the progress project [3]

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yuli

she sits in atília's room again, just the two of them, opening her french notebook in disgust.

"do you really hate french that much?" he asks, chuckling when she sends him a death stare and a silent promise to stab him with her pen.

"yes, i do."

"tu deteste français."

"oui."

"now, why don't we start the subjunctive—"

"no," yuli slams her book shut and shoves it away. "no way. not tonight. i'm not in the mood."

"what are you in the mood for?" he asks, eyes glancing at her lips, then back up to meet her gaze. they've never...

"hm. relaxing."

he twirls his finger around her hair, smiling. his gray eyes are so warming, so inviting, and she could just fall asleep staring at them. they've always been kind of flirty towards each other, but...

"i should get going," she whispers, trying to find her voice. his hand falls away and he frowns a little at her sudden excuse to leave. "see you soon?"

"yeah," he says softly, and he hands her the notes. "are you sure you do not want to stay?"

no. "yeah, i'm sure. thank you, though."

she slips out the door with burning cheeks.