𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴 ೃ⁀➷ 𝘴. 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴

𝑻𝑶 𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑬 𝑨 𝑮𝑶𝑫

"I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

The entirety of Mr. Keating's class followed their teacher restlessly onto the football field. Walking quietly next to Steven, Iris mindlessly laced their fingers together and began to lean against him. A strawberry blush overcame his cheeks at the sight; a beautiful girl, that would hopefully soon be his, was clad in his grey soccer sweater, and she was holding his hand.

The boy wanted nothing more than to be alone with her right then, to hold her close and kiss her gently. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her love for others, how he adored her eyes and her lips, and the way that she fit perfectly against him. He wanted to explain the butterflies that raided his body when she looked him in the eyes. Tell her how nicely his hands fit on the hip-dips she was so insecure about.

Yet he waited, longing for the sensation of her hands combing through his curls. He was content right were they were, with their hands clasped together. With their hearts beating as one.

Iris gazed up at the boy, eyes softening at the gorgeous picture-esque scene. The sun glazed Steven's face at just the right angle that she could see his chocolate colored eyes turn a hazel-ish green. His freckles were illuminated, highlighting his jaw and cheek bones.

Words were not able to describe how much she wanted to pull him away and enjoy time alone with him. She wanted to connect every dot— every single freckle with her finger. She wanted to hold him close and whisper soft and low how much she appreciated him. How much she needed him by her side for the years to come. She wanted to lay on his chest and watch the stars, sharing every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem, with each other. Iris wanted to run her hands through his hair and make him feel loved.

However, she stayed silent, pulling her hand away from the boys own.

A frown formed on Meeks's lips at the loss of contact, a million thoughts rushing into his head. Iris smiled at the ginger before talking his left ring finger and lovingly sliding one of her jewel-encrusted rings into place. Gazing down at the accessory, Steven was stunned. "You don't have to keep it on, if you don't want," she said hurriedly, not knowing what to make of his expression.

"No!" He exclaimed, beaming brightly. "Please, paulo flos. I love yo-" cutting himself off, Meeks blushed profusely. "It. I really love it. Can I keep the ring?"

Not expecting the outburst, Iris looked at him with wonder-filled eyes. He never ceased to make her heart swell. "Of course, mea amor. A gift, from me to you." Slipping her hand into his again, they rushed to keep up with the group.

"Now!" Mr. Keating began, lugging a netted bag of soccer balls over his shoulder, commanding his students attention. "Devotees may argue that one sport or game is inherently better than the other." The teacher neared the bleachers, casually knocking a stray ball out of his path.

"For me, sport is actually a chance for us to have other human beings push us to excel." Charlie looked up from the ground, his usual snarl placed into his lips. Nudging his shoulder, Iris sent him a: "please don't do anything stupid" look.

Continuing his lecture, Keating halted at the front of the field. "I want you all to come up here and take a slip of paper, and line up single-file." The group shuffled into a messy line, not trying to hide the confusion in their eyes. Steven, who was at the front, stepped forward to receive his slip. "Mister Meeks, time to inherit the earth."