XIV
Pre-Author's Note: I could give you a summary of this chapter, but that would be telling... Anyway, so someone found a mistake in my story! Aaah! Good job, Emma (not you, fellow Portrait editor and sender of evil greeting cards)! You're right, they did repaint the stupid hall. ::pouts:: Oh well, I like it better blue.
Disclaimer: L.M. Montgomery owns all the good stuff, I own the plot complications and the still blue hall (since in her books it's not still blue--ha, ha).
The musicians commenced playing the music to the last dance, a slow, sweet ballad. Anne looked over her shoulder to see Gilbert approaching. She turned to face him with a glare, her feelings still smarting from the dance card barb he had flung at her earlier, however untrue it may have been. A deliberate, sarcastic smile spread across his face upon noting her inner rage. "Shall I have this dance?" he asked mockingly. Anne acquiesced, glowering, as he took one of her hands and wrapped his other arm around her back.
Anne almost swooned under Gilbert's touch, but then took a deep breath and tried not to notice the powerful feelings of passion that mere contact with him seemed to stimulate in her. Gilbert, too, had to close his eyes a moment as she extended *her* other arm across his back, making him shudder with thrills. Their bodies, however, stayed as far apart as possible as they began to awkwardly twirl around the floor with the other couples.
Anne broke the silence. She glanced at his neck, raising her eyebrows, and said sardonically, "I *do* love your pink bow tie, Gilbert. Why, it exactly matches your fence? Is it your new color?" He scowled at her. The pink fence was a rather sore point with him (not to say anything about the tie); he had given it any number of coats of paint, and yet the red still showed through.
"Actually," he began, "I wore this tie to match Josie's especially lovely and fashionable pink dress. Then, seeing her skeptical look, he added cuttingly, "Perhaps you're just jealous, because I'm wearing a color that *you* can never wear."
Inside, Anne was fuming, but she tried to maintain a calm exterior. Perceiving that other people were starting to eavesdrop, she dropped her tone and inched closer to Gilbert. "Did you see Josie's *fashionable* new hat at church yesterday, Gilbert? It looked as if a bird had laid her eggs, and left her nest, along with all her feathers, on it."
Gilbert almost snickered. In fact, he had spotted Josie's hat at church, and Anne's bird comparison was particularly fitting. But he couldn't let Anne know that. Instead, he examined her dress. She looked radiant in it, like a beam of sunlight, especially with her shining eyes and creamy complexion. That, however, would in no way serve as a proper insult. "I really don't think yellow's your color, Anne," he finally said. "It tends to make the color orange, look, I don't know, *oranger*."
"Is that even a word?" she asked with a semblance of scorn. But her cheeks reddened, and she bit her lip in fury. "You know, I really wish I had a slate right now, to crack over your head."
"You'd probably have to go sit in the corner again," Gilbert jeered quietly, drawing still closer to her. Anne pale caused his heart to flutter enough; Anne with rosy cheeks was almost too much for him to resist.
Anne brushed this off with disdain. "It would be worth it, the same way it was then."
"Would it, Carrots?"
Anne gave an exasperated sigh, and looked down. She abruptly realized that with each affront, she and Gilbert had been gradually moving toward each other, and now their bodies were almost pressed together. Her heart began to beat rapidly.
She let go of his hand for a moment, plucked one of the flowers out of her hair, and gave it to him, a dangerously charming smile upon her face. "Here, Gilbert, you can keep this, it's nice and fresh and new. It can replace the other one I heard you kept so long."
Gilbert gazed into her eyes searchingly. How on earth could she know about that? Oh, confound David; he was going to kill him. He took the flower from Anne with his free hand, dropped it, and deliberately stepped on it, subsequently taking Anne's hand and twirling her as if nothing had happened.
Anne gave a mock sob. "Oh, I'm so crushed!" she exclaimed, feigning dejection. She no longer cared about what she said to him. All that occurred previously, included at the church, must have been some sort of accident or something. Clearly Gilbert Blythe didn't love her-probably never had, either. Well, at least she would leave with her pride (partly) intact.
Giving her a fierce look, Gilbert drew Anne still closer to him. "You know, I wish I had left you to drown that day on Barry's Pond," he hissed. A week that had started out rather promising, what with the strangely affecting song at church, had rapidly declined. He held out no more hope that Anne could have any feelings for him. Stephan Irving had been way off. She didn't even seem distressed by all his insults.
Anne bit her lip again and fought back tears. How had this become so awful? She and Gilbert had at least used to be friends. Now he was indifferent to all that she said to him. "I wish you *had* left me in the Lake of Shining Waters, then at least I wouldn't be stuck here dancing with you," she shot back, rallying. But a single tear began to roll down her cheek. She couldn't exactly let go of Gilbert and wipe it away, so she just hoped he wouldn't notice.
