Crossed Hearts | h.s

One

In the tall grass of the meadow sat a young girl, her golden ringlets that framed her chubby face glistening in the sunlight of the early morning. She hummed along to the tune of the birds that carried throughout the air, echoing in the vastness of the picturesque space. As she strung together a crown of wildflowers, an abrupt noise caused her head to snap to the left. Under the willow tree, her governess sat against the trunk with her mouth hanging open. It was the coarseness of a snore that had startled Geneva, but she giggled as she watched her governess sleep.

The eight-year-old princess quietly stood to her feet, and tip-toed backward until she had put a good distance between herself and the governess. When she decided she was far enough away, she broke into a sprint. With her slippers colliding against the warm earth, the wind tickling her cheeks and swirling her untamed curls around her face, she held her arms out as if she were a bird flying through the air, the crown hanging on her fingertips. But she was running fast, and the wind was strong against her body. With ease, a gust of air took hold of the crown of flowers, and carried it off behind the girl.

Noticing the absence of her creation, Geneva came to a halt. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, and she placed her hands on her hips as she looked around herself for the crown. To no avail, it was lost.

Or so she thought.

Releasing a heavy sigh, she folded her arms over her chest, and began to walk away, heading toward a nearby stream. As she came upon the bank of the rippling water, she heard the clearing of a throat behind her over the trickling of the water. Expecting a harsh scolding from her governess, Geneva slowly and hesitantly turned around, but, to her surprise, she was met with a boy.

His hair was tousled and as curly as her own, but the color of a chestnut rather than the rays of the sun. He held out his hand, showing the crown that Geneva had dropped, and his lips quirked into a smile, causing his dimples to pop.

"Thank you," Geneva said softly, taking the crown from his grasp. She examined it in her hands, fixing the twisted stems of the yellow flowers. When she looked back up into the boy's deep green eyes, she noticed how they glistened in the sun, like the fresh morning dew on grass. Without thought, she smiled at him.

He grew flustered at her small smile, his cheeks flushing and his eyes immediately shifting to the side. Beginning to feel out of place, he turned to leave, but Geneva quickly stepped in front of him. He furrowed his brows, and stepped to the other side, but she only copied his actions. Her smile grew wider, and so did his, as they simultaneously decided that it had turned into a game.

Geneva and the boy chased each other through the field, zig-zagging and running in circles until Geneva suddenly lost her footing at the bank of the stream. Her body wobbled back and forth until she tipped over, landing on her backside in the shallow water. What was once a smile on her lips had disappeared, and was replaced by a straight line.

The boy, concerned, hurried over and stood above her, his hand extended to help her to her feet. Geneva gently placed her hand in his, their eyes connecting in a dreamy stare. Before he pulled her up, Geneva yanked hard, sending the boy falling down next to her. The two children lay in the bank of the stream, soaked as the chilly water surrounded their bodies and seeped through their clothing. They shared a look of amusement and broke out into a fit of laughter, each of them smiling wide and shining with joy.

"Your highness!"

Geneva jumped at the shrill voice of her governess, and felt her stomach drop to her feet with fear—she was in for it.

"Highness?" the boy spoke for the first time, his eyes wide with curiosity.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, and before he could make another sound, she took the flower crown and placed it atop his head. She flashed a smile, and took off running in the direction from which they came. Over the stream, through the field, back to the meadow. She skidded to a halt before she collided with her governess.