Fake It

"Please. It's one ball."
One ball too many.

Being slightly famous with an even more famous family is kind of a hard ship when you don't want anything to do with them. For Layne Avery, this ball was the very last thing she ever wanted to go to, but when a very unexpected visitor comes and asks her for a favor, she says yes. Layne isn't fit for the royal life, or maybe she is. You tell me, but you first you have to read Fake It.


12. Twelve


Warm fingers brush against my cheekbone, prompting me to flutter open my eyelashes. What comes to sight is simply breathtaking. Zayn's leaning on his elbow, looking down at me with probably only his boxers on. His hair's all frayed and he still somehow pulls it off with ease. Fucking model, I tell you. He's smiling, red spreading up to his temples. And now, I'm fucking melting. Actual melting, and, to hide the embarrassment, I roll over into his chest, murmuring, "You have me blushing way too early, Malik."


  "You're stark naked and you chose now to be embarrassed?" He says into my hair, hand find the hairs at the nape of my neck.   "This isn't the first time I've had this amount of clothes on in your presence, y'know." I tell him. He smells like vanilla and fresh linen and I really don't want to move. It's calm and quiet in this room and he smells great and this fucking bed is the softest thing in the world and he's just so fucking kissable and-  


A knock rings out.   


"Sir?" Someone calls from outside the door.


"What do you want?" Zayn groans from the edge of the bed, already gathering up his robe. I sit up at the action and try to find a shirt or something to cover myself up with. Zayn puts on his glasses and makes way for the door.


"You've been resting for extended period of time and-" Edward stops abruptly when Zayn opens the door, but proceeds soon after, "I was worried."  


"We're fine. Aren't we, Layne?" Zayn asks, holding the open a bit more so Edward could see me. I give him a small, "G'morning." and a wave with the bed spread held up to my chest. 


Edward lets out a small cough before saying something along the lines of, "I'm going to go." and retreats down the hall. Zayn smiles a bit, closes the door and find his way back to bed.   


"Good morning, Layne." He murmurs, flopping down next to me.


  "It's noon." I tell him, rolling over with my back facing him.  


"Is it?" He asks, throwing a arm around my middle.  


"Yes, yes it is and you, your highness, have to get ready for that prince convention thing." I say, burying my face into the pillow.   


This prince convention is more formally known as The Semi-Annual Convention of the Five Nations. It basically consists of training and such at Nobel Nathaniel's palace. I've only heard bits and piece from Edward and Hana, but it sounds pretty important. I wouldn't want to miss it.  


"That's today?" He asks.  


"Yep, at 4 p.m. You have to get dressed. Do what ever it is that you do for stuff like this."   


"But I don't be away from you." Zayn groans.   


I sigh, flipping over and asking, "Is this your annoying way of asking me to go with you, because if it is, I'll have you know-"  


He presses his lips to mine, shutting me up...quite effectively. "It is now." He says afterwards. I frown at him, spitting out a, "Morning breath." before untangling myself from his arms.  


I stand up and stretch my arms, looking for my damned nightgown. Its one that Zayn ordered for me on the basis that, "You shouldn't be sleeping in such confinement. It's also easier to take off." It probably has a tear in it now. When I do I find it, my suspicions are confirmed: I have a fucking tear in it going up the right leg. I glare at Zayn and he only sends me a smirk back, obviously proud of his work, before asking, "Is that a yes?"  


"I don't have anything to wear to something like that. What are you even going to be doing? I'll probably be by myself for most of the time." I say, pulling the gown over my head.   


"You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it." He assures, getting up and going into the bathroom.  


"I'm heading to my room." I call over my shoulder, pulling my hair up.   


"W-wait, Layne!"  


I turn around to find Zayn leaning on his elbow against the bathroom door frame and scratching his head with his eyebrows furrowed.  




"Aren't you going to shower?" He asks.   


"That's why I'm on my way to my room."   


"I thought we'd take one together." He suggests.   


I shake my head, with a smile and say, "I would, but I don't want the maids to get the wrong idea."  


"What wrong idea?"  


"I haven't left your room since yesterday morning. There's not any other idea they'd get."  


"Yeah, you're right." He murmurs, walking into the bathroom.  


"I'll be ready in an...hour." I say, being cut off by the bathroom door closing. I shrug it off and walking out of his room  




"Now place your least dominant hand on your partners waist." The instructor, Lolly, says. She's around 40--I think--and has been teaching the princes since they were toddlers.   


Zayn's hand finds my waist and an annoyingly sweet, warm sensation ripples through my skin. Zayn smiles at me as if the feeling mutual and I highly doubt it. I rest my hand on his shoulder and other hands find each other. We sway like in the movies. Like, legit cliche movie swaying. I only smile and tuck that thought in the back of my head. I can worry about that another day. He drums his fingertips against my hip to the music. It's jazz, probably Etta James.   


It's hauntingly calming. On top of that, he smells like lavender instead of vanilla and I think it's from the soap I accidentally left in his room from last week that I thought I threw away. He's also wearing a blue tie, a really pretty baby blue tie that is bright as all hell and I try not to think it's because I like blue.



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