Hi guys! I could spend the next hour or so apologizing for the delays in posting this chapter, but there is really no excuse. Suffice to say that life has been kind of tough lately. But I am back! I will be updating my other story soon as well. I will make no promises as to how often I will be able to update, but as often as possible. I promise! Anyway, hope that you enjoy this chapter. Forgive any editing errors and whatnot. I am still getting back into the swing of things, plus I am updating from the Atlanta airport and this was written in a turbulent sky. Also, I haven't slept in like, 20 hours. So there's that.
Fiona swung lazily, her feet skimming across the ground as she glanced at Filip from the corner of her eye. It was Friday, and they had a long weekend. Three days without school. Not long ago, the thought of being free from school for three day would have thrilled her. A long weekend meant that she didn't have to worry about dressing appropriately, or fitting in with her classmates, or scoring well on tests. However, a long weekend also meant that she didn't have Filip to keep her company, either.
"Shouldn't you be studying, Fiona Rose?" he wondered from where he sat against the trunk of the shady tree, never looking up from his own notes. Ever since she had relented and told him her middle name, he couldn't stop himself from tossing it out once in a while, just to tease her.
"No, there is plenty of time for that," she insisted easily. "I think the real question that needs answering is why on earth are you studying? Your next test is a week away, and it is a beautiful afternoon!"
She was certainly right about that. The onset of October had turned the air more crisp, but the sun was there to guard them from getting too cold. Fiona glared at the textbook resting easily in his hand. It was a rare, perfect afternoon in Belfast, and it irked her that Filip was spending it studying.
"You see," he explained shrewdly. "This young lass I know very recently went on a rambling tirade, spouting off all of these rubbish things, telling me I 'was smart' and I 'could do better'. It wouldn't be right to make a liar out of her, now would it?"
"You think you're so funny," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him, though anybody could tell she wasn't serious.
"Aye, and so do you," he shot back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Besides, you are doing enough slacking off for the both of us."
"I'm not slacking off!" she told him, scandalized at his accusation. "I am swinging!"
"Same difference," he shrugged, licking his finger and using it to turn the page, as if he knew exactly how nuts that made her.
"Of course you would say that," she laughed. "You never swing. I suppose you're too cool?"
"No," he scoffed. "Just too old. Swinging is for kids."
"I am NOT a kid," she told him, the humor gone from her voice. He didn't notice.
"Could have fooled me," he told her, his eyes still scanning the book, making it easy for him to miss the hurt look on her face. There wasn't a girl alive who wished for the handsome boy she had a crush on to call her a kid. It was bad enough that her father, her teachers, and literally every other person in her life treated her like a little kid. She had hoped it would be different with him. His off-handed remark had wounded her, and he didn't even know it yet.
Like any strong, stubborn Irish woman, her hurt quickly hardened into anger. "Oh shut up, why don't you! At least I know how to have a bit of fun. At least I do more than mope around under a tree all afternoon. You probably don't even know how to swing, anyway. No wonder you won't do it!"
Fiona knew that she had taken it leaps and bounds too far, knew that he had only been kidding around with her, as was his nature. However, her temper got the best of her, as it occasionally did. She considered it a credit to her character that instead of hitting him, she pushed off the ground, hard and worked to propel herself through the air. Filip sat in stunned silence, mouth hanging open, for a full minute, trying to process what happened. He thought that they had just been bantering back and forth, just kidding around, but now she was clearly upset with him, and he wasn't sure what to do. After thinking hard on it for a moment, the best he could come up with was to just answer her back.
"I can so swing," he called out to her, tossing his textbook aside and hauling himself off the ground towards the swingset.
"No you can't," she brushed off his reply and continued, to push herself higher. She wasn't making much headway, but she would.
He sighed heavily, and that annoyed her, but before she could push herself any higher on the swing, he stepped out in front of it, catching the chains in his hand. She ran right into him with the momentum of the swing, but he didn't budge. He held the swing steadily until it stopped moving completely. When he looked at her, his face was serious.
"You mad at me?" he questioned, his words quiet, although there was no need for it. They were quite alone.
She shook her head, feeling instantly bad for snapping at him. She didn't take well to being treated as a little kid, but he had no way of knowing that. The way he looked at her sometimes, the way he treated her; somewhere deep down, she really doubted that he thought of her as a kid. She had just let her temper get the best of her, as it sometimes did.
"No," she offered him a small smile, noticing that he hadn't let go of the swing chains, even though it had stopped. "Sorry I yelled at you."
He shrugged and gave her one of his smiles, the kind that made her dizzy for a moment. She was suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. "A lot of people yell at me. I'm kind of used to it."
She rolled her eyes in an attempt to ease the nerves that had hit her at his close proximity, quickly falling back into the familiar teasing. "I don't blame them in the least. You're a bit infuriating. Now if you don't mind, I am trying to swing."
"No, see, I don't think you are," he refuted immediately. "See, I was trying to study, and you taunted me with claims that I can't swing, and now it's time for me to prove you how wrong you are. Hop off."
"Are you serious? You're going to try to swing?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"I'm not going to TRY to swing!" he insisted, exasperated. "I am GOING to swing. Higher than you ever have to boot."
He was venturing outside of his own comfort zone, and she was well aware of it. He had admitted once, after lots of questions and pleas, that he was not at all thrilled with heights. Of course, the swing set was far from high off the ground, but it sure felt high enough when you were moving through the air. Filip was taking a risk here. She glanced up at his hands, still clutching the chains only inches above her own. If he could take a risk, than the very least she could do was play along with it.
