Love Tides | ✓

fourteen | curse you avery

η αγάπη είναι σκληρή, κανείς δεν θα την αρνηθεί

[ love is hard, no one will deny it ]

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A lemon fell to the ground as Penelope shook the branch, leaves brushing against her arms as she took hold of another lemon in her hand. She grinned once she pressed her fingers against the lemon's skin, noticing it to be firm, yet manageable.

Perfect.

Gripping her palms onto the edges of the tree trunk, Penelope pushed herself forward, her feet pounding on the ground as she stood on the ground, slightly dizzy from the quick movement.

Shaking her head, Penelope patted her ankle-length skirt's pocket. Where a maximum of two lemons sat—it was a rather large pocket to accommodate the large citrus fruit.

There was a cloudy aroma of sour lemons in the air, accompanied by the moistness of the freshly watered lemon orchard and the rich pigmented smell of soil—it made Penelope's stomach gurgle in happiness.

Sunlight casted on her tanned skin, as the summer heat surged through her body as a grin carefully etched on her lips.

Penelope reached for her pocket and grasped the yellow fruit in her hand, throwing it in the air and catching it once again. A whistle left her lips as her knee raised, skipping across the lemon trees whistling a thin, quiet tune to the nearby blue birds that fluttered over the orchard.

It sounded in a constant long distant pattern, in repetition; tweet tweet, tweet tweet.

Penelope swung her arms around, her fingers rounded around the lemon in joyous happiness as she reached the blue, wooden door at the back of the house.

Pushing it open, Penelope stepped on the stone flooring, into the wide, classic looking kitchen. Swiftly, she dropped the lemons onto the island table, next to various different ingredients—from flour to vanilla extract, Penelope began mixing the ingredients together. Peeling the lemon skin and cutting the lemon, it's juices flowing through a wooden cut board.

As she stirred the mixture of lemon custard, words began leaving her lips into a continuous circle.

"Your smile and the sound of your voice, and the way you see through me. It all makes me want to care for you, Avery," Penelope rehearsed, pursing her lips as she shook her head in displeasure. "No. It sounds too," she paused. "Soap Opera-y."

She continued mixing the thin, yellow batter with a wooden spoon, sugar and flour coating her cheeks. Luck to Penelope—she had remembered to pull her hair back into a bun or she'd be afraid that her blonde hair would be mixed into the tart.

"Maybe—just a simple 'I like you'," Penelope frowned, eyeing the bird that sat suddenly on the window sill of the kitchen. "It's too simple, right?"

Penelope could swear she saw the bird's head move in a nod.

"Oof," she huffed, her eyesight dropping to the perfect fluffy batter. "I'm never going to admit it."

Moving her hands to the round pan, Penelope began stuffing the brown batter into the pan, pressing it against the walls of the pan, shaping it to a round, pie shape. In one swift movement Penelope grasped the second bowl filled with fluffy lemon milk, pouring it in the batter-clad pan. Pushing it to the edges and spreading it around evenly.

Once finished, she latched a few lemon slices onto the top mumbling to herself. "Oh, and a—'I can't live without you!'"

She gasped then shook her head, bringing a cut lemon piece close to her eye. As if talking to the lemon. "No. No. NO! Too 1991, Innuendo, Queen lyric-y."

"I'm hopeless, idea-less and a total coward!" Penelope groaned, staring-blankly at the Lemon Lady tart. It looked simple. Too simple—like her horrible love confession practices.

Penelope reached for another bowl; a glass bowl this time, filled with thick, voluminous white meringue. Pulling a large spoon into the silky topping, Penelope brushed the meringue into large circles on the top of the round tart. With her other hand, she reached for a small red torch—one Martha used for blazing or decorating. Softly, she turned it on, flaring on the top slightly on the meringue, toasting.

When she set the torch down, Penelope looked at the tart in anger—it looked so perfect, more perfect than ever before and it's all for Avery.

"Curse you Avery," Penelope scowled. "Curse you and the love I have for you."

She grabbed the hand towel next to her and threw it in the sink's direction. "And curse you, Aphrodite." Penelope pointed to the ceiling, scrunching her nose. "If it's because of the water, I'll hunt you down to Olympus and pull your hair out!"

Penelope exhaled and relaxed. "Avery...Avery...Avery." She wished he was there in front of her. "I love you."

author's note

double update!!!

shorter chapter yet very important. things are getting interesting.

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