Royally Kissed | ✓

23; the villainous switch

—twentythree—

the villainous switch

ALL THE WAY through Finance on Wednesday, Paige would steal glances from Arthur who'd sat next to her. His eyebrows were furrowed, poring on his notes before staring back at the whiteboard while their professor was lecturing. She'd be amused, if only he wasn't in such a grave mood.

On most occasions, Arthur would whisper sweet nothings to her in between classes and she'd keep a straight face as if he was invisible. It didn't help herself from stopping the blush that would blossom across her cheeks when he'd prod her arm with his pen. And she'd glare at the doofus, scowling all the more when he'd simply smile in that usual lazy fashion of his, before sobering up into a more somber expression like nothing happened.

Perhaps that was his charm, something that he'd developed through the years, that made her drawn to him. He had this internal switch−on when pleased, off when he wasn't impressed. But those two had been constantly flipped over by him that it got to a point where he'd change his mood in just a snap of one's fingers at that single moment she'd think she just had a whiplash injury.

Because she never knew when it was coming.

None of that mattered to her before. In fact, he'd captured her attention all the more−like a conundrum she had to sit down to and try to unriddle; only to realize that that was just the way he was.

Today, though, and yesterday, and then the day before that−she'd come to see that her worries had begun to resurface. Because this was another matter altogether. She suddenly felt−afraid. Something wasn't adding up and her overthinking side had instantly taken the forefront of her consciousness.

"Arthur?" She gathered her courage, at last, gingerly reaching for his forearm sitting atop his armrest. Paige didn't want to set him off as if detonating a bomb. "Do we have a problem?" Her voice was small, so small she hated how much this was taking a toll on her. He didn't look at her yet, but his muscles had tensed up when she held him. "I just−I don't understand. Is there something you're not telling me? Please, talk to me."

He'd paused.

She waited.

Tick tock, tick tock, the wall clock above their professor's head screamed. Then, he dragged a deep, quiet breath before letting it all out slowly like he needed to take his time before he would open his mouth. To her surprise, the dark clouds that seemed to loom over his head parted aside, softening his features, before he slipped his fingers to hers in a manner so smooth.

He tightened his grip on her, just as how much she'd never want to let go.

"I'm sorry," he said under his breath, turning to her. "I'm not mad at you, alright? It's not you, you have to believe this."

Paige tucked her lip between her teeth when he reached up for her cheek for a split-second, then nodded. "Okay. I just don't feel too good when I see you like this. I know we've been holding things up but...I'm sorry, Arthur, I can't take this anymore. If you want this to work out, you have to let me in. We shouldn't even be doing this. People don't do this, Art."

He stifled a breath, before looking away, nodding. "Alright. I will tell you. Soon."

"Soon? Why soon? Why not now?" She was genuinely curious, but she'd hoped she didn't sound too demanding.

Arthur cast her a side glance, barely shifting his head. "I need more time," he breathed. "Back lawn after this?"

Paige sighed. "Alright."