Ophelia knew what he was trying to do.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but she noticed it—the way he edged closer, little by little. When he spoke, his voice dipped lower, coaxing her in as he leaned ever so slightly forward, as if sharing a secret only for her ears. His gaze flickered, a slow, deliberate glance at her lips before snapping back to her eyes.
Thomas wanted to kiss her. There was no doubt about it.
They stood just outside the grand ballroom, the muffled sound of music and laughter bleeding through the heavy doors. It was just after her last...encounter with Nott that she had gone outside to clear her mind. He was driving her insane. She actually didn't know how a person could be so contradictory all the time, or maybe he wasn't, and the moments that she interpreted as vulnerability and human emotion were simply an act.
If that was true, he was a hell of an actor.
So, she had left him there, standing alone after their dance and walked out of there as soon as her legs had allowed her. Once she arrived at this clear in the garden, her laboured breathing the only sound she could hear, she decided that it was an adequate place to rest, or hide, most likely. Her heart was going to burst out of her chest at this rate, she couldn't continue with this situation.
Once again, she was certain that it was that damned kiss and what it–unfortunately–meant to her. It had to be. Before that, she could go on with her life without giving Theodore Nott even the slightest of care. He was simply a pebble in her shoe.
But now, he was a whole rock.
Her body was betraying her and thus fogging her brain. It wasn't possible that his mere presence sent a shiver of electricity all over her. It wasn't right. She couldn't even argue with him properly anymore—her voice wavered, her cheeks flushed, her thoughts tangled. It was hell. She needed to do something, anything, to shake herself free of this ridiculous, unwelcome attraction. But what?
She was deep in thought, running through a thousand potential solutions, when the crunch of footsteps on gravel made her freeze. The faint rustling of fabric followed.
Her stomach clenched. She closed her eyes tightly and made a silent prayer.
Please, Merlin, don't let it be Theodore.
She took a slow, steadying breath before turning. A hand landed gently on her shoulder, and she braced herself—only for relief to flood through her when she saw who it was.
"Thomas! You don't know how glad I am that you're here!" The words slipped out of her mouth before she could even analyze them and when they finally registered, a blush crept over her neck and cheeks.
Thomas arched a brow, looking genuinely surprised for a beat before a slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "I get that a lot."
She let out a small, breathy chuckle, shaking her head. The tension in her chest loosened just a fraction. "Do you?" she asked, an amused glint in her eyes.
"Not really." He confessed, which made her let out another chuckle, catching herself before it got too loud. "But I'm honored you were my first." He said, the smirk lingering on his lips.
Ophelia didn't really know how to continue after that, so she decided the best course of action would be to change subject. "So...how are you enjoying the party?" She hadn't really had an opportunity to talk to him before, so this was as good a question as anything she could come up with right now.
He shrugged, taking a brief look at the ballroom behind them. "It's fine. Although, I will admit I was looking forward to dancing with you," His eyes narrowed at her, almost as if studying her. "Before you basically ran from the dancefloor, of course."
YOU ARE READING
Pulling Strings - Theodore Nott
Fanfiction"Do not doubt it, you're the most insufferable," she poked her finger into his chest. "Self-centred," Again. "Shallow and-" He caught her hand before she could continue, looking down at her with a crooked smile. "Aw, darling," he bopped her nose, fo...