Biting her lip and meeting his eye again, she nodded. "Okay, Filip Telford. I'll let you try this fool's errand. But I want to know...when I win and prove once and for all that I am the champion of swinging, what do I win?"
"Win?" he quirked an eyebrow. "You're that confident that you can swing higher than me?"
"Of course I am!" she smiled up at him. "Now tell me, what am I going to win?"
He thought on it for a moment, before returning her smile. Filip shrugged. "Whatever you want."
"Whatever I want? Are you so sure YOU are going to win, that you would risk giving me whatever I want?" she asked, more than a little surprised at his response.
He nodded at her, letting go of one of the chains and motioning her off. For a moment, they stood toe to toe, staring each other down. It wasn't awkward, but the butterflies in Fiona's stomach were doing their best to make it seem that way.
"What about you?" she thought to ask, still swimming in confidence that she would win this challenge. "If by some miracle you manage to win, what will your prize be?"
She should have known she was in trouble the second she saw the grin stretch across his face. She had seen his smile a thousand times, under many different circumstances, but she had never seen anything like this. There was something primal, something almost cocky in his expression when he shrugged at her and leaned close, so close that she could feel his breath brush past her ear.
"My prize," he repeated softly. "Is simple. Just a kiss is all, Fiona Rose. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wager to win."
And with than, he situated himself on the swing and motioned for her to move out of the way, never losing the smirk that decorated his face. She moved mechanically, absolutely stunned. A kiss? He wanted a kiss? From her? She couldn't process even the idea of that, no matter how hard she tried. She had harbored a crush on him for as long as she had known him, but never for a minute did she believe that he saw her as anything other than a friend he killed afternoons with. Was it even possible that she had been wrong about that? Was there even a remote chance that he possibly felt something more as well?
She had been sitting in a haze, pondering that question for long enough that she nearly missed his swinging skills on display. When she was finally able to focus, she was shocked at how high he had gotten. Had she really been zoned out for that long? Judging by the look of him, possibly not. She shamelessly stared at him as he swung; at his long legs working in tandem with his shockingly muscled arms and back to push himself through the air, faster and higher than she could even dream of getting. She had always admired him and his looks, but she blushed to realize now exactly how beautiful he was. There was no other word to describe it.
She had only been truly watching him for seconds when she realized that she was going to lose the bet. He was going higher and higher with every upswing. Within moments, his toes were brushing the tree branches that he generally sat under. Her mouth fell open as he let out a whoop of victory, like a conquering hero. She had never swung that high, and they both knew it. He had won.
He began to slow the swing as a swell of nerves mixed with a healthy dose of excitement washed over Fiona. He had won, and he had declared his prize to be a kiss. When he got off of that swing, he was going to expect her to pay up, and while she definitely wanted to kiss him and then some, she had no idea how to even begin to deal with the reality that it was about to happen. She wondered for just a brief moment if he was even a little bit nervous.
He hopped off the swung once it had slowed enough and approached her with what can only be described as a genuine swagger. Nervous was definitely not a word anybody in their right mind would use to describe him at the moment.
"So," he proclaimed, his accent coming across particularly strong. His voice had a way of getting to her, but in light of what was on the table, she barely registered it. "Looks like I win."
She swallowed heavily. "Looks like."
He was standing right in front of her, smile plastered across his face, and Fiona found that she was having a hard time breathing. She knew what he was after, and she was more than willing to give it to him, but if she couldn't even breath correctly, how on earth was she ever going to manage kissing him?
"Everything okay, Fiona Rose?" he asked, still cocky, but with genuine concern edging in.
"No," she answered before thinking. "I mean, yes. I mean…I just…I don't usually lose I guess."
"Is that it?" he prodded, laying one hand gently on her shoulder. She could feel his warmth, and never failed to be surprised by how kind and easy he could be. He was good, straight down to his core, and no amount of bravado could shake the fact that she couldn't be anything but truthful with her.
She shook her head and sighed. "No. I'm just…nervous."
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes calculating, as if trying to figure out the mysteries of the world. She gazed back at him, not willing to break eye contact, not for anything. She had no idea how long they stared each other down, but along the way, he lost the smirk and his eyes turned serious. For the second time in less than an hour she was stricken by just how beautiful he was. Shockingly, stunningly gorgeous.
Out of nowhere, the smile reappeared on his face, softer this time, but still there. He leaned close to her and her lungs ceased to work, but he barely allowed his lips to brush against her cheek before he pulled back.
"Wh-what?" was all she managed to stammer.
"Relax Larkin," he told her easily, before leaning close to her again and making her do anything but relax. "When I kiss you, Fiona Rose, it's not going to be because I won a bet."
Her jaw dropped open again, and she wondered if she had any control over it anymore. She had been barely breathing, walking around on eggshells since he first mentioned the word kiss, and now here he was saying that he wasn't going to do it? Right then, she decided that she did, in fact, have control of her own jaw. Her hands rose before she had time to second guess herself, and she clutched his shirt in her fists and rose to her toes, pressing her lips against his with as much finesse as she could manage.
Fiona didn't have much experience with kissing. It was clumsy and rough, all the while surprisingly gentle. His hands rested on her hips and he tasted like everything good in the world and she couldn't recall a time when she had been happier. It was perfect.
When they broke apart, it was only because they both needed air. Neither of them was willing to move far from the other, so they stayed as they were, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily.
"Wow," she murmured.
He cracked a grin again. "I would say wow covers it. Anything else you want to bet on Fiona Rose?"