Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: This chapter starts with Raquel as the narrator.
What do you mean, 'what about that evil cliffhanger, you tricky bitch'? I have no idea what you're talking about. Nope. Not a clue at all. *plays uncomfortable music in the background*

A/n2: Maybe some of you have noticed how Antonio stopped calling Delgado and Hernández by their first names. Know why that is?
Well, I won't tell you, but you might find out yourself if you think about it.

A/n3: Okay! So, it's almost Christmas, yes? Well, I'm planning to write a one-shot and post it on the 24th, 25th or 26th of December (yes yes, those are the Christmas days, but I'm not sure how people outside of my country name those days, so let me just put the dates here so we can all understand what the bleep I'm talking about).
Now, I firstly wanted to write about Netherlands and Liechtenstein, since people seem to like them (YAAAAY~), but I'm willing to give you options!
So in the next following days, you tell me about what ship I should write. You have four options (no others, please):
- Netherlands and Liechtenstein (of course);
- Lovino and Antonio (you see that, not even writing their nation's name anymore);
- Russia and Belgium (you knew this was coming);
- or Seb and Luisa (you know, about how they met and everything).
I'm NOT SURE I can find time to write this one-shot, mind you, but… I'll certainly try! ^^
You have two weeks to convince me about what to pick. Then, I'll decide what got the most votes and go write it! 8DDDDDDDD
…well I'll try. *takes music-player and runs away*

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 78:

"I love" is a door girls slam in their fathers' faces.
Nick Joaquín
(Filipino writer, historian and journalist)

That night, I almost didn't sleep at all.

I kept tossing and turning in my bed. My pillow wasn't feeling like it's supposed to feel. I was cold, and yet, I was sweating heavily. My restless heart was bonking and pounding so hard against my ribcage, it could have broken a few ribs if it had gotten any more violent.

I had a date the next day.

I had a date the next day.

I had a date the next day…!

I was scared to death. I-I never had a date before. Never, not once in my life, I had gone out with anybody. I always was too busy, spying on the neighbors, collecting data from them, sorting it out, hoping I could use it to, somehow, show my deceased mother that I was just as good as she was at the PPSS, even though they kicked her out and didn't want anything to do with me…

…I never really did any "normal-girl" –stuff.

And now, I was supposed to go and have dinner with a cute and handsome guy that thought I was worthy of his time, and I'd disappoint him, and he'd sigh and say "well this is a day I'm never going to get back, thanks a lot Raquel' and then he'd leave, and oh, how much that would hurt, how much it would hurt to see the first person who I let into my life slip away like that, never looking back…

I swallowed hard and gripped the sheets. I wish I didn't think like this. That I could just… feel excited about tomorrow, like every other girl would be.

But I couldn't. I was so afraid. I was so scared. I was so… so anxious.

What if he did really like me?

I swallowed even more. For some reason, that thought made me stressed out and scared as well. Because then I'd have to let him in even further. And I wanted to let him in, yet I wanted to keep him out, and oh god, I wanted him to hold me, hug me, make me feel better, and I wanted him to stay the hell away from me.

I didn't get it.

Oh my god, I didn't get it at all – what on Earth was going on with me?

A mean little voice in the back of my head snickered at me and nagged that it looked like I was – like I was in love after all, in spite of my hollow being.

So… was this what it was?

Was this what being in love was supposed to feel?

But it hurt! It hurt, and it stung, and it made me want to cry.

No. I saw some romantic movies throughout the years, during breaks and such. Being in love never was pictured like this. It was nice and fluffy and embarrassing and not dark, creepy and unknown.

Maybe this was part of my depression.

…

That could be. Some side-effect, now that I was actively trying to get over it. Also, it could be good to go and find some help. To win from my depression. I didn't want to stay like this, after all. I wanted to feel better, as soon as I was able to, and I hated that it didn't go as smoothly as they promise in books and movies.

…

Wh-what was I even supposed to wear tomorrow?

I didn't have many noticeable, happy clothes, even though I'd love to wear colors like pink, red and blue… and we were going to work, first, so… so, what, was I supposed to do when the work was over, huh? Tell him to wait, just a moment, I have to change into a more suitable dress now, why don't you read something or watch a bit of television in the meantime?

