"Artie?"

Her hair whipped chaotically in the wind, a wind Thomas couldn't feel. The place around them seemed blurred and smeared like a rushed painting. She didn't turn. His feet were lead as he dragged them towards her. As he neared, his heart grew heavy. It was too quiet, too still. When he tried to call for her again, only air escaped his lips. She turned slowly as though underwater. Her silvery hair bled ink from the roots and gradually seeped its way down. A fearful blue eye found his, half of her mouth was ajar as though about to speak. The other half smiled manically. A light green eye similar to his appeared to complete the face.

The hybrid spoke his name in unison and then it lunged. Artemis reaching for his hand while Lucille reached for his throat...

Thomas woke with a start, disoriented. He grasped for the dream but it was slipping through his fingers like sand. The harder he tried, the more it spilled out of his reach. Early morning light made the wooden ceiling glow ocher. Shadows of raindrops slithered their way down the ceiling and wall. For a moment, he didn't know where he was or why his back was hurting. He rose, greeted by the sight of Artemis curled up on the floor, resting her head on her arm as though it was normal for her. His thoughts pieced together like cogs until alarm rang inside his chest.

"Artemis, wake up!" he whispered, unsure if they were alone. She woke before he could shake her shoulder. Their heads nearly collided. Her eyes were wide and frantically searched the room. After a breath, she focused on him.

"Oh God! What time is it?"

"It's late enough that someone would be looking for us," Thomas grimaced.

Artemis propelled herself towards the opening and Thomas followed closely behind, relieved that there was no one in the library. Upon walking outside, the rain had turned into an icy deluge, the sun had retreated behind the clouds. They had no choice but to the run. Rain dripped from Thomas' hair and into his eyes, the cold seeping into his bones. Artemis lurched forward and Thomas reached out for her before she fell into a column. Artemis was the first to laugh and Thomas couldn't help laughing alongside her. It almost sounded like she was hiccuping because of how severely she shook. The dream was forgotten. She gathered her hair in her hands, squeezing the water out in sections. The rumble of the rain against the stone gave a monstrous growl.

Thomas' feet froze in place. It wasn't the cold that was keeping him there. It was that yearning again, flickering like a candle in his chest, warming him softly. Artemis seemed to be waiting. He noticed the way her hands continued to wring her hair even though there was no more water left, how her eyes wandered between him and the sheet of rain.

"A fire sounds good right now." She stuck her bottom lip between her teeth. Thomas' eyes drifted down her wet clothes, flushing at the outline of her womanly figure.

His words caught in his throat. What was she waiting for?

A thunderous voice made them both turn. Mr Douglas was storming his way towards them. What he said next was lost to Thomas. His mind rewrote the moment over and over again, playing out different alterations. 

Did she want me to say something? Should I have acted on the tug in my stomach? And then what? Should I have hugged her? Kissed her?

When Thomas returned to class, he wore a fresh uniform but his buttock was sore and tender, making sitting through lecture distracting and uncomfortable. He suffered through worse but he had an inkling that Mr Douglas had a distinct dislike for him. Lunchtime arrived, and Thomas noticed that Artemis was walking a little more gingerly. Miss Finch must had the honor. She winced when she took her seat next to him.

They ate in silence. Thomas wanted to ask about this morning but how could he bring up the topic of her possible feelings and intentions? How would he explain his if she were to ask? What if she didn't care for him as much as he cares for her? Or worse, what if she cared for him more? Or worst, what if she was angry at him for not waking her last night? 

Artie didn't have her sketchbook to draw in because it was still at the library so she started to hum softly to herself in dissonant tones as though she were an out of tune piano.

"Didyouwanttokissearlier?"

The humming stopped. Thomas' face flushed with heat. He fought to keep the rest of his thoughts from pouring over and flooding her. He immediately wanted to apologize. For his tactlessness? For his nervousness? For his possible obliviousness. Yes. Yes to all of it.

Her aquamarine eyes meet his for a moment before spanning the room. They stayed briefly on meandering yet watchful professors and on Charlie who seemed preoccupied with his food as though nothing else in the world mattered. Thomas' hand lifted off the table. Artie's delicate fingers held it gently as she brought his palm to her lips. Their warmth and softness sent a shiver throughout his body. And sooner than one could say "kiss me", his hand was back on the table. A few nearby students gave them questioning looks at the quick movement Artie made but their heads bowed back down towards their plates or to each other.

It felt like there was a beating pulse in his hand where her heat still lingered. Artie stood to return her plate and tray, leaving Thomas speechless. As she walked passed him, she slowed and whispered, "Return that to me later?"

All Thomas could do was watch her leave. Her strides reminded Thomas of his when he would try to hide that he had stolen food from the kitchen or pieces for his small creations. It was like she had forgotten how to walk. Too conscious of an unconscious movement. A corner of his mouth twitched before it grew into a smile. His fingers curled slowly towards his palm as if holding a tiny heart.