Collab with baby @lovecraft
"When are we telling our parents?" I kept asking Warren. Each time he would look at me and c*ck his head sideways indulgently.
"Not today," he'd say and stroke the side of my face gently. He did that today as well. It was the day of David Cameron's, the british prime minister, first official visit to the States. There would be a big event hosted by the president and his wife and some other couples at the Smithsonian in his honor. To my joy they'd invited guests from both wings, but sadly that meant for Warren and I only to be even more cautious than we already were, and with my father hoping for a position as Attorney General or Secretary of State if Obama won the next election, that just made it even harder. A tiny part of me hoped that the president changed his mind, or that he lost the election, because then it wouldn't be so hard for us to come out in the open with our relationship. Of course until then Dad would probably kill me if we went public with the future secretary of state's daughter dating a republican. God knows hell would break loose!
I straightened his tie and planted a short peck on his lips, "I gotta go."
"C'mon, stay," he said and held on to my waist.
"No, I have to go home and get ready. My folks get suspicious and I don't have anything to wear!"
He gestured towards me. Damn, was he fine looking in that dark suit of his. In fact he looked impeccable. Delicious. I could've jumped him for the third time right then and there, "why don't you just wear that?"
"Seriously?" I chuckled and looked down my body, "messy hair, jeans, flats and one of your shirts? Don't think Michelle would dig," I laughed and twisted my way, against my will, out of his embrace, "I really need to go. My mom is texting me. See you there."
"And pretend not to," he smiled a half smile of discontent and sadness.
I sighed and took a step closer to him and kissed him just beside his right ear, "you know I'll see you."
In the car over here my mother went on and on about how tacky she thought me outfit was. "You know what, Dalia? After you came home from Harvard…"
"Dropped out," my dad corrected. He startled me a little, since I thought he was completely absorbed of his iPhone.
"Dropped out… You have been dressing like a vamp, dear."
I grinned at my mother's daily insult of my wardrobe, "thank you, mom. Means a lot."
Mom, who was half a head shorter and me linked arms with me on the way in, in order to "make us look like a perfect family. The Washington Post will be here." I felt like throwing up, but I didn't want to ruin my father's career. The room was beautifully decorated with huge flower arrangements and the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes hanging from the ceiling. Guest-wise all businesses in America were represented; everyone fin politics, Bruce Springsteen, some actors, I even think I saw Jay-Z there.
Across the room Warren smiled at me. He was gorgeous in his suit, but with all these people surrounding us we were again in need to hide. But.. who was that leggy brunette he was completely absorbed in conversation with? I'd never seen her before in my life, but they stood there talking and laughing like they knew each other well. I decided to stride over there, but just to remind him of my existence, since I couldn't talk to him with the whole room as witnesses.
In an overly loud voice I greeted Joe Biden who was standing in a group just beside the brunette and Warren, "hello, mr. Vice President! You look great!"
"Thank you, Dalia, so do you. How are you?"
I shrugged in a totally exaggerated way, "oh, fine, fine. I guess what I really want to do is go to the CORNER behind the bar in TWO minutes."
"Sorry, what?" the Vice President said politely, my last line making no sense at all to him.
I shot Warren a glance. The girl must've noticed because not only did Warren return my look; she did as well. "Two minutes," I mouthed mutely and excused myself from the Vice President to find the corner behind the bar, where we could be alone.
He came a couple of minutes later. Not alone though. That girl (who I already thought was annoying) had tagged along, to my great regret. I didn't know her and I'd never seen her before, so I thought it was okay for me to kiss Warren. Our lips met in a hungry, but brief kiss. He pulled away.
"Sorry," he mumbled only for me to hear and looked me in the eye. He smiled, which calmed me down to some extend, but it was like he found it awkward me kissing him. He turned to the brunette, "Cassie, this is Dalia."
"Nice to meet you," I said with a small smile on my lips as I shook her hand firmly.
"You too," Cassie chirped in a heavy English accent. Her smile was hard not to get influenced by, but I managed to keep an unimpressed expression. We sat down at a table out of sight from the rest of the room and small talked. Warren took my hand in his, to my surprise, and squeezed it.
When we'd turned subjects such as politics, which we obviously didn't agree on, the weather, HBO's new TV series, I asked, "so how do you guys know each other?"
Cassie smiled widely, making me somewhat uncomfortable, "we go way back. Old friends."
I decided to let it pass and went on with the conversation, "but you're British, right?"
"Yes, but I lived in America for 10 years. Was classmates with this one for almost all of them," she playfully hit Warren's upper arm as in to underline the extent of their relationship.
I sensed some kind of past these two shared that made me uncomfortable. I withdrew my hand from Warren's touch and placed it in my lap. It felt humiliating to sit here like some dumb blonde with this sk-nk smiling at my boyfriend. Who was she anyway? "A-ha," I said, my breathing starting to get uneven, "and what was your last name again?"
"Stevensson," she answered confusedly and with a little hesitation.
