4
Mirana has taken Alice back to the place with all the roses and the winding paths and the lush lawns. Something seems to be troubling her, as she's having trouble finding the words to express herself, fiddling with her fingers as they walk. It's a strange look for someone ordinarily so poised. They stop at the Founder's statue, and it is there that Mirana finally turns to Alice, hands clasped tightly together, nervousness written across her face.
"Why do you hate me, Alice?"
Alice's brow furrows, tuning Mirana out for a moment to register what's going on here. This is what she wants to talk about? This, of all things? Alice refocuses just in time to hear Mirana spiraling off into a tangent.
"...and I'm not sure exactly what I've done wrong, but…"
She's rambling, and for the first time it's making Alice feel truly guilty for the way she's been treating her. This has to stop. Tarrant is right, she can trust herself enough to make her own decisions. That doesn't mean they have to be friends, though. Not if she keeps making her feel like… this. Whatever this is, exactly.
"Hey!" she says, stopping the rapid outpour of Mirana's babbling. "I don't hate you."
Mirana's lips part in surprise. "You don't?"
"No."
Mirana frowns. "Then why do you always make it a point to avoid and ignore me? I must have done something to warrant that."
"You haven't done anything." Alice sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to clear her head. "Tarrant told me about the little war you have going on with your sister, and he didn't want me to be influenced by you to choose a side."
"Tarrant told you to stay away from me?"
"No. I just wasn't sure if I could handle myself around you." Realizing what she's just said and what it must be implying, Alice hurries to remedy the statement. "Not in that way, no! God, no! I just meant that Tarrant said that you're very influential, and you could possibly make my own decisions for me, and I can't bear the idea of that happening, and —" Alice stops herself abruptly. "And you're laughing at me." Alice groans inwardly. Of course this was going to happen, of course Mirana isn't going to take her seriously.
"I'm sorry!" Mirana says, still giggling. "It's just funny that you think I could influence you."
That puts Alice on the defensive, though she's not sure why. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You just seem very set in your own ways, that's all." Mirana smiles. "I don't think I'd be able to change you even if I tried." Mirana lays a gentle hand on Alice's shoulder, which seems to burn from the contact, though it's not entirely unpleasant. What is wrong with her? This has got to stop. "I'm not going to try to sway you, I promise."
Alice steps back, letting Mirana's hand fall from her shoulder. The burning sensation stops. Where did it come from? "Thank you." Her phone buzzes. "Excuse me."
Tarrant: whaur ur ye :oP
It takes Alice a moment to figure out what it means. Tarrant must be angry at something.
Alice: With Mirana at the statue. Where are you?
Tarrant: at yer d'rm.
Tarrant: 'at glaikit moggie has mah hat again an' ah hink he's hidin' in yer room
Alice: I'll be over.
Alice stuffs her phone back into her pocket. "That was Tarrant. Apparently Chess is hiding in our room, so I'm off to get him out."
Mirana giggles. "I'll come with you. Honestly, I don't understand why Cheshire doesn't just tell him already."
They begin walking. Alice frowns. "Tell him what?"
Mirana colors. "Oh, well, if you don't know I don't think it's my place to say."
Alice smiles a little, amused. Mirana looks a little less perfect this way. It's refreshing from the usual stark, unblemished canvas she normally is. "Now I really want to know."
"I shouldn't. Besides, now that I think about it, that'd make me a bit of a hypocrite if I did."
"How so?"
"I'm in a similar —" she clears her throat with a tiny cough. "Situation." She sets her gaze forward. "Let's just focus on getting back, okay?"
Alice raises an eyebrow and says nothing. Mirana's hiding something, and now she really wants to know what it is that makes the ivory queen flush so much.
They find Tarrant standing outside their door, arms folded, impatiently tapping his foot, eyes dark. He spots them and scowls.
"Thaur ye ur! Took ye lang enaw!"
Tarrant really has an unhealthy attachment to that hat. Alice does her best to ignore his moody behaviour as she fits the key into the lock. She barely gets the door cracked when Tarrant pushes past her, knocking her over and seizing his chance. Mirana is at her side immediately, offering her hand. Alice hesitates, but takes it anyway. The fire returns. Curiouser and curiouser. She's so caught up in the softness of Mirana's fingers, the delicate porcelain wrapped around her rougher, calloused hand as she pulls her to her feet, that she doesn't notice Tarrant until he speaks again, his voice dangerously low.
"One mair time, aam warnin' ye."
