Seeing her like this, knowing that I could pull her in for a kiss so easily and she wouldn't back away—or recoil—the thought itself is so calming.
Sometimes, it's hard to comprehend the fact that we're allowed to touch each other, that we're enemies with benefits or whatever the term is—it doesn't really matter.
Her eyebrows are etched in concern. “Did you pass—”
“I got a B!” I cut her off, unable to hold back my excitement.
It happens swiftly; first her concerned face slowly morphs into a beaming smile and then before I know it, she's barrelled her way into me. Adaline is hugging me, her arms wrapped around my neck as she holds on tightly.
I feel as though I'm frozen in state and my usually slow-paced heartbeat is about to fall out of my chest. Her scent is entrancing me as is her warm embrace.
She feels warm and strong. Somehow, I can feel the vibrations of her pride through her body. It sounds insane, but I can feel how proud she is of me and it's absolutely addictive. I want so desperately to melt into her arms and hug her back, but before I can, she pulls away.
Her face reddens. “Shit, sorry.”
I've never seen her cheeks look so vividly rosy before, it's so endearing. The way her green eyes are darting everywhere, but to me.
I clear my throat. “N—no, it's fine.”
I liked it. I shouldn't, but I do.
She just scratches the back of her neck with her right hand and it makes me notice the flowers that she's holding in her left. I didn't even notice them when I first saw her; she must have been hiding them behind her back.
“Are those for me?” I ask gesturing to the flowers. I try my best not to sound too hopeful, but I can't help it.
She nods stiffly. “Well, you did say that you usually celebrate getting good grades and I know these are your favourite…so yeah.”
Adaline pushes out the flowers toward me rather abruptly and I take them, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. They're gardenias, a moderately sized bouquet.
She got me my favourite flowers?
“You just had this behind your back? What if I didn't pass?” I ask, baffled.
She shrugs. “I would have given them to someone who did.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and stifle a smile at her sarcasm. Then I roll my eyes too, but before I can respond, she speaks again. “I knew you were going to pass,” she murmurs softly.
I sigh deeply at her words, unable to fight off the wood-splintering, painfully wide smile that hits my face. She actually believed in me?
“How did you know gardenias are my favourite?” I ask, almost in a hushed whisper as I play with the soft petals.
The flowers are the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen and I think that's only because she's the one giving them to me.
Adaline looks at me as if my question is ridiculous. “Do you remember when we had that flower and leaf dissecting task in year eight? You threw a whole tantrum and refused to take part. Even back then, you were dramatic.”
I smile fondly, thinking back on the memory. She's right, even back then I was exceedingly dramatic. I even threatened to fire our old science teacher.
I did win in the end though, like I always do. The teacher swapped out gardenias for roses.
I remember how Adaline mocked me for it and then shredded up some gardenias and planted them in my locker. I was innately furious.
Ah. Good times.
“You remember that?” I breathe out the words in shock.
She furrows her eyebrows. “I don't have dementia, Juliette.”
It's so normal to her, so unbelievably normal that she remembers something like that, something that I myself almost forgot over the years.
