Chapter Text
"Come on! Don't you think this will be perfect for your party?" Elli exclaims while holding a yellow sundress against her body.
You peer from around a clothes rack to see.
Rebekah tilts her head, then shakes it after a few seconds. "It washes you out."
"Ugh! Yn! What do you think?" Elli asks when she notices you tuning into their conversation.
Your eyes flicker between your friends. The dress Elli has is simple and cute, but unfortunately does not work with her complexion.
"Sorry, Elli. I agree with Bekah, but the style is nice," you reply.
Elli dramatically dips her mouth down and slips the hanger back on the rack.
You flip through the clothes in front of you again, mindlessly browsing. Since Rebekah's birthday is this weekend, she implored you both to go shopping for a new outfit.
Elli gasps loudly. Seems like she found something else.
"No, he's not wearing a uniform," Elli tries to whisper, but her shock makes it impossible.
"How has he not gotten kicked out yet?" Rebekah asks.
You glance at them huddled in the corner. You follow their line of sight and nearly gasp loudly, too. However, yours stems from a different reason.
The mechanic who had helped with your flat tire nearly two months ago stands on the other side of the store. He's with a younger boy who you can't really see, but from their body language, neither seems too thrilled to be here.
Jason nods in a direction, and the other turns to leave.
You throw a dekko at your friends. They've angled their bodies away, but you can tell they're still side-eyeing and complaining under their breath. You roll your eyes as anger licks up your arms. The emotion comes unexpectedly since you're not close to him. But you remember him being nice to you despite your standoffish demeanor.
If you didn't know Jason, would you be doing the same?
Disgust fills your veins. You would hope not.
Jason starts to walk out of sight. He could go about his day without ever knowing you were here. Heck, you probably wouldn't have known he was here either if it weren't for your friends. You wonder how many times you've passed him in your life without being aware.
Before your friends call you over, you slip between racks to get to Jason.
He's a few feet away, and suddenly, self-doubt clouds your decision. Perhaps this was a mistake. It's not like you were the most cordial when you first met, and he probably loathes the wealthy, considering where he works. Though it didn't feel like he hated you back then.
Perhaps that's what's drawing you to him, because this is out of character for you. This should've stayed a one-time interaction, considering the crowd he's involved with.
Will he even remember you? Most likely, but not for the reason you hope.
But it's too late to turn back.
Jason grunts in dissatisfaction as he spins around and slams into you.
"Shit," he mutters as he stumbles forward. His hands reach past your body to stop his momentum.
Meanwhile, your hands clutch his leather jacket at his sides while you try to get your footing.
Once his hands find something to latch onto, he stares down with concern.
"Sorry, are you—" His blue eyes grow; recognition sinks in.
"H-Hi," you say, utterly embarrassed. You're acutely aware of how close he is. He may not be pressed against you, but he might as well be with how you can feel his body heat radiate off him.
"Yn?" he asks, which makes your heart race faster.
"Yeah," you lamely reply.
He blinks as if he's imagining it's you he's caged in. Then, he chuckles.
"How's your tire?" That handsome grin from your nightmares appears.
"Fine," you say, because you can't think of what else to say that won't make you ramble off irrelevant information.
As he pulls away, you quickly retract your hands like they've been burned.
"Sorry," you sheepishly say.
"Don't worry 'bout it. You alright?"
You nod.
"What are you doing here?" He glances around. "In the men's section, for that matter."
"O-Oh, I'm here with friends, but then I saw you and wanted to say hi. I didn't mean to interrupt your shopping, though. I'm sorry for the trouble I caused."
Jason listens to your hurried words with soft eyes.
"You didn't need to know all that, did you? Sorry!"
"Stop apologizing," he says gently. "I'm just waiting for something."
"Are you here alone?" You know he isn't, but it felt like a reasonable volley.
"No, I'm with f—"
"Yn, is this man bothering you?" Elli's shrilling voice rings loudly in the store. No doubt did she speak clamorously on purpose.
You spin to turn your back on Jason and give your friends a subtle warning. You would've been grateful if the person were an actual threat.
"No, I know him," you answer just as loudly. The last thing you need is to attract attention to Jason. Which, now that you think of it, how can he afford to shop here?
Rebekah does a judgmental once-over. If it weren't for the clothes hung over an arm, she would've crossed them.
"Are you sure you're not mistaking him for someone else? Sorry, but he doesn't seem like someone you'd know."
