Emily ◇ Cinderella

Chapter 11

I folded my favourite golden dress, setting it gently into the leather, worn suitcase. I had started to pack my things at Emily's request; I had not been at home in nearly a fortnight, and she had begun to miss me terribly. Ana's fever has calmed down, although I still sat beside her every night, sleeping in the armchair next to her bed. The doctor was satisfied with her condition, and as a result, ceased his visits. 

I was heading to Ana's room, my slow footsteps echoing in the hallway. I began to think of my time here spent with Will, for whom my feelings had grown. Along with my affections growing, so did my worry that I was falling in love with someone who was so much better than me. I had been avoiding him for the last two days, staying away from dining halls and remaining with Ana for as long as I could in hopes it would shine a little light on what I had been experiencing. My heart had began to thump loudly in my chest when he entered a room, my mind raced, I had even become light headed once, where he had stood so close to me I could feel the heat radiating from him. It was all so new and scary, that I had decided I needed to be sure before giving Will any inclination of hope. 

Just as I was about to turn into her room, a hand gripped onto my arm and pulled me back into the corridor. Will had looked relieved he could find me, at last. I had heard him asking about my whereabouts to the staff, who would dutifully reply with a room that I would then avoid all day. "Have you been avoiding me?" He asked directly, unafraid to gaze into my eyes to seek the truth. My heart started to pound in my chest, my palms became slick. 

"What're you talking about?" I asked, feigning confusion. He frowned at me, a strand of his beautiful brown hair gently shifting downwards to sway next to his temple. I could barely contain my nervousness; I'm completely inexperienced, and therefore unsure of how to react. For a moment, he said nothing and simply allowed his eyes to search mine. 

"You know what I'm talking about, Emily." He said softly. My stomach erupted in butterflies, reveling at the way he said my name. His frustration had seemed to calm, making way for gentle, subtle affection when he saw, first hand, how nervous I was. "Why have you been avoiding me?" He repeated the question, silently begging me to tell him what he had done wrong. 

"I-" I stuttered, unsure of how to form a sentence. Will became impatient, staring expectantly at me. I sighed. "I wasn't sure what to do." I confessed, letting my eyes fall on the floor to inspect my shoes. I could practically hear Will's frown. 

"What to do about what?" He questioned, worry lacing his tone. "I didn't do something wrong, did I? In the fencing match? Oh, Emily I'm so sorry-" I cut him off, a small smile on my lips as I heard his concern, his genuine care for me. 

"No, you didn't do anything wrong." I reassured, forcing my eyes to lift and meet his. Several shades of blue overwhelmed me, creating a burst of warmth deep inside of my heart. "I-I needed some time to figure things out." Will's questions were already brewing on his lips, I could see it. "I had to sort my feelings out. About my family, about Kit and Ana," I hesitated, but continued my sentence. "About you." 

My answer had clearly surprised yet relieved him, bringing a deep exhale to pass between his lips. "Alright." He nodded, bringing his small, eased smile to view. "Okay. Well, that's not as bad as I thought it was." I smiled in return, my nerves easing a little. "I understand that you needed space, physically and emotionally, but please, next time just tell me. I was so worried, last night I waited all night in the library." My heart fluttered, and my face had clearly conveyed it. My worry became present, my mind begging my heart to forget this silly, childish dream of love. 

"I will. I'm sorry." He shook his head, telling me not to apologize, before pulling me into a hug to say goodbye. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing my chin on his shoulder and inhaling the soapy smell of his hair. The second his hands touched me, when my skin almost burned in wanting, when my body had instinctively memorized how his touch felt and had learned to crave it, I knew I was worrying about something that had already happened.