We're Friends Now Part Two

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She's halfway down the staircase when the aroma of melted butter and nutmeg reach her nose. Did father make breakfast today? Isabelle giggles to herself, half expecting him to burn something like usual. He had been putting salt in his tea rather than sugar for months and didn't notice until Charlotte told him. The only decent cook among the family is her and that came from years of studying and testing her skills. Jake is hopeless in the kitchen, he somehow lit uncooked pasta noodles on fire. Tristan is no better. She smiles at the memory.

"Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?" Charlotte asks. She dons a red apron over a vibrant green dress and heels. Isn't that a bit flashy for the office?

The excitement in her stomach fades. This means father left on a trip again, not even saying goodbye.

"Yep." Isabelle chirps. She grabs a bottle of soymilk from the fridge and pours some into a glass. Her mother places French toast onto a plate. It's burnt to a crisp. How does she expect her daughter to eat this? She looks at the plate and her mother, taking out a pack of saline crackers. She makes a mini sandwich, using whipped cream as her filling.

The taste of fluffy, soft cream reminds her of earlier. Charlotte tries to take a bite out of the toast, but it's so burnt she can't. She sighs and tosses it into the bin. A+ for effort. Why bother with the apron anyway?

It's rare for Charlotte to try and cook anything. What was she trying to achieve? Isabelle isn't fond of toast in the morning to begin with. Their breakfast usually consists of light snacks and milk. Strawberry milk and mango-pineapple jam.

"Don't forget about the art gallery later, dear. I'll leave for the office now. Have a lovely day." Charlotte kisses her forehead and leaves. She doesn't need a mirror to know there's a lipstick stain on her skin.

Her mother never apologizes straight out. She would ask her daughter to come eat or make her something, but she accepts it all the same. Even with her terrible culinary skills. Isabelle finishes the rest of her breakfast. Did they fight again?

She sees no sign of Aaron. He's probably still asleep, best not to disturb him. The housekeep greet Isabelle and approach her. They asked her about the newly hired and threw some jokes while they made their own breakfast. Buttered fried rice with egg and garlic? Delicious! Isabelle often ate with them instead of her family, since they usually left early for work.

The taste of fresh orange juice and the thick, savory rice hit the spot. After they had their fill, they clear the table and bid goodbye to her. Isabelle heads back upstairs, carrying a tray of food to his room. Was this too much? No, no. She'd apologize for yesterday too.

Before she could think, the door opens. Aaron has a bathrobe on but his hair is dripping wet. He looks like a shaggy dog, with his hair a total mess. She looks past him, the condition of the room unchanged. Would it kill him to clean up? He hasn't even been here that long.

"Good morning. I... breakfast. Sorry." Isabelle nudged his arm with her elbow, holding the tray with one arm. Did he just wake up? He smells of fresh bath soap.

"I can tell. What do you want?" He said. Aaron leaves her at the door, rubbing his head with a towel. He rubs hair wax onto his hands, trying to style his hair. Ever heard of a hair dryer? Gosh. His clothes litter the floor, aside from a neatly packed suitcase. Wet shirts on metal hangers were in front of the air-conditioning followed by other clothes. Wait, he's been washing his clothes here? They have a laundry room for the staff.

"Nothing! I just...here." She stammers. She puts the tray on his desk, careful not to knock anything over.

"Thank you. I see why the staff love you so much." Aaron took the tray and set it on a table, happily going through the plate of rice. It's better than anything either of her parents could make.

"You don't need to wash your clothes here." She takes off the soaking wet shirts, along with others in the bathroom and puts them in a basket. He nods slowly, blinking as he looks around. Peculiar.

Isabelle rubs her ear.

"Do you have any plans for today?" He stares at the glass and downs the juice in one swallow. She opens the curtains, allowing the sunlight in. Aaron squints, covering his eyes. He clearly isn't a morning person.

"Later at nine this morning. Please wear a suit." She slid the window open, the crisp breeze of fresh air floods the room. It's as if she just lit a candle.

"I don't have any." Aaron smiles sheepishly. She opens his wardrobe, revealing an array of colored shirts, hoodies and jeans. Not a single blazer nor pair of dress shoes in sight. That suitcase doesn't seem like much, either.

