luck be a lady â arven x juliana (AO3 link) 10k words, High Society AU, Modern AU
Summary: Rich, confident, and worldly: only one of those words describe Arven and it's not the last two. Just when he thinks his luck has run out, he reads a strange ad with a phone number. And with that, his prayers seemingly have been answered. Or, Arven doesn't want to be responsible for a multi-million dollar company and falls in love with Juliana instead.
Her stilettos clack against the glossy epoxy floors, her figure silencing murmurs of people and parting them like a sea as she walks by. Her face is rosy, with a small glisten from highlight on her cheekbones and nose. Like cherubs flying across the Sistineâs ceiling, sheâs simply divine and not what anyone expected to accompany him as his date for the evening.Â
The soft amber glow from the crystal chandeliers overhead sets a romantic and warm ambience throughout the grand reception hall. At some point, someone accidentally knocks over a fluted glass â champagne bubbling across the floor â a dull crash drowned out by shifting feet and bodies brushing together.Â
Her silhouette is sleek in a navy dress, the fabric hugging her body and stopping mid-calf. Slowly, she stops in front of her date, who has one man pulling on his jacket, fistful of the lapel, and another man behind him, seemingly sandwiched in a moment of hostility. She gently tilts her head to the side in obvious wonder and a playful smile curving over her glossed lips.Â
The men, who appear to have roughly handled the man in the middle previously, lightly release him and step ever so slightly away upon seeing her, a little starstruck she thinks. She didnât do much to gussy up for tonight, though. Her partner releases a sigh of relief and steps to her side, extending his elbow after fixing his jacket.Â
The room has one collective thought: perhaps Turo Industries isnât lost after all.Â
â \ â
Streaks of light just barely stream through the black-out curtains of this cold, wide and modern room. Thereâs no noise, and as his green eyes slowly blink open, he sees specs of dust floating in and out of the rays peeking through. His only source of warmth wriggles by his feet, a small whine and whimper as the pet resituates itself.Â
A small smile curves over his mouth, but just as quickly vanishes when he realizes he needs to get up for the day. Softly, his bare feet land on the chill floor as he sits on the side of his large bed, steadily moving to stand up.Â
This is the hardest part of his day.Â
A hand runs through his ashen blond hair, stopping midway for him to scratch it. A weird itch randomly hits his scalp. Often, heâll scratch it in moments of bashfulness or when he has to make a hard decision. Similarly, heâll ball his fist and clench his jaw. Heâs too open of a book for anyone, he thinks.Â
Thatâs right, heâs nothing anyone would be interested in. Except, maybe, his money. But for who he is individually, what they see is what they get. His fingertips pull at the center of his loose t-shirt, attempting to vent some air in and out from the fabric as he walks from the bed to the door. As he makes his way out to the living room and into the kitchen, he passes by a small pile of catalog envelopes.Â
His stomach lurches a bit, catching a glimpse of the pileâs presence in his peripheral. The moment his 26th birthday hit, itâs as if he reached some magic number. This unfortunate magic number: marriageable age. Something about needing to meet a girl with a good âpedigreeâ like theyâre his dog or something. Something, something. Something about a good background, education, something.Â
In his mind, truthfully, itâs a whole lot of nothing.Â
Not that heâs one to complain, he monologues aloud while pouring a glass of water from a crystal pitcher. âItâs not like youâve accomplished anything of note, Arven,â he says, whipping his head to the side to face the fridge. âSome girl from an Ivy League is way better than Iâd deserve I guess, right buddy?âÂ
He makes a sheepish, joking smile down towards his dog, who looks up at him in wonder. Arven peers into the fridge, seeing pre-portioned food in different tupperware. He sighs, wondering when the housekeeper left them. He has no issue eating them, but he furthermore has no issue cooking for himself, in factâŚÂ
The young man catches his stream of thought and shakes his head. Nevermind. Better to not finish that line of thinking. Gently, his hand pulls out one of the containers, pops the lid, and shoves it into the microwave. He stands there watching the food rotate⌠and rotate⌠pointless, planned, passive. Him.Â
He realizes this â he knows this â as he sees his reflection in the window of the microwave when the light goes out and the timer beeps. Arven stands at the grand, marble counter of his kitchen, peering over a spacious living room with a penthouse view. As he eats, he eats another prepared meal, in a home cleaned by other hands, paid for by his parents.Â
â \ â
Somewhere else, in a different high rise, two young women sit and lie about on a plush queen mattress. One of themâs texting, furiously tapping away with a furrowed brow while the other is standing up to go to the nearby vanity.Â
âUgh, gosh no!â The one texting exasperates, slamming her phone into the mattress. She flops over onto her back, staring at the ceiling.Â
âNothing good?â The slender one in front of the mirror asks, softly cupping a cheek and tilting her head. Sheâs noticed a new freckle. Not that she minds, adds character she thinks.Â
âYou could say that. What are your plans tonight?â She responds, propping herself up with her arms momentarily while awaiting a reply.Â
âYou know, the usual?âÂ
âAny possibility⌠you could cancel and be with me instead? Pretty please? My dad wants me to go to one of these stupid meetings again, and I could really use the support,â she whines, her short bob lying against the mattress once again.Â
The brunette by the vanity turns around, a slight frown on her face. She sits down on the matching stool, a plump and velvety cushion which she sets her foot on and brings a knee to her chest to hug. âPen, I love you, but⌠Iâm not too keen on those kinds of outingsâŚâÂ
âBesides,â she continues. âI kind of swore off that stuff a while ago, remember? My business just started getting some reliable clients and to cancel tonight, well⌠Unprofessional donât you think?âÂ
âI get it, I get it, but you would rather hang out with some dusty old dudes than hang with me? â Penny pleads once more, pouting as her way of putting a cherry on top.Â
âItâs not as bad as you make it sound, theyâre honestly perfectly kind and well-mannered, they just need some pretty girl to sit next to them and laugh. And for the pay rate? It feels much better swiping my own credit card than someone elseâs.âÂ
âI know you seem to mind it, but I certainly donât,â Penny replies, an eye drifting to her vast plushie collection in the other half of the room.Â
