Crossing the line

Setback

July, 2004

When Frances stepped out the National School building, Tristan immediately knew something was wrong. Her features were pale, her jaw clenched. Disappointment or anger, he wasn't quite sure. Tristan had not shied away from stating his intentions; he knew that, coming with her to the National School, he would run into some of his former students. Not many, for most of them avoided this particular branch of exams. Only five, out of the forty-five, had made it to the orals after their written exams in May. Just as he predicted, Frances had made it.

If it came as a surprise to her, it only elicited a proud smirk from her former geography teacher. He knew she didn't understand his trust in her abilities, but her ranking after the first three weeks of written exams had just proven him right; his woman was clever like hell. The frown on her face, though, wasn't too enticing. Standing from the bench he had been roasting over, Tristan covered the distance with his long legs. Her eyes lit up when she spotted him; gratefulness and love mingled that never failed at stirring his heart; a balm upon his past failures.

As soon as he was within reach, the young woman circled his waist and buried her face into his chest. Tristan's head lowered instinctively, his cheek resting upon the young woman's head. The shadows of his panama hat shielding them from prying eyes as his arms gently engulfed Frances in a warm hug. Too warm; the heat was scorching. But he wasn't the first to let go, sweat and weather be damned. For a moment, the young woman drew strength from his unwavering presence, her limbs fastened around him with such trust that his heart soared.

Then she lifted her head and her warm chocolate eyes dove into his, coating him with a warm wave of belonging.

— "Thank you, I needed that", she smiled.

— "Anytime", he whispered, his lips ghosting above hers.

Frances stood on her tip toes for a kiss, one he bestowed with delight upon her awaiting rosy mouth. Mmm. She was a breath of fresh air in his life, this little woman.

— "Frances !"

The cry caught him off guard, and his head jerked up to see who was calling upon his girlfriend. Fifteen feet away, Olivier was jogging up to them. Frances turned around, hands falling to her side as she tried to keep a neutral posture. Had he seen them kissing ?

— "Damn, Frances. What a bitch !"

Tristan started at Olivier's words, but they were not meant for his beloved. The blond guy strutted forward, blond locks flying around his face and he wondered how long it would take for his former student to recognise him. One, two... when Olivier's jaw went slack, he couldn't help the smirk that lifted the corner of his mouth. Damn, perhaps he should have kept his sunglasses on instead of picking the Panama this morning.

— "Wha... Mr Kristiansen ?"

— "Tristan, now", he smiled, offering the young man his hand.

Olivier shook it, his eyes travelling from Frances to him with a twinkle in his eye. Then he seemed to swallow his question, addressing the young woman instead.

— "I'm sorry, Frances. It was pretty unfair"

That statement worried him, and Tristan's gaze returned to Frances whose cheeks were set ablaze.

— "What happened ?", his smooth voice asked.

Frances huffed, rage pouring forth as her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag.

— "The biology examiner happened. That... that fucking woman, she gave me an impossible subject."

Tristan's brows rose, hiding behind the loose strands escaped from the hat as she explained.