Chess scampers off, appearing as if he's got a tail between his legs, defeated. The second Tarrant's hat is back on, he transforms again.
"Thank you, Alice." he says, beaming. "You know, I really ought to get this thing glued to my head."
Without another word, he leaves, and Mirana and Alice are left alone, still holding hands. Alice realizes this and lets go. Mirana seems to frown at the loss of contact but quickly covers it with a graceful smile.
"Well, I should probably check on Cheshire. I'll see you at dinner, Alice."
With that she leaves the room, a flurry of snow out the door.
Alice lies back on her bed. Ever since the events of the afternoon, she hasn't been able to get Mirana out of her head. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of her perfect face dances beneath her lids. She's long since stopped trying to make excuses for the tightness in her chest whenever Mirana is near, the way her body heats up whenever they touch. That doesn't mean she has to accept these feelings, but her mind has other ideas. Her damned brain focuses on Mirana's lips, those dark, alluring, full lips. She wonders what they would feel like pressed against her own, her hands tangled in her impossibly soft hair, her body pressed flush against hers…
She groans and buries her face in her pillow. What is wrong with her?
"Alice?"
She clenches her fingers tighter around the pillow's edges at the sound of her melodic voice.
Keep it together.
She pushes herself into a sitting position and raises her eyes to meet Mirana's, only to be met by something strange in her gaze. Instead of her usual, disarmingly charming smile that sparks a warmth in her eyes, there is a sort of darkness swirling within them, and the smile appears to be more of a smirk. Alice clutches the sheets behind her back so as not to alert Mirana to the obvious effect this is having on her.
"Hello." she says, keeping her tone level.
Mirana advances towards her, elegance incarnate. "I'm glad you're awake." she says.
She settles herself onto Alice's lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. Alice swallows hard and forces herself to stare up at the ceiling, or a wall, or anywhere else but Mirana's face. Mirana giggles and leans in, her lips dangerously close to Alice's ear.
"What's the matter, Alice? Don't you want me?"
Alice shudders, Mirana's warm breath caressing her ear. She doesn't trust herself to say anything at all at the moment, afraid that she might destroy the moment with one wrong word.
A deft, slender finger hooks beneath Alice's chin, forcing Alice to look into Mirana's eyes. They have grown incredibly dark, stirring something within Alice that she had refused to acknowledge moments before. Mirana begins to lean in, eyes fluttering shut. Alice's heart pounds against her chest as her hands move of their own accord to rest on Mirana's hips. Is this really happening? Is she really going to—?
She stops inches away, so close that their foreheads are pressed together.
"Alice." she purrs.
Alice holds back a whine of frustration. "Yes, Mirana?" The words come out as a whisper.
Mirana pulls back, that smug smile still in place. "Alice." she says again, more sing-song this time.
Alice growls, tired of whatever game Mirana is playing, and grabs her turtleneck, pulling her down and finally capturing those dark petals in a fervent kiss.
Something is wrong.
Mirana had been so eager for this only moments before, but her lips, though softer and fuller than Alice could have possibly imagined, are unyielding. Alice pulls back slowly and opens her eyes.
Mirana's eyes are wide, lips parted in surprise. Alice realizes that she's still holding her turtleneck and lets go immediately, scooting back against the headboard. She'd kissed Mirana. In her sleep.
She kissed Mirana.
Silence reigns for a moment.
"Alice —"
Alice hushes her with a finger. "Don't say anything." She gets off her bed, wiping the bit of lipstick she'd gotten on her finger on her jeans. "This never happened."
She shoves her phone into her pocket and leaves the dorm before Mirana can say another word.
10:00.
Thirty minutes after curfew and Alice is still dodging hall monitors left and right as she tries to remember where the boys' dormitories are. After moving behind another wall to let yet another monitor pass, she gives up and runs into the lavatory as soon as she has the chance. She can only hope that Tarrant is still awake. He's the only one she can talk to about this.
The phone rings once, twice, before Tarrant finally picks up.
"Hello?"
He sounds awake enough. "Where's your dorm?"
A pause from the other end. "It's across the hall from the girls' to the left, room 63." Damn, that explains it, she'd turned right instead. "Why?"
"I'll explain later, just unlock your door for me, alright?"
Another pause. "Alright then, but it's a bit of a mess. Wasn't expecting company."
Click.
Alice shoves her phone into her pocket, and after a quick glance down the hall, backtracks until she gets to the proper turn. Room 63 is the room furthest in, and Alice barely makes it in just as she sees McTwisp enter the hall out of the corner of her eye. Hopefully, he didn't see her. She quickly closes the door behind her.
