Sain Clare Academy (gxg, 18+)

Chapter Twenty-five

The next day was Grace's day off, so we were able to walk about the garden for a while. This time, I had prepared myself, successfully locking away my droning thoughts and just enjoying the moments I had with her.

We continued our daily escape from the world for the rest of the week, and it grew to be the highlight of my day. Slowly we began meeting earlier, our rendezvous ending later. Thirty minutes grew into an hour, an hour into two. Wistfully, I held a flower up to her eyes, considering its color-- too pale to match-- while wishing that my transformation spell lasted longer so I could spend more time with her. Day after day I would make my excuses and leave before my magic inevitably ran out, and day after day Grace accepted them. She had to know, with as outrageous as they were, that my stories didn't match up. Still, she smiled and let me go every time.

I didn't question her goodwill, instead treasuring our time together. I spent every minute we were together carefully wrapping the memories up and storing them so I didn't forget a single moment.

I squinted at her as I let the flower drop, pursing my lips; I would have considered my discarding of the beautiful flowers to be wasteful, but because they were magically cultivated the heads I dropped would naturally regrow. Her eyebrows twitched together, a movement I now knew after countless hours of studying her to mean that she was confused by my actions.

"Your eyes," I grumbled, unsatisfied. "No matter how much I try, I can't find a flower that looks like your eyes." She picked up one of the blossoms I had dropped, considering it.

"This looks close," she offered, holding it up to her face. I shook my head.

"No, it lacks... depth," I explained. She smiled, amused.

"Depth?" She teased.

"Ah, don't make fun of me," I pouted, "it's not the same, I swear."

"I see," she placated. I squinted at her.

"You don't 'see' at all," I chided. "This flower has too dark of a center-- your eyes kind of get lighter around the iris, and they have like, golden flecks in them." I pursed my lips, examining the flowers around me. None of them were right.

"Golden flecks," she repeated. I whipped my head up, realizing what I had just said. Heat grew in my cheeks.

"Uh, y-yeah," I said, biting my lip. Confidence, Morgan. "They're kinda... swirly sometimes."

"Swirly." Shit. I needed to shut up. Her poker face was really good-- she was giving me nothing. I smiled sheepishly. Then, I noticed a lapse in her stone expression.

"Wait, are you teasing me again?" I asked, flabbergasted, when I saw the humor sparkling in her eyes. She turned her gaze away, taking my hand in hers.

"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear little bunny?" First it was rabbit, and now it was bunny? I glared at her: she was definitely teasing me.

"Don't look away," I scolded, "lie to my face."

Her next movements were quick. She squatted like she was enacting a proposal, one knee lifted up, and kissed my knuckles as if she were a knight bidding a damsel goodbye. Then, she met my eyes with a startling intensity.

"My lady, the light of my days, rose to my thorns, I apologize sincerely for teasing you; you look beautiful when you blush." I squinted, heat rising to my face.

"Better," I allowed, mumbling, "but we're going to need to work on your metaphors. You're not a thorn-- if anything, I'm the thorn to your ro--" She cut me off by standing abruptly and pressing a finger to my mouth, eyes flashing dangerously. 

I felt a shiver run down my spine, my heartbeat picking up. How was she so damn attractive?

"Olivia, am I a liar?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at me. I considered it, wanting to tease her by saying yes.

"...No," I admitted, instead. She didn't lie. Omitting the truth, however, was different. "Except!"

"Except?" She lifted her eyebrows. I straightened myself.

"You are not a thorn," I asserted.

"Then you aren't one either," she rebutted.

"...Agree to disagree," I concluded. A pause, her face looking as if she couldn't believe I existed.

"You, my Olivia, are the absolute worst at arguing," she finally said, the words measured, disbelief coloring each one. My lips twitched, and before I could stop it a giggle escaped. She looked taken aback.

"I'm-I'm sorry," I stuttered, covering my mouth with my hand, "it's just, pfft-- your face!" I couldn't help it, I clutched the material of her shirt, dipping my head down as my shoulders shook with silent laughter.

She stilled, her hands frozen in the air like she didn't know what to do.

"Grace Belloway, speechless," I managed after a few seconds of careful restraint. "Imagine how betrayed the student body would feel if they saw this." Finally, she relaxed, her arms falling to wind their way around me. I looked up in her embrace, hands still bunched on her chest, and beamed. Frustratingly, I couldn't read the emotions that swam in her crystal eyes.

"I can assure you that you're the only one who has ever witnessed it," she spoke, carefully. Against my will, my heart fluttered.

"Good," I grinned, lifting my chin. "I'm not selfless enough to give up delicacies to other people."

"Delicacies, huh?" Although she had only repeated my words, her tone came out completely different, smoky, so much that I was sure we weren't talking about the same thing. Her gaze flickered to my lips, and the flush returned to my face.

"Y-yeah. I can't allow anyone to sabotage our walks or anything, after all."

"Yeah? So walking together every day is a delicacy?"

"Is it not?" I combated. She hummed in agreement.

"...No, it is." I let my head fall on her shoulder.

"Good."

A/N:

decide on a nickname already bitch