I didn't have a clue.

I felt so stupid.

What would he say? What would he think? What would he do?

He'd smile at me and tell me to take it easy.

For some reason, my heart made a brief, but very pleasurable hop in my chest.

Yes. Y-yes, that's right.

Matteo wouldn't sigh and tell me the date was a mistake – he was way too kind for that. He'd try to reassure me things were going to be alright. He was going to smile at me.

I felt somewhat less panicky and rolled on my back, my mattress suddenly feeling a lot softer and nicer.

He was going to smile at me.

No matter what happened, he was going to smile at me.

I don't know if that thought really was the last thing I thought of when I fell asleep, but it was certainly was the last thing I was able to remember from this stressful night when I woke up the very next morning.

RSS

Matteo and I had decided to meet at 3 o'clock.

I had thought it all through. Around 3 in the afternoon, he'd ring the doorbell, I'd open the door and let him in, we'd work on the task Spain had given the both of us (like, picking out the right flowers, ordering them, figuring out how much this all would cost, in total) and then, once we were finished with work, we'd…

…

…w-we'd go and have dinner somewhere, I guess.

And then I'd lead him to Spain and South Italy and that would be the end of this.

That was the plan.

…

But… I don't know, something told me things wouldn't go as easy as I hoped they would. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was like my body was already warning me for everything that were definitely going to happen. My body did – but my mind didn't have the slightest idea of what my body could mean, so you can imagine I felt really… complicated, I guess…

But now was not the time for that – in about an hour Matteo would be here, s-so I had to prepare myself for my guest!

I cleaned the house – I was really getting the hang of it, too! – and I managed to find and wash a nice set of clothes that I wanted to wear during the… first part of my… time with Matteo. I didn't find something for the dinner-part yet, though. I happened to stumble upon a black dress that once belonged to my mom, and it probably would look pretty good on me, but…

…I-I just really didn't want to wear it. Really, really didn't. It was plan B. Or plan C, actually.

So I was in a pickle, what in the world was I supposed to wear during the dinner-date? My white pants and simple, loose green shirt with the funny cartoon-eyes on them probably weren't very suitable for a fancy restaurant… or… well, maybe he wasn't planning to take me to a fancy restaurant, maybe just a shabby… no.

No, it would be fancy. Fancy to the bone.

And I had nothing to put on. And it was too late to hop in my mom's car and check out the stores in the city.

…t-then I guess I'd just… have no choice but to go with plan C, huh…

O-okay, let's worry about that later – I had more things to do! I still needed to visit the nearest baker and florist, after all!

RSS

When it was about 3 o'clock, my nerves were so very tightened and strained, they could snap every second.

I sat there, at the kitchen table with all the stuff I had created, done and collected after my last meeting with Matteo – the drawings, the ideas, the plans, the flower suggestions – and looked around me one last time to check if the house was clean and welcoming enough to my liking.

I had boiled some water, I had taken the nice tea-set, I had put fresh flowers around the house and yes, I had even made little sandwiches, with chicken, beef, vegetables and cheese. Not because I wanted to score compliments from him or anything – I just needed to do something to try and avoid my stress reaching the critical breaking point.

…

…b-but getting at least a few compliments would be nice, I guess.

Anyway, I was wondering if I should turn on the radio as well (maybe that would increase the safeness of the ambiance or something), when the doorbell rang – and I shot up like a startled cat.

There he was – oh god – th-there he was, w-was I ready for this, no idea, wh-where's that bouquet…

With my heart hammering in my throat, yet again, I made my way to the door, took a deep breath, like I pretty much always did before any kind of social situation, and carefully opened the door.

A guy looking just like Spain but just not quite smiled friendly at me.

'Hi, Raquel.'

To my amazement, Matteo looked slightly less energetic than the other day, when I first met him. I instantly started to inspect him – automatically, an old habit that would probably stick with me for a few more years. His eyes weren't as bright as they were back then and his smile wasn't as broad, either. His clothes were nice, but plain, his glasses weren't polished and his hands hung pointlessly by his sides. It seemed like he had a tough day.

So I needed to cheer him up! Good thing I had prepared myself for this.