âSpeaking of which, I have an engagement in an hour and then the one later tonight so I better go get ready for that! Iâm sure youâll kill it tonight, like you always do,â her friend says, heading for the living room and then regrettably the door.Â
âOh something will definitely be killed tonightâŚâ Penny groans to herself, now alone in her room.Â
â \ â
Arven fidgets in front of his full-length mirror, feeling out of his skin looking at the stupid ensemble he wears. To say he hates wearing any type of formal attire would be an understatement, but this is the world he was born into. A world of suits, shiny dress shoes, and ostentatious watches. To make himself feel a little better, he forgoes a tie and watch, feeling a tad bit more casual.Â
Itâs a nice, beige linen suit with a white dress shirt. Makes his green eyes really pop, the suitshop told him when he was fitted for it months ago. His fingers unbutton the top two, he needs to breathe he thinks and heâs not wearing a tie so what does it matter? He pauses, looking at himself again, more serious. What does any of this matter?Â
Itâs ridiculous heâs even entertaining his parentsâ wishes in the first place, but what use does he have anyway. Heâs stalled for as long as possible, even traveling for that one year after graduating university. Heâs tried everything he can, breathing in air from every different country he could, thinking maybe it would change something in him. Heâs evaded any corporate training for fear of lacking talent and in turn, his parents have evaded him at every opportunity. Every holiday, birthday, school break. Itâs Arven and his Mastiff.Â
Randomly, he hears a loud thump in the unit next door. He flinches at the noise, hearing a muffled groan that sounds feminine, and almostâhe almost wants to go over and knock to ask if theyâre okay. But he canât, because heâs Arven, and they just moved in last week, he wouldnât want to disturb them. Especially since he has somewhere he needs to be soon, anyway.Â
His eyes glance at the analog clock on his nightstand, 6:09. This⌠meet-up is scheduled for 7. He takes a big breath and exhales it out, eyes closed. Arven looks over to his dog, his big body lying across the king bed they share (Arven just had to have the biggest bed once his buddy grew full-size) and slowly steps away.Â
âNow my buddy, you stay right thereâŚâ he says to him, whose head cocks up, ears perking and head tilting and⌠a massive string of drool dangling from its sagging gums. âYou definitely, without a doubt, cannot jump on me or nuzzle meâ!âÂ
And with that, his extreme lunk of a dog springs from the bed towards its master, who has made his run for the front door. Hopefully with a little luck, heâll arrive with sweat stains all over his jacket pits instead of drool marks.Â
By the time he catches a taxi, itâs 6:15. The dinner rush traffic should have cleared up by now, shouldnât be more than a thirty minute drive to reach the other side of the city. And as each minute passes in the back of the car, he feels the moisture piling up on his hands. He rests them on his knees, almost clutching them in nervousness.Â
Why is he nervous? If he leaves a bad enough impression, perhaps sheâll walk away. She sounds eccentric enough, though. Theyâre meeting at this techno club that she co-owns. His heart starts pounding when the car finally stops at the destination. Did thirty minutes pass already? How? He might be sick, he thinks, as he hands the driver the money owed and shakily steps out, holding onto the door for dear life.Â
How lame. Or isnât this what he wants? Maybe sheâll think heâs unbearably uncool. Or does he want to impress her? At this point, he doesnât know what he wants.Â
Arvenâs viridescent eyes bug out when he sees what he assumes is the bouncer⌠and the absurdly long line circling around the block. If he had known this beforehand, he would have left his place with much more time to spare! At the risk of being rude and late, he ponders if he should wait his turn in line or skip, looking like an absolute dipstick, by telling the bouncer he has an appointment with the owner.Â
Whilst having his personal dilemma on the sidewalk, a black sedan pulls up to the curb. The driver steps out and around to the back door, opening it for his passenger. A small, short young woman steps out, wearing sneakers and a hoodie, but underneath the hoodie a loose mini dress. Her face is mostly covered by large sunglasses and the hood from her jacket. She passes by Arven with a kitschy bag with a million charms, slides right by security and heads inside.Â
Itâs that moment that a lightbulb goes off in Arvenâs blond head â thatâs the owner! âŚOr at least someone important, if they can head in so easily. His body moves without another thought, starting for the girl who slipped by and is obviously stopped by the bouncer.Â
âOh, uh, wait!â Arven calls out without thinking, again, as security holds him by the shoulder. âAre you Penny?!âÂ
Although sheâs a couple feet inside already, she hears her name frantically called by an unfamiliar voice and turns her head. â...Do I know you?â She responds back, aloof.Â
âA-Ah, yes! I have an, uh, meeting? Appointment? With you at 7?â He says, flustered and out of breath, trying not to look like a madman.Â
âOh.â All that leaves her mouth. For a moment, she just looks at him, sunglasses and hood on, and then waves her hand at the bouncer to let him in. Arven slips under the rope and she turns her head back to continue walking. He assumes this means to follow her.Â
They pass by a narrow hall with bathrooms and then come to a large room with a bar and dancefloor. The strobe and LED lights are not exactly his cup of tea and neither is the music theyâre playing. Some people are⌠dressed up in costumes, role-play as Arven heard it called once, he thinks. They pass this large room to a stairwell, which they climb and then enter a private room.Â
Once the door is shut behind them (by security), all the noise, bumping, chatter, and music cease. Itâs quiet, with a coffee table and two sofas placed on opposite sides of the table. The girl sighs very loudly, stretching her arms before she drops her whole body on the sofa furthest from Arven, who awkwardly sits on the sofa closest to the door.Â
Abruptly, she whips the sunglasses off her face and the hood off her head and looks directly at him. And he looks directly at her, a little surprised by her appearance. She has short bobbed hair thatâs⌠bicolored? Arven blinks, never thought heâd see that.Â
âLetâs get this straight,â she says rather annoyed. Arvenâs eyebrows knot in response to her tone. âIâm not interested. Iâm here to make my dad leave me alone, besidesââ her eyes give him a quick look-down. âYouâre so not my type. No surprise that my dad would pick someone who looks as if he doesn't have a single blemish on his record.âÂ
