After a good five minutes of sitting there with her hands on my chest, I reluctantly let her go. Her hands drop and she brings them up to her own chest for a moment, tucked under her chin. The sight of that makes me want to tug her to me until she curls up in my lap, her head on my chest. But I don't do that, for obvious reasons.
"Do up your shirt please," She murmurs, glancing at me quickly, "You'll get cold."
I do as she asks without question. She gets out her notebook and the lesson begins.
Today, I don't even have to drum my fingers to get her to touch me again. As if she can sense that I'm about to get fidgety, a few minutes into the lesson, she reaches for my hands, holding them together with one of hers. The smile that lifts my lips is completely dopey and I desperately hope she can't see straight through me.
After a while, I take a chance and move one of my hands away. Carefully, hoping she doesn't pull away, I rest my arm over the back of her chair, not touching her. For a few minutes, nothing happens. But then she leans back against my arm and her shoulders drop a bit, relaxing.
She's in the middle of talking when I move our joint hands over to her lap instead, settling my open palm on her thigh, just above her knee. Abruptly, her sentence cuts short and she blinks at the page a few times. Then she clears her throat and continues on with her explanation. She doesn't mention any of this closeness, but the pad of her thumb brushes gently over my knuckles.
Every time she asks a question and I get the answer right, she gives my hand a little squeeze, which inadvertently makes my hand squeeze her thigh. I don't mind it. She doesn't seem to either.
By the time the bell rings, signalling the end of the period, I am completely drunk on her touch. I don't even ask to walk her to class today. By the time I've detached from her and scooped my heart up from where it melted at her feet, I'm already holding her bag and walking her out of the library.
I open the door for her, as always, and when I step through afterwards, I'm surprised when she hooks her hand into the crook of my arm, pulling herself close to me.
"Aurora?"
She doesn't hesitate, "Yes, George?"
"Are you cold still?"
"I am a bit, yes. Why's that?"
Ah, that explains the proximity then. "Just checking."
We reach her classroom and she stops, moving to stand in front of me. I hand her bag back to her and she pulls it onto her shoulder with a grateful smile. Then she just stands and watches me for a moment. She's still wearing my beanie and I don't mention it. I think she's forgotten, which is just fine by me.
"Thank you for warming me up, George." I nod, acknowledging her gratitude. "And if... if tomorrow, it's cold again..."
"Yes?"
Her cheeks burn red, "Where might I find you?"
She wants me to touch her again. "The rugby field." I can't get the words out quick enough.
Blowing out a breath, she nods once. "Okay then. Bye, George." She gives me a little wave then disappears, leaving me standing there, breathless and with a pounding heart.
~ Pink Flamingo <3
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