I checked the Royal Gardens are open to the public."
I stand up and brush the leaves off my pants and shirt. "Last I checked, the gardens are almost a hectare in size. So can you please go somewhere else? I am expecting Dara any moment now."
Metawin didn't seem to be listening. He sauntered close to the picnic basket then plopped down.
"What are you doing?" I rush towards him as he plucks a strawberry from the platter.
"Dara doesn't like strawberries. Makes her throat itch." He takes a bite. "I am doing you a favor by eating them."
He moves to take another strawberry. I try to tug it out of his hands but he tugs back rather forcefully and I fall, landing on his lap.
I freeze for a moment. Staring into the equally frozen face in front of me.
I clear my throat as I get off him and he moves away from me.
"Give me back the strawberry," I say just to be able to say something. I could not bear the awkward silence any longer.
"You have so many! Why can't I have two?"
"It's not for you. I didn't prepare this picnic for you."
Metawin snorts and returns the strawberry.
I almost feel relieved except his hand goes towards the bouquet of flowers.
"Stop that!"
"Dara is allergic to flowers."
"Why should I believe anything you say? You are clearly here just to sabotage my date."
"Don't flatter yourself. I didn't even know you were here," Metawin says as he lunges for the bouquet. He strokes the petals gently as if to mock me.
"Those flowers are for the person I am going to marry," I say, snatching the bouquet out of his hands.
"Fine. Don't listen. I hope you have Benadryl in that picnic basket of yours."
"I will manage," I say huffily, trying to hide my distress. Was Dara truly allergic to flowers? What do I do with this bouquet now? Do I hide it? Do I give it anyway? I was so lost in thought that it takes me a moment to realize that Metawin was trying to open the picnic basket.
What a fucking nuisance this viscount was.
"Can you stop that? I know you are also courting Dara but must your methods to best me be so childish?"
Metawin pouts and suddenly I feel an urge to comfort him. Which is insane.
"I am just hungry," he whines, lips drawn outwards and small eyes becoming tinier.
"I will give you money, go to a restaurant. Leave me be please. Dara will be here any minute."
"I am not a beggar," he says petulantly, as if he were minutes away from a tantrum. "And I brought the dogs. I can't go to a restaurant."
"Stop acting like a five-year-old," I admonish, suppressing all the big brother protectiveness Metawin's tone was awakening in me.
Pout growing more pronounced, he starts to stand up. The two dogs make the scene more pitiful by drawing close to Metawin and whimpering.
"Fine!" I open the picnic basket and fish out a sandwich. "One sandwich and you're out of here."
He claps his hands excitedly. I hand him a sandwich which he pushes whole into his pink, eager mouth.
"Delicious!," Metawin exclaims after he swallows it down. "You have a great cook."
"I made them myself."
Metawin looks impressed. "Who knew a Prince could make such a good sandwich."
The praise makes me squirm - which is new. I am quite used to praise. But maybe praise feels different when it comes from someone who wants nothing from you, someone who you're sure is sincere.
I was about to express my gratitude when Metawin swiftly gets another sandwich from the basket.
This asshole! Saraleo!
Without thinking, I bite into the sandwich in his hands as fast as I can, determined to eat it before Metawin could.
Except, all that meant was I now had half a small sandwich in my mouth and Metawin had the other half in his.
"Let the sandwich go," I hiss, unwilling to let go of my half.
"You are being selfish," Metawin replies, digging his teeth deeper into his half of the sandwich.
"I am claiming what is rightfully mine."
"I already have my saliva on it."
"So what?"
"So just let me have it."
Against my better judgment, I dart my tongue in and out, marking my territory. I do it even as every fiber of my upbringing was screaming for me to act like a prince and not a pre-pubescent oaf.
"My half has saliva too, so let me have it," I say snarkily - as snarkily as is possible when you have half a sandwich in your mouth.
"Your Highness, come on. You are not going to eat something that has been in someone else's mouth."
Normally, he'd be right. But Metawin Teepakorn pushed my buttons in a way no one else has. I refused to lose to him. "Try me."
We glare at each other, mouths closed around each side of the sandwich, each one refusing to move.
I needed to do something before the bread melted in my mouth. I feign a sigh, as if I felt defeated. I see Metawin's eyes begin to gleam. I loosen my lips ever so slightly as if ready to give up the sandwich. This makes Metawin loosen his lips too.
And that's when I attack - with one movement, I swallow the sandwich whole.
I am almost choking but I feel triumphant.
"You bit my lip!," Metawin complains.
I was too busy doing a victory dance to pay him any attention.
He snarls and starts reaching for the picnic basket. But I was wise to his tricks now, so I manage to keep blocking his hands and his arm with my body.
Metawin was losing miserably and was sulking. He was an adorable sulker, even I could admit that. But his particular set of charms wasn't going to work on me twice in a day.
He lunges for the bouquet instead. The fucker.
"That's. For. The. Person. I. Plan. To. Marry." I struggle to say as I try and pull the bouquet away from his surprisingly vice like grip.
"Dara. Doesn't. Like. Flowers."
"Give. Them. Back."
"Give. Me. More. Sandwiches."
We keep pulling, teeth gritted, eyes locked on each other. Each of us too stubborn to end this ridiculous tug of war.
"I cannot believe I canceled a meeting for this."
I look at Metawin quizzically. That didn't sound like his voice. I find that he was startled too.
Slowly, we look upwards.
Staring at us was Dara and the two corgis she now had in her arms.
Metawin clears his throat as he lets go of the bouquet. That sends me tumbling backwards, head hitting the picnic basket.
"How long have you been standing there?," Metawin asksDara.
"Long enough to know am not needed on this date."
I try to recover whatever dignity I had left. I leap to my feet, slightly ruined flowers in hand. I gallantly - or rather I hope I looked gallant - offer it to Dara with a small bow.
She sighs. "He's right you know. I am allergic to pollen."
Metawin sticks his tongue out at me.
"Please Dara, my Lady. I know this is not what you expected but it would mean the world if you can join me."
"Us!," Metawin pipes up.
Dara and I both glare at him but he smiles back, unfazed. That man will be the death of me.
"I cannot believe I canceled a meeting and bought a dress just to be a chaperone," Dara sighs as she gently puts the dogs on thr ground and takes a seat on the blanket.
"Chaperone? Of course not! This is all- "
"Please just take the flowers away from me and hand me a sandwich. I beg you Your Highness."
I nod and begin fixing her a plate of food.
"How about me?," Metawin whines jokingly, framing his cheeks with his palms.
His face made me want to laugh. But I stopped myself.
Instead I shove the bouquet into his arms. "You can eat the flowers."
- - -
Author's Note:
Just wanted to share these photos from Twitter.
Like P'Min, I too think Win should end up with Bright. 💕💕💕