'Hi Matteo. You look very lovely,' I therefore said, remembering the advice I had read on a very helpful site earlier today.

Matteo blinked and stared at me. Then his smile grew a bit. 'Oh, you really think so? Thank you!~'

'Are those new clothes you're wearing? They make you look very approachable,' I continued, encouraged by his attention.

Again, he looked like he didn't really know what to say to that. He probably was amazed at how much my social skills had developed themselves over the course of a couple of days! He chuckled, though, and scratched the back of his head. Then, he finally replied:

'I… um, I don't really know? To be honest, since we're going to work at first anyway, I just put on the first pants and blouse I could find in my closet. But you like them?'

'Absolutely,' I nodded.

'Oh! Well, that's… that nice! I guess.'

For some reason, Matteo gave me the impression something was off. I didn't know – it looked like he was either confused or angry at himself, like he was telling himself he should do things he wasn't doing at all right now.

No time to lose!

'H-here!' I quickly stammered, practically attacking him with the big bouquet of flowers I was holding. 'They're pink and blue lacecap hydrangea's! O-or… pink and blue bigleaf hydrangea's, if you like. Or… you know, hortensia's. Pink and blue ones. I-I thought you'd like them, since they're adorable and so are y… h-here you go.'

Utterly and completely speechless, Matteo slowly reached out and took the heap of flowers out of my hands. He kept looking at them for a while – the flowers, not my hands – before finally staring at me again, his mouth opened just a bit.

'T-their Latin name's hydrangea macrophylla,' I pointlessly stuttered, since his silence was starting to unsettle me now, '…a-and although they're native to China and Japan, they're… they're also very well-adjusted to hotter climates, like… um… S-Spain. The flowering last from early summer to early winter, they are long-lasting, and they come in many different colors. A-apart from blue and pink, they can be red, purple and white as well. People… people most of the time don't really use them in bouquets, since they're so big and all, but… w-well, I really liked them, and I hoped you liked them as well, and you haven't said anything yet.'

Matteo's eyes got a shade I hadn't seen before. He usually had that typical, innocent "I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about-but-I-like-you-anyway" –shine in those hazel orbs of his, but now, his eye-color got darker and more intense.

Slowly, he put the bouquet on one of my small side tables, and then he suddenly leaned in really, really close, making me eep and back off a little against the surface of the door.

'Are you trying to seduce me,' he softly said, his voice almost inaudible as he put one of his hands right next to my face, against the door.

'Um-I… uh… I-I… n-no, I…' I jabbered, for some reason feeling strange and awkward, but not… threatened or anything.

Then, Matteo all of a sudden gasped and gave me some more space, walking backwards a bit.

'O-oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Did… d-did I scare you? I scared you, didn't I? I'm so sorry, Raquel!'

'No, no, y-you didn't scare me,' I instantly said, letting out a puff of air I didn't know I was holding in, '…y-you just kind of surprised me, that's all. P-please, come on right in, I… I made some tea and… tea… you know, with sugar and stuff.'

'Oh, thank God. It's just… um, this might sound strange to you,' Matteo started while he followed me inside the house, '…but… well, I… you know how some people get… um… excited when people talk… about… certain things?'

'No,' I said in all honesty, since I didn't know a single thing about… people.

'W-well, never mind that, then…' Matteo said, smiling apologetic at me, '…just… don't start talking about plants in the way you did all of a sudden. It… um. It makes me want to…'

My heart was once again increasing its rhythmic beating. 'W-what? What does it makes you want to…?'

Matteo didn't even dare to look at me as he sat down at the kitchen table. 'Y-you're a very attractive girl, Raquel, and… I like you a lot. Your quirky mood, the way your hands grip your shirt, your elegant personality…'

…huh, was that how he called it?

'I also like flowers a lot,' Matteo carried on. 'So… put those two together, and it makes me want to… I-I don't know… hold you.'

'Hold me?'

'Oh god, I'm so embarrassed…' Matteo smacked his hands into his face to hide himself even further away from me. 'It's such a weird trigger. I'm so sorry. I-I haven't been with a girl in ages, you see, s-so I'm still very… vulnerable.'