There's an underlying accusation in her tone. Jason is someone you shouldn't know, nor is he someone who should be here.
Your friends' behaviors have sometimes gotten on your nerves, but never as much as they do right now.
"Actually,"—you shift so you can see Jason too—"I was just asking him if he'd like to be my plus one at your party this weekend, Bekah."
Jason quirks an eyebrow in question. He crosses his arms over his chest, and darn, does he look even scarier like that. Hopefully, that's not because he's annoyed with your unexpected invitation.
Your friends suck in a breath. It's either because of his daunting stance or your unforeseen invite. Elli stutters as she tries to form words.
"I-I thought you were bringing Nick," Rebekah says. You never said you were bringing your brother, but it seems that's who she would like to come.
"He said he was busy." You lie and gesture to Jason. "Anyway, this is who helped me with my flat months ago."
You say it as if it'll make them relax and say, "Oh! Thank you for helping our friend. Please join us this weekend!"
They don't.
Instead, they still seem apprehensive.
"I see," Elli murmurs and glances at Rebekah.
Jason clears his throat and opens his mouth, but someone else speaks first.
"Ladies, is everything okay?"
Walking up behind Jason is an all too familiar face.
Jason's amused expression turns slightly sour.
"N-No! All good, Mr. Wayne, sir," Elli says in a hurry.
"Glad to hear," Bruce replies, like he expected that answer. He lays a heavy hand on Jason's shoulder. "Your suit is ready, son."
Son?
Your gaze flickers down to see the younger guy you spotted earlier. Slowly, you realize who it is.
Damian Wayne looks eager to leave. He does a quick sweep of your small group before averting his gaze to the exit.
It makes sense now how Jason can be here. He's one of Bruce freaking Wayne's sons.
Elli and Rebekah stare at Jason with newfound adoration.
Jason says, "I'll be over in a second."
Bruce nods to show he got the cue to leave, but he lingers a few seconds longer than necessary before he turns.
"I'm grateful to have been invited," Jason says while uncrossing his arms. "But I've got work."
"Oh, right," you mumble, disappointed and ashamed that you forgot he probably still works on the weekends.
"If you change your mind, it'll be at the garden at noon. I'd love to see you there!" Rebekah says with a charming smile.
It's astonishing how she doesn't even try to hide her change in attitude towards his attendance. Jason must experience that a lot.
"Thanks," Jason says, then glances at you. "Can we have a moment?"
Your friends nod enthusiastically and scurry away, but they remain in sight as they watch with curious, beady eyes.
Jason steps in front of you, blocking their view. You're not sure if it was intentional, but you want to thank him anyway.
"Sorry I can't make it," he says lowly.
"No, I'm sorry I didn't properly invite you. To be fair, I wasn't thinking about it when I came over, but my friends can be so closed off sometimes. I wanted them to get to know other people. I should've been considerate about your work schedule."
Jason hums in agreement to your nicely-worded description.
"So, y'planned to use me as a guinea pig?"
Your mouth falls open. "What? No! Of course not, Jason. I just thought it'd be nice to have someone who wasn't so… um…"
"Stuck up?"
You sigh and rub one of your arms. Is that how he perceived you when you were scared of him and his neighborhood? You always thought you were more welcoming to "outsiders," but perhaps it was a false reality.
"I was kidding, but I get it," he replies. "Maybe another time."
You doubt there will be, but you had also believed you'd never see him again, yet here he is. And now that your friends know you know one of Bruce Wayne's sons, they probably will try to convince you to bring him over more.
"I'd better go before Bruce blows his top," he says.
You swallow the lump in your throat. "Right."
Jason stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods.
"It was nice seeing you again, Kitty Cat."
Your sadness dissipates momentarily, and a grin overtakes your features. It's a cringy nickname, but because it was specifically given to you by him, it feels nice.
"You too, Tire Boy."
It's Jason's turn to scrunch his nose.
He steps away and says, "Next time I see you, I hope y'have a better nickname for me."
Next time.
"I'll try," you reply.
With one final wink, he heads off without a look back.
"You didn't tell us that mechanic boy was Bruce Wayne's son!" Elli whisper-shouts. It's not shocking that they've bombarded you the second Jason walked away.
"I didn't know either." You defend.
"You think he's doing spy stuff over there?" Rebekah asks.