Arven wants to feel offended, but itâs the truth, so he canât. Itâs not as if sheâs read him wrong. This fixes Arvenâs first problem, which is that he also wasnât interested in this girl, but perhaps sheâd be willing to help him out with his other one.Â
âThen weâre of like minds,â he starts, clearing his throat a little. He balls his fists resting on his lap. âI was wondering thoughââÂ
âNope, not interested,â Penny cuts in. âWhatever it is, not interested.âÂ
Now heâs actually getting offended. Something about this girlâs attitude is really rubbing him the wrong way. Heâs been perfectly polite this whole time and she wonât even let him finish a sentence? Arven takes a deep breath and then resumes speaking.Â
âIf you would ever so kindly let me speak, â he emphasizes. âYou can still reject my offer. I just need a date to this party my old man is hosting next weekend, and I thought maybe you could show upââÂ
âAnd why would I do that? I just met you, dude,â she deflects, rightly. For a moment, she pauses, as if considering something â maybe his offer, crinkles her brows and then shakes her head in rebuff. âI donât have any inclination to go to big wig parties, the lighting makes me tired and heels are a drag. Sorry, I canât help you out. If you want, you can use my driver to take you back since itâs dark out, but thatâs all Iâll offer.âÂ
Arven sits there for a moment, realizing heâs defeated. It was a long shot from the beginning anyway, he knew that, but as his shoulders melt and he trudges towards the door, he now knows heâll look ridiculous without a date again this year. Right as his hand reaches for the doorknob, Penny adds in one last thing.Â
âBy the way, if you need to, feel free to use the bathroom on your way out⌠theyâre pretty nice for a nightclub.âÂ
The young man looks at her, perplexed and almost fed-up with her version of âhelpfulâ information. Feel free to use the bathroom~! His green eyes flutter at her blankly, and trying to still be an upstanding guy, he forces himself to give her a half-smile in gratitude before heading out.Â
As he heads towards the exit, he decides to stop in the restroom anyway. He might as well splash some cold water on his face to snap him out of⌠whatever it is heâs feeling. Perhaps hopelessness? He didnât necessarily want to take that Penny girl, but seeing as he knows so few women, he doesnât have too many options to start.Â
And he thought, maybe just maybe, if he brings some girl his parents picked out, maybeâŚÂ
His hand pushes through the restroom door, his eyes scanning the place to find a perfectly normal bathroom. Thereâs two urinals, three stalls, and a handful of sinks. Pretty typical for a nightclub, the only thing Arven thinks is different is that it might be a little cleaner. He heads to the closest sink and runs the faucet on cold, quickly cupping his hands and throwing the water at his face.Â
He takes a deep breath and exhales, staring at himself in the mirror when he stands up from leaning over. He continues to pant, the water dripping down his face and his eyes are burning. Arven clenches his jaw, this is nothing to cry over. Why is he getting so worked up?Â
His eyes unfocus off the mirror for a second, catching a flyer on the wall to his right.
 âNeed a partner for an event? Need a date to impress someone? Or better, make someone jealous? Just call the number listed below! (xxx)-xxx-xxxx âŚ*Rates may vary upon event requirements⌠**Inquires of sexual nature NOT acceptedâ
The last line makes Arven a little pink in the face, but he can assure whatever kind lady shows up he wonât be putting hands on her like that. Not even a little. He is a gentleman! Gentlemanâs honor and all that stuff he heard growing up. He takes it seriously. His hands are trembling a bit when he pulls out his phone, with a big gulp of his Adamâs apple.Â
Heâs never done something like this, hiring someone? Guess desperate times call for desperate measures. And boy, is he ever desperate, he thinks to himself. He taps the phone number into his phone⌠Maybe a text message is easier? If he were to call right now, his voice would not stop shaking. They would absolutely not take his request seriously.Â
Arven finally exits out of the building, gently knocks on Pennyâs chauffeur who lets down his window. He informs him of Pennyâs offer and the driver nods his head. As Arven sits down in the back, on sleek black leather, his fingers twitch while mulling over good word choice. He begins typing.Â
How do you do? No, no. Not that.Â
Lovely evening, innit? Heâs not British, why try the accent?Â
I need a date. Straight to the point, as it should be.Â
He smiles to himself, admiring his cleverness for constructing such a tactful message. Although heâs nervous, he hits âsendâ without another thought. A couple minutes pass, they arrive at his apartment and he hops out of the car all the while still looking at his phone. Arven was never one to have his face glued to a screen until now. As he steps onto the elevator in the lobby, he finally feels his phone pulse in his hand.Â
Hello, please tell me the type of event, day, and location. Iâll have to calculate your rate beforehand.Â
Jeez, this person sounds like a real joy to be around. His eyes squint in a little skepticism, what if sheâs older? In her forties or so? Maybe he should meet her beforehand? His thumbs start tapping the screen.Â
Is it possible to meet and discuss in person?
He doesnât receive a response right away as he walks down the hallway to his front door. He plugs the combination into the keypad on his lock, hearing a âbbrring brringâ with a green light on the lock flashing. Arven feels a vibration on his phone.Â
Meeting to talk over arrangements is charged at a fixed rate by minute. Are you willing to pay for that as well?
Cuts right to the chase about being paid. At least sheâs upfront about it, after all itâs her job, Arven thinks, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Heâs a customer and demanding her time, of course thereâs monetary stipulations. He opens his front door and is greeted by his big lunk of a dog, happily sniffing his legs. Arven pets his big head with one hand, the other responding on his phone.Â
I am willing to pay double the rate if you would meet now.
Now?! Arven kind of wrote that half as a joke and half⌠he doesnât know what heâs doing. At all. But itâs a Saturday night, 8:30 with nothing to do. Itâs a long shot, but if he could have this sorted out by the end of the night, he would sleep so much better. He wouldnât care what side of the bed his dog took, either.Â
Sure, please text me the address and where to go.Â
His eyelids double blink in surprise. She agreed to it? His luck must be turning around now. Quickly, he types in his address with his apartment number and his dog scampers off to lay on the couch for a snooze.Â
Levincia Lofts, Apt 57 943 Picnic Lane Mesagoza City, PA 10597
She responds instantly.Â
Really? NevermindâŚIâll be over soon.