'I haven't ever been with a guy before,' I blurted out, since I didn't want him to feel bad about it – and I immediately regretted my words when he gave me this unbelieving, shocked look.

'You… you have never been with a guy before…?'

I pressed my lips together tightly and felt my cheeks getting fire-red. I didn't think I needed to vocalize what my face already told him.

'Th-that's okay!' Matteo stammered. 'Don't feel awkward about it! I won't like you any less, if that's what you think – I just think it's amazing that a girl like you could still be so… forgive me the lack of a better word… pure.'

I frowned at that. I spied on his parents. I invaded their lives, I took away words that weren't meant for my ears to hear or meant for my eyes to read. I was the one who stole his and Alejo's necklaces for mom, and if Luisa had worn hers, I'd have taken hers as well. I watched from my window as they got torn away from their parents. I saw what happened to Mia. I noticed how neither Spain or South Italy weren't even able to get up from the ground when the new parents took their kids away from them.

And all I could think at that moment was how bad I felt – for me. For losing my "friends", although that friendship never stopped me from grabbing their dog tags.

I wasn't pure. I wasn't even blurry.

I was as filthy as filth could be.

'I'm not pure.' I stated coldly. 'You don't know me. You have no right to say that I'm pure, while I'm clearly not. Don't ever call me pure again.'

'Can I compare you to a prince, though?' Matteo said, who, for some reason, hadn't noticed the dark tone in my voice at all, and smiled at me, leaning on his elbows.

That threw me off. I blinked at him. '…what?'

'Telling me I look lovely, complimenting me on my plain clothes, offering me flowers and instantly trying to make me feel better at the costs of your own feelings and secrets, having short, black hair…' Matteo chuckled. 'I firstly didn't understand why Mia drew you like a prince when she showed me her sketchbook yesterday, but after all of this, I totally get it.'

'You do?' I said, confused since I didn't get it at all.

'Yes.' His smile got wider and gentler as he kept looking at me.

'I-I'm not princely at all.' I huffed and poured him some tea. 'Don't joke around with me. I… I'm just trying to act as I'm supposed to act at dates.'

'Our date won't start until at least four more hours,' Matteo pointed out. 'This was a work-appointment, remember?'

I felt a chill creeping over my back. 'I-I wasn't supposed to give you the compliments and the flowers yet? Sorry – sh-should I take them back?'

Matteo looked at me and my panicky response, and he bit his lower lip. 'God, you're so cute – n-no, you don't have to take them back, you don't need to do anything anymore now, Raquel! Well, maybe that's a lie – there's one thing you can do for me, starting from the moment our official date starts.'

I glanced at him worriedly and sat back on my chair. 'And that is…?'

'Didn't I tell you? I'm the kind of princess who can take care of monsters, pirates and real-estate agents. I can also look after beautiful princes and make sure they feel safe and sound – even if they have secrets they rather not tell the princess yet.'

'U-um… I…'

Matteo didn't let me finish and carefully touched my hand.

'It's not always the prince that comes to help the princess out in perilous times. It can be the other way around, my Highness.'

I blushed so deeply and furiously that this time, I was the one who didn't know what to say.

'Now!~' Matteo then cheerfully carried on, picking up a few of my drawings from the table. 'Can you now please tell me about what fantastic plans you have thought of in the past few days? I'm more than just a bit curious!'

o\00/

'So you are going to the Netherlands.'

I gave Seb a critical look. I have to say I thought I looked pretty menacing, but said guy simply nodded and continued his search for a decent suitcase, or trolley, or at least some kind of bag that wasn't heavily damaged or so old it could fall apart every second.

Because that's the first thing Seb had told me after he had returned from Venetia – that he was going to visit the Netherlands, the country where not only his adoptive parents lived, but his real father as well.

'Well, that's why I took free from work in the first place, remember,' Seb said, smiling victoriously when he stumbled upon a huge, neon-yellow suitcase of mine. 'You were going to find out more about your parents, and I was planning to go visit my parents in the Netherlands anyway. Checking out how my real father's doing as well can't hurt that much, I figured. Like killing two birds with one stone.'

