A/N: This is a fluffy, silly, little one-shot in which I may or may not bore you with an English lesson.

"What are you reading there? You seem completely absorbed!"

Emily looked up from her book and looked at Paige with eyes that seemed a little lost, a little distant, but also thoroughly astonished – like she had just woken up from a dream.

"Well, what are YOU reading there? You seem like you're fighting sleep!" Her rebuttal was lame and Emily knew it. It was all she could think of right now, though, for her mind was still very much absorbed in her reading.

"That's because I am fighting sleep. I'm reading for my biology class and I told you so before. Seriously, girl, is it weed in literary form that you're reading there? You're such an airhead when you're around that weird little book."

"Byron."

"What?"

"Lord Byron. I'm reading the collected works of Lord Byron."

"And who is that?"

"A great writer. I'm trying to widen my knowledge of classic English literature."

"So you're reading something for English lit and it's making you space out?"

"No, it's not for English lit. Well, not directly. My English lit teacher motivated me to read it."

"Did he tell you it was gonna make you feel like weed makes you feel?"

"No, he didn't, smart-ass. And it doesn't make me feel like weed makes me feel … it feels more like an evening spent drinking fine wine."

"You've never even had wine that didn't come from a box and was as sweet as soda."

"Oh shut up, you. It's what I imagine drinking fine wine would feel like. Anyway, my English lit teacher recently came up with this really great motivation for us to dive into classic literature."

"Enlighten me."

"He told us that if we read enough classic literature we were bound to find some really, really great pick-up lines. And that anyone who appreciates pick-up lines that are borrowed from great literature is someone who is definitely worth picking up."

"And, hast thou found any great pick-up lines in the works of your English lord?"

"He's actually pretty mild on the whole thou-business … But no, I haven't."

"Is that why you're reading so feverishly? Because you're still looking for pick-up lines? And should I be offended that you're searching for pick-up lines while you're in the same bed as I am?"

"Who says that I won't use my pick-up lines on you?"

"That would be perfectly dorky of you." Paige smiled, took Emily's hand that had been resting loosely on her shoulder and intertwined their fingers.

"It's just uh, that …" Emily had to admit that the feeling of Paige's fingers brushing against her own distracted her from her original train of thought. "I've been going through a few classical authors and Lord Bryon – I really like the way he writes."

"What did he write? Any famous novels I should now feel guilty now about not knowing?"

"No, he didn't write novels. He was a poet, he wrote poems and plays."

"Ugh."

"Don't judge." Emily gave Paige a playful shove. "There's actually … this poem. I read and just … it reminded me of you. Or of you and me, I don't know."

"Well, now I'm curious. Can you show me? Or, even better, read it to me!"

Emily blushed. She had totally set herself up for this. Although she was well aware that reciting poems was not one of her out-standing strengths, she flipped through the pages of her book until she happened upon the poem in question again. Paige looked at her, all expectant and huge innocent eyes. Emily took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

"This poem, by Lord Byron, is called 'She Walks In Beauty'.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and in her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which haven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in even raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent."

Paige's eyes were fixed on Emily's for the whole recitation of the poem. It made Emily grow more nervous and more reassured at the same time. More reassured in her poem reciting-skills and more nervous about having gone a bit overboard by associating Paige with romantic poems. While Paige was looking at Emily in the way that only Paige could look at her, though, Emily had not the heart to stop speaking. She would worry about being the most horribly cliché sap in the history of high school-romances later.

"That really was beautiful. At least you made it sound beautiful. When you recite poems, they sound like music to my ears." Paige's voice was very throaty and sounded on the verge on tears. Emily understood perfectly – poems always made her get very emotional, too, even if they were not romantic or anything like that. It was just an effect poems had on her; she attributed it to the fact that to her, poems were the music of literature. The thought once again made her think of herself as a sap. She was so cheesy and she wanted to mentally slap herself.

"That Lord Byron really had a way with words. They just have so much melody to themselves, it's almost as if you were floating on the text. That's why reading his works made me seem so aloof."

"That's pretty understandable, now that I myself have been subjected to it. But, you know, I've never really been good in English lit and analysis of poems certainly isn't my strength. Would you mind pointing out to me what about this poem makes you think of me?"

Emily had dreaded this. Somehow, she had hoped that Paige would be impressed by the poem alone and that she would let Emily's earlier remark about this poem reminding her of Paige slide. If reciting classic romantic literature had not yet accomplished the task of making her appear to be the cheesiest person ever, analysing it to be about her girlfriend would certainly do that job.

"Emily?" Paige gave Emily's hand, which was still intertwined with Paige's, a little squeeze.

A basic structure of the poem appeared in front of Emily's inner eye, and the sections that reminded her of Paige, and the ones that reminded her of her relationship to Paige clearly stood out. The English lit classes certainly seemed to have had an effect on her and she made a mental note to thank her teacher later. Emily cleared her throat, ready to take apart the poem for Paige.

"What did you think was the basic content of the poem?"

"Lord Byron fancies a lady."

Emily snorted. Of course, Paige was right. That certainly was the basic premise of the poem but the way she put it was so blunt and such a perfect contrast to the flattering, indirect imagery of the poem.