You hadn't considered that being the reason he works in the poverty-stricken area of Gotham, but he seemed too content in the shop just to be doing it as a covert mission. After all, why would Bruce's son be chosen for something like that?
Your curiosity for Jason grows.
"No," you belatedly answer. Wanting to airt the conversation, you say, "What did you pick out, Bekah? Are you ready to try anything on?"
That gets them back on track again. Rebekah shows you what she's slung over her arm. After your approval, she goes to the dressing rooms. Elli follows shortly after.
While you're flicking through the clothes as you wait, you feel a pair of eyes on you.
Jason stares at you from across the store. He and Damian stand near the exit while Bruce is at the checkout counter.
The moment he catches your gaze, he smiles. He glances at the hanger you stopped on and tilts his head. Your brows kiss at his reaction.
You lift the item and see it's a form-fitting navy blue dress.
You peer at Jason, who shakes his head. You laugh softly when you realize what he's doing.
You hook the hanger back and sift through the choices again. You pull off a short, black dress.
Jason's mouth dips as his brows raise in a "not bad." You nod and hang it over your arm. After showing him six more dresses, you've added three more to your arm. They're a mix of red and black, which are not your typical colors for outfits.
Bruce walks over when you're in the middle of showing Jason another dress. The older man glances at you, then back at Jason. He must say something because Jason's mouth moves a few seconds later. He continues to look at you, though, which makes your heart flame.
"How's this, Yn?"
You tear your focus from Jason to Rebekah. She dons a pretty tan and white lace dress.
"That looks great on you," you answer. And it does by hugging her curves perfectly.
"You think?" She sighs. "Elli thinks it's boring."
"Classy isn't boring," you say and turn to see Jason. However, he isn't there anymore. You only see the tail end of a black car as it leaves.
A heavy sigh falls from your mouth as you set down the hanger you're holding.
"Hey, wait! That's gorgeous," Rebekah says.
"Huh?"
"That dress you have! It's totally different from what you normally wear."
You pull the dress out again. It's red with a tight bodice and flowy bottom. Although Jason isn't here to give his input, the color matches his preferences. It's silly to even consider his opinion when he's one, a man, and two, someone you barely know. Though the thought of him smiling widely at you wearing it makes you hang the garment over your arm.
Rebekah nods in approval and takes your hand. "Seems like you're ready to join us finally."
You laugh and let her lead you to the dressing room.
Even though Jason said he won't be able to make it, wearing something that reminds you of him is enough to have you swiping your card later.
When you first encountered Jason, all you could think about was the rumors you heard about the people in the slums. How they were slimy and manipulative, who would take advantage of your kindness to get you to empty your wallet.
But if that's the case, Jason is an exception.
However, being Bruce's son automatically puts him in another category. Is he not sleezy only because he doesn't need to be? He's surely well off already.
Perhaps the rumors are still true.
But even before you knew about Jason's family ties, you thought of him more than you would've liked. Especially after you found the tip money in your center console a few days later.
You were stunned to discover it since it was difficult to understand why someone with little money would turn down such an amount. It makes sense now.
Though it only proves Jason isn't a money-hungry man.
You can't remember the last time you were this hung up over a man. Your parents always try to shove a possible suitor in your face, but none of them have ever captivated your attention.
You had tried to get Jason out of your head because you knew your parents would never approve. It was an inane thing to fret over, considering you were not planning to go back and make friends with him. If you tried something now, would Jason just see you as a gold digger?
You groan as you set down your eyeliner. "Maybe it's good he's not coming."
"Who's not coming?"
You jump and glance at your doorway. Your brother wears a dress shirt and slacks with slicked-back hair.
"You look ridiculous." You huff instead. You didn't mean to voice your thoughts, so you hope Nicholas lets it go.
"So do you! I don't think I've ever seen you wear red."
"Maybe it's time for a change." You shrug.
"Has Mom seen you yet?"
You turn around, but you can still see him in your vanity's mirror.
"No, but I don't see why she would care."
Nicholas laughs with an eye roll. "Yeah, right."
"Did you have something you needed, Nick?" you ask and swipe on a matching wing on your other eye. You don't need a reminder of how your mom will claim you're dressing too "raunchy," and how no man will be attracted to someone who looks like they climb into any bed they see.
"I just wanted to see if you were ready," he answers and steps inside your room to sit on the bench by the foot of your bed.
"Almost."
You resume your makeup while he fiddles with his phone.
