So, I know this one is kind of late compared to the first update, but I was gone all weekend, so I didn't have access to the Internet to post it. And, to make up for it, I've tried to make this chapter a little bit longer than the others. (From what I can tell, it's almost a thousand words longer, so... enjoy.) XD
And, I just wanted to say that the response to this has been phenomenal! Thanks so much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. Keep them coming!
Even without the fifteen years of proper Junior League etiquette and manners drilled into her brain, it was the least Olivia could do to offer her help. She had done her part in making the mess, after all, as she was pretty sure that the second broken sconce of begonias was her fault, so it was only fair. She decided that maybe knocking it over was a good thing, though, because, broken, it was a lot easier to find Viola's ring--which, at its shiny, spotless glory, they discovered must have fallen behind the pot, not into it. However, that was simply how luck went for the two girls, so they only laughed and began to clean up the mess.
Olivia smiled to herself, picking up the larger shards of pottery scattered on the floor. As she had expected, her jeans were ruined--though the rugged, toughened look was kind of appealing, in an odd, I-liked-a-boy-who-was-really-a-girl-so-now-my-mind-is-a-little-warped kind of way--but it was very hard to care when Viola was sitting next to her, both of her hands blackened by soil, along with nearly an entire arm, a dusting of dirt along her jaw and smeared across her forehead were she'd attempted to eradicate an itch without scratching it, pouting, and generally looking far too cute for her own good. (Not that Olivia minded, of course; but, it made it just that much harder for her to concentrate on cleaning up the mess they made.)
Despite the fun she was having watching Viola relive her sandbox days, however, the silence was starting to get to her.
"So, how are you going to explain two missing bushels of begonias to your mom?" the Illyrian asked, raising an expectant brow. She'd been wondering about it ever since she'd taken a good look at the chaos the hall had suffered. Though she seemed like a sweet lady, Ms. Hastings was very nearly medieval-torture when it came to punishment--especially if her impeccably well-kept house was involved--and the blonde was genuinely excited to hear whatever ludicrous tale the twin might come up with to avoid the torment. Luckily, she could tell just by the mischievous smirk curling Viola's lip that she didn't plan on disappointing her.
"Oh, you know, something simple," the brunette said, shrugging it off and picking up another piece of the broken pottery. "Something natural, like, 'I swear, mom, I heard it on the news and everything. Begonias'--" She paused. "Did I get it right? Begonias?" Olivia nodded, giggling, and the twin continued without missing a beat. "'Begonias cause cancer. No, really. Swear on my life, mom.'" Suddenly, she took on a serious tone. "'And I just wanted to make sure you'd be okay, 'cause…'"--she appeared to tear up--"'cause I don't know what I would do if… if…'"--then she shrugged--"and then I'll just start bawling my eyes out and all will be forgiven." She smiled brightly at the other girl, shrugging again at the slow, incredulous grin she received in return.
"She'll take it, trust me," she assured the blonde. "And I bet you she'll never buy begonias again in her life."
Olivia chuckled. Sadly enough, she had so much faith in Ms. Hastings' gullibility that she was sure Viola could pull it off.
"Uhm… thanks again for helping me though," the brunette continued quietly after a moment. She chanced a sideways glance and a brief grin.
The Illyrian smiled. "No problem," she said, and then she began to laugh. "Besides, after standing up to that lizard, you deserve a break."
Shuddering, Viola tried to shake away the lingering feeling of it crawling up her wrist. "God, that thing was so gross."
"I told you I felt something move," the blonde said.
"I thought you were just playing around!" the brunette replied.
"Trust me, I'm nowhere near as great of an actor as you are."
Viola scoffed. "Are you kidding? Nobody's as great of an actor as I am."
Olivia grinned. "I wouldn't disagree with that."
"I mean, I lasted a solid two weeks as--"
And they both reached for the last remaining piece of pottery on the floor, only to find the others' hand.
Blue eyes rose to lock with a sea of cornflower and seafoam, and as a deep flush rushed to the surface, coloring both of the girls' faces, they pulled back their hands and dropped their gazes. Their simultaneously muttered apologies broke the anxious silence that had befallen them, but the air between them was heavy for a long moment afterward as Viola stared hard at one of the tiny black diamonds between the larger quartzite tiles beneath her and Olivia kept her eyes glued to the hole in her jeans.
Despite knowing that absolutely perfect awkward moments like that one could only play out in movies, they ran with it.
