The October Malice ༄ (gxg)

fifteen, dark eyes

"Bon appétit!"

Claire walked through the doorway into the little dining room to the right of the kitchen where the young blonde sat patiently in one of the large wooden chairs that made her feel small. Her hands, which had been resting atop the table's surface and subtly tracing the darker lines smoothly engrained in the wood, moved politely to her lap as the older woman set a plate of steaming chicken parmesan with a side of fresh green beans in front of her.

The steam of the food reached right up towards her face, inciting a quiet growl from her stomach that had not been fed all day. The girl had spent the majority of the day nervously preparing for that evening, her mind having conjectured a million different possibilities of how the night would go.

But never could she have conjectured just how much romance was dancing in the air between them like a fairy sent straight from Cupid. It almost all seemed like a dream—walking through Claire Wilkes' door, the woman kindly taking her coat off her and letting her fingertips trail down her arm as she did so, leading her into her dining room since she was just about done cooking their dinner.

And never had Claire had such a beguiling look in her eye as she did that night. There was a fleeting yet incessant glint in her eye that beamed brightly at Opal every time the woman would look at her from across the table where she sat. As they ate the delicious food which was telling of Claire's wondrous culinary talent, they talked about random things. They discussed the material they had went over in class only briefly, deciding to roam away from the reminder that they were professor and student.

And all night, as they talked and laughed and discreetly grazed their legs against one another's under the small table, Opal did not think of Sam. She did not think about how the last time she had even talked to her was Friday, two days ago, when she had asked to see her. She did not think about her soft eyes and sweet charm. Her sight and mind were fully encompassed by the redhead with a dashing smile and sharp jawline that kept flexing mysteriously.

And after dinner, they sat on Claire's couch with a couple candles lit on the wooden coffee table before them, autumn scents such as apple and cinnamon filling the girl's nose and making her feel cozier than she ever had. Their conversation was never broken; it only continued from the dining table to the couch.

"And my mother told me she didn't know how I was to find a husband living in such a small town," Claire chuckled, pushing up the sleeves of her red and black flannel as she crossed her left ankle over her right knee, leaning casually against the couch seat right next to Opal's.

The blonde giggled, something she had not truly done in quite a while. She had heard all the close-minded notions such as the ones Claire were explaining that her mother so wholeheartedly believed. Her own mom had always been on the fence about that subject, wishing that Opal would have been "normal" but at the same time loving Sam, who was her best friend's daughter, too much to be mean about it. She usually just pretended they were friends and avoided using terms such as "girlfriend."

The thought Opal had so casually been mulling suddenly turned rotten in her stomach as she remembered where she was and who she was with, the sins she was so nonchalantly committing and were about to commit.

"Do you regret moving here?" Opal inquired, trying her hardest to focus on their conversation and not the reeling guilt flooding her brain and filling it up with its heavy, murky waters.

Cobalt eyes moved down to a pair of hands that fiddled with each other mindlessly, and Opal watched her very carefully. Her eyes lifted suddenly to the space in front of her, as if on the verge of a revelation, before pausing with something indescribable as they then turned to the younger girl beside her. Opal felt nervousness fill her from the woman's stare even though she had grown unusually comfortable with her so fast.