'He'll chase you off!' I hissed, leaning on the edge on the bed while he opened the suitcase and looked around the room. 'You heard Venetia's stories about my cousin and that girl from Denmark, right – her Danish father was shaving, panicked and told her to get lost before he'd use his electric razor on her – you really want that same thing happening to you?'

Seb shrugged. 'That same thing won't happen to me, Luu.'

'How can you be so sure!'

'How can you be so sure that all nations will respond the exact same way as your uncles and Denmark did?'

I pouted and folded my arms. 'I-I'm not sure they all will react in the same fashion, but… but it's more likely they'll send you away than that they will invite you in.'

'According to Venetia, I'm pretty much exactly the same as my dad. Meaning that my dad probably wouldn't call the police or threaten me with a razor knife if I show up at his doorstep,' Seb explained as he dug through one of our closets, probably looking for underwear and what-not.

'What about your mother?' I suggested. I had read that Liechtenstein was a friendly, kind-hearted and understanding young lady, she probably was even less likely to attack some guy claiming that he was her son.

'Liechtenstein lives with her brother, Switzerland.' Seb looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. 'He'll definitely shoot me in the balls if I ring their bell with my crazy story, even if my mom would believe me. My dad isn't like that. The worst thing he'll do is, I don't know, tell me I'm stoned or something. I can work with that, I'm sure he'll hear me out once I give him some pot and show him the pictures I got from Venetia.'

My face fell. 'Your real mom and dad don't live together?'

'No.' Seb stood upright again and stretched his back. 'Venetia told me that he's waiting for her to get to the age of 18 human years before he will date her – and before Liechtenstein's brother is willing to let him. She's about… 16, 17 human years right now though, so his patience will be rewarded in about a few more decades, I think.'

'Oh god, that's right, your mom looks younger than you are,' I muttered. Seb had shown me a picture of both of his parents. Liechtenstein was a fairly young country, having the looks of a cute teenage girl. She still seemed very wise beyond her years to me, though, when I saw her kind, soft smile as she carried Seb in her arms. The Netherlands had been standing right next to them. He was huge, and looked a bit scary – but he had that same glitter in his eyes as Seb had when he felt really happy.

Seb… probably was right, then.

His father would respond differently on him than my uncles had responded on Mimi.

'I…' I started, 'I still think you should think of a plan. Just to be sure. Maybe your adoptive parents can help you out with that?'

Seb paused and thought about it, before he nodded slowly. 'You're right, I should at least ask them for a bit of advice.'

'Exactly!' I smiled. 'It helped me, after all!'

'You don't know if Ángel's plan is going to work out yet, though.' Seb sat down on the bed and furrowed his brows. 'What if they don't believe you? What if they have second thoughts about it and ultimately decide that they rather not let you in their House after all?'

I glared at him. 'I-I don't know, okay? I don't know! But it's not like I have all that many options, have I? Besides, Papa T… I-I mean, Spain, was more than happy to greet me next week. He told dad he couldn't wait to meet his protégée.'

Apparently, Ángel had asked Spain if he was content with his current personal doctor, since he might had a "very smart, clever and open-minded young doctor" that he would like him to meet.

'It's tough for young people to find work nowadays,' Ángel had reasoned, 'and just imagine how nice her resume would look like if she could gain some experience by working for you, even if it would be for just a couple of years! Why, she could reach great heights if she is given the chance to prove herself as a personal doctor!'

I personally doubted that writing down you had worked for the immortal personification of Spain for a couple of years would be that "good" for your resume… but Spain was kind of dumb sometimes and dad had hoped that Spain wouldn't wonder about that (or get angry at him for telling random people about the existence of personifications in the first place)… and Spain didn't!

Hell, he even full-heartedly agreed to meet me next week!

'My current doctor isn't too bad, but okay,' he had told Ángel, 'I'll gladly meet your protégée, and then we'll see what I can do for her. Is that alright with you?'

It was, and an appointment was quickly made: I'd meet up with both him and South Italy next week, on a Wednesday.

I was ecstatically happy and thankful for my dad's efforts at first, of course, but then I realized Alejo and Matteo couldn't come with me – I had to do it all by myself, to avoid making my real fathers suspicious. And now, Seb wouldn't even be there to support me through all of this, he'd leave on a plane to the Netherlands tomorrow evening, for a week (he'd come back on Thursday), and nothing I could do about it.