"In that case, we're going shopping." She places her hands on her hip. Simply unacceptable. She can't have her bodyguard, who'll be with her 24/7, stuck with printed shirts. Especially not at the art gallery.

"What?" Aaron coughs, choking on his food. He looks at her as if she grew four heads.

"You heard me. Eat up and get dressed. Be ready in an hour." Isabelle flips her hair and went back to her room. She chose a red blazer with matching pants. Nice, comfortable suede heels paired with a white purse. She takes a quick mirror selfie and left her room. For the 'gram!

She comes across Aaron sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He wears a graphic T-shirt and jeans. She couldn't wait to toss those blasted shirts in a bag never to be seen again. At least his shoes are nice. As a pair, their outfits did not match. Red converse sneakers and high heels? Come on.

"Let's go." She orders. The familiar harsh, cold air conditioning and commercial jingles. The faint smell of warm chocolate from a waffle food stall makes her mouth water. Upon arrival to the mall, Isabelle could feel the pairs of eyes that stared as they walked. She has a smug look on her face, confident in herself. Of course they're looking at her. Her beauty is simply out of this world.

She picks out a few clothes for him to try on. When in doubt, to the department store! The salesman entertains him as Isabelle looks around for a pair of shoes that would match. She can return the favor from back then. Oxford it is. He can't go wrong with a classic. Isabelle went to the dressing room and saw Aaron in a crisp navy blue suit. Beautiful!

It fit so well, as if it was custom made for him. She nods in approval. She made him try a suit in red, the same shade she's wearing. Perhaps a black turtleneck and big accessories? No, he might feel shy.

Aaron looks far better in red. Saleswomen in the corner gather in a corner and began talking amongst themselves. Isabelle narrows her eyes. She made him change into a classic all-black outfit, a trench coat and a turtleneck. He can't be stealing her spotlight from her. The bodyguard is there as an addition, not the main attraction.

Isabelle smiles. All that effort going through the shelves was worth it. He looks sharp!

"You'll wear that out." She said. She dusts imaginary dust off his collar, giving him a new watch to wear. His old one still works, but the leather strap had already worn out. This'll need a repair.

"I'm keeping this." He said, covering his wrist.

"The strap needs to be changed. Use this until it's fixed, okay?" She said. He nods. After a quick spray of cologne, he looks much different. A polished gem, ready for showcasing. Curious pairs of eyes stare as they pass by. Aaron shrinks his shoulders, scooting closer to Isabelle. Oh? He better not flatter himself. It's thanks to her he looks amazing.

"Is there anything you'd like to get?" She asks. He shook his head, clutching her arm. Still avoiding eye contact? She pats his head, expecting soft tufts of hair. His hair is so dry it felt like touching a terribly done perm. Of course, how could she have forgotten his hair?

"I can't afford any of this. I'm not like you."

Hearing this, Isabelle squeezes his arm and hands a card to the salesman.

"Wait, you're buying these for me? I can't--" Aaron begins. She held up one hand, interrupting him. No time for that!

"Consider it your uniform. Also, you're my friend." Isabelle insists. She folds her arms and reminds him to keep his chin up. Now to the hair salon!

"As you say." Aaron gives in. After a much needed trim, some highlights and eyebrow maintenance, he looks better. Not the best job done but it's presentable. Isabelle had the staff place all the bags in the car. The parking lot is nice for pictures, with the open sky and delightful colorful shops all around.

"Before we go outside, let's take pictures! Also, get some nice angles. I want to post some for social media." She said. Aaron took pictures using her phone, listening to her instruction from four meters away. She checks the pictures and nods in approval.

"Thanks! I'm so glad to have you around."

Isabelle clings to his arm. He may not be well dressed all the time, but he's a great photographer.

"Well, I don't want to get fired."

She laughs, slapping his arm. After checking the time, she drives to the gallery. Goodbye fun, hello boredom. As usual, her parents want to make an appearance to show off their wealth. A stupid little gathering with the other so-called elites, and she's expected to mingle with them. Jake could play it off well, but she cannot for the life of her hide her facial expressions. She stares at Aaron, visibly nervous with all the cameras and people.

After greeting some familiar faces, she stretches her arms and lets out a yawn. Now that the media is more focused on the rest, now's the chance. She pulls him closer.

"Hey. Let's ditch this." She wiggles her eyebrows.

"Isabelle!"

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