| CHAPTER - XX |
TAKE MY HEART, MAKE IT YOURS
"Where's Rosa?" Mrs Rodrigues asks, when the boys return to the backyard.
Romeo squeezes his mother's shoulder, walking around to get to his seat. Slumping onto his seat, he grabs a muffin, replying, "She's on a date."
"A date?" his father asks, leaning forward.
"Yes," Romeo nods. His eyes switch back and forth between them. "If you guys are shocked that someone is taking out Sana, trust me, I am to."
"Romeo," his father warns, accent thick.
"Sorry," Romeo sings, picking at his food.
"Speaking of dates," Nawaz begins.
Before she can continue, Francesco pitches in, "You know, I think you're married."
Nawaz looks at Francesco, giving him a look of disbelief, tilting her head to the side. Fahad flicks Francesco.
He then looks at Nawaz, his eyes curious. Curling his buttom lip into his mouth, he looks at his wife, wondering what she has planned for them. It is unlikely for Nawaz to take him out when they're fighting. Last night was great, but a date just may not be suited right now.
"I have something I need to show Fahad so we'll be gone for an hour," Nawaz explains, looking at her mother-in-law.
"Don't worry, Ahaan is in great hands," Mrs Rodrigues assures, smiling brightly at her daughter-in-law.
"Thanks, Mama."
Fahad catches his wife's eyes and he lifts his eyebrows in question. Nawaz doesn't reply silently, immediately. She purses her lips for a second, a small smile forming on her lips. Her eyes are soft when she looks at him and it is able to envelope Fahad in a world of their own. Fahad relaxes into his chair, feeling trusted and being able to blindly trust. With an effort, he smiles back, excited for what he has to show her.
Francesco wonders how all of his family manages to score someone – even Romeo, for sure. He knows there is something Romeo is hiding from them because he is constantly out for dinners on the most random times and is awake till late. His mother has even voiced her worries about Romeo sneaking out at night to him – Francesco suggested a scolding but his mother had already done that.
Well, if he's honest, Francesco may be trying to bloom a friendship with Suede. It's heavily flirtatious, yes, but he isn't doing it for the romance. He wouldn't mind be friends because he knows he would value it.
Last night was dreamt with Suede. Now, he isn't very sure as to when Suede plans on breaking it to her parents that they aren't dating and he doesn't understand what the title of 'boyfriend' enlists him to do. It's quite fine with him, as long as Suede is there.
Suede dropped him off last night, thanked him and then cruised away, not sparing him another glance. Francesco knows Suede, so he knows that it's not that she is running away but she just isn't one to please people – which is great and all, in some situations.
Xavier looks at Francesco, who is in deep thoughts about Suede and he groans, having recognised the look very easily. "Just go for it, man!" Xavier exclaims, across the table, putting his fork in his mouth.
Francesco snaps out of his daze and looks at Xavier, wondering what he's referring to. "Subway girl," Xavier explains. Unfortunately, he forget that their are other people seated at the table and the conversation of yesterday of 'subway girl' comes back to all of them.
"Ma, I am not eating at subway, we're still talking about el metro," Francesco first rushes to say, turning in his heat to look at his mother with a stern look.
"Mijo, I haven't said anything," Mrs Rodrigues shrugs, looking at her food, but wholly interested in what her son has to say next.
"Is there someone we should meet?" Nawaz asks, clasping her hands together and resting her elbows on the table, sweetly smiling at Francesco.
Francesco rolls his eyes, "No one."
"Who was that yesterday?" Romeo pitches in, slumped in his chair. "Shouldn't be hiding stuff from us."
"Why don't you tell me where you were this morning and maybe then I'll share my story," Francesco retorts, snarkily adding, "At least, I came back home."
"Romeo!" Mrs Rodrigues shouts, looking at her son.
"Mama, I was nowhere," Romeo insists. He grits his teeth together and with a sharp kick, he manages to make Francesco wince. Francesco immediately points his middle finger at him and that's all that is needed for their father to get angry.
"That's it!" Mr Rodrigues yells, slapping is hand on the table.
Ahaan's giggling dies and everything is silent. The tension from the beginning of the trip heats up and makes everything feel out of place and dangerous.
