Tuesday—November 24th, 2020

"We're going to high school, not the Academy Awards," Hyacinth roared as Francesca stopped for the third time to apply lip-gloss. 

Gregory started to laugh but stopped as soon as he saw Francesca's icy stare. She had mastered the resting-bitch-face this summer and she was making good use of it. He coughed and looked away pretending to busy himself with absolutely nothing.

He and Hyacinth walked to school together everyday, the two youngest Bridgertons, and part of that ritual was to get on each other's nerves. Today, however, Francesca was accompanying them because she had a meeting with a counselor. She alleged that she only wanted a bit of guidance, but Gregory suspected that his sister hadn't adapted to uni life quite as well as her twin, Eloise. She put on quite a show everywhere she went, she never admitted when something was wrong or if something was bothering her, but Gregory was probably the only Bridgerton who could always tell when Francesca was lying. He liked paying attention to people—and especially his siblings—even if they didn't believe him to be particularly observant.

"You never get a second chance for a good first impression," Francesca replied, now making sure her eyeliner was even.

"You went to that school since first grade," Gregory couldn't help reminding her. "Literally everybody knows you."

"Oh, you wouldn't understand, Greggy."

"I wouldn't?"

She snapped her little portable mirror shut and looked up at him. Gregory had hit 5'10 that summer and he was proud of it. He wasn't yet as tall as Anthony or Benedict, but he had passed Colin and his sisters. "Always make sure people are looking at you like it's the first time they're seeing you, Gregory," she said with a serious gleam in her eyes and an elegant shake of her hair.

Hyacinth snorted. "That's not hard in there. They're teenagers. They're impressed by shiny objects."

"Thus my earrings." And Francesca flashed her siblings with one of her irresistible smiles. Gregory had to give it to her—if she didn't have everything under control she damn well looked like she had. Of all of his siblings, Francesca was the one he envied the most. There was something about her that nobody could resist. The way she carried herself, her confidence and delicacy; she was remarkable. There was something about her that no other Bridgerton had, except maybe Colin. A charm entirely her own that made her intoxicating to those around, no matter how utterly annoying she was.

"You could try just being yourself," he suggested. He was seventeen and that was a real defect in his ability to understand girls. "That's what our Social Studies teacher says."

"Wow. Spoken like a truly unpopular person," Francesca retorted. "Now," she made both Hyacinth and Gregory stop walking so they would look at her. "How do I look?"

Hyacinth answered promptly, "Shallow."

Francesca smiled. "Thank you!" And went on her merry way.

Gregory shook his head, unable to understand how his sister could be in such a great mood in the morning. It was unnatural. This was the time of day when he wished he was dead. High school. Otherwise known as Purgatory.

Hyacinth Gregory could understand much better. She had a normal response to mornings—she was sullen and aggressive, and if you so much as looked at her wrong, she would bash your face in. Gregory knew a few too many boys who had always refrained from bullying him because they were afraid of Hyacinth. She trained Muay Thai three times a week and she had made sure everyone was painfully aware of that.

The three of them arrived at school and went their separate way for the day. Classes went on slowly. At lunchtime, Gregory stared at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns into them that were not there. It was one way to tune out the voices of his classmates and other students that babbled incessantly.

Today, everyone was consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body. It took so little to work them all up. The excitement over her arrival was predictable—like Hyacinth had pointed out, teenagers were impressed by shiny objects. Half the boys were already imagining themselves in love with her just because she was something new to look at. Gregory tried harder to tune them out. He was almost eighteen years old and had not yet discovered girls.

He wasn't cynical about love. No. Unlike most boys of the tons, Gregory believed in true love. He knew that, for most boys, such topic would produce nothing short of bile, but for Gregory, who had been born with an uncommonly cheerful—if occasionally (according to Hyacinth) annoying—spirit, it simply meant that he had no choice but to believe the obvious:

Love existed.

It might not be something that one could see or smell or touch, but it was out there, and it was only a matter of time before he found the girl of his dreams.

He didn't know anything about this dream girl—the one who was supposed to transform his life completely. He didn't know if she would be short or tall, dark or fair. She could be shy or outspoken. She might like to sing. Or maybe not. Maybe she would like sports. Or be a bookworm. Or even a cheerleader.

He didn't know. That wasn't the point.

When it came to this girl—this impossible, wonderful, and currently nonexistent girl—all he really knew was that when he found her, he would know. He didn't know how he'd know; he just knew that he would. Something this momentous, this earth-shattering and life-altering... well, really, it wasn't going to whisper its way into existence. It would come full and forceful, like the proverbial ton of bricks.

