20.
The morning of Day 5 arrives, and I'm still feeling anxious about this afternoon.
Willow starts us off with something simple and relaxing: an art session. We clear out the cafeteria, replacing the desks with stools and canvases.
The theme is emotion.
Standing in the centre, she proclaims, "Today's inspiration is to paint what you feel when you see Gabby." She pauses to place the cabbage now looking a little better with some mouldy parts peeled away, on a small podium in the middle. "Paint whatever you want, as long as it comes from the soul. I'll pass around to check your progress. And remember, with me, there's no such thing as a bad painting, so......all the best." She finishes with a light chuckle and hurries off to her station.
While everyone sits painting, I sit there, waiting, trying to figure out what emotion I feel when I look at the cabbage. At first, I'm not worried; the inspiration will come at some point. But for some reason, I can only see green.
Then, as I glance at the people next to me, the pit in my stomach deepens, and that feeling of being left behind hits a little harder.
Andre, seated to my left, is already halfway done. I wouldn't describe it as 'artistic,' but it's impressive, with an array of colours arranged in a circular pattern. There are pieces of his life on the canvas-from his passion for football to his love of the guitar, and random details that look ultra-realistic.
Turning to the right, I see Sebastian's, which makes me feel even worse. I feel so inferior being in the same room as him.
"Is there anything you're not good at?" I ask, eyes wide as I marvel at his canvas.
He turns in his chair, giving me a warm smile. "You'd be surprised."
I ignore his comment and continue to stare. His painting has highlights that look like they'd glow in the dark if we turned off the lights.
Like Andre's, it isn't overly complicated. It has a black and white base with a man sitting in a field of beautiful flowers, ranging from roses to daisies and others I can't even identify. The grass is the greenest I've ever seen, and the sky ranges from morning to night, with the sun in one corner and the moon in the other. How he managed that, only he knows. But something stands out: the man seems to be draining what I guess is water out of himself onto the plants around him, but the patch below him is dead and dry.
With a finger raised, I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I just sit there, gaping like an idiot.
He playfully rolls his eyes and moves closer, gently closing my mouth. "I bet yours is even better." He diverts his gaze to my painting, which only has a green base and a few stick people, mainly because I got bored trying to figure out what I wanted to paint. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see him fighting back a laugh. "See, I was right..." he begins.
"No need to lie. It's terrible."
He bites his lip, scanning it as if searching deep within himself for a compliment. "It has potential." He tilts his head, looking further. "Like this plum here, strategically placed on top of this person. It says a lot about someone's mind."
I sigh. "I hate to disappoint you, but that's meant to be a sun, not a plum."
Andre instantly spits out the water he was drinking, spluttering, "So...r...r...y," while choking. I feel even worse. "Mate, your guess was better than mine. I thought that was an olive that got stuck there while she was eating."
And just like that, I die inside. "See! It's embarrassing! I might as well trash it."
I pull it off the stand, but he blocks me, stopping me. "He was just joking," he says. I turn to Andre, who looks confused. "Weren't you?" Sebastian adds, with a slight, threatening tone. I can feel the glares from behind me.
Andre nervously clears his throat and stands up, giving my painting another look. He dramatically examines it from every angle, staring into the green abyss for the longest time. Finally, he speaks. "Yeah, I can see it now. The olive-"
"Sun," Sebastian quickly corrects.
"Sun, I knew that." He continues, "Tells a story that is, definitely, intentional, which you can tell from the deliberate use of a foggy purple."
At this, I drop into my chair, holding back invisible tears. "The purple wasn't intentional. I tried to paint the sun over wet paint with orange, but it turned this awful shade of brown. Then I tried adding white, but that didn't work either, so I just kept adding random colours until... that happened."
Sebastian gives me a strained smile.
Andre asks, "That still doesn't explain why it's in the centre."
I let out another frustrated breath. "I was going to put it up in the corner, but then I dropped some sauce from my sandwich onto the canvas, so I had to find a way to cover it."
Andre bursts out laughing. Sebastian tries to hold back for my sake, but he eventually joins in, leaning on Andre for support.
Watching them, I know I should be annoyed, but I'm not. The painting-if you can even call it that, is hilarious.
Soon, I find myself laughing too. People stop to look at us, and I quickly duck behind my canvas. There's no way I'm going to be seen with these two idiots.
"Come on, let's take a look around. I'm pretty sure yours isn't the worst one here," Andre suggests.
We take a few rounds, and, to be honest, none of the others are as bad as mine. Some are a close second, which makes me feel a bit better, but nothing could've prepared me for Suwi's painting.
