Writer's Note: Thank you for all your comments/reviews! Just a few chapters left to go. I'm still not sure about them, but I hope you enjoy them! : )

She aced her finals in May.

One minute Henry was walking along the red brick path of the quad with two of the guys from ROTC, the next he was flat out on his back on the lawn with a very excited Elizabeth Adams straddling his waist, a piece of paper clutched in one hand.

Henry blinked and glanced around, disorientated. He had been…but now he was…and Elizabeth was…and she had come from…

His gaze settled on Elizabeth, still perched on top of him, her hair falling forward over her shoulders, the flyaways forming a chaotic halo as the sun acted like a backlight.

He eyed her with a certain amount of caution.

Had she just tackled him to the ground?

Elizabeth grinned down at him. "Hi."

Henry frowned. "Um…hi?" He paused, and then asked tentatively, "What are you doing?"

"My exams."

He waited. When she didn't elaborate, he prompted. "What about them?"

Her grin widened, if that were possible, and her eyebrows arched slightly. It felt like she was nudging him towards realisation.

He studied her, his frown deepening, while his mind waded through a wasteland of silence. Then his gaze drifted to the piece of paper, folded into thirds and clutched in her hand.

It hit him. "You got your results!"

Elizabeth nodded, her grin now fit to burst.

"And?"

She handed him the piece of paper.

He unfolded it and quickly scanned over the grades and scores.

He looked up at her over the top of the page. "Elizabeth…this is incredible!" He would have swamped her in a hug, had he not been pinned beneath her on the ground.

"Well, I did have a pretty incredible tutor." She nudged one knee against his ribs. Then she added, very matter-of-fact, "You know, you should consider being a real teacher one day."

He chuckled. "I'll bear that in mind." Then his expression softened into sincerity. "I'm really pleased for you." He folded up the piece of paper and tapped the air with it. "You deserve this."

"And I didn't even have to bribe a professor or hit on a TA or anything." Her grin took on a teasing edge. She folded the piece of paper in half again and stuffed it into her back pocket.

Henry contemplated the comment for a moment.

"True…" he said. "Though, a few people might be getting the wrong idea right about now."

Like his ROTC buddies, for example, who were currently standing on the path, staring at him and Elizabeth, probably wondering why he was flat out on his back on the lawn, talking to a crazed blonde girl who insisted on straddling him.

A glint lit Elizabeth's eyes. "Then it's a good thing you're not my teacher anymore."

Before he could consider the implications of that, she swung one leg over him—thank God she was wearing jeans—scrambled to her feet and held out her hand to him. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asked as he trusted his hand to hers and let her help him up, though he felt pretty sure he would follow her anywhere.

She grabbed her satchel from the path, where she must have dumped it before she jumped on him, and then turned around and paced backwards. "For ice cream."

He frowned at her. "At ten AM?"

She shrugged. "Why not?" Then she tilted her head to the side, gesturing along the path. "Now, are you coming?" When he didn't reply immediately, she added, "My treat."

Henry looked to his ROTC friends, but before he had the chance to politely excuse himself from their company, they shooed him away, both of them giving him urgent looks that seemed to ask why on earth he was keeping a girl like Elizabeth waiting.

It was a good question. She was no longer his student. So why was he hesitating?

oOoOo

"…I mean, I thought I would pass, but I didn't think I'd do that well. Did you see my mark in 'Euclidean and Non-Euclidean Geometry'? Not to mention the perfect score in 'Histoire et Civilisation de la France Contemporaine'. I didn't see that one coming, that's for sure…"

Henry and Elizabeth walked side by side along the sandy track that wound beneath the leafy green boughs of the ash trees. The petals that had fallen from the flowering dogwoods tumbled like white confetti on the path ahead of them, their twirling motion the only evidence of a breeze. Elizabeth talked nonstop, dissecting every last detail of her exams, even speaking through each lick of her chocolate chip ice cream, while the hand that wasn't holding the sugar cone gesticulated wildly. Henry was happy just to listen, which was a good thing too, seeing as he probably couldn't have gotten a word in edgeways. His mind wasn't fully on what she was saying, though; instead, it was running through all the possible things he could say.

