I pad my way through the school gardens, looking for a rose to take to my art class to draw. Miss Rousseau gave us fifteen minutes to escape class and find something real to bring back to replicate on paper.
I already used five minutes walking (painfully slowly) across campus to the gardens, so I only have ten minutes left to find the perfect rose. It's become colder, we're breaching the winter months now. I don't know if any roses will be left unscathed by the chilling air.
I finally find the perfect rose, a beautiful, lone red rose. Everywhere around it is dark, but the rose itself is alit, almost like the light is drawn to it. The scene is magical.
I reach for it, pricking my finger on its thorns. My hand retracts, blood spills from my finger tip. I bring it to my lip and suck on it. "Ouch," I whisper.
"You should be more careful," a gentle voice says from behind me.
I spin around, "D- Darcy," I stutter like a blubbering baffoon. "What are you doing out of class?"
He appears from the shadows, stepping into the light. His dark hair cascades down in waves, framing his features, bringing out the darkness in his eyes, the gold flecks almost invisible. "I came to look for you." He eyes me up and down. "It's just a coincidence I ended up running in to you."
"Stalker," I say, light-heartedly. "Why were you looking for me?"
"We should talk."
Dread hits me like a train, it knocks me so hard I feel winded. "I know what you're going to say," I blurt out. "I know it was a mistake and you regret it - spare me the monologue about being drunk and depressed enough to kiss the girl you barely like-"
"Jade," he says, voice low, "that's not what I was going to say."
"Well, whatever excuse you come up with, I don't want to hear it," I say and my voice cracks at the end.
I stare down at my stinging hand. I don't need this today. I don't need my fantasy where he kissed me willingly and wanting-ly to end yet. I want to pretend that whatever he felt for me at the party is what he still feels, even if its not real. Even if now he is going to tell me he thought I was someone else, or he was on drugs, or pleads temporary insanity.
Darcy steps forward, his hand reaching out to my chin, softly and slowly arching my face up to meet his eyes.
"I don't have an excuse," he says, "because I don't regret it and it wasn't a mistake."
"B-but," now I am speechless. "But you came all this way to—"
"To tell you I won't be able to hold back anymore." His eyes meet mine with a fiery intensity.
My eyes widen, and I look away from him, breaking the connection before I combust. I take a step back, "I don't get it. You've been so mean to me."
"I was having... a rough time and I didn't need you to come in and complicate things." He pauses, looking past me at the glowing rose. "I've never... what you make me feel is... it's different to what I'm used to."
"With all your cougars?"
He presses his lips together like he's ashamed I know about them, his fascination with older women. I know deep down that they're abusing him, that he misses his mother and that what he has with them is not love, but distraction and manipulation.
"I don't deserve—"
"Don't say stupid things," I cut him off before what he says can hurt me. The way he so lowly appraises himself hurts my heart, in a strange way. Why should I care that he thinks he's not deserving? Why does it wound me when he doesn't see how valuable he is?
"Do you regret it? Is that why you're being so abrasive?" His gaze lifts to mine.
"No!" I blurt out, too eager, too desperate. I withdraw, "No," I say, quieter this time. "I don't."
A small smile spreads across his lips. "Good," he says, briefly. He leans in, plucking the rose from behind me and passing it to me.
"Thanks," I say. My eyes drift over his lips, taking in the perfect shape, the dark redness of them, the same tone as the rose in my hands. I want to tell him how much I enjoyed kissing him, and how much I want to do it again.
"I'll see you around, Jade," he says, leaning in close to me, so close that I can smell his cologne. I almost faint – why does he smell so good? Like plums and roses, or mint and ice? It's so masculine, yet also sweet and gentle. He plants a kiss on my cheek.
My face burns red and that arrogant smirk of his creeps onto his lips.
"Till we meet again," he says, bowing his head at me and proudly walking away.
I hold back a girly scream.
.
.
.
On my way through the courtyard to my dorm, I am met with a commotion of people sitting on the benches between the statues.
I push through the crowds (having no other way to get to the stairwell of my dorm) and run into Perry, who seems to be having some kind of meltdown.
"Are you alright?" I ask her.
She seems to be hyperventilating.
"I'll take you back to the dorms, we'll get away from this crowd," I say, taking her arm and dragging her away from the noise.
She struggles against me for a moment, and I realise that it's not the crowd that has her upset – though she does sometimes get overwhelmed from bustling swarms of students. "Xander," she eventually gets out.
"What about Xander – is he ok?" I start to panick.
"He's... he's dating Alyssa."
____________________________________________________
i can't believe people are still reading this far!! it makes my heart so happy to see people enjoy the world i've created and the characters i love. i hope you all are enjoying yourselves. please leave any suggestions, comments and don't forget to vote!
thank you so much, keep reading,
love aurora