A glint of light caught something glistening on Anne's cheek; Gilbert quickly detected it and almost couldn't contain his astonishment. Was-was that a tear?
He fixed his eyes upon hers. He released her hand again, but this time brought his own to her cheek, brushing the tear away with his fingers in a sudden show of tenderness. Anne trembled as his touch incited pleasant sensations throughout her body. His fingers lingered on her face even after the disappearance of the tear, softly stroking her cheek. Yet again she was made aware of their proximity, the rapid pounding of her heart, and the quickness of her breath. The level of tension between them was the highest yet. She could feel his heart beating in his chest, he was pressed so closely against her.
Gilbert gazed into her eyes, which seemed in a state of transition from green to grey, and lacked, perhaps for the first time in years, the veil which had always hidden her true feelings. He tilted his face closer to hers and caressed her cheek one last time before leaning in to kiss her. All the repressed feelings of desire seemed to implode within him. He had been waiting for this moment for…well, much too long.
Anne closed her eyes as their lips met. It was as if fireworks were bursting inside her. The kiss lasted an eternity, yet ended all too soon.
The realization suddenly dawned upon them that the music had ceased. They drew slightly apart, eyes still glued on each other's, trapped in the moment. Neither spoke.
Post Author's Note: ::gasps:: A cliffhanger! (kind of) Oh no! Well, this is my first one, so don't get too angry. :) I think I confused some people with my mention of both "The Story Girl" and Louisa May Alcott's "Rose in Bloom" in my last Author's Note. Sorry. I'm not going to write a Louisa May Alcott fic (actually, that would be kind of cool--no ::hits self on head:: stick to one purpose at a time, Laurie!) But what I wanted to know (and what some of you responded to, thanks!) was what your opinion would be if I wrote a story about a romance between Beverly and Sara Stanley (not Ray!) from L.M. Montgomery's "The Story Girl"? (Even though they're cousins.) If you haven't read "The Story Girl", do, I urge you, because it's excellent. You might recognize a few of the characters from the show "Avonlea" that was on CBC and the Disney channel awhile ago (although "The Story Girl" isn't set in Avonlea). By the way (and this is almost completely unrelated, but oh well), are any stations showing reruns of "Avonlea"? That was one of my favorite TV shows a couple years ago. Please review and tell me what you think!
Pre-Author's Note: I could give you a summary of this chapter, but that would be telling... Anyway, so someone found a mistake in my story! Aaah! Good job, Emma (not you, fellow Portrait editor and sender of evil greeting cards)! You're right, they did repaint the stupid hall. ::pouts:: Oh well, I like it better blue.
Disclaimer: L.M. Montgomery owns all the good stuff, I own the plot complications and the still blue hall (since in her books it's not still blue--ha, ha).
The musicians commenced playing the music to the last dance, a slow, sweet ballad. Anne looked over her shoulder to see Gilbert approaching. She turned to face him with a glare, her feelings still smarting from the dance card barb he had flung at her earlier, however untrue it may have been. A deliberate, sarcastic smile spread across his face upon noting her inner rage. "Shall I have this dance?" he asked mockingly. Anne acquiesced, glowering, as he took one of her hands and wrapped his other arm around her back.
Anne almost swooned under Gilbert's touch, but then took a deep breath and tried not to notice the powerful feelings of passion that mere contact with him seemed to stimulate in her. Gilbert, too, had to close his eyes a moment as she extended *her* other arm across his back, making him shudder with thrills. Their bodies, however, stayed as far apart as possible as they began to awkwardly twirl around the floor with the other couples.
Anne broke the silence. She glanced at his neck, raising her eyebrows, and said sardonically, "I *do* love your pink bow tie, Gilbert. Why, it exactly matches your fence? Is it your new color?" He scowled at her. The pink fence was a rather sore point with him (not to say anything about the tie); he had given it any number of coats of paint, and yet the red still showed through.
"Actually," he began, "I wore this tie to match Josie's especially lovely and fashionable pink dress. Then, seeing her skeptical look, he added cuttingly, "Perhaps you're just jealous, because I'm wearing a color that *you* can never wear."
Inside, Anne was fuming, but she tried to maintain a calm exterior. Perceiving that other people were starting to eavesdrop, she dropped her tone and inched closer to Gilbert. "Did you see Josie's *fashionable* new hat at church yesterday, Gilbert? It looked as if a bird had laid her eggs, and left her nest, along with all her feathers, on it."