"Now, this is definitely... interesting," we all say in unison, though we're still impressed.
Willow, on the other hand, doesn't share the amusement. Her smile curves into a frown as she stares down at the replica of Gabby the cabbage on the canvas. She furiously rubs her temples and sighs. "Did you even hear a word I said?"
"Of course I did," Suwi replies brightly. "You said, 'Look at that mouldy cabbage and paint what you feel,' so I did."
"Yet you somehow managed to disregard the theme completely," Willow counters.
"Says you," Suwi quickly cuts in. "If you ask me, I'd say I captured the theme perfectly."
Willow gives her a challenging look and a sceptical smile. "Oh, really? What emotion would this be, then?"
Suwi meets her smile with one of her own, which only grows as her gaze shifts back to her painting. She carefully picks it up by the corners, gently placing her thumbs on the sides, and holds it high for everyone to see. "Talent," she declares proudly.
Willow is too stunned to respond, so she just huffs and walks away. Sebastian, Andre, and I burst into laughter like three drunk idiots.
Suwi, clearly oblivious, just continues to admire her work, muttering compliments to herself.
"Thanks for that; I needed a laugh," I say to her.
Without taking her eyes off her painting, she replies, "I have no idea what you mean."
I take that as a sign not to argue and return to my station. I look at my painting, this time with a lighter spirit, and giggle to myself, mumbling, "Not so bad for a first try," under my breath. I pause, then pick it up and head to the bin. "However, the world is not ready for you yet," I add as I toss it.
But like a sudden gust of wind, Hayden snatches it out of the air and clutches it close to her chest as if it's the most precious thing she's ever held. "What do you think you're doing?" she demands, looking half-insulted.
I breathe out slowly and hold my hand out for her to give it back. "Hay, please. That thing is horrible and cannot see the light of day ever again-"
"Says who?" she snaps, growing angrier.
I sigh and drop my hand. "Sebastian and Andre just spent the last half hour laughing at it. That's signal enough."
"Those two are idiots who wouldn't know art if it stared them in the face."
I sigh. "Please, Hayden, I am not ready to have this conversation again. Now let me throw it away before I embarrass myself any further."
She presses the canvas tighter against her chest, probably smudging some paint onto her shirt by now, but she doesn't care. "Don't be so hasty. All we need is a fresh perspective to show you that this is worth keeping."
"I don't think that'll work, but go ahead."
She quickly scans the room and pulls aside a poor girl who seems to be struggling as well. "Hi, I'm Hayden, and that's my sister Tate."
"Jas-" The poor girl starts, but Hayden cuts her off, shoving the painting into her hands.
"Now that introductions are over, look at this and tell us what you think!" Caught off guard, the girl who I'll call Jasmine nearly drops it.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry..." she murmurs.
I can feel Hayden's intense aura from where I'm standing and shoot her a glare of my own. "It's completely fine," I add.
Jasmine mumbles a low "thank you" and glances at my canvas.
I turn away, half-embarrassed, not wanting to endure another round of humiliation.
"So, how is it?" Hayden pipes up, not even giving Jasmine enough time to think. "Perfect, right?" Even though she phrases it as a question, I can hear the threat in her tone.
Jasmine looks up at her nervously. "Yes, I-"
Hayden cuts her off almost immediately. "Great, thank you. See, I told you."
"Yeah, what she said," Jasmine adds, easing up a little. "Unpopular opinion, but I think creating a draft canvas where you just paint whatever's in your mind, without worrying about complexity or judgment, is honestly mind-opening. At the end of the day, we like a painting that takes us back to those childhood drawings we'd beg our parents to hang up on the fridge, right?" She smiles warmly, and I feel my heart sink.
Hayden frowns, darkening the mood again. "No one asked for your opinion. Please walk away."
"B-but... b-b-b-"
"Now, please," she insists through a strained smile.
Once she's gone, I grab the painting from Hayden, rip it in half, and toss it in the bin. "Thanks for that, Hayden. I feel so........ much better."
I walk away before she can defend herself. At my station, I start cleaning the brushes and organising the scattered supplies.
"Calling it a day?" Andre asks from beside me.
"Yeah," I mutter, "I'm in need of a serious power nap."
He smiles. "I'd join you, but I don't think Willow would let me. Best of luck sneaking past her, though."
"Thanks..." I hang up my smock and scan the area, planning my escape. While Willow's distracted, I waste no time and bolt out of there.