After twenty minutes, you're sliding on your heels and jewelry while Nicholas tucks Rebekah's gift under his arm.
You're almost to the door when your mom's voice stops you.
"Yn?" Her tone is harsh.
"Yes, Mother?" you ask, reluctantly turning around.
"Heavens, what is that dress?" She scrutinizes your look from head to toe.
"It's something new I bought," you reply. It's not one Jason chose specifically, but he chose the color indirectly.
"What about that baby blue one I got you last week? I think that'll be more suitable for Rebekah's birthday, don't you?" She eyes you like she's trying to entice you to agree.
While the dress she's referring to is nice, it's similar to several dresses in your wardrobe. They're almost like carbon copies.
"I wanted something different. I'll wear the blue dress another time."
Your mother clicks her tongue. "Darling, I think it'd be best if you change into that now. I'll have Francis return the one you're wearing."
Normally, you would relent to end the conversation, but the moment you had tried on the dress four days ago, you fell in love. It hugs your chest beautifully and flares slightly at the waist to give an ethereal look. You can't imagine giving it to one of your butlers to return.
"I would." You lie. "But we're going to be late if I do."
You grab your brother's hand and start dragging him out the door. "Sorry, Mom! I'll see to returning it tomorrow."
The moment you slide into the passenger seat, your brother huffs an "I told you so."
You stay silent, ignoring him as you smooth out your dress. Even though you defied your mother and lied about your intention to return it, you know you'll never be able to wear it again. You'll have to hide it, which may be nearly impossible when the staff comes to clean. They can be so thorough.
Annoyingly, a smidge of doubt wiggles its way under your skin. Your mother has always had a say in your fashion, so hearing her vehemently disapprove of your dress makes you both disappointed and irate. Although you were feeling pretty and confident in your room, your mom's words dimmed your lights.
"Don't drink too much," your brother warns while he parks.
"You're one to talk," you reply with an eye roll. Last weekend, one of his friends called you to pick him up because he was drunk.
"Whatever." He gruffs and slides out of the car, not bothering to wait for you.
"Prick," you mutter, watching as he greets his friends. You grab Rebekah's gift, then climb out of the car. Figuring Nicholas took the keys, you lock the car from the inside.
"Yn!" Elli hollers. She wears a similar sundress she found days ago, but in another color.
"Hi, Elli," you greet and exchange a hug.
"You look beautiful! I'm glad you chose to wear this one today." She beams. "It's so bold."
"Thanks. You look beautiful too," you say. Your friend's parents are strict about their fashion choices, too, but not so much with the colors.
Elli grins big and bumps shoulders with you playfully. She loops an arm through yours and guides you to where the main party is.
There are about thirty people here already. Some linger in the open grass field while others sit at the long table nearby.
Rebekah had wanted an outside party since the weather had been nice lately. The heat and humidity are reasonable, and a gentle breeze occasionally floats through the air.
Unlit string lights hang overhead while a vast array of flowers is scattered along the walkway.
"Wow," you mutter, eyes dancing around the venue.
"Gorgeous, right?" Rebekah says as she stops next to you. She wears the tan dress Elli deemed boring. Although you thought otherwise, her styling definitely elevates the look.
You hum in agreement and open your arms for a hug.
"Happy birthday, Bekah!" you cheer.
She smiles and leans in to reciprocate the embrace. "Thanks, babe."
When she sees your gift, she calls over a staff member to take it and put it with the others.
"I thought you said your brother was busy," Elli says as loud laughter echoes.
You glance around and spot him and his friends at the table. They already have cans of beer in their hands, which you internally roll your eyes at.
"His plans got canceled." You shrug and redirect your attention.
"I better go say hi," Rebekah says. She takes one step forward, then pauses. "Do you know if your mechanic is coming?"
"He's not—Ah, never mind. No, I don't," you reply.
"That's a shame," she says.
"It is!" Elli concurs. "I was hoping to get to know him more."
"It was Mason, right?" Rebekah questions.
"Jason." You correct, a spark of irritation igniting within you. It's understandable to forget someone's name, but you wonder how much is due to genuine forgetfulness and how much is due to carelessness.
Your lips purse as you refrain from adding a snide remark.
"Me too," Rebekah says with a small frown. "We'll start lunch soon. You both can sit next to me."
You and Elli nod before she leaves to welcome more guests. Although you get a few stares, you don't feel as out of place as your mother was making you feel. It restores a bit of your confidence, but not all of it.
