Something's changed about Mr. Tumnus. Or, rather, something's changed about me, because I can't really see the change in him, I can just feel it, tingling inside me. It didn't come all at once, but sort of snuck up on me, creeped into me, and whispered into my ear. Now it screams.
And I remember the first time I realized it. We have tea nearly every week, always on Tuesdays, though sometimes I have to reschedule or even cancel, but only when doing so is absolutely unavoidable. When I was younger we had it in the palace because I loved being the hostess and playing princess- even though I was a real queen. But after a few years, I wanted to be able to get away every once in a while and forget I was any kind of royalty, so we began having tea at his house, where we'd had it so many years ago.
I loved it there. It was so comfortable and familiar, and sometimes Mr. Tumnus would play the pipes for me as I sipped from my steaming cup. He always made fun of me for liking it with so much sugar. "You have me convinced you don't like the tea at all! I ought to just make us sugar water for now on." And he'd smile his warm, friendly smile as I laughed into my teacup. He never laughed out loud. The closest he ever came to it was a tight-lipped smile that looked as if it were trapping his chuckle inside, his eyes glittering all the while. I think a few times I was able to get a short, gasp-like laugh out of him, but nothing more. He was always so quiet.
Every Tuesday he would come to the palace and escort me to his home. I told him that this was entirely unnecessary and that I could make the journey on my own quite well, but he insisted that he accompany me. So he would take me, always on horseback because the walk was much too far, and we would never take talking horses because we liked to be alone. Sometimes we would talk about the weather or my brothers and sister or how we'd been since we'd seen each other last, but mostly we'd just go in silence. I think you know you're really comfortable with someone when you can say nothing at all and just be with him. Once we arrived, he would always help me off my horse, and he knew I needed no help, but he simply could not stop being gentlemanly. And he'd always open the front door for me, letting me inside before he even placed a hoof through the threshold.
This is when it happened. Once, instead of standing by and allowing me to talk through, he guided me in with his hand, ever so slightly brushing his fingertips against the small of my back. It sent a thrill up my spine, across my arms and down the back of my legs, and I went weak in the knees for a fraction of a second. I felt myself go red in the face as he followed me in, shutting the door behind him. I was so embarrassed that that small, brief contact had given me such electrifying feelings, but he didn't seem to notice. He simply smiled at me gorgeously- yes, it was gorgeous now- as he always did, seeming almost shy even thought we'd known each other for so long.
Then tea went on as normal. But after that day I noticed much more about Mr. Tumnus. I noticed things about his body, like the way his arms looked in the spring sunshine, his upper arms smooth and taunt and the forearms rugged and hairy. I noticed the way his shoulders looked in the wintertime with his favorite red scarf draped over them, accentuating his slight muscular tone. I remember once, when he was reaching on top of a shelf to get something- a book, I think, on water creatures- and my eyes landed on his torso, all stretched out and tight, and my breath hitched, and I prayed that he hadn't heard. And his fur, all brown on the legs but turning blonde as it trails across his stomach. Oh, how I long to run my fingers across that stomach, combing them throughhis fur. Once, when we were sitting beside one another in front of the fireplace, my hand reached out of it's own accord to do exactly that, but I was able to stop it just in time and pretended to straighten my dress instead.
I feel like he touches me more now, but that may just be because I notice it every single time. Had he always brushed my hair out of my face, and placed his hand on my shoulder when saying goodbye, and rubbed his thumb across the back of my fingers after helping me off my horse just before letting go? Or do I simply notice now because such things send heat coursing through my veins?