'You told your brothers about this plan already?' Seb then asked me, disturbing me from my deep and kind of unsettling thoughts.

'Huh? Oh, no… no, not yet, you're the first.' I cleared my throat and sand back into the sheets and pillows around me. I hadn't left the bed ever since Ángel had told me to get some rest – he hadn't even allowed me to let him out. He said I should think of my health and my baby and try not to stress out too much.

I-I tried, but… man, this was getting pretty serious now. Only one more week, and I'd meet my biological parents. If you had told me that one week ago, I'd probably have laughed you in the face, and maybe even kicked you in the face, because what the fuck, how do you know all that about my real parents, dammit.

…

Anyway…

'You should tell Matteo and Alejo,' Seb said, after packing some pants as well. 'You will tell them, right?'

'Yeah yeah, I will…' I mumbled. 'But… not yet. Alejo's at work and Matteo's with that Raquel-girl. I'll leave them be for now.'

Come to think of it, it was getting pretty late already. I couldn't help but think about Matteo and how enthusiastic he had been about this day.

Huh… Wonder when the actual date-part of his appointment with Raquel started?

RSS

Matteo and I worked hard and efficiently that afternoon.

In just a few hours time, we not only decided on the flowers that Spain and South Italy were going to purchase for their wedding anniversary, but we also ordered them, made some final decisions on how and where to arrange the flowers, did some maths to figure out how much money this all would cost my neighbors and even made an appointment on the wedding day itself, how late we were going to be at the Sagrada Família and how long the flowers had to stay beautiful, during the party and everything.

'Now I'm not sure how long wedding anniversaries go on,' I said, a wrinkle forming in my forehead as I tapped on a picture of one of the seven kinds of flowers we had chosen, 'but my guess is that they'll probably party till the next morning. They'll invite many friends and acquaintances as well, so…'

'What about family?' Matteo asked.

I was thrown for a loop, once again.

'F-family?' I repeated, keeping my eyes on the picture.

'Yeah. You've been talking about them having many friends and… people they know and all, but what about family?' Matteo sounded worried. 'It's a couple that's been married for 20 years. Don't they have any family? Adopted kids, brothers, sisters, other family members?'

'They both have brothers.' I forced myself to look up at him. 'Mr. Vargas has a few brothers, who'll most-likely be there as well (safe for the conservative one), and Mr. Fernandez has a brother as well. Sadly, Mr. Fernandez isn't that close with his brother, so I wonder if he'll come.'

'No children?'

'U-um.' I instinctively gripped the table with all my might. I didn't want to lie to Matteo, but I didn't want to say "actually, they have three kids and you are one of them, hahahahaha, how bout them apples" either, so…

I just kept silent and felt up the table.

'Well, maybe it's none of my business,' Matteo said, as soon as he noticed I felt uncomfortable – and then he pulled up his sleeve and took a look on his watch. He gasped a bit.

'Wh-what, what's wrong?' I asked.

'It's already past seven!' he said, staring at me with his eyes wide open. 'I made a reservation at a restaurant here in Madrid at eight, and I'm not completely sure how to drive there – so I must get busy! Oh, also: great work today, Raquel! You're quite the planner! Maybe I'll make you my partner one day!~'

I ignored – or tried to ignore – the flirty wink he gave me and raised up from my chair for a bit. 'Wait a minute, you need to get busy, you said? Busy for what?'

'You really think they'll let me in that restaurant in this crappy get-up?' Matteo chuckled, plucking on his blouse and pants. 'No way they will – they have class, after all, and they have a very strict dress-code as well. Good thing I brought my van with me – I can get changed in there.'

'Um,' I started, 'if you want to, you could also get changed in here, I don't—'

'No, you need to get changed as well!' Matteo smiled goofily at me. 'Not… not that I don't like they way you are dressed like now – I really like that street-but-cute-look of yours! – but… they won't let you in unless you obey to their stupid dress-code.'

I thought of my mom's black dress and shivered involuntarily. 'U-um, but I don't really have…'

But my words died in the air when Matteo, who was already walking away, excused himself and disappeared through the front door.