Once outside, I catch my breath like a criminal fresh out of prison.
"Well... that was unexpected," Sebastian murmurs from behind me, his tone laced with a smirk.
I shoot him a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Careful," I mutter, "or my art project won't be the only thing ending up in the trash."
My heart leaps out of my chest, and I clutch my shirt as if trying to stop my soul from escaping. "What the hell, Sebastian?" I shout, completely breathless as I turn to face him. He’s leaning casually against the cafeteria doorframe, one hand playing with a paintbrush, the other tucked into his pocket. "I thought we agreed you'd stop doing that."
"No..." he says, moving down the steps towards me. He stops just a few steps away and grins. "We talked about it, but I never said I’d stop," he teases.
I frown slightly. "The more time I spend around you, the more I understand why Suwi is the way she is."
"My sister is a woman of many talents, so I’ll take that as a compliment." He closes the distance further, and the air thickens between us.
"Yeah, definitely explains Suwi," I say, trying to keep my cool. "Well, if that's all, I’ll be on my way."
"Hold on there—aren't you forgetting something?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I give myself a quick pat down, mentally checking off. "Nope, I've got everything."
"Are you sure?" he asks, his smile deepening.
"Most definitely." I blurt.
"Are you sure you’re sure?" he pushes.
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Sebastian, I swear if you don't tell me right now, I’ll walk away without regret."
He takes a step back, placing a hand on his chest in pain. "Ouch, night owl, that hurt. Does our date mean that little to you?"
As the realisation hits me, I feel instantly guilty. "Oh, shit," I mumble. "Seb... I'm so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. And I don’t mean that in a bad way... even though it sounds bad. But I swear it isn’t," I start rambling, my mind scrambling for something to say.
I hear a chuckle, and I pause. Is he seriously laughing at me right now?
I look up, catching his eye, and he laughs even more. "I'm just messing with you." My guilt vanishes, replaced by a glare. "See, I can joke too."
"Sebastian!," I call out, rolling my eyes. "Screw you!" And I start walking away.
"No, wait!" he calls, but I keep walking. "I’m sorry!" he shouts again. "Come on...... I was just kidding!" He lets out a frustrated sigh. "So you’re just going to walk away without hearing me out?"
I stop and fight back a smile.
Behind me, he lets out a low laugh. "Oh, I get it. You want me to chase after you."
Still silent, I turn, smile, and cross my arms, challenging him. A slight smirk dances at the corners of his lips as he rests one hand on his hip, running the other through his hair.
"That was weirdly attractive," I think to myself. "Is it so bad for a girl to want to be chased now and then?"
"My darling, I hate to disappoint you, but you’ve been reading way too many books."
My darling. I stay silent, letting the words sink in, and judging by his grin, he knows I’m flustered. "I think Sven would disagree!" I shout, trying to change the subject.
"Oh sure, let's consult the fictional character for advice!" he retorts.
I scoff. "Yeah...… well, good luck with the rest of your afternoon. I’m going to spend it with someone who doesn’t ask me to lower my standards!" I say with a cheeky smile as I turn around.
At first, only my footsteps echo in the silence, but just when I’m about to give up, I hear his footsteps behind me.
Words can’t describe the smile on my face.
"Now, was that so hard to do?" I tease, turning to meet his gaze.
He breathes out slowly. "You just l...o...v...e.. testing my patience," he replies, closing the distance.
"Sven taught me well." He playfully rolls his eyes. "So, what now?"
"Now," he trails off, taking a step closer. My breathing slows, but I keep my composure. When he’s just a few steps away, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Now, we plan for our second date."
I push his hand away and take a few steps back. "Since when is a walk the same as a date?"
"Mmm... potato, potato."
"And my date with Sven?"
He chuckles. "Lover boy’s just going to have to get used to the idea that there are two of us now." I raise an eyebrow, unsure of what to say next. "Let’s meet here in half an hour."
I nod, trying to seem nonchalant.
He flashes a smile. "Hasta pronto, Hermosa (See you soon, beautiful)," he says, pressing a light kiss to my cheek before walking away.
With the wind completely knocked out of me, I consider disappearing. The idea of being alone with him in a secluded area is suddenly a bit overwhelming.
*******
So, can someone tell me the dress code for a date that’s not a date?
I spend most of that half hour scavenging through both mine and Hayden's suitcases, but mostly Hayden's, since all I packed were the essentials for a trip I’d been forced into.
Like a madwoman, I sit on the floor with wet hair, desperately hunting for something that doesn’t scream flirty but still shows I’ve put in a bit of effort.
