Intrepid » n.h. au

Chapter 22

"Hey," I say quietly when that doesn't happen; she takes a few seconds before hesitantly looking up into my eyes, a look of amusement and uneasiness both present in hers. I squeeze her hands to make her relax a little – even though the sight of her like this is entertaining, as cruel as that might sound – and eventually she gives me a tight smile, but then looks down again. Wow, this must really be distressing for her if she's okay with acting vulnerable in front of me.

"Hey," I repeat, this time not waiting for her reaction; I simply lean forward another few inches, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that's slow, innocent and basically the complete opposite from our previous ones. Whatever reason she has for not laughing off this dumb situation with me, I want to make her forget about it. She gave me fireworks, and I'm giving her comfort. Fair enough.

"Mm," I mumble into the kiss, putting our hands behind her back so that I can pull her closer to me. "Say something in French."

"What?" She lightly laughs against my lips, pulling away an inch or two for a second or two. "Harry told you about that too?"

"Mhm." I grin as she rolls her eyes, trying to act annoyed but failing as she keeps smiling. "Come on, tell me something in French. I bet you sound better than my third grade teacher."

She rolls her eyes again, but sits up and clears her throat. I subconsciously smile at how concentrated she looks for a few seconds. "Okay, well... uh, tu as des beaux yeux."

My lips part at her – seemingly – perfect accent, and I blink a couple of times as her, my baffled expression making her laugh again. "Okay," I say slowly, "What does that mean?"

"It means..." She trails off, smiling wider and biting her lower lip, "It means you have nice eyes."

I grin wider at the translation, for the first time feeling like I'm actually blushing. "Well thank you," I whisper, stealing another kiss before pulling away to look into her eyes again, her hands squeezing mine – that are still behind her back. "Tell me something else."

She sighs, looking up at the ceiling and licking her lips in concentration. "Well," She starts, leaning forward to peck my lips, not closing her eyes but instead continuing to look at the ceiling. "How about... tu embrasses bien."

Even though she's telling me these short sentences, I can't help smiling at them because of her accent. "What does that mean?"

"That means you're a good kisser," She says, with a rather proud smile as I start laughing again.

"Well now you're just spoiling me," I mumble, my words barely coherent as she leans down to kiss me again, pulling her hands out of mine to put her arms around my neck. I feel like she's making up for every time that she didn't let me kiss her; but even if that were the case, we wouldn't be able to do it in one night. I've wanted to kiss her since I've known her, and I've known her for two months; two months can't be put into one night that easily.

She's the first one to pull away, pecking my lips a few times before leaning back, to look at me properly. "What about you?" She says quietly, scanning my face with a weird glint in her eyes.

"What about me?"

"Do you know any foreign language?" I don't know why I haven't realized this before, but she obviously really likes languages.

"Um... I know Irish," I say quietly, looking around the room. "Irish Gaelic. I'm not exactly fluent and it's not exactly a foreign language, so..."

"It is to me," Freya says quietly, but even if I was on the other side of the room, I'd be able to hear her excitement. She really does like languages. "Come on, say something in Irish. Gaelic. Irish Gaelic."