Bit of a mess is the understatement of the century. The room is clearly divided, with Tarrant's side being slightly cleaner than his roommate's. Tarrant's side is modestly furnished, —a bed covered with a quilt patterned with all sorts of wild prints, a few spools of thread as well as his book bag sitting on top, and a massive chest of drawers— the dresser piled high with brightly colored fabrics and sewing tools. Tarrant sits behind a great behemoth of a machine, hard at work on a pastel blue and white feathered hat that takes all of his attention, not looking up once when Alice entered. His roommate's end has a pile of rumpled clothes sitting on a desk chair, the desk itself covered in messily handwritten sheet music, capless pens, pencils, and a couple of erasers. A white acoustic guitar is propped up against the desk, a red pick wedged between the fretboard and the strings. Crumpled balls of paper are littered throughout, the bookshelf only holds books on the top tier, most of them being about music and parenting, while the second and third are home to bags of crisps, cans of pop, and three small boxes of pizza. The end table is the cleanest surface, with only a red Bible and what looks like a family photograph. The rubbish bin is overflowing, and the roommate himself sleeps under a thick purple blanket, his face barely visible beneath his long, chocolate brown hair swept into a fringe, a dark skinned hand hanging over the side. His soft snores and the needle going on Tarrant's machine are the only sounds in the room.
Alice seats herself on the one spot on Tarrant's bed that's clear. Tarrant's fingers work quickly, yet precisely, his eyes seemingly following every stitch the machine makes, the tiny needle going up and down. She clears her throat to announce herself, not wanting to startle him by tapping him.
The needle stops and the machine winds down to a stop, seeming to protest at the halt in progress. Tarrant turns his head. "Alright, Alice, what was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow." he says stiffly, his fingers idly fiddling with the white thread at the top of the machine. Alice reels a little at the slight hostility in his tone, and he softens. "I'm sorry, I've just got so many hats to finish in so little time. I promised Bayard I'd make some for his little ones as well for their birthday." He nods towards his roommate.
Little ones? Alice raises an eyebrow. "Little brothers?"
"Daughters and son." Tarrant says, correcting her. "They're triplets: Aida, Winifred, and Hendrix." Tarrant smiles. "Bielle named the girls. Bayard was insistent about naming the boy." He pauses. "But that's not what you're here to talk about." He shifts so he's facing her fully. "What's wrong?"
Alice grips the carpet, remembering why she'd come in the first place. "I… kissed Mirana."
"Oh."
Alice stares at him, incredulous. "Oh? That's all you're going to say?"
"Alright, well what did she do after?"
"I left before she could say anything."
Tarrant buries his face in his hands. "Alice." he groans.
"What?"
He drops his hands, his expression exasperated. "You can't do that. You can't do that with Mirana, in fact, you really shouldn't do that with anyone, that only leads to bad things but with Mirana and her position that could really put you both in terrible —"
"Tarrant."
"Danger, especially with Bloody Big Head on the warpath and —"
"Hatter!" Alice grabs his arm, stilling him.
"I'm fine." Tarrant sits back, his shoulders relaxing. He adjusts his hat and takes a deep breath. "You two need to talk before this gets out of hand."
"Out of hand? What could happen?"
"Since I have no idea how Mirana feels about you, and I'm assuming you don't either," Alice nods. "I don't have a definite idea of what she'll do exactly. What I do know is that either way, if you don't talk to her, she's going to bottle it up until she explodes, which will tip the scales in her sister's favor."
"The kiss was an accident! How would it help Iracebeth?"
"Their parents are more on the… ah… conservative side. If word were to get out about your kiss, it would ruin Mirana's chances at the scholarship. They'd give it straight to Iracebeth."
Alice frowns. "That's awful."
"Now you see why you must talk to her. Just answer me this: are you in love with her?"
Alice considers lying for a moment, then realizes that she's got to come to terms with this, for her own sake, at least. "I'm not sure. Definitely attracted to her, but I don't think that's the same thing as love."
"You want her, then."
Alice ponders this. Want? She allows images of Mirana to flood her mind, memories from the art class that had put them in such close proximity, the way she felt pressed against her as she guided her ivory hand across the canvas, the sweet vanilla scent that surrounds her, the way her smile makes her heart seem to flutter. The way even sometimes the most innocent remarks or accidental touches make her flush. No, this can't be love. Not yet, anyway.
"Yeah, I think I do."