I've changed my outfit eight times and I'm still not happy with the one I have on. The back of my neck is sweating so much I've had to tie my hair up in what I hope is an elegant up do, but is actually probably just a tangled mess.

My hand is shaking so much I am too scared to put mascara on, in case I accidentally stab myself in the eye with the wand. I hear the front door slam and send up a silent, thankful prayer before screeching, "Lex!"

"What?" I hear her footsteps pounding up the hall, when she reaches my room she looks around frantically. "What? Are you okay?"

"No!" I wail. "I have to go to dinner with Mason's parents in less than an hour!"

She visibly sags with relief and crosses her arms over her chest. "I thought it was something serious!"

"This is serious!" I insist. I don't bother telling her that this will be the first time I am officially meeting his parents. That will only lead to questions about why I never met them in high school and then disapproval for Mason's actions, yet again.

"Okay, I will only help you if you stop being a drama queen." She points a stern finger at me, "you're over-reacting." She waits for me to nod my head before she continues, "Now, what are you wearing? Not that surely?"

I look down at the teal dress I have on, so far it's been my best option. "What's wrong with it?"

She's clearly trying to be diplomatic when she answers, "it's creased and it looks like shit."

"What?" I look down and understand where she's coming from. I've pulled it on and off so many times that it is now covered in wrinkles. I place my head in my hands, doing my best not to 'over-react' as Alexa called it. "Phone him and cancel for me? Tell him I broke my ankle or something!"

"Don't make jokes like that," she scolds, completely un-amused by my dramatics. "Okay, give me half an hour. I will have you ready to meet the parents."

Thirty minutes later, I am slightly calmer, but that's only because Alexa has manhandled me into one of her dresses. Its navy blue and knee length, tight fitting with a high neck and a large cut-out in the back. She has done my make up for me and pinned my hair up in one her signature chignons that she usually wears when she's working a function.

"You look perfect." She steps back to admire her handiwork, and motioning for me to turn around so she can inspect every angle. She bends down and pulls at an imaginary crease by the hem before straightening up with a big smile on her face.

"I look like a knock off version of you," I mumble, although I am pleased with the results.

Channel your inner Alexa.

I have never, ever seen Alexa nervous. She is always so confident and calm. Right now I envy that, a lot. I can't imagine her being anxious about meeting a boyfriend's parents. I think the worst I've seen her is with a hangover, although that's not really the same thing.

So tonight, I am going to do what Alexa would do, which is act like nothing rattles me.

I just hope I can actually do that.

♡

During the car ride to the restaurant, Mason lectures me about 'dos' and 'don'ts' in front of his parents.

"Never ever start with your drink until they have toasted, they always like to do that. Don't put your elbows on the table at any point during the meal. You can bring up my brother but whatever you do, don't mention my sister."

"You have a sister?" I honestly hadn't known. Mason's brother was ten years older than him, so I had never met him, but I still knew about his existence. I have never heard a mention of a sister.

"Yes, her name's Madison. But we don't talk about her," he mutters darkly before continuing with his instructions. "Please whatever you do, don't offer to pay; they will take that as an insult. Also, it's better if you let me order for you."

"Why?"

"Let's just say my father prefers women to be submissive," he says.

I think I'm starting to understand Mason a bit better. I have to admit, as much as I'm dreading this dinner, I think that it will at least be very enlightening.

"I would really appreciate it, if you didn't mention high school in front of them," he finishes off as he pulls into the parking lot in front of a beautiful building. I want to ask why, but I don't have the chance as he unbuckles his seat belt and climbs out the car.

I follow suit and take in my surroundings. The restaurant seems to be the very definition of lavish, complete with a pond and a small bridge that you have to walk over to get to the entrance. I marvel at the extravagance of it all as Mason takes my hand and leads me through the double wooden doors.

The waiters are dressed to the nines, complete with waistcoats and bowties. The restaurant is all rich creams and mahogany. The host confirms our name and leads us through to our table. I glance around as we walk through, noticing that each table has six sets of silverware.

I wish I was exaggerating.

We are led to a corner, where two people are already seated at a table for four. They both stand to greet us as we approach, their chairs moving soundlessly against the carpeted floor. Mason releases my hand as we reach the table, almost as though he's worried about the reaction of the man in front of us.

I could swear I'm looking at Mason in about twenty years' time. His dad looks just like him. Same clear blue eyes, same light brown hair, same perfect jawline and ridiculously white teeth.

His mom is a petite woman, pearls clutch at her neck and she has shiny and sleek raven hair that is twisted into a perfect top knot. Her eyes are so dark they look almost black, and the smile that's pasted across her face looks oddly forced.

"Mason, darling!" She kisses him on both cheeks, before stepping back to let his father shake his hand. "And who is this?"

Did he not tell them I was coming?

"Mother, father, I would like you to meet Diana, the woman I was telling you about." He places his hand on the small of my back, slightly pushing me a step forward as though he is presenting me to them.

His father scrutinizes me for what feels like minutes but it must have only been seconds, before smiling. "Ah yes, hello Diana. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I'm not surprised that there is no flash of recognition in his eyes. I didn't think they would remember me from our brief, informal meeting all those years ago.

I shift uncomfortably in my heels. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Hayworth, Mrs Hayworth." I nod slightly at both of them, resisting the urge to curtsey.

"Diana," his mom mutters, but doesn't say anything else. I notice her eyes narrow at me slightly and the smile slips off her face for a second before it's back full force. "Let's all sit, shall we?"

♡

I have never been to a place this fancy before, and I have no idea why there are so many damn forks. Which one am I supposed to use? All of them?

Mason's dad orders a bottle of Merlot for the table, and I decide against mentioning the fact that I don't like red wine. Especially when I look at the price list and notice that the bottle he ordered is three hundred bucks.