"Yes, he does. Lord Byron fancied a lot of ladies in his lifetime. But, what is it about this lady that makes him fancy her?"

"Uh … I dunno. Something about ravens and stars … ?"

Obviously, Paige had little chance to correctly analyse the poem, seeing as she had only heard it once and had yet to see in its written form. Emily decided to stop playing Paige's English teacher and just explain her course of reasoning to Paige.

"One central point that the poem revolves around is that the lady, whom Lord Byron fancies, is a woman of opposites, of contrasts. There is light and dark in her, and Lord Byron directs the reader's attention to how these opposites meet in this lady. She is light and dark, both at the same time, and that is what makes her so interesting."

"You think I'm light and dark?"

"There are two interpretations of this whole light-dark business. The first one is the more literal one, in which it is presumed that the woman had alabaster skin with dark hair and eyes. That certainly applies to you. But there is also a more figurative one, which says that the woman combines both dark and light characteristics in her. I can also apply that one to you. I mean, this whole story with Ali in your past, that's certainly dark. And not to blame your or anything, but the beginning of our story together is not exactly happy, either. There you have the dark. But I know you, I know you as a person, I know who you are and what moves you – which is why I know that your heart is good. You are a good person, although you may not always see that. But you are. There's the light."

"That's very sweet and I can see your point. And I also want you to know that I am so sorry that I tried to drown you. You have no idea how I regret, how many nightmares it causes me, how …"

Emily shushed Paige by laying a finger softly onto Paige's lips.

"I know you are. You have told me before, and I told you that I have forgiven you. I am not done with this analysis, though. Gotta do something for your English grade, honey."

"Low blow, really low blow! It's just a C!"

"It could be a B or an A, though, so listen up."

Paige gave Emily a very dramatic pout but then placed a light peck upon the back of Emily's hand. Emily took that as permission for her to continue the English lesson.

"Then there's the theme of night. The poem starts with an enjambement about the woman being in the night, almost as if she was hard to find. And remember, I found you at night. Not only once, when I searched you out on 'that' night. But twice, if you'll remember that I also searched you out at night when I finally realised what my coming to you when I was drugged actually meant. It was at night that we shared the kiss that began this relationship. The theme of night runs strong with us, and to me, it signifies that you were hard to find for me, that I had to search for, but that eventually you were what showed me the stars in a dark night sky."

Paige let go of Emily's hand. She crawled over the bed until she was besides Emily, resting against the head piece of Emily's bed. Once there, she took Emily's hand again and kissed Emily very lightly on the cheek.

"You know, I could listen to you like this all day long. It's at the same time really smart, really intelligent and very moving. Romantic, maybe. Anyway, it makes me feel butterflies. If only all my English lessons were like this, I'd ace them all. This is really amazing."

Emily was really relieved that Paige did not find her personal analysis of Byron's poem sappy or boring. In fact, she was very proud of herself for pleasing Paige so with this analysis. Although she had already brought forth her main points, she continued, just for Paige's sake.

"At two points in the poem, Byron mentions a certain light in which the woman appears. A tender light and tints that glow. This reminds of a really specific thing, and I guess it's irrelevant but it means a lot to me. When I approached you that night in your backyard, the night in which I kissed you. It reminds me of that."

"That could never be irrelevant. Don't be stupid. Why does it remind you of that?"

"Because of the pool. Your backyard was dark, safe for the light of your pool. You were illuminated solely in the light of your pool. All the colours cast upon the scene in which we kissed were by the pool. Seeing as we met on the swim team, that's really heavy in metaphorical potential. And there's a line in the poem, about these things telling of days spent in goodness. The days I spend with you are spent in goodness."

"I am not sure whether to be attracted to you because you're so smart or because you're so sappy. Regardless, I am very much in love with you right now."

Emily tried to smile as wide as Paige did. She was so glad that she had even brought up this poem, despite all of the doubt that she had had in her mind about it.

"Now, I will show you the more practical aspects of interpretation. Take the first line of the last stanza." Emily handed Paige her Lord Byron book. "Now, please read it to me."

Paige looked at Emily in confusion but started to read once Emily had given her a reassuring smile.

"And on that cheek …" Emily cupped Paige's cheek with both her hands and firmly kissed it. Once her lips had parted from Paige's skin, she drew in a heavy breath – she had not imagined herself to get this passionate over a 19th century poem.

"… and o'er that brow …" Paige continued reading with a shaky voice. This time, Emily kissed Paige's forehead. She had not really thought of how continue after this, for this was the last place to kiss described in the poem.

She did not need to think further, though, for Paige let the Byron book fall to the ground with a loud thud. Her eyes were glassy as she put her arms around Emily's neck and drew her in closer.

"Oh dear God, I love classic literature".

A/N: Following quite soon (hopefully wihtin this week) will follow the smutty sequal to this sappy fluff - featuring Paige's rebuttal with another famous author of classic English literature. Do not fret, though, for there will be no analysis of poems or anything. In fact, there will be much less talking altogether ;D

Thank you for reading! :)