Gilbert almost snickered. In fact, he had spotted Josie's hat at church, and Anne's bird comparison was particularly fitting. But he couldn't let Anne know that. Instead, he examined her dress. She looked radiant in it, like a beam of sunlight, especially with her shining eyes and creamy complexion. That, however, would in no way serve as a proper insult. "I really don't think yellow's your color, Anne," he finally said. "It tends to make the color orange, look, I don't know, *oranger*."
"Is that even a word?" she asked with a semblance of scorn. But her cheeks reddened, and she bit her lip in fury. "You know, I really wish I had a slate right now, to crack over your head."
"You'd probably have to go sit in the corner again," Gilbert jeered quietly, drawing still closer to her. Anne pale caused his heart to flutter enough; Anne with rosy cheeks was almost too much for him to resist.
Anne brushed this off with disdain. "It would be worth it, the same way it was then."
"Would it, Carrots?"
Anne gave an exasperated sigh, and looked down. She abruptly realized that with each affront, she and Gilbert had been gradually moving toward each other, and now their bodies were almost pressed together. Her heart began to beat rapidly.
She let go of his hand for a moment, plucked one of the flowers out of her hair, and gave it to him, a dangerously charming smile upon her face. "Here, Gilbert, you can keep this, it's nice and fresh and new. It can replace the other one I heard you kept so long."
Gilbert gazed into her eyes searchingly. How on earth could she know about that? Oh, confound David; he was going to kill him. He took the flower from Anne with his free hand, dropped it, and deliberately stepped on it, subsequently taking Anne's hand and twirling her as if nothing had happened.
Anne gave a mock sob. "Oh, I'm so crushed!" she exclaimed, feigning dejection. She no longer cared about what she said to him. All that occurred previously, included at the church, must have been some sort of accident or something. Clearly Gilbert Blythe didn't love her-probably never had, either. Well, at least she would leave with her pride (partly) intact.
Giving her a fierce look, Gilbert drew Anne still closer to him. "You know, I wish I had left you to drown that day on Barry's Pond," he hissed. A week that had started out rather promising, what with the strangely affecting song at church, had rapidly declined. He held out no more hope that Anne could have any feelings for him. Stephan Irving had been way off. She didn't even seem distressed by all his insults.
Anne bit her lip again and fought back tears. How had this become so awful? She and Gilbert had at least used to be friends. Now he was indifferent to all that she said to him. "I wish you *had* left me in the Lake of Shining Waters, then at least I wouldn't be stuck here dancing with you," she shot back, rallying. But a single tear began to roll down her cheek. She couldn't exactly let go of Gilbert and wipe it away, so she just hoped he wouldn't notice.
A glint of light caught something glistening on Anne's cheek; Gilbert quickly detected it and almost couldn't contain his astonishment. Was-was that a tear?
He fixed his eyes upon hers. He released her hand again, but this time brought his own to her cheek, brushing the tear away with his fingers in a sudden show of tenderness. Anne trembled as his touch incited pleasant sensations throughout her body. His fingers lingered on her face even after the disappearance of the tear, softly stroking her cheek. Yet again she was made aware of their proximity, the rapid pounding of her heart, and the quickness of her breath. The level of tension between them was the highest yet. She could feel his heart beating in his chest, he was pressed so closely against her.
Gilbert gazed into her eyes, which seemed in a state of transition from green to grey, and lacked, perhaps for the first time in years, the veil which had always hidden her true feelings. He tilted his face closer to hers and caressed her cheek one last time before leaning in to kiss her. All the repressed feelings of desire seemed to implode within him. He had been waiting for this moment for…well, much too long.
Anne closed her eyes as their lips met. It was as if fireworks were bursting inside her. The kiss lasted an eternity, yet ended all too soon.
The realization suddenly dawned upon them that the music had ceased. They drew slightly apart, eyes still glued on each other's, trapped in the moment. Neither spoke.
Post Author's Note: ::gasps:: A cliffhanger! (kind of) Oh no! Well, this is my first one, so don't get too angry. :) I think I confused some people with my mention of both "The Story Girl" and Louisa May Alcott's "Rose in Bloom" in my last Author's Note. Sorry. I'm not going to write a Louisa May Alcott fic (actually, that would be kind of cool--no ::hits self on head:: stick to one purpose at a time, Laurie!) But what I wanted to know (and what some of you responded to, thanks!) was what your opinion would be if I wrote a story about a romance between Beverly and Sara Stanley (not Ray!) from L.M. Montgomery's "The Story Girl"? (Even though they're cousins.) If you haven't read "The Story Girl", do, I urge you, because it's excellent. You might recognize a few of the characters from the show "Avonlea" that was on CBC and the Disney channel awhile ago (although "The Story Girl" isn't set in Avonlea). By the way (and this is almost completely unrelated, but oh well), are any stations showing reruns of "Avonlea"? That was one of my favorite TV shows a couple years ago. Please review and tell me what you think!