"Okay," I replied and leaned back. No other words needed for the effect I wanted. She looked down in her glass of water and finished it in one gulp. I'd never heard about the Stevensson's. She must not be that important, and that made me relax a bit. Both Warren and I were as good as royals in America. I mean, John F. Kennedy was the godfather of my dad, and his son, John Kennedy Jr. was mine. Warren's family is united with the prominent Vanderbilts by marriage, so it doesn't really get closer to royalty. It might be playing dirty, but jealousy doesn't bring out the best sides of my personality.
I understood Dalia's game right away. We don't have royalty in America, but we have "good" families, and while we were part of such, Cassie was 'just' a foreigner, of a rich family nonetheless. Of course this had been of no importance to me Â while we were together, but, in any case, Dalia hit very close to home as Cassie's smile froze on her lips and her sharp white teeth were covered by her lips. I was taken aback by my innocent little Dalia's cruelty, but tickled nicely by her jealousy.
Silence roamed for a few seconds until Warren looked at his watch and said, "maybe we should get back to the main event."
"Yeah, we really should. I'll introduce you to Mr. Cameron," Cassie answered, completely excluding me for their plans. What I was most surprised about was Warren just leaving me here. I left too and joined my family who was talking to a group of people, when I received a text from Warren, "wanna go 2 dinner babe?"
I let him hang for a period of time before answering, "I thought u wanted to catch up w Cassie…"
I couldn't believe he'd left me at that table. Left with her! It was like my heart was pierced with needles of betrayal, my lungs spiked with Cassie's venom. While I stood there and nodded at a woman who praised my father's proposal. I don't even know what it was about, because as she stood there saying that proposal was the most brilliant thing since the invention of the wheel, my brain was working fast to find a way to get him away from her with him working for it. Dinner? Puh-lease.
"Who is it you're looking at dear? Is it that boy again," my dear, ignorant mother asked, still not knowing the name of my secret lover.
"Yeah... Nevermind me," I put on a fake smile and tried to concentrate on some of the conversations going on about me, while I could see out of the corner of my eye the two of them laughing, making jokes, talking to David Cameron. The David Cameron who hit on me aggressively at Prince Charles' birthday two years ago.
When Cassie started touching Warren's upper arm in what appeared to be an attempt at flirting I couldn't watch anymore. "Excuse me," I said and turned around and paced across the marble floor. It didn't go by quietly - it never does - as I hit a walking waiter with a tray of champagne glasses that collapsed onto the floor and the sound of glass breaking was making my ears bleed. The room silenced. I just kept on walking until I made it outside the museum. I fumbled in my Chanel after my pack of cigarettes. A small group of smokers were already standing outside, but I needed to be by myself for a while. I finally find my cigs and placed one in-between my glossy lips and ran across the street into the Liberation Park. The smoke entering my lungs made me relax. It wasn't dark yet, but the park was completely empty. I kicked off my shoes and felt the cool, green grass between my toes.
"Are you ok, babe?" Warren asked. I hadn't heard him approach, so I was startled and almost dropped my cigarette.
"So you used to f.ck her?" I said, my voice shaking.
"Cassie's my ex-girlfriend, yes," he said indulgently.
I exhaled smoke, "and now she just wants to be f.ck-buddies?"
"What?! Dalia, she is just an old friend. We're that more than exes. We grew up together, had one of those almost incestuous relationships between silly rich kids that start "dating" when they're like 12," he chuckled from time to time as if to make it easier for me to comprehend. All it did was p*ssing me off.
"I DON'T CARE about that! It's not like /I/ don't get that you have a past," I took a deep breath, which cussed my voice to down tone a little, "she was all over you."
He grinned and kissed me softly, "she's /just/ an old friend."
Being in his arms, reassuring me that nothing was going on slowed my heart rate down and made me more comfortable, "I'm still mad though," I rested me head on his shoulder.
"You shouldn't be," he said and stroke my hair gently.
In a rapid movement I stretched my neck to be able to look directly at him, "it was embarrassing, Warren. The way she acted around you, or just in general, was really ... full of flaws, I guess. Like it just wasn't okay."
"Well," he started, "you didn't quite act okay either, Dalia."
A combination of a sigh and a chuckle came through my lips, "I know, I got carried away. Sorry." I regretted having revealed a part of the high school Dalia I'd successfully surprised the last couple of years.
He cupped my face with his back hands, the cool metal of his Rolex just touching my jaw, "you have nothing to worry about, babe."
I replied with a smile and received the kiss he gave me happily.
We both sat down on the bench behind us and said nothing while holding hands. I threw the last on my cigarette on the ground and rested my head on his shoulder, "what did you tell her about me?"
"Cassie," I said and looked up, "what did you tell her before you introduced us, because when you did, you just said our names."
He peeped, almost inaudible, "I said you were my girlfriend."
I felt a huge grin develop across my face, all traces of anger vanished, "you did? Honey!" I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him repeatedly. When I stopped, I looked directly into his ocean blue eyes, "I think of you as my boyfriend too. I just don't have anyone to say it to."
"Say it to me then," he breathed.
"You're my boyfriend. I'm your girlfriend," the words didn't quite hit me. It was insane. He was mine. I was his. "I love saying it."
"So you'll come to my place for dinner? Just us two?"
"I wish I could, babe. My mother's having a women democrats reunion blah fest and will kill me if I miss it."