Standing in his kitchen once again, the light of his phone screen illuminating his face, he doesnât believe what heâs done. He hasnât even turned on the apartment lights since he just walked in and he hasnât given himself a second to let everything sink in. Unfortunately, he doesnât have the time to, anyway.Â
âdinnng⌠donngâŚâ
Arven slightly jumps in surprise at his doorbell sounding. He doesnât think heâs ever heard it in the five years heâs lived here. It couldnât possibly be the escort, as itâs been a literal minute since her response, so he wonders who it is. Quietly, and gently, he creeps over to the door to peer out the peep-hole, hoping they wonât hear him checking in case he decides to ignore it. What he sees puts him at ease.Â
Itâs a young woman, probably around his age, wearing a grey sweatshirt and her brunette hair is done up in a bun. She seems⌠kind. From what Arven can tell. But what does he know about people anyway. He stands there for a second, a little in awe that this prettyâwell, polite-looking âgirl is standing outside his door, and then stumbles back to reality. Sheâs waiting outside his door! The only other person who this could possibly be is the neighbor who moved in a week ago.Â
He rushes to open the door, his heart pounding in shock and wonder. The abrupt and loud opening of the door startles her, but she quickly regains composure upon seeing Arven.Â
âUh⌠how can I help you?â Arven says, clutching the doorknob from behind the door hoping to conceal his nervousness. Brown eyes meet green in a split second.Â
With that, she holds up her phone to show her messages app. Arven glances at it a moment, realizing sheâs the escort. Wait â sheâs the escort?! How on earth did she arrive here so soon â
Sheepishly, she smiles. âLooks like weâre neighbors,â she breaks the awkward silence. âI took that unit because the company said you would be a really good neighbor, whoâd have thought Iâd have a client next doorâŚâÂ
Her eyes fall to the ground, then the wall, and then the ceiling, while waiting for Arven to say something. What heâs hearing⌠is that the escort heâs to hire is his neighbor? Whatever luck he thought he was running into has run away, because this only happens to someone like him.Â
âWell, um⌠Would you like to come in?â He asks, stepping aside and holding the door.Â
âSure,â she answers, stepping right by him casually. Within the first two minutes that Arven has known her, heâs already envious of how relaxed and confident she seems to be. And itâs not an obnoxious, fake kind of confidence, itâs that true, deeply ingrained type of confidence that heâs only ever seen in one other person in his entire life.Â
He rushes over to turn on the overhead kitchen light, realizing he still hadnât turned any lights on in his home. âSorry itâs so dark, I just got home.âÂ
The brunette looks over at him and tilts her head, âYouâre completely fine, we live right next to each other so itâs not like I really gave you time to prepare.âÂ
âRight.âÂ
They stand across from each other on either side of his white marble island, in a graceless silence that almost burns Arvenâs cheeks red. She softly places her phone down on the countertop and then her brown eyes make contact with his.Â
âSo, youâre looking to hire for an event? Or do you not want to go through with it anymore since youâve found out Iâm your neighbor?â Her tone is matter-of-fact but still giving off a warm feel. Itâs true he doesnât know anything about people, but he can just tell sheâs a good person.Â
âI would still like to go through with it,â he answers assuredly, nodding to her. âIâm sorry for springing a meeting on you so suddenly. Just kind of⌠desperate. Iâm sure youâve met loads of people with the same issue, though.âÂ
She shrugs her shoulders, confirming his words. âItâs no big deal, sometimes people cancel to be your partner or other things happen, nothing to be ashamed of! And, while Iâm at it, my nameâs Juliana. I figure we should know each otherâs names if weâre doing business.âÂ
Her words are oddly affirming and comforting as she reaches across the island, her hand extended out cordially. Arven takes it, her grip is inviting and tender.Â
âArven.â He gives her a shy smile when they let go of each other and she gives him a big toothy grin. Itâs almost childish but extremely charming.Â
âSo,â she lets out while stretching her arms upwards. âWant to give me the deets?âÂ
Is this really the same person he was texting? All the formalities seem to have dropped once she rang his doorbell, not that he minds. Those social etiquette or pretenses have never really been his thing to follow.Â
âYeah, so my dad is hosting this event next Saturday evening. Youâve probably heard of it, the Mirai Fair.âÂ
Julianaâs eyebrows raise at the mention of the event. Arvenâs able to clock that sheâs definitely heard of it, but she seems to be thinking a little deeper about it. And almost a second later, her eyes go wide.Â
âYour dad is the CEO of Turo Industries?âÂ
Arvenâs eyes go to the side, obviously uncomfortable at the mention of his father and trying to avoid her gaze at the same time. A slight nod is all he gives her in reply.Â
âOh sheesh, see why youâre desperate. Bringing a partner is one of the requirements for attendance.â Thereâs a pause between her sentences. âIâm afraid I wonât be able to help you, someone has already hired me for that night.âÂ
His shoulders droop, understanding all of his luck has run out. âItâs all right, I understand it was a long shot from the beginning anywayââÂ
âBut,â Juliana breaks in. âThey still havenât paid their fee. If you were to, say, pay first, I can cancel on them. Itâs someone Iâve never met anyway, so I donât mind.âÂ
Immediately, Arvenâs hands clutch onto the edge of his counter and he leans over frantically. âIâll pay it, Iâll pay right now, no matter how much it is!âÂ
His reaction catches Juliana off guard, but not in a bad way. His eagerness tickles her and she breaks out in a boisterous and infectious laugh. One Arvenâs never seen or heard before, itâs so lovely and contagious he starts laughing too, feeling more and more relaxed himself. But her laugh catches the attention of someone else, someone whoâs been awoken from a deep sleep on the couch.Â
Arvenâs dog pops his head up quickly from the sofa and then tumbles off the edge in a scramble. His big paws clack against the floor as he makes his way as fast as possible to Juliana, which Arven is trying to brace for.Â
Instead of tackling her like his master had expected, he stops abruptly in front of her and sniffs her gently. Well, as gently as a big dog as he can do. He leaves a huge streak of drool across her sweatshirt, which embarrasses Arven deeply.Â
âIâm sorry, since you live right next door and if youâll let me, I can wash your sweatshirt for you and give it back sometime,â he says to her while she greets his dog.Â
âOh thatâs all right! I donât care at all! Whatâs his name?â She asks innocently.Â
âB⌠BossâŚâ Arven answers, stammering and blushing. Heâs evidently abashed by the name, although Julianna canât figure why.Â
âThatâs a super cute name! Whoâs a good boy Boss?â She chants, petting and rubbing the dogâs big head.Â
Arven laments for a moment, thinking about his dogâs name. âHe was originally named that because my dad gave him to me, and when I was younger I really liked how my dad was, well, yâknow, the boss. But now I like to think itâs because Boss is now the boss of my life. Where I go, he goes. Itâs always been us two, always will be.âÂ
