ARCANE

020

The mashed potatoes sit heavily in Hope's stomach. She gently lays her fork against the white tablecloth, grabbing the serviette off the table in front of her, and gently dapping the corner of her mouth.

"Did you hear that, sweetheart?" Her father elbows her gently, gesturing with his fork across the table. "Erik's looking at a soccer scholarship to Keating."

Hope glances up at Erik across the table. The boy doesn't make eye contact with her, instead past her and down the hallway. The Thomas house should be called the Thomas manor, with its chandeliers and large entry way. It's definitely not a Jones' house, but nonetheless.

"Can we go on a walk, Daddy?" Hope leans in towards her father. "I think Erik and I are both done eating now."

Erik finally looks at Hope. Her face is cast in shadow, since the room is lit only by candles. Erik bites down on his lip to stop it from frowning.

Something is up.

Erik doesn't know if Thea can hear his thoughts like he can hear hers, but he grumbles back that it is quite obvious that Hope is being secretive. It's always the quiet ones, anyway. Also, there is a pit in his stomach from taking a soccer ball to the gut earlier (Erik chooses to ignore that his ability to heal his body generally makes pain evaporate rather quickly). Definitely not the nerves from this conversation. No doubt.

"Sure," her daddy smiles at Erik's father across the table. If Erik wasn't already nauseous, now he is.

Hope pulls herself up and out from the table. She nods at Erik to come follow her outside, and he does. When their backs are to the table, Hope smirks.

In the doorway, Hope shuffles her shoes on. She waits for Erik to lace up his boots and throw on his leather jacket before the two walk out of the house. Hope prays that her father doesn't look at the coat rack, because she has left not just her scarf and mittens, but her coat as well.

Outside, Hope shivers in the wind. Erik rolls his eyes at her, beginning to shuffle off his leather jacket. Girls never wear coats, which makes it his responsibility to give them one. People always say chivalry is dead, but it isn't. Erik wants to kill it.

He stops removing his jacket when Hope takes a step forward and breathes in the crisp air. She tucks the thick white wool of her turtleneck over her nose and wraps her hair around the rest of her to try to maintain warmth, if only for a second, before she lets the cool air hit her lips again.

"I don't want to date you," she tells him.

Erik smirks, stepping past Hope. She follows him down the sidewalk until the two are up next to each other. When Erik notices their steps are in sync, he slows down.

"Our fathers want us to, but I'm not interested," Hope tells him, staring up at the stars above her. They are bright but distant. From here, they seem cold although she imagines they would be warm to the touch. Burning in fact. Hope wants that power to electrify her skin. The same energy which ignited her That Night.

Hope sighs, stopping on the sidewalk. She turns to face Erik. His face is all sharp lines and harsh eyes. It is a pity that the power allows him to heal on command, for nothing would suit him better than to be hurt. Carefully, Hope lifts her hand up.

Erik flinches away from her fingers. Hope is shorter than him, but only barely, so ducking proves to be a bit of a challenge. For a second, Hope pauses, her arm outstretched in towards him.

"I like girls," she exhales. It's a truth she doesn't want to levy to be able to touch Erik but she does anyway. "May I?"

Erik says nothing, but he doesn't move this time. Hope's fingers slowly graze his chin, touching the light stubble on his face.