Rebekah calls everyone to the table ten minutes later. She sits at the head while you and Elli flank her on the sides. The staff comes shortly after everyone's settled to serve the drinks and the first round of appetizers.
"It looks so good!" Elli says excitedly.
"Just wait until the dessert!" Rebekah exclaims. "I've only been here once, but I remember their—"
A low rumble of a motorcycle interrupts the conversations around the table. A few minutes later, a tall, handsome figure emerges from around the corner.
Jason's tousled hair and all-black attire make him stick out like a sore thumb. However, it's almost criminal how good he looks despite breaking the norm.
Your lips split into a smile at his attendance.
Jason finds you easily, and when he does, your heart bursts at his growing grin.
"You came!" Rebekah exclaims as she stands.
Jason nods and walks toward the table. Like before, a staff member quickly retrieves the small gift box in his hand. He mutters a thanks and readjusts the helmet that's tucked under his arm.
"I'm so glad you could join us," she says and holds a hand out toward the few available seats. "Please take a seat anywhere."
Unfortunately, there are no empty seats next to you, so he's forced to sit across and slightly to the right. The woman next to him looks conflicted, like she doesn't know if she should run for the hills or run into his arms.
You know which one you'd choose, and it better not be the same as her answer.
The thought has you tightening your hold on your fork. It's a ridiculous reaction. You still barely know him.
Jason catches your stare, and one corner of his mouth quirks up like he knows what you're thinking. Heat creeps up your cheeks as you avert your eyes.
This time, your brother snags your gaze. His lips are downturned, and he takes a sip of his beer as if he needs to forget he saw you interacting with someone who appears out of your class. If only he knew.
Conversation gradually picks up again. Jason doesn't get spoken to, but he doesn't seem offended. His eyes wander as the hour passes, and whenever he finds you staring, a small smile always forms.
"I can't believe he came," Elli says quietly from across the table.
Rebekah nods, but her eyes are on Jason. There's a spark in them that makes your skin crawl.
"What's he like?" Rebekah asks and turns to you.
You stare at her for a moment that teeters on being awkward. "Uh, he's nice."
"That's all you have to say?" Elli leans in as she does when there's gossip.
You raise your shoulders and move around the food on your plate.
"I don't really know him," you answer. Maybe that can change today.
Rebekah flicks her gaze in Jason's direction briefly. "But he didn't seem to hate us, right? Have you talked to him since the other day?"
"No," you say.
"To which one?"
"Both."
Your friends look pleased by your answer and resume eating.
When it's time for dessert, a big cake comes out and everyone begins singing in unison. Rebekah looks surprised, but you bet she had this planned.
"Thank you all so much for coming! It's so great to see everyone's faces," Rebekah says, eyes scanning the table. "The party doesn't end after dessert, so please feel free to stay and mingle."
"Don't forget to make a wish," Elli adds quietly.
Rebekah smiles and closes her eyes. She takes a big breath, then extinguishes the candles. Applause erupts around the table along with a chorus of extra "happy birthdays".
After the staff assists in cutting and serving pieces of cake, the table grows rowdy again. The conversations around you range from the latest technology advancements to Gotham's hottest scandals. Not entertained to listen further, you peer at Jason across the table.
Your heart nearly explodes when you see he's already looking at you.
He takes a bite of his cake, and you suppress a giggle when a bit of frosting lingers on a corner of his mouth. You lift a finger and brush along the edge of your mouth to send a silent message. He mimics your motion and chuckles when he sees the frosting. With his eyes still locked on yours, he brings his thumb to his lips and sucks it clean.
Your sight flickers down at your plate as an unusual tingle tickles up to your chest. Are you really reacting to something so simple? How juvenile of you.
Rebekah begins the mingling session by leaving her seat and heading to Jason. He peers up when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He had seen her stand, but refocused on his empty plate quickly after.
She shines a bright smile and starts up a conversation. You force your attention away so you're not caught staring, even though the devil on your shoulders prods you with her pitchfork to do otherwise.
Before temptation lures your focus back to them, someone calls your name behind you.
One of your brother's friends, Frederick, stands closely. He's a candidate your parents have chosen for your future spouse, but neither of you has made a move to get to know each other. He seems perfectly content drinking and enjoying his single life, so his presence is surprising.
"Hi, Frederick," you say.
"It's good seeing you again."
"You too."