Ten minutes later, he stepped back in again – now dressed in an extremely expensive-looking, smooth and almost-black-dark-blue suit. Or tuxedo. Or… well, h-he just looked very nice and handsome, as always, and he now even wore gloves. Those very spiffy, sophisticated ones, that gave him the air of a well-mannered, kind and polite millionaire.

It was hard to believe, and yet not hard at all, that the simple and casual-clothed Matteo could transform himself into a man breathing, beaming and oozing class and… and dignity and w-what-not, I-I don't know, I only knew that it made me feel very aware of the fact I was very lucky to be able to date him, and that I hadn't even moved from my place during the time he had changed his clothes.

'Not too shabby, right?' he grinned at me, pulling on the ends of his gloves that seemed to be a tad too big for him. 'I guess I should praise myself lucky with a brother that butts in my private affairs every now and then. Alejo refused to let me go to your place with one of my older suits ("I rather die than have two siblings that have the fashion-sense of doors and scarecrows!"), and he insisted I took one of his. So there you have it. You like it?'

'I-I like it a lot, you look insanely handsome,' I stammered, fidgeting.

'Thanks.' Matteo beamed. But his expression changed when he saw I hadn't gotten myself in another set of clothes yet.

'Um… Raquel, you haven't…?'

I flushed. 'I-I'm sorry, I don't have anything to wear. I never wear fancy dresses, and I do have my mother's dress that fits me, but…'

I fell quiet for a second, while Matteo looked at me and studied my face.

'Oh… w-well,' I finally stuttered, 'I guess I could wear that anyway, if—'

'No, you won't,' Matteo easily said – and then grabbed my hand, pulling me after him as he went back outside.

'Wh-what are you doing – where are you taking me?' I said when the refreshing evening air welcomed me as Matteo kept pulling me with him.

'You see,' he started – and let go of my hand as soon as we stood in front of his van, 'I didn't want to tell you, since my brother's kind of a boss when it comes to fashion and what's "in" and what not, but Alejo thought you had the clothing style of a paper napkin.'

'…a paper napkin?' I repeated.

Matteo nodded. 'His words, not mine. Well, it's better than having the same tastes in clothes as a door or a scarecrow, so I'd take it as a compliment! With a bit of time and patience, maybe you could even promote to having the same fashion-sense as a toddler. Isn't that wonderful!'

He chuckled upon seeing my puzzled face and handwaved his comment away.

'Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that Alejo made me bring some clothes for you as well. One of his model-girlfriends owed him something – don't ask me what, I don't know and I'm very content I with that ignorance – and she lend him one of the dresses she got from a catwalk-show.'

He climbed into the back of the van – such a weird sight, watching such an attractive man hopping into the back of a dusty, ugly van like he did it every day – and got back with a long, mysterious-purple dress. The fabric was shiny and an instant eye-catcher, but it amazingly enough didn't look too flashy.

'Don't worry about sizes,' Matteo said as he showed me the dress, ' Allie's a pro when it's about clothes. According to him, you have the sizes of a model and you should be able to fit in this dress. If you want to, o-of course! You don't have to wear it if you feel weird about it – it's… it's just a suggestion, since you don't seem to have anything else.'

I tore my eyes from the dress and looked at him again. 'Well, that's not entirely true. L-like I said, my mom's dress—'

'You're not going to wear your mom's dress.' Matteo's voice was calm but determined. 'I won't allow you to wear something that makes you feel sad. I want you to feel just as good and beautiful as you are, my Highness.'

I blushed, once again. 'Y-you're going to keep on calling me that, aren't you?'

'If you don't mind it, I'd be more than happy to keep on calling you that.' His next smile for me was very gentle and warm.

'I don't mind it.' I hid a smile and quickly turned around, with the dress pressed against my body. 'I-I'll go change real quick now, okay?'

'I'll wait right here for you,' I heard him say – and I knew he followed me with his eyes as I went back into my house, followed me, observed me, let those green-brown mirrors of his soul dart all over me.

And it felt so scary, so creepy, so strange and so unusual, I thought my heart would crack with overjoyed happiness.