I could buy so many clothes with that.

The waiter brings the bottle to the table, and holds it out for Mr Hayworth to see the label, before opening it with a corkscrew, and pouring a small amount into a glass. Mason's dad makes a big show of swirling the liquid around in the glass and taking a deep sniff, before declaring the wine satisfactory and motioning for the waiter to pour a glass for everyone.

Mr Hayworth raises his glass in a toast, "to my son Mason."

"Mason," we all echo and only then are we finally allowed to take a sip. Mason wasn't kidding about the toast thing. I find it oddly stiff and formal, but who am I to question their family traditions?

"Delicious," Mr Hayworth announces. "You can really taste the chocolate undertones."

It kind of tastes like vinegar to me, but each to their own I guess.

"Diana," his mother focuses her eyes on me. "What do you do?"

Channel your inner Alexa.

"I'm a guidance councillor at Statton High," I respond as politely as I can.

Her nose wrinkles as if this answer is not the one she was hoping for. "Mason went to High School there."

I am about to mention that I did too, when I feel Mason's hand on my leg under the table. He squeezes it lightly, a warning, and I remember what he said in the car about not bringing up high school.

"A guidance councillor hey?" his dad says, sounding less than impressed. "How different." He makes it sound like an insult.

"Well, someone has to do the menial jobs, dear," Mrs Hayworth says, patting her husband's arm.

Menial! What the hell?

I wait for Mason to say something in my defence, but he doesn't and his father just picks up a menu and starts perusing it. I notice that his mother doesn't touch hers, instead letting her husband decide for both of them.

I don't think I have ever felt so uncomfortable in all my life and that includes the time in grade seven, when Nathan Hardy pulled my pants down during the school play.

"Do you not like your wine, Diana?" Mason's father raises his eyebrows at my barely touched glass.

"No I do, it's delicious!" I insist, taking a sip for show and doing my best not to make a face at the sour taste. It appears even that was the wrong thing to say as Mr Hayworth looks at me disapprovingly.

It's been a long night and we haven't even placed any orders for food yet.

"Mason, I think we will all do the seven course tasting menu," his father eventually decides, closing the menu and placing it back on the table.

Seven shitting courses!

I suddenly have the very strong desire to run away.

"That sounds perfect, father," Mason agrees with him and signals a waiter, placing the order for everyone.

"Diana, tell us more about yourself." His mother looks down her nose at me, and places her hands carefully on her lap, her back perfectly straight. Out the corner of my eye I see Mr Hayworth also look at me curiously as they wait for me to speak.

But I have no idea what I am supposed to say.

"Well, I'm an only child. I'm currently studying to get my Master's degree in Psychology through UNISA. I-," but his mother cuts me off before I can finish.

"What do your parents do?"

"My dad is in construction and my mother's a reflexologist."

"Reflexologist as in a masseuse?" she manages to make it sound like a dirty word.

I nod, unsure of where she is going with this.

"How....quaint."

Quaint? Quaint? How dare she?

I'm just opening my mouth to retort when I feel Mason's hand on my leg once again. I can feel the anger rising up in my belly like bile and I know that if I stay here I will say something.

"Please may I be excused?" I ask with as much politeness I can muster. "I just need to run to the bathroom quick." Mr Hayworth waves his hand at me dismissively, and I take that as a yes, standing up and smoothing down my dress as I walk toward the door marked 'Ladies'.

The bathroom is pristine and shockingly white. I lock myself in a stall, close the lid of the toilet seat and plop down on it, taking deep breaths to calm myself. My hands shake as I attempt to smooth down my hair, anger coursing through my veins.

Pretentious assholes.

Once my breathing has returned to normal I stand up, determined to remain civil for the rest of the night. That thought is halted in its tracks as I step out the stall only to find myself face to face with Mason's mother.

"Diana," she sneers. Somehow, even my name sounds like an insult coming from her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

I feel a very strong urge to say something like 'pissing' or 'letting out my bodily fluids', but I can tell from the look on her face that would be a bad idea. "Sorry, I just needed the restroom." I smile at her weakly, hoping that my rage doesn't show too clearly on my face.

"No. I mean, here with my son. Is it money you are after? Because I can assure you, you won't be getting any."

I feel as though she has physically slapped me and I can't seem to remember any words. It's like my brain has suddenly gone blank, my entire vocabulary disappearing without a trace.

"Let me be very clear," she snarls, her upper lip curling. "You are nowhere near good enough for my son. But I'm not surprised how you have turned out, with the family that you have. A man in construction and a woman whose job is to rub oil on people's backs. People like us come from a very different calibre. There are certain expectations that need to be met. You dear, don't fit any of the qualifications. I think its best that you leave Mason to find a girlfriend more suited to his station."

I am not usually one to cause arguments or fights. I am so used to letting things slide; I do it with Mason all the time. But this bitch just put down my parents. And that is not okay with me.

"With all due respect Mrs Hayworth," I manage through gritted teeth. "My parents have worked extremely hard to get to where they are. I could not be prouder to be their daughter. They have given me a beautiful life full of happy memories. You may be able to throw money at Mason and feel satisfied, but have you ever stopped to ask yourself if he is actually happy? I don't want any money from you. What I wanted was to make a good impression on you, for Mason's sake. Because, despite what you think, I actually care about him. Otherwise," I manage a laugh, trying to figure out where all my courage is coming from, "I can assure you, I would have been out the door long ago. And I don't just mean tonight."

She looks floored. To be honest, I am too. It feels good to stick up for myself for once.

I should do it more often.

"Now, if you will excuse me," I finish off. "I believe I have a delicious seven course meal to enjoy."

And I walk out the bathroom without another word.