Viola coughed rather indiscreetly. "Uhm… I mean, two whole weeks in Illyria is a tough job when you're not, you know, you." She hurried to pick up the last ceramic shard on the floor. "And the whole dorm thing isn't very fun either when--" and her words were cut off with a sharp hiss of pain as the edge of one of the bigger pieces of broken pottery tore into her finger. Resisting the urge to curse, she pulled back and shook her hand, gritting her teeth, as many people do when they're attempting to stifle their discomfort (though it never really works). She cast the heap of pottery in her hand a dangerous glare, and, being the type of girl whose first instinct with a hand wound was always to suck the blood away, raised her finger to her mouth--completely forgetting about the dirt that still resided there--and she ended up with a decent amount of soil in her mouth.
Olivia could only laugh when the other girl began spitting it out angrily.
"Great job, Vi," the brunette commended herself, annoyed. "Let's eat some dirt." She hastily expelled more of it from her mouth, and, glancing at her finger, from which more blood had started to seep, she shook her head. "Perfect." Of course, she had to injure herself. With a pile of something broken and dangerous in her hand, it was the only Viola thing to do--but why? Why couldn't she have been alone for it? Why was it that she always managed to make herself look like the biggest loser in the universe whenever Olivia was around? Was that God's idea of a joke, or some kind of justified irony gone awry? If it was part of the first, she didn't find it very funny, and as for the last, well, she probably deserved it--but she still didn't like it.
Seriously, couldn't a girl catch a break? Just for a little bit? Fifteen friggin' minutes?
Apparently not, because the blood had moved on to oozing steadily from her finger. Sounding her frustration, she jumped to her feet, nearly chucking the pieces of her mother's vase at the garbage can. It seemed she was destined for failure.
As the brunette crossed the hall and moved into the kitchen to work agitatedly at the sink, Olivia pushed herself from the floor. It was mean of her to laugh at the other girl, but she couldn't help it; Viola really did have the worse luck when it came to accidents. Tossing her own pile of pottery into the garbage, much nicer than the other girl had, she joined the brunette at the sink, ceasing her vicious scrubbing activity with a gentle hand on her arm.
"Let me help you," she commanded softly.
Surprised by the honest concern and affection in those soft baby blue depths when they caught her eye, Viola stilled.
Olivia smiled. It appeared that all the frustration had drained right out of the other girl, and she was glad, because it allowed her to wash the dirt away much less violently. She couldn't help but cringe at Viola's nearly gutted finger, but she did her best to keep it as clean as possible until she could find some sort of antibacterial cream for it. As the last traces of the dirt swirled down the drain, from Viola's arms and her own, the blonde turned her gaze upward to find a pair of blue-green eyes focused intently on her face, and her heart jumped in her chest, her stomach filling with butterflies. The urge to ask why she was staring so intensely at her was almost too strong to ignore, but she did, miraculously, deciding that the moment would probably be broken if she didn't keep her mouth shut.
Instead, she pulled a hand towel from beside the sink and offered it to the brunette. "I'll go find a band-aid," she said, and, feeling bold under the pressure of the butterflies, she began to back away with a small smile. "Stay there." Just as she began to turn around, hoping to avoid anything that might jump out behind her and cause an accident of her own, she remembered one of the brunette's less favorable habits and halted, taking on a sterner tone and pointing an authoritative finger at the other girl. "And don't play with it!"
At the brunette's surprised expression, Olivia turned and grinned. She'd learned early on that Viola had a habit of agitating her injuries. It was strange at first, watching her poke at bruises and study cuts and scrapes in the middle of Biology after a rough soccer practice the day before, but she got used to it, and eventually learned to reprimand her for it--though she'd still yet to figure out how the brunette could cut herself open and poke at her nerves without batting an eyelash, but dissecting things made her faint. She forgot about it for the time being, however, and resumed her mission to find medicine for the latest impairment.
Scaling the stairs, she couldn't help but think back on those first two weeks at Illyria.
'Sebastian' had been the cutest boy she'd ever seen, and getting to know him only made him that much cuter. True, there were times when she suspected that there was something different, maybe even a little strange, about him, because any boy who could tell her that taupe went better with teal than with blue was suspicious, but she hadn't cared. At the time, she hadn't even thought anything of it. Then, when 'he' told her that she wasn't 'his' type, it hurt, but when she got to thinking about it, the answer as to why had been obvious. He commented her on her shoes more than once, he pegged the labels of her clothing dead on, and he had Barbie Girl as his ringtone; he was gay! But sadly, no, he wasn't, and that was what actually hurt her: that he was straight and still didn't want her.