For a moment, he forgets how vulnerable and personal he just became and then catches himself. He looks over to Juliana to see her reaction, which is soft and seemingly empathetic. Unsure as to why, he suddenly feels flustered, and uncertain as to how to continue the conversation. Obviously, things are pretty much covered, all he needs is to pay her. But strangely, for the first time ever, he has a guest he doesnât want to leave right away.Â
âWell, if youâd like, we can discuss the payââÂ
Juliana starts, but abruptly a large stomach grumble resounds throughout the kitchen. She brings a hand to her stomach and laughs nervously.Â
âSorry,â she continues with a chuckle. âOriginally, I had a booking tonight, but they cancelled at the last minute. Something about getting the girl he wanted or whatever to like him back. So I didnât eat dinner and decided to continue unpacking this evening instead.âÂ
Arven looks down at her stomach, feels a weird itch on his head and scratches it. âIâŚI could make you something⌠but only if you want! I have plenty of stuff in my fridge and pantry,â he offers awkwardly, his cheeks flushing. âIâm not too bad of a chefâŚâÂ
She gazes back at him keenly and expectantly, âIâm not the kind of girl to turn down a good meal! I love food.â
He lets out a soft laugh, a feeling of fondness washing over him in her company. With that, Juliana takes a seat at one the barstools, talking to Arven whilst he prepares a dinner for two, because he doesnât mind a light snack in the evening either. In the glow of his golden kitchen light, Arven smiles to himself while listening to her as he sautĂŠes meat and vegetables.Â
Later, heâs taking a seat next to her at the counter with plates in front of them. She makes a big deal about his food, something about how she canât believe he does it as a hobby. Juliana moved to this high rise because her friend recommended it. He says he hasnât had a neighbor the entire five years heâs lived there.Â
Boss has retired back to the couch, where â surprisingly after dinner â they head to while talking. Arvenâs telling her about this cooking channel he loves watching, apparently his favorite segment is coming on soon. And as Arven surfs through the channels, the television light flashing over their faces, Juliana thinks to herself how this isnât like her at all.Â
Itâs strange, it was as if the moment she saw Arvenâs face, the professional front had crumbled. Thereâs just something about the way how kind his face feels looking at it, something endearing about the way he becomes shy, and how heâs so transparent. She likes that, because in a job thatâs all about appearances and façades, she could use a little truth.Â
A little ironic, since heâs paying her for an event next week. And the idea of that makes her uncomfortable. Weird, usually she just shows up and leaves. But he is her neighbor, of course she wants things to be amicable, she reasons with herself over her funny feelings.Â
She sits a little closer to Boss on the couch, thinking that he looks especially cuddly. He notices her scooch next to him and attempts to stretch out onto her, his big front legs falling off the edge of the couch and one of them landing on top of Julianaâs foot.Â
âEeh, ow!â A wince escapes from Julianaâs mouth as she pulls her foot away from Arvenâs dog.Â
âOh man, Iâm so sorry, I know his foot is heavy but I didnât think it would hurt you,â Arven profusely apologizes, somewhat leaning forward in worry.Â
âOh gosh, sorry, donât worry, itâs not his fault at all!â She waves him off with a grimacing smile. She then slightly pulls down her sock, to show a dark bruise at the top of her foot. âI dropped a pan on myself earlier, itâs just a little tender.âÂ
Thatâs what that was earlier, Arven thinks to himself. Abruptly, he stands up from the sofa and heads to the kitchen. A moment later, he returns with an ice pack.Â
âUse this, it might help a little bit,â he says and offers it to her, which she steadily takes from his hand. Juliana looks at the ice pack, and then at him. He gives her a reassuring smile and a thumbs up.Â
âYou always have to be prepared!â He adds on.Â
âHeh, yeah,â she agrees, smiling at him. And suddenly, Arvenâs not sure what it is, maybe the blue and white lights casting over her face from the TV, or the loose hairs from her bun falling on her cheeks â it could even be the way her chocolate eyes sparkle â but sheâs simply breathtaking. He also knows heâs never felt the way he does now and he has not the slightest clue what to make of it.
More naturally than at dinner, they start talking about all sorts of things again. She reveals her mother owns a sandwich shop, actually a sandwich chain, and she didnât want much to do with it, which is why sheâs doing what she does now. Arven explains heâs not one much for business and innovation like his father is, and how it often makes him feel likeâŚÂ
âWell, you can probably make out what itâs like for me,â he tries to shake off his feelings. He doesnât want to look too wishy-washy in front of his new friend. âŚFriend, yeah. âI feel like Iâve done all that I can to avoid taking responsibility, but I guess itâs time to face the music.âÂ
âYou donât have to be miserable, you know,â Juliana says. âItâs scary putting yourself first, but once you do it, you wonât regret it. Sure, it was hard for me at first, and still is sometimes, but Iâd rather be happy doing what I want than living someone elseâs life. I want to live my life.âÂ
Arven is in awe, he knew she was special the moment he saw her through the peep-hole, but sheâs able to say it so simply and live her life so simply. Maybe, it can be the same for him.Â
âI mean, you wouldnât believe what happened the first night after I left my momâsââÂ
And he sits there, like a child happy, listening to her go on and on about her adventures. Taking in every word with bated breath, feeling like heâs free through her words. With every passing hour and tale, he begins to think it could be possible for him. She fills him with hope, something he hasnât felt in a long time. Arven could curse every other inconvenient or awful thing thatâs happened in his life, but if he knew it would lead up to this night, heâll say it was all worth it. Perhaps luck really is on his side, this time.Â
They continue talking through the night, until eventually, they both fall asleep. Julianaâs last thought before her eyes close is that she wouldnât be charging Arven for tonight, this isnât business.Â
Not at all.Â
â \ â
Over the next few days, they begin to see each other more often. In passing, she explains she has all different kinds of bookings. Accompanying men on business dinners, lunch dates with other couples for guys who were begged by their friends, fake breaking-up with men at a bar to garner sympathy, etcetera.Â
To say Arvenâs impressed at her versatility would be an understatement. She starts coming over for meals every so often, talking about her day or whatever booking she has next. Juliana says sheâll never mention names, the privacy of her clients is important to her. Arven seems to be content just knowing sheâs safe and takes the extra precautions to keep clients at a distance, or so she says.Â
