Dahlia's whole life is flipped upside down when her eccentric aunt enrolls her in a prestigious university in England. She is forced to make friends with a rather eclectic group of people and adapt to her new lifestyle all while trying to find the a...
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By the end of the week, the air had warmed up and the snow melted, the promise of the oncoming spring floating in the breeze. There was still the lingering chill of winter because it was the end of February, but the change of seasons was just around the corner.
I'd told Atlas that I was having a follow up lunch with Genevieve's friend, and in a moment of creative weakness and unpreparedness, I'd said the woman's name was Harriet. She allowed me to utilize her chauffeur once again.
Raymond had the window rolled down in the car, and a gentle wind rustled my hair. I closed my eyes, relishing in the relaxing sensation. We've warmed up to each other, Raymond and I, and he let me play my playlist during the drive- even chatted a little about our favorite music. He liked The Rolling Stones.
So, I was on my way to meet Harry at Hyacinth Manor once again, and a jittery buzz ran through me. I was too prideful to call it excitement and settled on describing it as thrill.
Dim shades of green were uncovered with the departure of the snow, and I could imagine how the mansions along the road would look with fresh lawns adorned with bright flowers.
I tapped my fingers on my purse clutched in my hands as Raymond turned down the drive, and I tried not to get giddy with thrill because of the mixture of the weather changes and sub rosa tea. The moment of the car stopped, and I didn't give Raymond time to open the door for me, electing to do it myself, charged with anticipation. The breeze ruffled my wrap skirt, and I pushed it down over the tops of my thighs, and ran my fingers over my scalp to tame my hair what whipped around my head.
As I walked across the stones to the front steps of the manor, he called out to me, asking what time I would need to be picked up.
"I don't know," I said over my shoulder, hoping that it would be later rather than sooner.
I turned back to face the building, letting myself envision what it would look like once spring had fully sprung. A smile stretched across my face with the thought, and I schooled my expression into one of coy indifference before knocking on the door.
The door opened, and I expected to be greeted by Maria, but I was faced with someone else. Someone wearing a loud suit, blue and pink floral patches scattered over milky white. He leaned against the door frame casually, an elbow propped next to his shoulder, his other arm behind his left hip. Coils of hair traced his jaw artfully, shifting slightly with the wind, and I looked briefly at his mouth- now in full color unlike the clay rendition- before meeting his eyes. They looked dull today, matching the newly uncovered grass that still had to be revived after the winter.
His eyebrows raised, and eyes half-lidded, he waited expectantly for me to say something.
"Hi."
"Ah, so we're using greetings now," he smirked.
I remembered our conversations from last week about neither of us greeting each other. "Yes, we are," I said matter-of-factly. "Your turn."
He made a show of thinking about it, placing a hand under his chin, pouting his lips, and gazing upwards. "Good morning." He added a questioning lilt at the end, acting as if he'd never greeted someone before.
