I have waited a thousand years for you.

History class

"I give you my word, I'm not." He said plainly, but with such severeness that Margaret had to nod in acceptance. "You give yourself far too little credit, Margaret." He mused, his eyes were scanning every inch of her, but she was focused on him. The way his hair fell just right above his shoulders, how it curled slightly at the ends. With the sun hitting directly on it it seemed almost gold. He reminded her of someone, someone she knew very well, but somehow forgot about.

"I politely disagree." She contradicted, snapping her eyes away from his. "And please, call me Fifi, everyone does." Margaret wasn't sure why she asked him to do it, maybe because it would be easier not to break the facade she had worked so hard to build during the last three years, better not to get attached. But the way her name had fallen effortlessly from his lips, the way his accent dragged the syllables it clicked something within her, but she kept it to herself. Better not to get attached.

For some time, they went silent. Carefully taking notes and flipping through the textbook pages. Jasper couldn't help but notice her spiked and messy cursive, the same calligraphy he had preserved in their letters. Some were smudged by their tears, either hers when she wrote them or Jasper's when he read them. It amazed him. how she hadn't changed one bit, even if she didn't remember, or not completely. The fact that she had guessed perfectly well the period they spent together fascinated him, maybe, there was a possibility she did remember him. It was a fantasy, Jasper knew, to think that by some magic of the mating bond, she may remember, but he could investigate it.

"What made you say the 1860s?" Jasper finally asked. Margaret didn't look up from her notes and commented simply.

"It's the year that intrigues me the most." Her pen scratched her paper, ink flowing into smooth, quick strokes. She then worked up the courage to continue. "Where are you from?" Her hair had fallen like a curtain, shielding her face from Jasper's view. After getting no answer she shook the strands of hair out of her face and looked at him intently.

"Houston, Texas." His smile shifted into a smirk. "Is it quite noticeable?" Margaret kept looking at him with her searching eyes, under her gaze Jasper felt transparent and defenseless, but he didn't mind it, not when it was his Margaret staring back at him.

"I just noticed it now." She said earnestly. "Besides, accents are very attractive." She hummed almost to herself, then as if she had realized what she had said she blushed brightly and added quickly. "That's what most people say, anyway. Not that I would know." Then she laughed awkwardly. Jasper hummed, if it weren't for the setting this could've been a normal conversation Margaret and he would've had. She placed her pencil harshly on the textbook. "I'm sorry," she stated, packing her things. "I just made this all awkward, it truly wasn't my intention..." She went on, slipping her textbook into her bag. Her mind was foggy, unfocused, and confused between her dreams, imagination, and the real world. Margaret thought to herself she needed to get out more and touch the grass.

"I had a nice time," Jasper admitted. "I was hoping you'd have English next?" He asked, eying his schedule and waving it before her, his eyes shining with hope.

"What if I did?" Margaret had swiftly flung her bag over one shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest, she had always been so stubborn.

"I'd be very old-fashioned and ask to walk you to class." Jasper stated, remembering the inner jokes he and Margaret had about Jasper being old fashioned, or 'such a gentleman' as she would say, sarcasm coating her words, and Margaret laughing and calling him a Cowboy. She stared at him, curiosity still dancing in her eyes. Jasper offered her his hand, and for some unexplainable reason, Margaret took it without hesitation smiling at the comfort it brought her, the coldness of his palm on hers, it sparkled like fireworks.