"You, uh, look nice," he mutters.
"Thanks," you say slowly. Then, out of courtesy, you compliment him back.
"Hm," he hums and shifts his weight. "My parents are hosting a gala the weekend of the first. Are you free to come?"
"W-With you?" you wonder, hoping his answer is no.
He shrugs. "Yeah. I can have someone pick you up."
You try to keep your expression neutral. His flat tone evaporates any sincerity the question should contain.
"I'll check my schedule and get back to you, okay?" you ask, even though you know you don't have anything in three weeks.
"Yeah, I guess that works," he says, like he wasn't expecting that answer. He takes a step back. "I'll see you around."
You nod, turning to face your front again. However, the people around you are no longer present. Everyone's scattered around the lot to converse. Jason isn't in his seat either.
You push your chair back in preparation to stand, but a soft grunt and resistance stop you.
"Sorry!" you exclaim as you crane your neck to see who you hit.
Jason's hands grip the back of your chair, a smirk on his handsome face. "I figured you'd be more grateful toward me, but you just seem to keep putting me in dangerous situations."
"I'm sorry." You giggle. "Are you hurt?"
He shakes his head and carefully pulls the chair back, which earns him a small squeak of surprise from you.
"Fancy a getaway?" he asks, offering his arm.
Your hands ease from gripping the edge of the chair as a smile grows.
"Please," you say, curling your hand around his arm and standing. It's ludicrous how your brain picks up on the muscles in his forearm like some sick, giddy teenager.
He leads you behind a large tree that's at the edge of the field. It's quiet this far away from the party.
Jason shrugs off his leather jacket and lays it neatly on the grass. Your eyes widen in shock.
"Prefer not to sit on the ground, princess?" he asks teasingly.
"The ground is fine!" You huff quickly and lift your dress to sit. You sit on the edge so there's room for him, but it's a fruitless effort since there's not much space left.
"And I'm not a princess," you say defiantly. You're not that snobbish.
Jason bows anyway, a hand over his chest. "Apologies, Kitty Cat."
You scoff a laugh and reach out to playfully swipe at his leg.
"Sit down, Jason," you say in a gentle demand. A lightness fills your chest at the easy-going banter.
Jason laughs, plopping down directly onto the grass, not even attempting to fit on his jacket.
Your mouth falls in a gasp. "You're going to ruin more of your clothes."
"I'm not scared of a little dirt, Yn," he replies.
"Bruce won't get mad?"
You'd refer to him as Jason's dad, but since Jason didn't do that at the store, you don't either.
"He has other stuff to worry 'bout than clothes." Jason eyes you like he's analyzing your response. "Would you get into trouble if y'ruined your dress?"
You laugh dryly and straighten out the fabric. If you came home in filth, your mother would surely lecture you into the next century. This time might be an exception, however.
"Actually, my mother would probably be happy if I ruined it."
Jason scrunches his brows. "How come?"
You glance at him. You consider making a joke to keep the conversation light, but Jason's not like anyone you've met before. There's a feeling akin to comfort being near him. If you could have a deep conversation with anyone, it would be him.
"It would give her another excuse to get rid of it," you reply.
"Why didn't she like it?"
Jason could've ended the conversation there and redirected to another topic, but it's sweet that he's interested. Or at least, it's nice he's acting like he is.
You wave a hand like it's not a big deal. "She has a thing for hating red. She finds it too sultry and thinks it'll dwindle my chance of finding a husband."
Not wanting to seem like you're dumping your problems onto him, you question, "Does Bruce monitor your fashion choices too? Does he worry about you finding a partner?"
Jason's eyes are narrowed slightly, but he doesn't look at you with animosity.
"Is this your first time wearin' red?"
Out of all the responses he could've given, he gave that one. It makes you self-conscious, and you instinctively tuck your legs closer and cross an arm over your body.
"Was my mother right? Is it too unflattering?" you ask.
Jason shakes his head earnestly. "Your mother's very wrong. You look stunning today, Yn. I'm surprised one of those fools hasn't already asked for your hand today."
"I-I'm flattered, Jason." You laugh shyly. "But I've met them all before, and they weren't interested then. I highly doubt they suddenly find me wife material."
"Well, I did say they were fools, no?" He smiles.
You giggle and nudge his shoulder with yours.
"Is it one I chose?" he asks.
"N-No, sorry." You hope your voice isn't as shaky as you feel. You've never had anyone besides your mother and friends help choose clothes.
