Zara tossed and turned all night, her mind too cluttered with fervent thoughts of what was to come. She woke up bright and early the following morning nonetheless, ticking off the checklist of things she had to do before Max came by and picked her up.

She worked through her schoolwork at breakneck speed, her focus on its completion, with not even the voices being able to stand in her way. In only a handful of hours, she managed to finish all the overdue homework and even start her Biology assignment. Zara then left for the hospital with a sense of accomplishment, with not even her grandfather's cynicism being able to dampen her good mood. It took a while for her to get there, because it was a public holiday, but she made it eventually.

As she sat beside his bed, nodding absentmindedly at his never-ending soliloquy, she found a newfound emotional detachment to his complaints. The big reveal, or confession, had placed a spotlight on their dysfunctional relationship. Instead of bringing them closer together as a family, it increased the divide between them, evaporating any trust they might have had in one another.

Zara tried to empathise with him, to try and understand his struggles, but failed each and every time. She couldn't feel sympathy for someone who found no fault in lying to her, in hiding things from her. It was almost as if she was the parent, the adult.

She worked her ass off, putting her life on the line constantly to secure a stable lifestyle, while her infantilised grandfather went and carelessly involved himself in matters that did not concern him. Zara took two steps forwards and he took one backwards. Over the following days, she would find herself visiting him because it was her duty as his granddaughter to keep him company, not because of anything else.

"He's not a fit parent for you!"

Saffron was absolutely, 300% right about Simon. 

Zara felt stupid for ever thinking the contrary.

She swept her negativity under a rug back at her house, where Max picked her up. Together, they then walked down Madison Avenue, steaming cappuccino in hand. Zara brought it up to her nose, breathing in the rich scent of freshly ground coffee that softened the hard lines of her frozen face. They had stopped at a local café, and even though it was already two in the afternoon, it's never too late to have caffeine pumping through your veins. It kept her eyes open, considering that she hadn't been able to close them the whole night.

"Where exactly are we going?" Zara asked, her legs aching as she tried to keep up with Max's long strides. She made sure to remain as close to him as possible, as his height allowed him to effortlessly manoeuvre through the thick crowd without breaking a sweat.

Zara couldn't help but gawk at every famous clothing store they passed by: Chanel, Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss, those were all brands which she knew by name but had never even dreamed of standing in their proximity. She preferred to keep her feet firmly on the ground, and avoid having unrealistic dreams.

"Here," Max said after a brief pause, and grabbed her hand to pull her away from the mob and into a boutique. Scalding coffee nearly spilling onto her hand, she hardly registered what he had said that she found herself in a vast, open space, with floors so polished you could see your reflection, and lights so bright it was like being in a dentist's office.

Recovering from the shock, she noticed that there were barely any clothes visible, never mind customers. They would be the only ones in the store, if it weren't for those who worked there. Even in the void, Zara could feel herself being watched, her every move scrutinised. Her mere presence seemed to taint the perfection that was the venue. A chill crawled up her spine.

"Hello, may I help you?" Came a perky voice behind them. Almost jumping out of her skin, Zara turned around and the girl she could've sworn had been on the other side of the store now stood in front of her.

She must've teleported there or something, because there was no way on God's green earth that she could've crept up on them so quickly and silently. There was something eerie in the way she stood there, balancing on pin-like heels, a toothy smile contoured by red lipstick, as flawless as the rest of her makeup. Maybe it was her eyes, as dark as the depths of hell, or how angular her two-piece outfit was.

"Yes, my girlfriend and I have to attend an important dinner tonight, and she was looking for a dress appropriate for the occasion." Max said, looking bored already.

Zara would have inputted something if it weren't that her brain had turned to mush.

"Certainly." The girl didn't even attempt to hide her distaste, "If you would kindly direct yourself towards the changing room I will show you our extensive collection of evening wear." She swivelled on her heel, clicking away from them without expecting a response. Zara tried to ignore the fact that she had said this to Max rather than her, but then again she wasn't surprised.

Max looked like a Greek God, while Zara looked like a goblin with clothes on.

"Why did you say that?" Zara hissed as the two began making their way towards the back.

"Say what?" Max looked confused for a moment, but then his mouth formed an 'O' in realisation. "That? Of course you are my girl friend. Female friend. Lady friend. Amiga. However you want to call it." He grinned that stupid grin, and Zara wanted to punch him in the face.

"You're an asshole." She made an animal-like sound afterwards, and Max playfully swung an arm over her shoulders.