If sheâs as thorough about keeping clients at armâs length as she implies, she wouldnât be sitting on his couch almost every day, or even borrowing a sweater here and there when sheâs cold. That first morning, after Arven asked for her sweatshirt to wash it, she nabbed one of his in return. âItâs a placeholder,â she says as sheâs held onto it for the last three days and Arven has already given her sweatshirt back same-day as washing it.Â
He doesnât mind, though. He doesnât mind at all. Sheâs suddenly catapulted her existence into his life and somehow he doesnât know how he ever lived without it before. Itâs now been five days, and she says she wants to go shopping together to find matching clothes for the event. Arvenâs only ever been in a suit shop with his dadâs assistant, so heâs not exactly sure what heâs looking for.Â
Juliana says âDonât worry,â as she looks through swatches and catalogues. And she certainly doesnât instill confidence when she makes herself comfortable on one of the couches, giving the attendant a list of suits sheâd like to see Arven try on.Â
If anything, over the next hour and a half, his face is as vibrant as cherries from the embarrassment. Sheâs cooing, going all âoooh,â and âhmm,â or âdefinitely not that one.â The rejected suits made him a little offended, but heâd rather she be honest than fake with unfounded flattery. Thereâs also a couple moments where she giggles to herself ridiculously, and he doesnât know what on earth to make of that.Â
But finally, she says this pinstripe navy getup with a whole waistcoat is perfect for him. And as Arven also looks at himself in the mirror, he never understood the term âclothes make the manâ until now. Perhaps itâs just as special because Juliana picked it out for him, he nods to himself in agreement with his thoughts. That must be why.Â
After having the time of his life modeling, they head out for some food. Theyâre having a ball with jokes and sarcasm, but Arvenâs wondering at the back of his mind why she never charged him for that first night, and why she still hasnât sent him a quote for Saturday. As they become closer, he also starts to feel strange about the prospect of⌠paying for her company.Â
The sun begins to set in the distance, its orange hues streaking through buildingsâ edges and alleyways. As they make their way home, Arven asks her a different question, not quite courageous enough to ask the ones that matter.Â
âWhy didnât you like those other suits? Were they that bad on me?âÂ
A smile breaks over her lips as she turns to meet his gaze. âAbsolutely not, I have to think about how it will match with me, too! And some of them, while it looked great on you, the colors wouldnât do too well on me.âÂ
Arven pouts his lower lip a little, his eyes looking off to the side, away from hers. âIâm sure any color looks perfect on you,â he mutters to himself.Â
Juliana doesnât catch what he says as they wade through the dinner crowds on the sidewalk. And as the crosswalk sign turns green, the density of people seems to deepen and Juliana finds the distance between her and Arven growing. All of a sudden, sheâs lost sight of him amongst the throngs of people walking against her.Â
Usually, people donât bother her like this, but losing touch with him unexpectedly has thrown her into an odd fit of emotions. Out of nowhere, before she can reach for her phone to call him, skin touches skin â palm to palm â heâs grasping her hand. A wave of relief washes over Juliana at his contact.Â
She turns and sees him, a single drop of sweat sitting on his temple. Arvenâs face is flushed with evident panic, even though they were apart for only a minute or two.Â
âKeep up, will you?!â He says somewhat distressed, his warm and large hand still clutching hers tightly.Â
The tension releases from her crinkled brows and she smiles back at him.
âOh all right, if you insist,â Juliana replies to him with a grin, holding his hand back and whisking it in his face before dropping them down at their hips.Â
And just like that, they walk all the way home hand-in-hand. Like thereâs nothing wrong with it at all. Like thereâs absolutely something between them. And it has everything to do with how Arven feels when he says goodbye to her at their front doors and shuts the heavy wood behind him. He pushes his back against the door, slowly sliding down until his bottom hits the floor. He can only hear his heart pounding although his dog rushes to the front to greet him.Â
Thereâs only two more days until Saturday.Â
â \ â
The next day, Arven doesnât see Juliana at all. He doesnât even hear her leave the apartment, but it must have happened before he woke up. Yesterday she mentioned how she would be out all day, something about important meetings. He makes the assumption theyâre ritzy bookings with wealthy men, which tug at his mind a little.Â
Itâs her job, of course she has to go out and do these things. Heâs not sure why it bothers him so, and ends up spending the day trying to sort out his feelings to find out the answer. Itâs not like him to feel so⌠territorial? Possessive? Arven shudders at just the thought of those words, theyâre so negative and wrong. But heâs lying if he says they donât somewhat describe what heâs feeling. Maybe theyâre not exactly it, but theyâre pretty damn close.Â
He sighs to himself, surfing through his phone for recipes to make for dinner tonight. Julianaâs not picky, and neither is he, so he enjoys being able to experiment and cook more often. Really, he hasnât cooked in a long while, heâd long given up on it, but this past week has made him feel a real sense of satisfaction â not just watching Juliana eat his food, but with himself for completing the action.Â
Before he knows it, 4:00 PM rolls around and itâs time to start making dinner. Arven spends the next hour and a half constructing delicious braised duck. Sheâs usually knocking at his door around 5:30. He sits at the counter, watching the food grow cold and his dog has long since left, given up begging by 6:00.
She doesnât show.Â
Arven decides to shake it off, putting the food away and into the fridge for better keeping. He resigns for the night, dismayed she did not show, but also worried since he hasnât heard from her all day. After brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas, he lies in bed with Boss at his feet. He stares at his phone, contemplating messaging her.Â
You doing okay? He deletes it.Â
Boss missed you! Deletes it again, this time with a pursed lip.Â
Good night, I hope you have sweet dreams. Thatâs good enough.Â
Even if this is the first day since they met that he hasnât seen her, she can live her life. She doesnât owe him anything, to answer him, to come over everyday. If anything, he owes her. Arven owes her everything, because while itâs only been six days, itâs felt like an eternity but a second all at once. Heâs never connected with someone like this, the late night conversations, the laughs, the soul-bearing. He owes her everything but has given nothing in return.Â
Calmly, and desperately, he closes his eyes to fall asleep. Heâs hoping to fall asleep soon because that means heâll see her sooner. The prospect of even seeing his parents tomorrow doesnât bother him at all, because not hearing from Juliana bothers him far more. Receiving his wish, he drifts to slumber with only a little difficulty.Â
While snoozing, the screen of his phone lights up on his nightstand. One message.Â
Good night! I wonât be around tomorrow either, so Iâll meet you at the party!