Eventually, I settle on an orange spaghetti-strap dress with a slit up to my thigh. Glancing at my watch, I quickly brush through my hair, leaving it loose to dry. I finish with a swipe of nude lip gloss, an almost reckless amount of perfume, and a quick look in the mirror before heading out.
Then it hits me—we never actually agreed on where to meet. For a moment, I consider bailing and using this as an excuse, but the guilt weighs just as heavily.
So, instead, I wander back to the entrance of the cafeteria and sit on the steps. With each passing minute, the reality of the situation starts to sink in. I nervously tap my foot against the ground, running through different outcomes in my head.
Which is difficult, considering the scent wafting from the cafeteria. It’s a mix of apple pie and freshly baked cookies.
"A quick pop-in, and I’ll be out in no time," I tell myself.
"Ready?" Sebastian’s voice comes from behind me, startling me. I stiffen and exhale slowly. No food for me, I guess.
"Took you long enough; ‘meet here in half an hour,’ he said," I reply as I turn, heading down the steps.
"I apologise. A few things came up that I had to deal with."
I roll my eyes, playful. "Well, I’m starving now, so wherever we’re going, there better be food."
He chuckles. "Is that a threat?"
"Yes. I don’t joke about food. Ever."
"Noted," he replies with a smirk.
I hop over the last step like a kid and stroll over to him. "What are you wearing?" I pause, genuinely perplexed as I take in his outfit.
His smirk deepens. "You like?"
I give him a bewildered once-over. He looks like he’s stepped straight out of an 18th-century fashion magazine.
"It’s...... most definitely vintage," I say, my eyebrow raised. His outfit is so baffling I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even dare look down at his shoes.
He laughs, slightly nervous. "Not exactly the compliment I was hoping for, but alright."
I grin, teasing. "I’m sorry, but what did you expect?"
He rolls his eyes playfully and starts to walk away.
"Where are you going?" I call after him.
"Anywhere I won’t be insulted!"
"Well, if you didn’t want me to laugh at you, you shouldn’t have worn that outfit in the first place!"
He responds with a raised middle finger, held high, as he disappears into the woods.
"Wait for me!" I shout, chasing after him.
He deliberately speeds up, forcing me to run. By the time we reach our destination, I’m holding onto a tree for support, wiping sweat off my face with my dress, entirely forgetting about my non-waterproof eyeliner.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, then manage, "This is officially the worst not date ever." I glare up at him.
Sebastian instantly freezes, a hand covering his mouth. I mirror his reaction, dreading whatever disaster has struck. For a long, awkward moment, we just stare at each other. When his gaze drops from my face to my dress, I glance down too.
Realisation dawns and embarrassment floods me. "No...," I murmur, horrified.
"Don’t!" he warns, but I don’t listen.
I grab a mirror from my bag and gasp. Horrified doesn’t even cover it.
He moves closer, inspecting the damage. "It’s not as bad as you think." I stand in silence, mortified. "I hear panda eyes are in right now."
I step back, biting my tongue to keep from throttling him. Then, something snaps, and I burst into laughter, uncontrollable and wild. "This is your fault."
He raises an eyebrow. "How is it my fault?"
I ignore him, looking out over the view. "Such a shame, though. Another beautiful spot tarnished by a headline like murder in the woods."
The sound of him choking on air brings a grin to my face. "Wha... w-what do you mean?" he stammers, worried.
I brush past him, admiring the scene. The forest path has led us to a cliff-like edge overlooking a serene lake, its waters a deep, blue-green ombre. Sunlight dances on the surface, creating faint reflections, with trees in the distance completing the picturesque view.
"Wow," I whisper to myself.
Sebastian smirks, confidence restored. "Breathtaking, isn’t it?"
That’s when I notice a blanket spread out nearby, surrounded by a small selection of food and drinks next to a sleek, black basket. It’s simple but thoughtful, everything but what I’d expected. I turn to him, eyebrows raised. "What time did you have to pull all this off?"
He smiles and gestures for me to come closer. When I’m only a few feet away, he takes my left hand, his gaze locked on mine. His thumb gently strokes the bridge of my index finger before he lifts my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss without breaking eye contact.
At this point, I’m just a shell—my soul is nowhere to be found.
"My lady," he says finally, his voice like velvet. "For you." Like the magician he is, he produces a bouquet of tulips, daisies, and other flowers. I take it, our fingers brushing, and inhale the scent. I’m probably as red as the roses nestled within.