"I had to! I didn't like the way that girl was treating you."

"Whatever." Zara murmured, just as Barbie girl returned, pulling a garment rack behind her. There were at least ten different dresses hanging from it, and Zara had to look around to see whether she had taken them from the mannequins twisted into 'fashionable' poses.

They looked untouched.

"Alright, I have selected a wide range of dresses which I believe suit your figure and skin complexion perfectly. If you would kindly step into the dressing room, we can begin."

"Of course." Zara returned the girl's smile with an equally fake one of her own. She unzipped her coat, and thrust it towards Max. "Hold this for me darling, will you?" She said sweetly, before sashaying into the changing room and closing the curtain.

That's how she spent the next two hours, in the company of a snarky salesgirl and a pretentious Maximilian.

-:-

"Even though you were a little mean today, I have to admit... you look absolutely stunning."

Contrary to her initial beliefs, Zara managed to stumble through a tunnel of retailers, jewellers, hairstylists, and makeup artists alive and well, looking better than what was humanly possible for her. Her squeaky-clean appearance must've cost thousands to construct, but Zara could only guess what the final price was. Max had banned her from looking at the price tags, and would swipe his golden credit card without giving them a second glance.

Despite showering her with compliments and coaxing her into forgiving him, she was still peeved about what he had said. Relationship labels were sacred to her, and she didn't enjoy it when people threw them around with no real meaning.

One leg crossed over the other, her back rigid against the limousine's leather seat, she tossed him a look. "You don't look too bad yourself," Zara consented, critically eyeing his relaxed demeanour.

Max rolled his eyes, unimpressed. She knew that he expected her to fawn over him the way that retailer-girl did, or even how he did over her, but it would only further inflate his already overinflated ego. He did look drop-dead gorgeous, in a black suit and matching bow-tie, polished dress shoes, and long hair combed back, but he didn't have to be told something he already knew. Again, stroking his ego was only hazardous to your health.

"I'm nervous," she blurted out, looking out the window in embarrassment. Her eyelid was itchy, and so was her upper-lip, but she couldn't scratch either. It would be the end if she messed up her face, and even if she didn't, the thought would remain there, haunting her until she caught her reflection again.

"Are you now?" She heard Max turning in his seat so he could rest his thigh against it. "If it's about your looks, you have nothing to be nervous about Zara, because I'm pretty sure that I got the most beautiful date tonight. I mean, you're always beautiful but—I honestly can't stop staring at you."

She blushed, and bit the inside of her cheek.

Of course his primary concern would be with appearances, but it wasn't Zara's. She was more worried about what lied underneath, or the layer upon layer of expensive clothing and makeup. Zara knew that she didn't belong in that crowd, with those kind of people, and would stick out like a sore thumb. She was merely a pauper in a prince's clothing. If the guilt in her eyes didn't give Zara away, her lack of mannerisms would.

"I'm not nervous about that." She also turned, peering at Max underneath her mascara-enhanced lashes.

"What about then?" He reached out with the intent of caressing her cheek, but then swiftly moved his hand at the last second to the exposed portion of her arm, or the part that wasn't covered by a fur sleeve.

"About what they will think of me." It honestly was consuming her insides, and she felt that at any moment she could die of an internal haemorrhage.

Something flashed across his gaze. Was he annoyed that she was bringing up her insecurities again? Or just simple pity? She had to lower her head and stare at her manicured nails instead. Those, and her feet, had taken half an hour to do, and Zara had somehow already managed to ever-so-slightly chip the nail polish off her ring finger. Maybe she was just hallucinating—the lady had cryptically reassured her that the one she used, Shellac it was called, never came off.

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" His lip curled upwards into a half-smile, and that mischievous glint returned to his eyes.

"You have a weird foot fetish nobody knows about?" She leant towards him, her voice lowered.

"Oh God! No!" He scrunched up his face and lifted his shoulders, "Okay, now I'm getting disturbing mental images, thanks a bunch Zara."

She burst into laughter, clutching her stomach.

"No, that's not my secret..." Max shook his head, chuckling, "although if it were I wouldn't tell you. I'd let you find out on your own." He winked salaciously.

"Max!" She gasped, and her toes reflexively curled at his disturbing suggestion.

"I'm only joking!" He innocuously lifted both hands, "Seriously though. Don't worry about what they think about you, because their opinions don't matter. They're all just a bunch of hypocrites, with their heads up their asses. If they say things that you don't like just let me know—nothing I say can make them hate me more than they already do."

