Ollas made the grave error of voicing some of those fears aloud, prompting Gransen to forcibly eject him from their room with a meaningful, “A gentleman is always prepared.”
Which Ollas was not, and a trip to the university’s student-run mercantile had given him a whole host of new things to agonize over.
What kind of contraceptive potion to acquire? One made by a Magister level, to be sure, but flavor? They’d been living together—sort of—for over a month now, but Ollas promptly forgot everything about what Eunny seemed to like. The variety pack seemed a safe choice, but multiple potions, gods, as if showing up the same day wasn’t forward enough. Arriving at her door looking like he was set for a very good time… Ollas wouldn’t blame her if she slammed it in his face instead.
He’d started to put the quartet of slim bottles back on the shelf, but then the thought of how Eunny had laughed flickered through his head. Her wicked glee at his… enthusiasm. He wanted it again. Wanted to be the one who brought her such delight, always.
The thought of tasting honey or three different types of fruit and berries on her lips was a motivator, too. The kind that had him pulling the fronts of his cloak close so he didn’t risk embarrassment in the student store.
It had only been a couple of hours since Eunny had left. Far too soon to make an appearance. Ollas returned to the Grove, but when he went to open his door, it hardly budged.
“What the—?” Ollas tried again. A sliver of light appeared as the door opened a crack, thudding against something solid. “Granse? What happened to?—”
“Olly, beloved, please,” Gransen’s voice floated through the door. “Do not be a fool.”
Muttering under his breath, Ollas put his shoulder against the wood and pushed. He didn’t gain much, just enough to see that Gransen had piled a bunch of their shit on the other side, before the gremlin shoved back and the door closed once more.
“Gransen!”
Stranded out in the corridor, Ollas felt a prickle of concern as a few of the other residents went by. The bottle-filled sack hanging from his arm clinked in the tell-tale way that such glass bottles did, drawing more than one glance his way as Ollas tried to force the door in a nonchalant manner.
“Everything all right, Nevin?” his next-door neighbor asked.
“Yea, it’s great, everything’s great. Just Granse’s idea of a joke, you know how?—”
“If your dick’s not wet, you’re not?—”
Godsdamn motherfucking… “I’m going, you bastard,” Ollas hissed.
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he ducked out, stuffing the bag into his cloak pocket.
The walk to Belle Complex had never felt so long in Ollas’s life. If he’d been in a more rational state of mind, he’d recognize that it only took around fifteen minutes because it took all his self-control not to run the distance. Or turn around and slink back home, except that Gransen had removed that as an option.
Anticipation had him by the throat. By turns, it morphed between excitement and waves of insecurity. Ollas knew he made an amusing sight, shifting between an assured, steady pace and staggering nearly to a halt as indecision turned his boots to lead.
He forced himself on until, somehow, he was standing outside Eunny’s door. A stroke of luck, his finding it in the first place, since he’d only realized once arriving at Belle that she hadn’t given him a unit number. But he’d seen the assortment of teapots and cups she loved arranged on a windowsill, their mishmash of colors bright against the drawn curtains.
Taking a deep, steadying breath that did nothing for his nerves, Ollas knocked on the door.
The shuffling of feet and muted thump of a crate and flesh and the wall all making contact drifted through the wood to reach Ollas’s ears. As did the grumbled curse that followed. He was covering a smile behind his hand when Eunny appeared in the doorway, standing on one leg as she rubbed her foot.
Her wince vanished at the sight of him, replaced by a mischievous grin. “Hello, stranger.”
“Is it too soon?” he asked, his voice wobbling.
Slowly, Eunny’s eyebrows went up, her grin sliding into a smirk.
“We didn’t, um… I can always come back later,” he said, voice tapering off.
She was dressed simply in the long yellow tunic vest she favored worn over a plain linen skirt. In the room beyond, Ollas glimpsed her things scattered about in a manner that suggested she’d abandoned unpacking midway through the process. Her tea apparatus was scattered across a countertop, next to the water propagation glasses with a few cuttings from the delegation plants. Otherwise, the room was mild chaos.
Stepping closer, Eunny reclaimed his full attention as her hand wrapped around the front of his shirt. She pulled him down to kiss him, tongue darting out to tease his lips. His mouth moved of its own volition, reaching, but she drew back. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, voice going husky. “You were saying something about leaving?”
“Not anymore.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Eunny backed up a step, then another, head tilting to the side in silent question. Ollas followed, kicking the door shut behind him. His boots joined hers beside the door. The cloak went next, Ollas pausing long enough to remove the plain mercantile bag.