â \ â
The next morning, when he wakes, he sees her message. And he sees that she sent it to him only a couple minutes after he went to bed. Arven curses himself internally and then hops out of bed to start his day. And his day, just like the day before, is rather uneventful.Â
He spends it reading up on culinary schools, the costs, etc. He researches and stumbles upon forums talking about living independently, how to afford groceries and saving money on a tight budget. His stomach begins to flutter with anxiety, thinking of how on earth this conversation could go with his parents. But then Juliana flashes into his mind and he scratches his head in frustration. He can do it.Â
Arven eats light meals, not feeling too much of an appetite with tonight on the horizon. He feels like thereâs a lot to address tonight â what with his parents, and then thereâs Juliana. Is she showing up tonight? She never gave him a quote, he never sent her a single cent, but she says sheâll be there. What does that mean? Does it mean what he hopes to think it means?Â
He walks into his room, staring at his navy suit on the hanger. After a thorough shower and blow drying his long hair, Arven meticulously begins dressing his body with the ensemble. He fastens his tie, just right. He fastens a silver watch to his wrist, hoping he doesnât pinch his skin. And lastly, he fastens the laces on his glossy, leather dress shoes.Â
Green eyes stare back into green eyes as he eyes himself in the mirror. He wonders what Juliana would say, what she would think of how he looks now, tailored and trimmed. Arven, too, wonders what she will look like later tonight. He endures a throbbing in his chest, having realized in the time since last night and now, exactly just how he feels about her.Â
âI wish⌠you could be my actual date,â he says quietly to his reflection. And, just by imagining saying that to her, his face beats scarlet. If he can barely even say it to a damned mirror, how on earth could he actually say it to her beautiful face?!
The young man takes a deep breath and then exhales it with a loud yell. Maybe vocalizing it will help him feel better. And it does, momentarily, until he realizes he needs to grab a cab and make his way to the huge reception hall his father booked out. The drive over seems to pass by in a blur, watching the other car lights streak by in the evening twilight.Â
When he hops out of the car, he makes his way past the scattered people all standing around the entrance, everyone dressed in their suits and cocktail dresses. He could feel a few peopleâs gazes on him as he ascended up the steps to the entrance, but he knows thatâs nothing compared to what heâll experience when he steps inside. Arven meets security at the entrance, two men on either side, with a third checking invitations.Â
Arven never needed invitations to events hosted by his father; he only has to show his face. All personnel and security detail know exactly who he is, so they nod at him and allow him to pass by with no difficulty. As he enters the grand, expansive semi-circle foyer at the front, more and more people begin to notice him. And by the time he enters the main room, each step brings waves of hushed murmurs. He places his hands in his pockets, dropping his shoulders and his chin slightly to try and hide his face.Â
When he was younger, he seldom showed his face at places like this as he always felt out of place. He thought the same last year, when he attended for the first time as an adult, and his feelings havenât changed no matter how much he ages. Everyoneâs here to put on airs or make good with his father⌠and collectively look down on him.Â
Heâs heard it all at this point, and as he tries to make his way across the room to where his parents are, heâs approached by two other executives who work closely with his father. The two men stand on either side of Arven, appearing cordial.Â
âWhy, itâs the prodigal son!â The first one says in his robust and merry voice. Hassel, although exuding the appearance of someone quite intimidating, always reminds Arven of one of those vibrant and scrupulous art savants that frequent the museums downtown. âHow goes the marriage hunt? Thereâs no lady on your arm tonight, unfortunately.âÂ
Arven bites his lip as they walk towards a drink table with pre-poured champagne glasses. âItâs⌠going,â he quietly replies, which isnât a lie. If he is to consider Juliana, itâs definitely not a lie. âMy date is running late, sheâll meet me here.âÂ
âO-Oh! So you have one! Isnât that fantastic!â The other one finally breaks his silence in his soft timbre, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. âYour parents kind of sent me over with Hassel to see what the situation was, sorry about that.âÂ
âIâd already assumed, donât worry,â Arven shoots back, rustling the front of his jacket to make sure it is not crooked. Something sparkles in both sides of his peripheral vision, and his eyes turn to look at Hasselâs lapel and then Jacqâs. Some kind of matching pins, with the stupid logo belonging to his fatherâs company.Â
âWhat are those?â He asks harmlessly and thoughtlessly.Â
âAh!â Hassel exclaims, looking upon Arvenâs jacket. âItâs the gold pin given to mark all important attendees for todayâs event, I suppose they must have forgotten to give you one at the door!âÂ
Jacqâs eyes go wide at his colleague's words, who somehow wants to shut him up but cannot do so in front of Arven without being blatant. Itâs no company secret that the relationship between the CEO and his son is⌠less than favorable. Hassel, however, has always been one to ignore the rumors in the air and blow past social nuances.Â
âThatâs quite all right then, you can have mine for the time being and Iâll grab another later,â Hassel continues, unclasping the pin from his jacket and approaching Arven closer, who has yet to respond whatsoever.Â
Arven begins to tense up, feeling defensive about the pin. He doesnât want to feel hurt about not receiving a pin, but he certainly doesnât want to be given someone elseâs out of pity. His tall body begins to lean back, away from Hassel, who ends up grabbing a fistful of Arvenâs lapel accidentally. Jacq, who has picked up on Arvenâs body language and Hasselâs pushiness, places himself behind Arven, unsure how to intervene.Â
In what looks to be a hostile moment between three men, Juliana steps in front of them, the heel of her shoe tapping into the floor. She tilts her head to the side in confusion and Jacq and Hassel spot her, stunned by her beauty and realizing that she is here as Arvenâs date. Both men, collectively sharing the same thought at the same time (âdonât mess up Arvenâs date!â), step away from him and smile at Juliana.Â
âWasnât expecting you to be fashionably late,â Arven sighs, shrugging his shoulders to fix his blazer. He extends his pointed elbow out to her, which Juliana takes in kind. âI was expecting you to be fashionable, though.âÂ
âI think we make quite the couple, donât we?â Juliana says, following alongside him.Â
And all Arven can think is, are we a real couple? A fake couple? Anything at all?