"Romeo, to your room, now," Mrs Rodrigues sternly, pointing to the house.
"Mama –" Romeo goes to protest.
"No!" his mother cuts him off, her face filled with anger. "You do not! hit your brother. And you do not sneak out or stay out without our permission."
Romeo looks at Francesco, his face full of hatred and aggressions. "This is unfair! He showed me his middle finger!"
"And I will have a word with him, because he is still behaving like an adult!" Mr Rodrigues interjects, his face a little more soft but Romeo knows that he isn't okay with what he has done to Francesco.
Grabbing a croissant, Rome goes to his room, annoyed and done with everything. He storms up the stairs and slams his door shut, hoping it's loud enough to the point that it can break – he doesn't care.
Downstairs, everyone is at the table, silently beginning to clean up. Nawaz squeezes Mr Rodrigues' shoulder, silently telling her father-in-law to take it a little easy on the only teenager in the house.
Upstairs, Romeo strips his clothes and gets into his pajamas. When he's angry, Romeo tends to get a lot of work done – he'll write songs, do his homework. Anything he can. So, when he opens his books to write his Economics essay, he doesn't like the fact that his mother has come in to interrupt him.
"Phone," she says, holding her hand out.
Romeo doesn't even argue. Silently, he hands it over. "You have been sneaking out. . Now, it's been confirmed. You cannot sneak out whenever you want to, Romeo, I am not allowing that. Your safety matters to us and honesty matters to us."
Romeo doesn't say anything, concentrating on drawing his diagram. His mother sighs before leaving the room, leaving him alone to think.
-
Rosanna is away from all the worries.
"A park?" Rosanna asks, once they are parked.
"What's with the judgement?" Charles asks, getting out of the door. Before Rosanna can open hers, Charles opens it up for her, holding a palm out for her to take.
Rosanna takes a moment to look at him. Such courtesy is unfamiliar to her, outside her family. No one is a gentleman to her. They're flirtatious and respectful in bed but not gentlemen. Unsure of what to do, she ignores the hand and gets out without his help.
She isn't sure if she can explain to him why she did that but she hopes he isn't too offended by it. Charles pays no mind to it, it appears, because he is back to his bubbly self.
"I have a picnic planned for us," Charles says.
"Really?" Rosanna sarcastically says. "I definitely did not notice the picnic basket resting on the backseat."
"Looking at the backseat for a certain reason?" Charles asks, referring to the first time they ever met each other, having spent the entire net rolling around in Rosanna's silk sheets.
Rosanna looks at him, a look of defeat on her face. "You're not a fuckboy are you?"
Charles raises his eyebrows. "Firstly, ouch. Secondly, I'm surprised you and I know what that means. Thirdly, definitely not. Do I give off fuckboy vibes?"
They're walking to a tree and when they stop by it, Rosanna shrugs. "Not really."
Charles leans down, opening up the picnic basket. He spares her a glance, a smile forming on his face. Whilst unpacking he comments, "You looked a very worried. Would be a little disappointed if I had said yes?"
Rosanna knows he's turning this on her, to make her seem into him. She rolls her eyes, sitting down on the blanket he lets out. "No."
"Okay," Charles smiles, looking at her but not having believed her answer at all.
Rosanna takes the pie from his hands. Before she can ask him what other foods he has, it begins to rain. Hard. Rosanna looks up at the sky and wonders why New York City works like this, from time to time.
Charles immediately puts everything back in and Rosanna helps him by grabbing the blanket and coddling it to herself so it doesn't get as wet. Charles laughs, brightly beaming at Rosanna.
He looks beautiful.
The raindrops soak his hair and cover his face but his bright, gleaming, shimmering orbs stand out, gracing his features and adding a little sunlight in their surroundings. His smile is stretched and genuine, making him look mesmerising and pure.
Rosanna instantly smiles, unable to hold it back. She's always been in great control but with him has somehow managed to lose it. There are only a few things that manage to faze her, throw her off track. She wonders if Charles Alistair II will become one of them.
When he grasps her hand and pulls her back to his car, Rosanna doesn't object.
Even with the rain, Charles opens the door for her and lets her climb in before running to his side and getting in. Rosanna's eyes stay trained on his, wondering how someone would ever think of looking after her first before helping themselves.