"Is there anyone that doesn't hate you?"

"I don't know...you?"

He looked genuinely hopeful, his lips slightly parted as he held his breath.

"I like you," Zara whispered, holding his intense stare with her own.

"Really?" His eyes widened, evidently in awe.

"Yes."

Max smiled, lifting a hand to caress her bare shoulder, tenderly, teasingly. Dark-green specks danced around in his eyes, which flitted down to her lips, then to her own gaze, a silent request. Her heart pounded in her chest with anticipation as he leaned in, her breath becoming increasingly ragged as his lips neared hers.

Just as the longing became unbearable, their lips touched, sending a jolt of electricity through Zara's body. His hand snaked to the back of her head, holding her in place as his lips moved slowly at first, gauging her reaction, their tenderness and warmth melting her heart. He was so gentle, so careful, that she found herself craving more, needing more from Max than just a taste.

Without thinking, allowing her primal instincts to take over, she grabbed the lapels of his suit with both hands, pulling Max impossibly closer to herself. She returned the kiss with more vigour, more passion, until it soon became a battle for dominance. Each one tried to overpower the other as they began to feel more comfortable with one another, more assertive. Zara ran her fingers through his hair, while his own hand roamed her body, disallowing his injury to dictate their embrace.

He made a guttural sound when she opened her mouth just enough for him to slide his tongue in, allowing him to carry her away into a world that knew only bliss.

And just like that, the kiss was over.

She breathed heavily, her head swimming and her lips tingling. Her body felt like it could collapse from the emotional overload, but Max kept her propped up with an arm wrapped securely around her waist.

"That was...that was..." He closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, "fucking amazing."

His hand was in her hair again, twirling the coiled tendrils around a finger.

Zara soon became aware of her surroundings, and of what had just happened. She gently detangled his hand from her hair and slid back to the other side of the limousine, trying to avoid Max's wounded-animal gaze.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, feeling her cheeks heat up, "you probably feel violated. I didn't mean to—"

He burst into laughter, slapping his forehead.

Zara felt so pathetic, cowering like that in a corner. She had received the best kiss of her life and there she was, ruining it again with her insecurities.

Way to go Zara. I applaud your stupidity.

"Don't even. I was the one that kissed you." His laughter died down halfway through his statement, and that aura of seriousness returned to him. "Did it suck? Am I a bad kisser? Is that why you're sitting all the way over there?"

"No!" She shrieked, appalled that he had even considered that, "You were like...I mean—if anything I was the one that was really bad. You were like wow." She threw a hand in the air, but before she could lower it, Max was by her side, using his body to press her against the car door.

"Then why are you being so shy, baby girl," He said huskily, hot breath against her ear. Instinct said to karate-chop his nuts, but her heart fluttered in her chest.

"I-I don't—I..." Her brain short-circuited.

He inched away from her and broke out into renewed round of laughter, which left Zara trembling with confusion. "I was just—messing—with you!"

"Ugh! Why do you always do this to me!" Her brows furrowed and she angrily crossed her arms.

At first she wanted to strangle him for playing with her emotions like that, but then she couldn't help but laugh along with him, his laugh was that contagious.

"I just love seeing your reaction! It's so damn cute." He broke out into a cough, having laughed too hard for too long. She patted his back in mock-sympathy. "Thanks," he wheezed, eyes watering.

After a brief recovery, he said, "I won't lie, I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"Do what, give me a heart attack?"

"No, kiss you."

Silence ensued.

"Well...you have lipstick all over the bottom-half of your face so that's your reward for getting what you wanted..."

"You're shitting me." He pursed his lips, and she knew that he was trying hard to tell if she was lying.

"Nope. See for yourself."

He swiped a finger against his lips, and when the red stain caught his eye he immediately began scrambling around for something to wipe his face with. "What are you doing staring at me? You aren't any better off than I am."

Zara cursed under her breath, then snapped her clutch open to rummage through it. 

Once she managed to find the makeup remover wipes—which she had thankfully brought along under the recommendation of the cosmetologist—she pulled one out of the packet and handed it to Max.

The limousine came to a halt, and they both froze in their places.

Max wiped his face hastily, finishing just as the door on his side swung open to reveal his chauffeur.

Zara had only begun though, using the pocket mirror to reapply her lipstick.

"Do I look alright?" She asked, triple-checking her makeup and fluffing her hair. 

"You look better than alright. Let's go."

-:-