"That's a shame. I'll do better in the future," he says kindly, giving you the impression he's being genuine.
The flutter in your chest has you shifting.
"I—Uh, um, what about Bruce?" you stammer. "Does he care what you wear?"
From your understanding, a majority of your friends' parents are particular about their kids' lives. From their attire to their mannerisms. There's always something to pick on. While not all their reasoning seems sound, it's difficult to break away from the beliefs and standards you were raised with.
"Bruce only cares that we play the part," he says and leans against the tree trunk. "How'd you fare I'm doing?"
There's a mischievous glimmer in his ocean eyes that invites you to tease him.
You scan his clothes.
"Unfortunately, you fare badly," you say. "Black jeans and a black tee? You're dressed too casually and in too dark clothes."
Jason smirks. "That so?"
"You will scare off potential suitors," you parrot your mother's words.
"Are you scared?" he inquires in a lower register.
"W-What?" Your heart pumps rapidly at the idea of him thinking of you having a chance of being his wife.
He leans a hand on the jacket and brings his face closer. Your spine straightens, eyes unblinking.
"You were scared of me two months ago. Are you still scared?"
You swallow harshly and shake your head.
"You sure? 'Cause it looks like you're 'bout to take off running."
"N-No," you stammer.
"No, you're not sure?" he wonders.
You gasp. "No! I mean, yes! I mean… Dang it! No, I'm not running away. You don't scare me anymore."
Jason's quiet for a few beats, and then he's laughing.
"That's good to know," he responds, sitting back against the tree and leaving your personal space.
You exhale a long breath to rid your nerves and readjust yourself on the jacket.
"Are you not working today?" you question, recalling how he wasn't supposed to show up—not that you aren't glad for the change of plans.
Jason laughs. "When Elijah caught wind of me turning down a party to work, he sent me home."
"Really? He was serious?" You would think his boss would've needed two weeks in advance.
"Very! If I had tried to come back, he would've driven me here himself."
Elijah's older face pops into your head. You recall their friendly interaction and wonder if that's the norm for them. Is that common for all bosses and their subordinates?
"He seems… nice," you state.
Jason nods. "You should stop by again."
"O-Oh. I… I don't think that will be best," you deny as politely as you can.
"You said you weren't scared of me," he says.
"And I'm not." You pause. "But they're not like us."
"Like us?" The small smile that was growing quickly reverses.
You freeze at his change. It's clear you don't need to clarify what you meant.
Jason averts his gaze ahead to the sea of trees. "So, are you only not afraid of me 'cause I've got money?"
"No! But… But it did help."
He's silent.
Shame looms over you like a forbidding shadow. If you were discussing this with Elli and Rebekah, there would be no contemplation about your sentiment.
Jason shifts, and for a second, you fear he's going to leave. However, he only angles himself to face you more, making your heart both ease with relief, then speed up again from his intense gaze.
"I may upset you when I tell you this, but the people here are more likely to take advantage of your money than those at the shop."
"But not the slums in total," you refute.
Jason hardens his eyes. "Corruption, manipulation, and greed are everywhere. Gotham strives on it."
You remain idle as you try to listen to him objectively, but everything you've been told about the people there slams into you from the opposite side.
"There may be more crime there, according to the news, but what about the crimes here that don't get reported?"
"What do you mean?" you ask.
"What about the corruption in the police force? Or the manipulation and blackmail of some of the top corporations?"
"Is Bruce corrupt?" Considering Wayne Enterprises is amongst the top corporations…
"No."
Jason's haste takes your breath away. For some reason, you expected him to dance around the answer or make an excuse for why he is.
But he does neither.
It could be from his loyalty to Bruce being his father, or his obliviousness to the crimes.
Jason sighs and leans in until you're staring at him again. You hadn't realized you had even broken eye contact in the first place, but the war inside makes it difficult to think clearly.
"I hope one day you'll realize the people you are so scared of are more than their stereotypes."
His voice is slow, calm, and crestfallen. The weight of it all drags your heart to the pit of your stomach.
"I—" you start to form an excuse, a plea, anything to get him to stop looking at you like this.
"There you are." Nicholas interrupts as he rounds the tree trunk. Jason instantly starts to stand while you jerk back with a small yelp.
There's an odd clench in your chest seeing Jason pull away so quickly. You hope it's not from being ashamed of being caught with you; you two weren't doing anything.