"Was not expecting that," Charles laughs, setting the picnic basket on the backseat.
He looks over at Rosanna, who is simply looking at him, a small smile present. "What?"
Rosanna looks away, "Nothing."
Charles looks at her, licking his lips. With a flutter of his heart, he says, "Okay."
"What're we going to do?" Rosanna asks.
Momentarily, Charles does not reply. He clears his throat, shuffling in his seat, his eyes averting hers. Charles shrugs, "I guess after that you just want to go home." He looks at her and the look in his eyes – sadness – lets Rosanna know that it is really what he expects her to want to do. "Unimpressive, I know."
Rosanna thinks. She genuinely did look forward to this, no matter what she would admit aloud. "Well, I know this place with a good view of the bridge. My brother, Romeo, often goes there." She doesn't let him explicitly know what she wants him to do with the information she has given him. it is letting him know too much about how she feels. No, that she needs to keep away from him. . hidden.
Charles smiles and he lets her guide the way. They don't share a proper conversation because they are deadly focused on navigating their way through the busy streets of Manhattan. Rosanna does yell at him now and again for driving badly or not giving the person behind a signal.
When they do get there, it is still raining and Rosanna realises that she should have suggested something more spacious.
"Well," Charles says, turning of the car engine after rolling down the window a little on his side. "This is nice." With that, he gets the picnic basket from behind and sets it on his lap. "How do you want to start? Pie? Pasta?"
"Pasta?" Rosanna says, leaning over to look into the basket. There's a bottle of red wine and many other treats. Rosanna's mouth waters at the sight of macarons. They follow a colour pallette of pastel rainbow colours.
Rosanna recoils, slouching into her seat.
"Is everything okay?" Charles asks, leaning forward to catch her gaze and possibly understand what is happening.
Rosanna shakes her head. "It's nothing. . .well actually, the thing is Charles, I'm vegan. I should have mentioned it before."
Charles pulls away and looks at her softly. "Remember the time –"
"We have met for a total of four times, including now –"
"– when we had sex –" Charles interrupts.
"Are you seriously bringing this up right n–"
"– the morning after you said that you knew I had been reading your vegan cookbook at four a.m . ." Charles finishes, looking at her with a gentle smile.
"All of this is vegan?"
"Yes, m'am," Charles nods, taking out the macarons and handing them to her. Sighing, he adds, "Also, I was reading it at five in the morning. At four, we were –"
"Are we actually going to discuss sex on our first date, Chuck?" Rosanna huffs, stuffing a macaron in his mouth. That man really needed to learn to stay quiet at certain times.
Charles finished the goodie in his mouth, then raises an eyebrow at him. "First date? You admit it," Charles says, his voice cheery.
Rosanna takes the pasta out of his hands and holds a fork out to him. "Shut up."
"Sweetie, you gotta do better in the long run," Charles sarcastically says, shaking his head and grabbing the fork. Opening the lid of the pasta box she is still holding, Charles dives in but stops, looking up. "If this is for the long run."
"First dates aren't for marriage talk," Rosanna condemns, pushing his fork into his mouth to get him to stop talking.
Charles nods, "Yes, m'am."
Rosanna looks at him and instantly notes the smug look on his face, more prominent than ever. He's smirking widely but does make the effort to hide it. "Stop riling me up!"
"I'm not riling you up," Charles denies, shoving her fork into his mouth.
Before Rosanna can hit him, he moves to pull something out from the glove compartment. When he leans over, his hot breath brushes against Rosanna's legs and Rosanna's stops her leg from jolting, as a ripple of shiver running through her. "I have something here," Charles mutters, just having managed to open it. Rosanna wants to grab him by the hair and push him away because his breath is stirring the pit in her stomach and is making her feel woozy.
Rosanna sighs deeply when Charles pulls away. She leans her head back and it takes her a few seconds to gather her thoughts. She clenches her fists, crushing the material of her red dress under it. Rosanna blinks a few times before clearing her throat and looking at him.
He's holding a DVD player, but takes a second to look at her. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns, "You okay? You look a little flustered. ."