Even so, she threw herself shamelessly at him. 'I'm working at the kissing booth,' she'd said. 'Come see me?' And who came instead? Duke. And that's when she showed up. Standing behind her with the same ready, disarming grin, the same brilliant blue-green eyes, the same awkward manner and goofy facial expressions--and Olivia didn't even think to connect two and two.
The blonde sighed, pushing open the door to the bathroom upstairs. There were so many things that told her she should have seen it all coming, but she hadn't paid attention to them. In her mind, 'Sebastian' was perfect; he wouldn't have been involved with anything as crazy as the truth.
And, months later, she still had the urge to smack herself for her naïveté.
But that would do no good. She'd only return to the kitchen with a red face, and Viola would question the smack she heard come from upstairs, and she'd want an honest answer, and Olivia couldn't really tell her. What she wanted to say was, 'Well, you see, I'm in love with you, but you're not available, because you're straight, and you're dating this guy--who is a horrible match for you, by the way--and I'm dating your brother, the guy I thought I fell for in the first place, but he's really not and I don't want him, because I want you, because you are that person, and you are the most amazing girl I've ever met'--but she knew without a doubt that she wouldn't let that happen. She'd rather cut out her tongue than get all that drama started.
With that in mind, she snatched a bottle of peroxide, a tube of Neosporin, and a band-aid out of the hidden cabinet behind the mirror and exited the bathroom. There was no use in thinking about things like that anyway; they would only upset her.
So, instead, she brought her thoughts back to the deep intensity in her favorite blue-green eyes only moments ago.
Thinking of that reminded her why she had gone upstairs in the first place, and she shook her head, grinning. She had told the other girl not to play with her finger, but knowing Viola, she was probably halfway through counting the layers of skin in her hand until she met bone. As the blonde rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, catching sight of her, she realized that she wasn't very far off. The brunette stood much like she had left her, leaning back against the counter by the sink, but her eyes were drawn to her hand, studying her finger intently, the other hand raised to do God knows what to it.
Olivia shook her head and strode into the kitchen, smacking the soccer star's arm lightly. "I told you not to play with it," she reprimanded her. Fixing the brunette with a humorous glare, she set her impromptu first-aid kit down on the counter.
Viola shrugged, making a show of rubbing her arm where the other girl had hit her. "I couldn't help it," she muttered.
Try as she might, the blonde couldn't fight her grin at the brunette's childish nature. Shaking her head, she picked up the bottle of peroxide and waved it threateningly at her. "This is going to burn if you've infected it," she warned her, and began to laugh when the tomboy cringed, pulling her hand in against her chest in an attempt save it from the torture to come. The Illyrian rolled her eyes and reached gently for her hand. "You'll be fine," she promised. Unscrewing the cap from the bottle, she poured a decent amount into it and turned to catch Viola's eyes, which were dark with apprehension. "Ready?"
The brunette pinched her eyes shut and turned away. "Just do it."
'Drama queen,' begged to slip past Olivia's lips, but she kept her mouth shut. Turning back to the task at hand, she poured the peroxide over the brunette's finger, wincing when it began to bubble, as it meant that it was infected and, indeed, burning. Her frown deepened when the heel of the soccer star's shoe met the ground with a solid, abrupt thud, and she tapped her toes rapidly, clenching her teeth. "It's all that dirt," the Illyrian said quietly, capping the peroxide again. "You probably got some in there just because it was on the piece you cut yourself with." She picked up the Neosporin, turning back to the other girl.
"Stupid plant," the brunette muttered, and she pulled her hand back to shake it free of the remaining peroxide.
Olivia found herself grinning as she grabbed the other girl's hand once more. "Hold still," she commanded.
Viola reluctantly did as she was told, eyeing the Neosporin warily. "Will this hurt too?"
The blonde shook her head. "No, I think you learned your lesson with the peroxide," she joked.
Exhaling a relieved breath, the soccer star slumped back against the counter. "Thank God."
The Illyrian grinned, taking a step forward to close the gap between them so she could work more efficiently, and she began to apply the Neosporin to the brunette's finger. Though she was busy, and trying very hard not to think about it, she didn't fail to notice their close proximity.
Viola noticed it as well. She hadn't realized that leaning back would make the other girl step forward, but, then again, she hadn't really thought about it at all, too focused on the fact that her finger was on fire to care. Though there must have been about a foot between them still, the other girl felt very close, and the brunette held her breath. She forgot all about her wounded finger and her pain, and she exhaled only when it was safe, when the blonde moved to get the band-aid ready. Not long after, she found herself drifting off, staring intently at the other girl's face.
