four times you almost kissed her and one time you did

janitor's closet

It's three months later, and you're with Dahlia again. You two have classes together this year, and are running an errand for your teacher. Today Dahlia is wearing a skirt, which you consider to be a special occasion. Dahlia doesn't wear skirts often, as they get ruined in the dirt.

You're carrying files for your teacher, it's not a lot, and you certainly could've carried them all by yourself, but Dahlia insisted to the teacher on going with you, saying you would've gotten lost on your way there. The reasoning seemed outrageous, but your teacher allowed it.

She suggested taking the long route back to class, which you full-heartedly agreed to. The halls are empty, the tile floor shines, the rows of lockers seem endless.

"The janitor's closet," She pointed out, "I wonder if it's locked."

You wanted to ask why she cared about that, but she moves faster than you speak. She twisted the doorknob and with a firm pull it opened.

"Come." She tugged at your sleeve and coaxed you inside.

You asked her why you guys were in the janitors closet.

"I told you Dmitri, that man stole my shovel and I'm finally going to prove it."

She did in fact tell you that weeks prior. She was rambling about how she left her favorite shovel out on the garden the one time the janitor stops by. She said she questioned him about the whereabouts of the shovel, but the man acted clueless.

She's looking through the shelves now, perhaps more harshly than necessary. It isn't here, she's frustrated.

How did it look again? You ask her.

It's a small handheld shovel with mint green painted metal and a wooden handle. You look over the tall shelves, the ones Dahlia cannot reach and there it is.

You retrieve the shovel and watch her eyes light up. She takes it from you.

"He called me crazy, that bastard!"

She has a tendency to deem her enemies as bastards, you laugh at this.

"It's just angering, he insisted that he didn't have it. He acted offended when I accused him!"

Dahlia looked down at the shovel and frowned. It's at this moment you realize how small this closet is.

"How many things do you think get kept by administration?" She asked.

You can smell her perfume from here, it's sweet and intoxicating. You pause before you answer.

I don't know. Stupid answer on your part, but you never were a smart man.

She looks up at you, gazes into your eyes, you feel the heat rise up to your cheeks, her cheeks are red as well. Although, it's most likely sunburn on her part.

You don't know why she's having this effect on you right now. You've known Dahlia for a while, you've learned self control, but at the moment your heart is beating a mile a minute. You can hear it.

Dahlia can hear it as well, she presses her hand against your chest, this does not help your case. She smiles, her hand does not move.

"Mr. Dancer," She mocks you. "Whatever in the world could have you so nervous?"

Her lashes are dark, her lips are glossy and red, her eyes are smiling. You want to ignore it, but you really don't want to ignore it.

Miss Dahlia, you said. It seems you've caught me ditching class, hiding in the janitors closet with a pretty girl.

She rolled her eyes, her other hand moves up around your neck, she nearly hits you with the shovel. You have to crook your neck downwards a bit for her to properly wrap around you. She's even closer now, you're going to die. You closed your eyes.

Nothing happens except for the terrifying noise of the door opening, the yells of protest from the janitor finding you in such a position. You are in so much trouble.

Dahlia bites back at him, showing him the stolen shovel, threatening to report him (something that most likely would not work). The passion and anger in her voice must have been why he was convinced. A silent agreement is made in that the janitor will never speak of finding you two if Dahlia never speaks of the shovel incident.

So, you return to class ten minutes too late, and you never speak of the janitors closet again.