He gestures to a small red cushion on the blanket, and I roll my eyes, flustered.
I laugh, muttering, "You’re so bloody weird."
He smirks, biting his lip slightly. "You know you like it."
Stunned, I try to brush off the last five minutes and sit down, turning my attention back to the view. "So... how did you find this place?" I ask, changing the subject.
He sits beside me, following my gaze. "I didn’t. It found me."
"Oh wow," I scoff, shooting him a look. "I didn’t realise I was in the presence of Shakespeare himself."
He chuckles, meeting my gaze with a playful look. "Finally, the recognition I deserve."
I clap dramatically.
He places a hand over his heart, waving to no one in particular. "Please, everyone, hold your applause, it’s too much, really."
I can’t help it; I burst out laughing, and he joins in.
"No, seriously," I say, trying to catch my breath. "How did you find this place?"
"Believe it or not, pure luck."
"No offence, but I find it hard to believe you just stumbled upon this."
"Why?" he asks, genuinely puzzled. "Isn't it obvious that I have a knack for attracting beautiful things?" He pauses and turns to face me. "What’s so unbelievable about that?"
I pause, studying him, trying to gauge if he’s serious. "What’s it like being God’s favourite?" I tease.
"I’m not God’s favourite."
"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Name one thing you’re bad at."
He meets my challenge with a grin. "Easy."
"And it has to be a real issue, not one of those non-problems like, ‘I can’t wear normal shirts because my muscles don’t fit’ or ‘I can never tell if someone likes me for me because I’m God-sent attractive with what should be a horrible personality but isn't.’ It’s frustrating."
He smiles. "Did you—"
I press a finger to his lips. "Stick to the main topic, please."
His smile widens, and I swear I can see him blushing. For a moment, I zone out, waiting for his answer, but I’m quickly reminded why games like this aren’t mine to play.
"I have a better idea." He moves closer, and I fall back, instantly ensnared by his trap. He pushes the basket aside, towering over me, his right hand brushing hair from my face.
Leaning dangerously close, he whispers, "How about I show you things I’m extremely good at instead?"
A few days ago, I would have melted from sheer anxiety, but I’ve learned a few things since then. Maybe it’s because I know him better, and the fear of doing something weird, and him judging me, is no longer at the forefront of my mind each time we meet.
So, instead of freezing or laughing nervously, I decide to play off his move, gently pushing him back as I murmur, "How about you tell me the story behind the tattoos on your sleeve instead?"
I’d meant to ask earlier but hadn’t, for some reason.
He breathes low, "Isn’t that a bit big for the second date?" He jokes.
I scrunch my lips, whispering, "Nope," and shake my head.
He sighs and rolls up his sleeve.
“Damn, that had no right to be that hot,” my inner voice screams. "What the—" I mutter, catching myself.
“Where do I begin?” he says, saving me from my thoughts.
"Hmmm......" I tap my chin lightly, searching for the tattoo that catches my eye. "How about…... this one?" I say, pointing.
"Ah… the capybara. It's a pretty short story there. Suwi and I were playing a drinking game, and let’s just say I ended up with this, and she ended up with a shaved head."
I fight back a smile. "Alright. What about that one? I’ve never seen that anime."
"Yeah, and you never will." I raise my eyebrows, confused. "It’s a manifestation of all her anime crushes."
"And you got it tattooed because…..?"
"Because I was an idiot who should've known better than to make bets with a sociopath."
"On the bright side, they aren’t that big, and they do look cool," I say, trying to cheer him up.
"Nightowl, you’re many things, but a good liar isn’t one of them." He gives me a half-smile.
I steer the conversation back to his sleeve, discovering tattoos from other bets, a dare, and a couple just for fun. Each one is fascinating, and as he explains, I keep reaching into the basket for snacks, captivated by his stories, some hilariously embarrassing.
"Alright, let’s tally this up." I set down a bag of crisps. "So: a capybara, an anime character, a worm, an impressive portrait of Suwi, a terrible rendition of the alien from Terminator, two mockingbirds, words too inappropriate to repeat, and a butterfly. Did I miss anything?"
"From what you’ve seen, no."
My eyes widen. "Oh my GOD, there’s more? Take off your shirt right now!" I instinctively reach for a button, and he quickly moves back, clutching his shirt. "Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy now. I thought being shirtless with me was the endgame."
He clutches his shirt tighter. “It is...… but the foreplay’s too direct. At least buy me dinner first......" he says dramatically, and I roll my eyes. He chuckles proudly, like the weirdo he is.