She'd noticed from the very first day she'd met Olivia, bumping into her outside of Headmaster Gold's office, that she was beautiful. Blonde hair, crystal clear blue eyes and a cute little smile, she was every boy's dream girl--but Viola had learned day by day that her smile was only a glamour. Truthfully, it hadn't even taken a full day, because, only hours after she first met her, sitting in the cafeteria with the boys, looking over at her as she sat with her friend, she began to see just how sad Olivia was. There was a sorrow in that beauty, a dejected tolerance. She knew she was beautiful, and she knew what boys thought of her--and perhaps the latter was where the sadness came from: the fact that boys only saw her and wanted her for the way she looked.
It could have been simply because she'd just gotten out of a bad relationship, but Viola was sure that it was more than that, and it became more and more apparent that she was right each day she'd spent as 'Sebastian'. Of course the other girl smiled, and of course she laughed, and of course she promised that she was okay, but Olivia wasn't very good at hiding her pain. Each day spent across from her in Biology only revealed another layer of that sadness, and Viola found herself staring more and more. She learned quickly that the more she looked, the more pain she saw in those soft blue eyes, the harder it was to look away.
Even then, months after her whole drag-king fiasco, even though she smiled and laughed, Olivia still looked so sad…
"There," the blonde said, breaking the other girl from her reverie. "All better."
Viola blinked, surprised. Lost in her thoughts, she'd missed the entire band-aid-applying process. Bringing herself back to the present, she shook her mind free of the past, and found herself faced with sparkling cerulean eyes and a familiar smile. She smiled in return, as she was always helpless to do so in the other girl's presence, she realized, but a moment later, as the blonde moved to throw away the band-aid's wrapper, she discovered that her own smile had regressed into a pout--though she hadn't the slightest idea why. Similarly, she couldn't have told you why she suddenly asked, "You're not going to kiss my boo-boo?"
Olivia paused after dropping the crumpled paper into the garbage can, raising a single golden brow.
Deciding that running with it would save her the embarrassment of admitting she had no idea what she was talking about, the brunette attempted to persuade the blonde into doing what she asked. "I stood up to the lizard, remember?" she said, and she held up her injured finger again. "Reward me."
The Illyrian began to laugh at that, but shook her head and stepped forward to do so. (If there were several other ways she could think of to 'reward' the brunette, then she blamed it on her hormones.) "Alright, alright," she said, chuckling, though she was mentally preparing herself. "You big baby."
She reached for the other girl's hand and had just bent to kiss her silly little Wall-E band-aid when the other girl spoke.
"Your big baby," the brunette muttered.
Though it was quiet, Olivia heard it easily, and she paused, her lips still pressed to Viola's finger. It came as no surprise to her that she liked the way having the brunette as her 'baby' sounded--but where on Earth had it come from? That definitely wasn't the response she'd been expecting when she teased her about having her 'boo-boo' kissed. However, she didn't fool herself into reading too deep into the brunette's words, because getting her hopes up for something when Viola was involved was something she promised herself she wouldn't do anymore. She had to accept that they'd never be together, and so she simply collected herself and took a slow step away from the other girl.
Viola, for her part, had grown rather pale, and she inwardly cursed her stupidity. "Uhm…" It was just too easy to make a fool of herself, wasn't it? Natural. Effortless, really. But before she could start violently beating herself over the head with the rolling pin on the counter behind her, she found herself speaking again--and prayed that it wasn't something as stupid as what she'd said only moments before. "Would you believe me if I told you I meant to say 'you're a big baby'?" she asked.
A silent voice told her that the answer was going to be a big, fat 'no', and, as she suspected, the blonde before her didn't deny it.
Viola nodded, stiff with embarrassment. "Right." So agitated with herself that she was debating climbing the walls to get away from the other girl, the brunette searched rapidly for an escape. A glance into the hall provided her with one: dirt. There was still dirt all over the floor in the hallway that needed to be picked up. "Uhm, yeah." And she brushed past the other girl, nearly spastic, in a rush to exit the kitchen. "Mom should be home soon," she said, her voice echoing down the hall as she moved farther away. "If this isn't clean, I'm dead."
Letting herself fall forward to lean against the counter in the other girl's absence, Olivia sighed.
Why couldn't things just be easy?
And I've already got the next chapter planned out, so, hopefully, it'll be up within the next day or two. Hopefully.
Reviews would help motivate me though... (wink wink)