Your brother doesn't cast his gaze at Jason despite knowing he's present.
"Mother's on the phone," is all he says. Your eyes land on his phone that's now outstretched toward you. Nicholas's expression is rigid and causes dread to weigh you down. However, you know if you don't take the phone soon, you'll have another issue to worry about.
You reluctantly place the device against your ear.
"Hi, Mom," you say.
"I just got off the phone with Mr. Sullivan," Mother begins her complaint. As soon as you begin standing, Jason's hand appears in front of you. You send a tight-lipped smile his way and take it. Its size and strength beneath your palm distract you from whatever your mom is saying.
"…to go with him. That's absurd, Yn! That was a wonderful invitation, and you just embarrassed him. You will find Frederick and accept his offer. Then, you will come home."
So, that's what this is about.
Your eyes are cast low as you subtly lower the volume. One, because her voice grates on your nerves. Two, in case Jason can hear.
You don't dare make eye contact with him as you're being scolded. You're well into adulthood, yet it never gets easier having your mother berate you like a disorderly child in front of your friends—if he even is that. You could have just ruined any possible chance of that with your prejudiced mindset.
And it's then that you start to realize you're similar to Elli and Rebekah in more ways than you had wanted to admit.
"Now, you're not listening?" Your mother scoffs with uncontained anger. "You have half an hour to accept Frederick's invite and get home before I start revoking your cards."
It should be an insignificant threat, but your life has always been about money. The thought of not having any scares you.
"Do you understand, Yn?"
You exhale slowly. "Yes, Mother."
"Good."
The line goes dead.
There's a second where the world feels frozen. The view of the green grass shatters into pieces, only to be rebuilt with new low-saturated panels. It invigorates you, yet there's a dullness that wades at the fringe.
You're reminded of the life you're meant to live and realize the escape you were subconsciously chasing was inevitably going to crumble.
You pull your lips into a smile and hand your brother his phone back, eyes moving to Jason. He stares at you with clouded concern, but you don't entertain it.
"I'm sorry we have to cut this short," you say formally. "Thank you for the chat. It was lovely speaking with you."
You don't see his response because you're already turning away. It shouldn't shock you that he doesn't call out, nor does he race to stop you, but there's still a pang in your chest regardless.
It was foolish to think you could have a life beyond your norm. Thank goodness it was brief, because you don't know if you could handle rejecting it if you were more involved.
Besides, you may never have been accepted, you think as you find Frederick by the bar.
Jason may not have hated you, but he's not like the others. They would've ostracized you.
It's better this way, you convince yourself as you agree to be his date.
Less inner turmoil. Minimal drama. Fewer risks.
Frederick
has no reaction and informs you when his driver will drop by your house. You nod because that's what's expected of you.
You bid Rebekah and Elli goodbye because your mother is waiting for you.
Nicholas peers at you as he drives. He chuckles.
"Your rebellious phase didn't last long, did it?"
It's not the first time to be a victim of his teasing, but this comment makes you want to lean over and wring his neck. Your hands clench, and your jaw ticks. Leave it to your brother to awaken your violent thoughts.
"But your drinking phase did," you mutter.
Nicholas huffs. "I don't drink that often."
"If I drank as much as you, Mom would spiral more than she is now."
"That's because she cares about you more."
You laugh loudly, yet the humor is absent. "That's absurd."
He shrugs. A split second passes where you don't believe him, but it's a fact she doesn't dot on him as much as she does you. Your father does, but not to the extent that your mother does. You always reasoned it to be because you are older.
While the prospect of your parents not liking you is disheartening, you wonder what it'd be like to not live by their high standards.
Maybe you would still be under the tree with Jason. There's still so much you want to know about him. Why does he work when he doesn't need to? Does he live in the slums, or does he live in Wayne Manor?
Maybe you wouldn't need their approval for everything. You can't believe you once worried about your parents' opinion of him, as if that time would have come. However, now that you remember what's important to your parents, you realize they would have bypassed his poor fashion and mediocre job so you could inherit his wealth.
But it doesn't matter that Jason comes from one of the richest families in Gotham. He will never accept you as anything more than a civilian he helped with a flat tire, because you proved he was right about you.
You're stuck-up and judgmental. You'll always look down on those from the slums.
So, when you arrive home, you do as your mother requested that afternoon. You hand the red dress to Francis to return the next morning.
Red never suited you anyway.