Red War

Part One

-Athena's POV-

To be fair, it had been awhile.

I sat in front of an all too familiar boy. The candles on the table lit up his face in specific angles, making his already angelic face that more enchanting. Our table was smack dab in the middle of the room, just us two. I carefully folded and refolded the napkin on my lap. Fidgeting in my chair, I looked around the room nervously.

Dick's eyes stayed locked on me the entire time. I felt a bead of nervous sweat trickle down the open back of my dress, right underneath the braid that snaked down my back. How long was the waiter going to take!?

Dick smiled, flipping a perfectly natural lock of hair out of his face. "You don't have to be anxious around me, you know," he coyed, a playful and laid back smile crossing his shiny lips. Although I was the one who was wearing lipstick, Dick's lips had a slight shimmer to them. I could smell the chap stick every time he leaned in like it was inviting me. The unmistakable smell of vanilla surrounded his lips, my favorite flavor. Sitting there was torture. Seriously. Torture.

"I'm not," I lied, resisting the urge to pick the nail polish off of my nails, "you aren't that much of a swoon, Grayson. Get over yourself." Panic flooded through me almost constantly. To avoid eye contact, I forced my eyes wander to the decor littering the restaurant's walls. There were recreations of ancient Chinese art. I pretended to be mesmerized, even though Diana had shown me millions of actual ancient Chinese paintings.

Dick scoffed. "You can look at me, you know," I could tell he was watching me again, "Knowing you, those paintings aren't at all interesting."

Giving in, I pretended to let my eyes lazily roll to land on Dick's face. Unfortunately, when they made their home there, they refused to move. My gaze stayed glued on Dick's.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to come across with some angst. Instead, the bane of my existence -- the dreaded voice crack -- revealed my true state. I could tell Dick noticed it, but he didn't address it. Thank god.

"I didn't invite you out on this date for you to avoid talking to me or even looking at me," Dick said, reaching forward. My hand was gripping the table cloth. Dick's fingers gently unraveled my hand from the sheet, lacing our fingers together. My heart rate spiked even higher -- if that's even possible -- yet, I also felt my worry melt away.

Dick didn't look down at our intertwined hands or even acknowledge them, but I did. I think it upset him, when I looked down. His dopey grin dropped into a smirk and he pulled his hand back. "Sorry," Dick mumbled, creaking back in his chair.

My hands were sweaty anyway, I guess.

Years later, our food finally came. I dug into my stir fry ravenously. If I stuffed my face with food, I would have an excuse not to talk to Dick. I was so jittery and anxious, the usually delicious array of vegetables and rice tasted like cardboard and paste. I continued to eat though, not letting my focus drift from the plate.

As my plate neared its end, a wave of anxiety crashed over me again. Dick was laughing his ass off. I glared up at him. He just laughed louder. "What is it!?" I demanded, really wanting to slap him. He was making me nervous and now he was laughing at me? What an asshole. What a dick.

"Its- Its just-" Dick wheezed, "-you have soy sauce all over your face." He chuckled.

I grabbed my napkin from my lap, but Dick had already gotten up from his seat and was kneeling at my side. I reached up to wipe my face, but Dick grabbed my wrist. I saw him holding his napkin and rolled my eyes. "Don't even try. I can do it myself."

"Please, Athena," Dick pleaded, his hand dropping to rest on my thigh, "just let me do this one sappy thing and then we can leave and you will never have to talk to me again. Or for at least a few hours. Please."