Dear Elise

Chapter 17

I've never been so restless. I want nothing more than to tell Sara everything- but as soon as I get back, it's a rush to get ready for dinner.
I sit through the meal, uncharacteristically impatient, barely tasting the food. It's extravagance pales in comparison to a fresh homemade cookie, warmed by the oven and Sam's hands.
We talk amicably all throughout dinner, but I don't remember a word of the conversation. Instead, I notice the stolen glances when she thinks I'm not looking, the way her hands linger a second too long when passing me the salt.
Little things, significant to only us.
And for once, I find myself not caring what people would think, because these are my thoughts and secrets. Just mine.
And hers.

As I try my best to maintain a steady pace walking back to my room, I'm overcome with the desire to laugh at it all. This strange state of half acceptance feels like it's driving me mad, and all i know is I want to spend more time with her. I smile as I step into my room and see only Sara there, ready to tell her everything about this morning.
I want to do something like that with her again. I want to talk to her again. I want to kiss her again.
I stop in my tracks, feeling my face get hot. How did that thought even find it's way into my head?
My thoughts on this feeling have changed. It's unpredictable, and dangerous, and confusing, and-
To my horror, I can feel a lump in my throat, and I shut the door. My legs wobble as I lower myself to the floor, and Sara hurries over.
"Elise, what's wrong?! You're not feeling faint again, are you? What's happened?!"

Her words open the floodgates. I let her sit down next to me, as the tears start flowing and I gasp out some slightly incoherent sounding words.
"It's just... too much... oh, Sara, what's wrong with me? Why am I crying so much- why have my feelings become so much more complicated in mere weeks? ...How?"
I don't see her expression as she pulls me into a hug, but I don't need to. Her comforting voice is enough.
"Oh, Elise, this is just how it is. I know it's so much more complicated for you, but don't worry. We'll do everything we can to sort it out."
She sounds so sure of herself, like she's done this a thousand times. Then I remember her stories about looking after her five siblings, and realise that she probably has.
I sigh and relax, letting her comfort me silently.

The next morning, she comes in by herself to get me dressed, and it's a blessing. Hesitantly, I start telling her about yesterday, pausing to make sure every detail is mentioned.
Looking in the mirror, I watch her pull back my hair with my favourite hairpins from the palace- pretty things that shine a pearly sort of colour. It almost feels like, as long as they look as pretty and prim as ever, I will be too.
Everything might be falling to prices, but at least my hair looks perfect.

"Sara..."
She raises her eyebrows at my quiet tone, prompting me to continue. O clear my throat, feeling slightly embarrassed. I don't think I expected her to even hear me.
"Um, well... do you think that... perhaps... Sam maybe... does like me...?"
Sara gives me a look of such disbelief that I start to sputter an indignant, defensive response. She cuts me off.
"With all due respect, Miss Elise, Lady Samantha has kissed you once, taken you on two dates-"
"They weren't dates-"
"-like I said, two dates, one kiss, and we all see the way she looks at you." Sara gives me a pointed look.
"The way you look at her."
I look down at my hands in my lap, as I fiddle with a stray thread on my skirt. Maybe Sara is right. But then what? We're a part of the Selection, competing for the same man- supposedly. But even if we weren't, I'm all to aware of how Illéa is about these things.
About how my parents would react.

The thought of my family is enough to make me want to drive away my feelings, but a different part of my mind speaks up. A little, rebellious thought.
I don't want them here. To ruin this.
And though it feels like a bad thing to think...
I glance at the unopened letter on my desk. It arrived yesterday, while me and Sam were in the kitchen, and Sara gave it to me while I was getting ready for dinner.
I haven't opened it yet, and I don't want to. I don't want to let my family into this perfect bubble of paradise I've found with my new friends and... whatever Sam and I are.
Not yet.

So I don't. I smile, and leave the letter on the table until I'm strong enough to open it.
I'm surprised to find that I'm perfectly okay with that.