Crossing the line

Dragons

Three weeks later

Many eyes were on her as he climbed the outside stairs to the skating rink. With her hair unbound and heavy make-up, Frances truly looked ... otherwordly. There were no other words for it, and for once, Tristan didn't shy away from admiring her figure. In her training clothes, her toned legs were displayed rather boldly. Fortunately, she wore a long vest over the rest, hiding a silhouette many young women would have killed for. And she was waiting for him, so he gestured in the crowd.

— "Hey !"

Her head turned at once, so radiant a smile blooming on her face that it took his breath away. Why did his stomach do flip flops whenever she showed her appreciation ? Perhaps he ought to take a little distance; she was a student, not his friend. Yet, he enjoyed his conversations with her. She was witty, and funny, and viewed the world so very differently. Shaking those thoughts away, Tristan climbed the steps in haste, his hand foundling the little token in his pocket. Perhaps he should keep that to himself...

Frances waved at him shyly, then fished a ticket out of her breast pocket.

— "There, here's your seat."

Tristan's fingers brushed hers as he picked the red and gold card.

— "Thank you."

— "No, thank you for coming. You'll probably find my roommates somewhere inside if you want company"

Of course, for support ! How he would have enjoyed such a tight group in his days as a student. He surmised he'd better get there and find them, but his hand was still fondling the little piece of cloth in his pocket, refusing to let him go.

— "Good, great. Erm. You look good"

The young woman blushed profusely, dipping her head.

— "Ah, uh, the heavy make-up is supposed to put emphasis on our expression since we're so far away from the public"

— "Like ballet dancers, yes."

He wasn't about to say that it made her eyes seem huge, especially now that she was gazing at him so openly. Nor that it emphasised the golden flecks that radiated from the centre of her irises. That would probably seem a little personal, right ?

— "So, are you ready ?"

The young woman took a deep breath, then nodded, her features determined.

— "As ready as I could ever be"

There was such finality in her words that he knew he needed to let her go; all artists needed some time down before performing, and he was keeping her in the freezing cold with too light a vest. So Tristan gave her a final smile and resisted the urge to hug her – ever since that fateful day, his body wanted her back in his embrace. She fit so well in his arms !

Instead, his right hand reached into his pocket and offered the little piece of nonsense he'd picked for her. A good luck charm, in the form of a four leaves clover; just a piece of ready to iron badge he had found while buying some thread at the local cloth store.

— "There, a good luck charm for the lady"

Frances' eyes widened so comically that he couldn't help but grin at her awed expression. He doubted she would look happier the day her lover would drop to one knee and present a diamond ring. Damn... bad thoughts. He wasn't ready to plunge into such a fantasy, and took off immediately, leaving a dumbfounded Frances with a four-leaves clover in her palm.

The hall was very crowded and he pushed his way into the stalls, wondering if he had made a mistake. The chill of the ice rink greeted him, and Tristan searched the rows for familiar figures. It was them who found him instead, three sets of arms swinging in his direction as the yelled his name.