Elizabeth, I like you.

Elizabeth, I have feelings for you.

Elizabeth, would you like to have dinner with me?

He continued to watch her while he took languid licks of his own ice cream, the smooth vanilla and hard nuggets of chocolate melting on his tongue. There was a buzz about her, a thrill of energy. It was like the sunlight didn't just fall upon her and illuminate her, but it emanated from her too. He hadn't seen her since the start of her exams, and it felt like a year had passed in that week. It struck him how much he had missed her, like the ache had always been there, buried deep in his chest, and only now did it ripple to the surface. It came with a flurry of fear too: What if she didn't feel the same way?

But she felt comfortable around him, she always sought him out and seemed to enjoy his company, she teased him and flirted with him, didn't she?

Elizabeth nudged his arm. "You didn't tell Peterson to go easy on me, did you?"

He blinked. "What? No. Of course not." Then he caught sight of the smear of white just below the tip of her nose. "You've got ice cream…" He motioned to his own nose.

She looked to the tip of her nose, forcing herself to go cross-eyed. "Oh."

Rather than using her paper napkin or the back of her hand to wipe away the vanilla smudge, she stuck out her tongue, curled it upwards and somehow managed to lick off the ice cream.

Henry stopped walking. He stared at her, his eyes wide.

She turned around and looked at him. Her pace slowed until she stopped too. Then she asked around another broad lick of ice cream, "What?"

"That's not normal." He gestured to her mouth and nose.

"Of course it is."

"No, it's not." He gestured again. "Normal people can't do that."

"Yes, they can. And if they can't, then maybe…" She stared past him and her shoulders shimmied as she sought an ending to that sentence. "…maybe they're just not trying hard enough."

He gave her an incredulous look.

Her expression warmed and softened. "Okay, maybe it's a little odd," she said. Then she flashed him a bright smile. "But it's hot though, right?"

He didn't know if 'hot' was the word he'd use to describe it. It did spark his imagination, though. Not that his imagination needed much provocation around her.

She didn't wait for a reply, but instead turned on her heel and started walking again.

He hung back, watching after her, while the questions hung over him: Did she treat him like more than a friend? Was she flirting with him? And if she was, was it just for fun—part of her nature—or was it because she was interested in him?

He had to ask her, to find out where he stood. But if she turned him down, what then? He didn't want things to be awkward between them. He didn't want to lose her as a friend. He didn't want her to think the only reason he'd been helping her and supporting her the past month or so was because he wanted to get her into bed.

"You coming?" Elizabeth called out without so much as a glance behind.

He hesitated for a second longer, and then strode to catch up. Each step crunched into the path, and his whole body felt both heavy and jittery with nerves.

The moment he reached her side, she started chatting about the exams again.

"Elizabeth," he interrupted.

She stopped talking and turned her head to face him. Perhaps his tone had been a touch too sharp, a touch too urgent, because the lightness in her expression dimmed and she eyed him with concern.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said.

A light frown furrowed her brow. "Oh. Okay."

Then she gave him a soft smile, though it looked a little strained, nervous maybe. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something, too."

She looked around them, and then tapped his elbow and tilted her head towards the bench at the edge of the path, which stood in the shade of one of the ash trees. "Here."

The wooden slats of the bench were a weather-worn greyish-green and splinter-rough to the touch. Henry took a seat, his body pivoted towards Elizabeth as she sat beside him and let the strap of her satchel slide down from her shoulder until the bag rested on the patchy grass, her ice cream cone held in the opposite hand. He clutched his sugar cone in one hand too, though between the strength of his grip and the amount his palms had started to sweat, the remaining ice cream might be dripping out onto the ground in a minute. His heart thundered against the wall of his chest. It was stupid. All he had to do was ask her if she wanted to have dinner with him. It wasn't like they hadn't eaten together before. And if she said no, at least then he would have his answer, and somehow he would deal with it. And anyway, could he really call himself her friend if he kept hiding his true feelings?