Rosanna now jolts, clearing her throat a second time. "I'm fine."
"Is it hot in here? I'll open the window. ." Charles begins to say, rolling down the window, only to have the rain pouring in.
Rosanna immediately leans over and grabs the macarons whilst Charles rolls the windows up and closes them. "Still raining!" Rosanna chuckles, leaning back.
Charles wipes the few raindrops off his pants and then looks over at her. His frown grows deeper as he eyes her lap. "You saved the fucking macarons before saving me?"
Rosanna pops another in her mouth and chews slowly before replying, "These actually have worth."
"Rosanna, I am never going to forgive you," Charles roles his eyes, snatching the pasta box away from her. After a moment of Rosanna just looking at him as if she cannot not believe such a stupid man exists, Charles raises a finger and with a what could be called a sensual voice, offers, "Unless. . you watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine with me."
"Wait, so," Rosanna begins, relaxing into her seat but stretching her hand to grabs a disc labelled B99 - Season 5 in a red marker. "I get free food for watching good comedy with you?"
Charles grins, relaxing into his seat, as well, and turning to look at her. "Yes. Deal's out there to take." He sets the disc into the DVD player and waits but it seems to take some time.
Rosanna leans forward and scrunches her nose, which manages to relax Charles' features and a soft smile to cover his face. "Not really. Bye!"
"Ro!" Charles groans. Just as she opens the door a little, Charles wraps his hand around her arm and pulls her back to him. Her body falls towards him and the door closes shut.
She's leaning over the arm rest and her face is now close to Charles', her eyes gazing into his.
Rosanna takes a moment. Every feature on Charles' face grace him and make him the handsome man he is. His plump lips stand out the most and they are softened with his beautiful eyes, that reflect the sunshine on a gloomy day. Rosanna has never seen someone so beautiful. His eyebrows frame his narrow eyes and his eyes are able to make anyone smile.
Charles bites onto his lower lip, momentarily, seemingly contemplating a big decision – a big decision Rosanna is contemplating, as well. Their eyes are fixed on each other, their bodies visibly relaxing under the warmth radiating. The air between them crackles with an unusual spark, initially inflamed by passion. Rosanna's sure her eyes look like cigarette smoke, as Charles manages to make her feel light-headed.
Rosanna lifts a hand, her thirst of lust getting the best of her. Her hand wraps around his chin and she moves closer to him.
The air heats up with just their touch, hearts thumping and eyes glossed over with passion. Uncertainty crosses their minds and a part of them shies away, despite having done more intimate activities.
Rosanna looks at him. He's looking at her if she is a delicate flower in a field of thorns. Her heart can't grasp it. He looks at her as if she is an exquisite creature amongst a background of plain land.
Before they can, the music begins to play and they are interrupted by a series of dialogue.
Charles leans back, slowly, his mind still a haze, crumbling under the tension of their passion. Rosanna breathes. She almost kissed him.
They aren't sure why it feels like the most intimate thing to share. It shouldn't be. Sex is their intimacy, a kiss shouldn't mean all that much – but it does seem so, they don't let it happen. . not too soon. It's as if they are saving it for a more perfect time, when Charles knows her better and Rosanna can let her heart trust.
"This is my favourite episode, by far," Charles comments, taking a pink macaron from her.
In the next moment, Charles belts out to I Want It That Way by Backstreet Boys and Rosanna's eyes widens, as she presses her head against the headrest and looks at him. Charles stops himself from chuckling and begins to sing over the theme song and he looks at Rosanna.
He has a bright grin on his face, his eyes crinkling as he sings with a passion in a terrible voice, enjoying this little moment he has. Charles curls his fist, in the form of a microphone and holds it out to her. Rosanna tilts her head to the side, giving him a look of disbelief. She isn't used to being so comfortable.
Rosanna gazes at him, fazed by how the slightest of things mean so much to this man. He is something Rosanna isn't. Rosanna is used to use and throw away. Charles seems to grasp each moment, make the best of it and hold onto it as a grand memory, piecing his life together.
Rosanna wonders if she will ever be able to giver her heart to a man like Charles. Rosanna is used to use and throw away but she herself has also been used and thrown away. She is not sure if her heart can carry more burden of pain.