I’ll just have to sneak a peek when he’s not expecting it.
That sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon. He shares stories from high school, and I chime in with some of mine. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages; it feels like chatting with an old friend.
We wander to the lakeside, dipping our feet into the sandy bank and having a competition stepping on rocks. It involves plenty of cheating and playful shoves.
That’s why it’s disappointing when I see the sun dipping behind the trees. "It’s getting late; we should pack up before people think we’re missing," he says, glancing towards the cliff.
"Geez, you get lost once, and suddenly everyone thinks you’re helpless." I walk past him, bumping his shoulder. He says something, but I ignore him, plugging my ears.
Once we’re back on the cliff, we pack up in a comfortable silence. I carry the basket and flowers, while he gathers the blanket and pillows.
The quiet continues most of the way back, and when I see the cabin lights, I’m hit with the realisation that this fairytale is over, and I’m back to reality.
At the bridge between the forest and camp, I turn to him with a smile. “Thank you. Not to toot your horn, but I had fun.”
He matches my smile, stepping closer. “Glad our second date was a success. I hope you tell your boyfriend that, too.”
I sigh. "Not a date. And yes, you win this one. Just remember there’s no war. Sven won already when I read chapter ten."
He tucks his hands behind his back, taking small strides closer. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
"I can’t. But I do give credit where it’s due. The place was beautiful, and the food was A..mazing, as my quiet stomach proves. So I’ll forgive you for the cardio earlier."
"And the outfit...…?"
"Yes…... as ridiculous as it was, it fit the setting."
"And…..?"
"And…...." I pause, taking a breath. "It made you look handsome."
He runs a hand through his hair, closing the last bit of distance between us. "Just handsome? And here I am thinking I'm ‘GOD-sent attractive’." He finishes with a teasing smile.
I look away to roll my eyes before meeting his. "A slight exaggeration. Clearly from someone under the influence."
He chuckles. "Oh really?"
"Yeah, that sandwich, definitely, had some interesting ingredients." I savour the memory, and he watches with a faint smile. "And those muffins? Just thinking about them is doing things to me."
“Careful, Nightowl, before you have me beefing with a dessert.”
“No, of course not. I’d never do that to you.” He seems relieved for half a second, until I add, “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
His hand clenches dramatically against his chest. "Ouch, you might as well tell me you hate me."
I take a bold breath, placing my hand over his, and he looks back at me. "If it helps," I say softly, "you were a close second. Looks-wise, you took the cake. And yeah, ....maybe you didn’t win my heart—"
"Yet," he cuts in, his voice lower.
"But," I continue, "you did smell equally delicious."
He tilts his head, "Wait…what? Did I hear that right?"
Heat floods my face as I realise what I just said. "Damn you, intrusive thoughts."
"I mean that platonically, obviously."
"Obviously," he echoes a hint of amusement in his eyes.
I ramble, trying to backtrack. "I just meant, you know, the pie smell rubbed off on you at some point and that's why you smell delicious. I didn’t mean you’re delicious… I meant the muffin smell was… delicious." I trail off, catching his amused grin. "I'm serious!"
"Uh-huh," he replies, smirking.
“I am!” I insist, a bit too loudly.
“No need for violence,” he teases. “I never said you weren’t.”
I blow a stray hair out of my face, folding my arms with a huff. "Good, just making sure. It’s settled, then."
"Far from settled," he murmurs, voice lowering. "But hypothetically, would it be out of line if I said, I very much want to kiss you right now? You know, platonically, of course."
"I'm not going to answer that." His smile drops. "But if I were to answer.......which I’m not........I’d say I’d like that. Very much. Platonically, obviously."
"Obviously," he says softly, his tone warm, almost velvety.
Without waiting further, he leans down, and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. One hand slips around my waist, drawing me close, while the other rests on my cheek, tilting my head up gently.
Our lips meet, and for a moment, we’re both still, testing the waters, feeling the warmth between us. My heart races, and I sense his nervousness too, which somehow makes me feel braver.
The anxiety is unbearable, and I dive into fight or flight mode. I choose to fight.
I part my lips slightly, and he takes it as a cue, deepening the kiss as our lips move in sync with the fairytale song playing in my head.
His lips are warm and soft, and I lose myself in the feeling.
My mind is numb, and it's just us. The feeling of his hands holding me, the taste of him, the way everything around us seems to blur. I take it back, the pie isn't the best thing I tasted today.
My skin feels electric, and for once, I'm not overthinking; I'm just here, entirely in the moment.
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