Royally Kissed | ✓

32; the first snow

She tugged her beanie further down her head, clamping her laptop and other paperwork in her arm while slithering against one body to another. People were swarming the halls as usual. But now everyone was crowding themselves in since it was those times were there were reports that had to be made, tests to ace, grades to recover, and flights waiting to be booked.

They had more or less three weeks before Christmas break and she'd been thinking where to spend the holiday; if alone or with her family. Besides, her parents could hardly sit together with her without having to answer calls and turn to their desks, notwithstanding the season. Her parents were seeing more of others and less of their own daughter.

With a slight struggle, she writhed her way among the chaos, seeing to it that the feasibility study she had with her could reach to Ms Smith in one piece and in pristine condition.

But life wasn't always all rainbows and fireworks.

Not that the documents themselves were spifflicated. But someone had accidentally displaced her beanie which then cockled atop her head. When she turned to see the one who'd touched it, she was anticipating a faint apology.

Not those piercing green gazes that widened in faint surprise.

His dark-blonds weren't falling into his eyes today as he'd slicked them back up so that his forehead was exposed. In this image, his bruises were very much visible. It didn't help that their distance was mere inches off, her eyes perfunctorily passing on the cut on his lips.

She quaffed the painful nub down her throat. Looking at him this close, the waves of emotions began to overwhelm her−the startling truth about how she'd wanted to reach up to his face and kiss his pain away, and just how much she sincerely and excruciatingly missed him.

"I−" His chin sunk into his black cashmere scarf when he'd tipped down his head as he cleared his throat. "How're you?"

The question only made a stunned silence on her part, despite the hall being fairly wild. Paige missed his voice too, everything of him. But she couldn't stand the question.

Sometimes, words were profoundly different from actions. So when Arthur's finally registered to her, the displeasure was instantaneous. This wasn't good because then she'd start to hate him and that wasn't part of the plan.

But she got the monopoly on all of this righteous anger. She had every right to be mad this time.

The balefulness on her face was irrepressible as she calmly but boldly replied, "You've got the audacity to ask me that." If Arthur was usually impassive, his surprise didn't go unnoticed now; albeit evanescent. "But if the interest still stands, I'm fine and even better off not talking to you. Thank you very much."

She then whisked away and not even seconds later when another hit came, only to keel in pain. The sting spread out across her stomach and she bit back a sob as she placed a hand on it.

"Shit." Arthur hastily sidled next to her, fingers instinctively pressing around her elbow. "Are you okay?"

She cast him an appalled look. "Was that concern coming from you, Huxley?" Paige concealed a wince, undoing her elbow from his hand. "I'm fine."

"But your stitches−"

"I said I'm fine." Her tone turned high at the biggest lie she'd ever made in her life. No doubt they were getting curious stares now but she hardly even cared.

Arthur pressed his lips into a drab line, her outburst spurring the clench in his jaw. He took two careful steps away from her and nodded. "Good."

She couldn't answer to that any longer. What was flaming good in pretending to look fine? When she'd chanced a glance down at her torso, she realized there were red spots seeping through her white sweater before her face twisted in pain.