Now that Juliana has arrived, he can deal with the most problematic part of the evening: his parents. And the sooner he deals with it, the sooner he and Juliana can leave and possibly go eat ice cream somewhere.Â
They make their way to the other side of the reception hall, where Arvenâs parents inevitably reside. With each step, he can feel more and more of the room observing him, and the feeling in his feet begin to fade in nervousness. Right as they step up to his parents, he almost gags at the saliva catching in his throat.Â
Juliana squeezes his bicep, her hand still holding onto his arm. He snaps from his anxiety to look at her face, her eyes are calm and peaceful. Arven takes a deep breath, he can do this.Â
âG-Good evening, mom and dad,â he starts first, losing all feeling in his face. Heâs not sure if heâs forgetting to breathe, too. âThis is my date, Juliana.âÂ
His parents look at him, then Juliana, then to him again. His dad seems to express good spirits over his presence, while his mother gives a small smile and nods behind him. Juliana smiles back at them, and she and Turo shake hands congenially.Â
âItâs always wonderful to have you here, Arven,â Turo replies, observing his sonâs appearance. He thinks, for the first time, his son looks like a man. His brown eyes catch the pin on his sonâs lapel. âWhere did you get that?âÂ
Arven looks down to his own chest, following his fatherâs vision. âOh⌠Uh, this? Hassel gave it to me, he said they forgot to give me one at the door, but I know they probably wouldnât make a mistake like that, if you donât want me to wear it, I can take it off...âÂ
Arven tries to explain himself, frazzled and trying to not get anyone in trouble for wearing it. He would never assume heâs someone to be marked at an event like this, and without a doubt his dad wouldnât want him assuming some kind of important eitherâ
âYou should take it off, because I have a different pin for you,â his father says, looking to an assistant on the side to come forward.Â
âWait, what?â releases from Arvenâs mouth, stupefied. His father takes a small ring box from the employee, opening it and then extending it out to Arven, who takes it out of reflex.Â
âYouâre the son of the CEO, of course your pin should be different from everyone elseâs. You are the only person second to me, and one day, you may be me.âÂ
Arven stares down at the especially made pin, carefully sitting within a velvet box. He suddenly feels an itch on his scalp. His eyes turn up to meet his fatherâs. Itâs time to finally be honest.
âI⌠I donât want to be Turoâs son anymore...!â Arven raises his voice, clenching his fists. âI want to just be your son, and be myself. I want nothing to do with this company, I never have, and youâve always known that.âÂ
Thereâs a pause and he swallows before continuing in a lower, calmer voice.Â
ââŚI want to explore cooking, and what that could look like for me in the culinary arts. I could fail, I could succeed, I donât know⌠But what I do know is that I wonât ever find out unless I try. And Iâll do it, with or without you supporting me⌠because I know I have other people who believe in me.âÂ
Julianaâs face is speechless, unsure how to proceed with what Arven has just confessed. His parents, particularly his father, do not exactly seem phased, however. In fact, strangely enough, and to Arvenâs frustration, Turo smiles. Arven assumes this means his father has failed yet again to take his words seriously, or let alone see him as a man. After all, how could he? Arven canât stand in front of him on his own two feet equally, he never couldâÂ
âWell, I guess Iâll just have to find you a replacement then,â Turo says, placing a hand into his pocket. âIsnât that right, Miss Juliana?âÂ
âHuh?â Arvenâs shoulders seemingly rest, his body turning to her in confusion. She looks to him, sheepishly smiling and bobbing her foot back and forth on the heel.Â
âAbout thatâŚâ Juliana starts, avoiding Arvenâs striking green eyes. âYou know those meetings I told you about yesterday? I actually met with your dad. Turns out he and I knew each other before the fact anyways! I had been selected to do a really special internship under him my senior year in college. It was really easy getting in contact. He and I had conversations about what he saw for the future of his company and when I met you and found out you were his son, well IâŚâÂ
A moment passes, and Arven still hasnât spoken. She canât read his expression and feels guilty for going behind his back. In a way, it helps them both out, but perhaps this isnât entirely what he wants, of course.Â
âI-Iâm sorry, I know I didnât ask you beforehand. I should have. But I just thought this was the easiest way, I canât continue to be an escort if weâre going to be together, and youâve expressed so much dislike for taking over the company. Now Iâm just rambling and youâre still not answering meââÂ
â...What?â Arven finally cuts into Julianaâs blathering, rosy tint spreading over his face.Â
âWhatâŚ?â She responds in kind.Â
âUs? T-Together?!â He stammers, and as he struggles to contain the blushing, his father tilts his head at the others listening around to scurry off. Turo makes himself scarce, Arvenâs mother following in tow, a little and mischievous smile across her balm-stained lips. Perhaps his parents have never been against him since the beginning â but thatâs a thought for him to tackle another time.Â
âOh, I guess I messed up again, didnât I? How embarrassing, I usually can read people so well, Arven Iâm so sorry if Iâve assumed you had feelings for me, I mean the other day with the hand-holding I was so sureââÂ
In the midst of more Juliana over-explaining herself, Arven approaches her gently and takes a hand, softly holding it between both of his own.Â
âItâs not all in my head?â He asks, his eyes are tenderly welling up with tears of happiness.Â
The girl before him is dumbfounded, unsure how her own feelings could have come across as anything less than interested. She breathes out into a smile, looking up at him and her face dripping with only affection.Â
âUnless itâs all in mine,â Juliana answers cheekily, shrugging her shoulders.Â
The two embrace each other fully and contentedly, with Arven sweetly placing his chin atop Julianaâs head. He closes his eyes, breathing in a very different kind of air for the first time in his life. Something truly life-changing, something incredibly worthwhile.Â
Something lucky.Â
â \ â
That same evening, in a high rise elsewhere, thereâs a girl lying on her stomach in bed. Sheâs in the dark, surfing the internet on her laptop. Doomscrolling, she calls it. The laptop illuminates her face with shadows accentuating her features, the computer reflecting back in the lenses of her glasses. She grabs a plushie and sticks it under her chin, propping her head up. A headline pops up and she reads it with the most amused face.Â
âBreaking: Turo Industries Successor Tied to Sandwich Heiress, An Unexpected Matchâ
She bursts out laughing. Her dad better not send her on another one of those stupid marriage meetings again. None of her friends are single anymore, that was the last one.Â