He wasn't in a rush to find her. He had all his life to do that. Besides it wasn't ideal to find the love of your life in High School. Those relationships weren't meant to last, he was told. So he wasn't looking. He didn't even imagine himself ready to find her.

He surely wasn't ready for what happened next.

But it was right there.

In GH High School of all places.

In the loud school cafeteria.

Let me explain. He was annoyed at all the noise, so he stood up and headed toward the food stand. He needed something substantial, especially at lunch, and especially when he felt annoyed at other people. Food was like medicine to him—it could cure anything. Emma, the lunch lady, smiled at him from afar. She was one of his really good friends—the only one who understood his endless appetite and even fed it. Gregory looked around, trying to determine what Emma was serving the teenage crowds today, when instead he saw her.

Her.

The new girl.

And he knew it. He knew that she was the one. He stood frozen, transfixed. The air didn't rush from his body; rather, it seemed to slowly escape until there was nothing left, and he just stood there, hollow, and aching for more.

He couldn't see her face, not even her profile. There was just her back, just the breathtakingly perfect curve of her neck, one thick braid of dark brown hair against her shoulder.

And all he could think was—I am wrecked.

For all other women, he was wrecked. This intensity, this fire, this overwhelming sense of rightness—he had never felt anything like it.

Maybe it was silly. Maybe it was mad. It was probably both those things. He hadn't even known that he'd been waiting. For this moment, for so long, he'd been waiting. That's all it was. Hell, he hadn't even realized how much he'd been doing nothing but waiting for this moment.

And here it was.

There she was.

And he knew.

He knew.

He had to know her. He had to see her face, breathe her scent, know the sound of her voice. He would love her, forever. He didn't know when and he didn't know how, but he would be hers and she would be his.

*

Gregory was acting strange.

From where she stood in the cafeteria, Hyacinth suspected he might be having a seizure. He had an intense airy look on his face which could mean he was feeling gassy and that—she could attest to it—wasn't a good thing. She scanned the room, trying to find the source of his discomfort, but instead something else caught her eye.

There was a boy sitting in the corner of the cafeteria. That wasn't unnatural. Every so often you would catch someone trying to have lunch as far away from the hoards of students as possible in the long room. And that could be for any reason: indigestion, depression, mood swings, cramping. You name it. So it wasn't so much the boy being there, but maybe the fact that he hadn't been seen there before.

He ate silently. He wasn't gawking at the new girl—who was the main topic in G.H. High School this morning—unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at him without fear of meeting a pair of excessively horny eyes. He was lean with broad shoulders and brown hair.

And that wasn't even the interesting part. Hyacinth found herself staring at him because of how much the other kids were trying to avoid him. Everyone would go out of their way not to walk by his table. It was as if everyone knew and was afraid of him.

Hyacinth poked her friend, Cassie, in the ribs. "Who's Captain Intensity over there?" she asked. Cassie was a big round girl and a goth which made her the perfect companion for Hyacinth who tried to maintain the reputation of a badass. Cassie could take on whoever she wanted—and had even been suspended once for breaking a toilet seat on a peeping tom's head.

As she looked up to see who Hyacinth meant suddenly he looked over. He looked at Cassie—who quickly turned away—for just a fraction of a second, and then his gray eyes flickered to Hyacinth. Immediately, she decided to meet his eyes head on. It felt like a challenge. Boys were like dogs, Daphne often said, and looking away was submissive. She had to prove her dominance.

"That's Gareth St. Clair," Cassie said under her breath and there was an unusual edge to her voice. "And he's staring at you."

"I can see that," Hyacinth said, still holding his gaze.

"Why is he doing that?"

"I don't know," Hyacinth confided. "But if this is a game, I want to win."

"I don't think he's going to stop!"

"Neither will I."

But finally—finally—he looked away and Hyacinth basked in her victory. Boys weren't like dogs; no, boys were just stupid.

Cassie seemed agitated which was unlike her. "People say he knows the taste of human flesh," she whispered to Hyacinth. That was a surprising thing to say and Hyacinth chuckled at how ridiculous people of the tons were. She looked at him again—he was staring at his food tray, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. He didn't know the taste of human flesh anymore than she did, she was sure of that.

But his name rang some dusty old bell inside her head. She knew him—or better saying, she knew of him. Gareth St. Clair was the son of Angelo Guido and Isabella St. Clair, Lady Danbury's eldest daughter. His brother had died tragically just two days ago which explained why he was in town—not why he was at school.

Unless he intended to stay, which seemed uncharacteristic.

She wondered and wondered, and decided Gareth St. Clair was a mystery. And Hyacinth just so happened to be in great need of a mystery. 

*

If you are liking this fanfiction, please please please hit the vote button and leave a comment to let me know how much you're liking it. Follow this account if you can. Show your support!

Thank you.