He rubbed his palm along his jeans and then clutched his knee.

A couple of runners jogged past, their footsteps thudding and scuffing against the track, throwing up puffs of dust. They spoke in raised voices so that they would hear each other over their footfall and heavy breaths, and they carried with them the waft of deodorant and sweat.

Henry forced his gaze up and he looked to her, but it immediately dipped to the ground again as he started to speak. "I wanted to talk to you…" He massaged the knots at the back of his neck. "Well, actually, I wanted to ask you—" His fingers stilled and his gaze shot up to meet her eye as he interjected, "And you can say no and that's totally fine. I'll understand." His voice softened again, and his gaze drifted back to the ground. "But I was thinking, perhaps, maybe, would you possibly like to—"

"I'm going to Europe."

His head snapped up and he stared at her. She was what…?

"Yeah." The word escaped her in a rush of breath and her eyebrows arched. She stared distantly at her ice cream as she spoke, rather than looking at him. "It's crazy and last minute, I know. But I've been talking to my brother, and he's still insisting on going to England to look at schools, and then he mentioned maybe going backpacking through Europe, and of course there's no way I'm letting him go without a chaperone, so I thought maybe I should go with him. It'll give me a chance to practise my language skills, I can keep an eye on him, plus…" Her shoulders tensed towards her ears. "…after the year I've had, I thought maybe it would be good to take some time to myself, you know, give me a chance to clear my head."

She looked at him, her smile awkward and anxious, like she were waiting for him to tell her what he thought and she had an inkling his opinion wouldn't be favourable.

But he couldn't think of anything. Just that a few seconds ago he believed she was going to be staying on campus all summer, hopefully taking classes for extra credit rather than resitting any exams, (and perhaps, just maybe, going out with him), and now it felt like the ground had crumbled away beneath him, as soft and transient as dune sand. If not seeing her for a week made his body physically ache, what would not seeing her for the entire summer do to him?

Her smile grew more awkward and anxious still. "This is the part where you're supposed to give me unsolicited advice, or remind me of the privilege and luxury of travel."

It said something that that thought hadn't even crossed his mind.

A pair of ravens strutted across the grass on the opposite side of the path. One of them stopped and raised its beak and let out a squawking caw-caw-caw. It felt almost mocking.

"Henry?" Elizabeth prompted. Her smile had faded, and the concern etched into her expression deepened.

"I…" he began and then stopped.

He wanted to tell her to stay. He wanted to tell her to focus on herself here, not backpacking across Europe with her brother. He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to take time to herself, didn't need to 'clear her head'—what had happened with Josh was over and she was already herself again.

No doubt he could say it, all while telling both her and himself that it was what was best for her. And part of him wished he would say it, would convince her to stay with him. But just like he hadn't wanted to take advantage of her back in March, when the marks were still fresh on her throat, or in April, when the emotional bruises were still stinging, he couldn't tell her to stay now, not when it felt like she was telling him she hadn't yet finished healing.

His whole body hurt to do it—worse than it had after his first day of ROTC training camp in summer of junior year—but he gave her a smile, small but genuine, and said, "I think only you know what's right for you, and if this is what you need right now, you should do it."

"Really?" She sounded hopeful, but still looked like she was bracing herself for a barrage of negative opinion.

He slid his hand along the bench to where her fingers curled around the edge of the wooden slat and he squeezed them gently. "Really."

Her whole body relaxed, like she had breathed a silent sigh of relief, and although he ached at the thought of her leaving, seeing her expression lighten and that anxiety seep away told him he had done the right thing.

She looked at him with that glint in her eye again. "You know, you've changed a lot this year. You definitely would've scoffed at the whole travel thing six months ago."

He shrugged one shoulder and tried to rein back his smirk. "What can I say? I had a pretty incredible teacher."

She laughed.

The sound lit up his heart, a momentary salve. Though, a new question lingered beneath:

When will I see you again?