Okay, so short chapter this time. But it's full of angsty-fluff (is that even a thing?) so eat your hearts out.
Chapter Fourteen: Go the Distance
I wake up the next morning with throbbing ribs, a swollen ankle, and a slightly black eye, yet I am over the moon. Perhaps it's partly due to the pain meds I had taken last night, but I know the more likely culprit was my lingering high from the tourney. I mean, I had just fucking won my first tournament less than twenty-four hours ago. I was high on life.
Sorry; am I starting to run this into the ground? I don't want to sound too full of myself, but forgive me for being proud of this feat. I suppose I'm still just trying to assure myself that last night actually happened. It wouldn't be the first time I've had dreams of glory.
A glance at my dresser to see my medal handing there and glistening in the morning sun, as well as a look at my phone to see a text from Kristoff reading, 'I know you're surely doubting yourself right now. Last night really happened, kiddo. Congrats,' and I suppose I can no longer think that any more.
This is real.
I'm a motherfucking champion.
Okay, I concede, getting out of bed with a roll of my eyes, I'm just a champion of rookies right now, but a champion nonetheless.
I ride on my high horse all the way to work, until Olaf jumping into my arms and my ribs and ankle crying out in detest remind me being a champion has its prices.
"Annie!" he cries with a gasp. "What happened to your face?"
"Didn't you know I'm a super hero?" I ask him, trying to keep a straight face and failing. "I got this when trying to defeat one of many villains!"
Olaf giggles, covering his mouth with his hands. "No you're not," he tells me.
I huff, pretending to deflate, but smile. "Okay, you got me. I'm no hero, just your average peasant; but when you hear talk about the next super hero tryouts, let me know, huh?"
"Only if I can be your sidekick."
I ruffle his hair. "You know it, kiddo. Wouldn't have it any other way."
I carry him back to the rest of the kids who are spread out amongst tables, playing various games or with toys. Marshall sees us coming, and his eyes light up.
"Anna!" he greets me. "I saw you on TV last night!"
Damn, I think, a four year-old watching boxing? Guess it's better than getting a head start on Grand Theft Auto or something, but still…
"You were on TV?!" Grammar Girl, who, I suppose I should start calling by her real name, Ellie, shouts. "Are you a famous person?"
Olaf and the other kids are staring at me now like they're just waiting for me to morph into Emma Watson or something. Chuckling, I sit down on a cushion on the floor that makes up our reading circle, Olaf climbing routinely into my lap. The other children hurriedly scamper over and take their place in the circle, eager eyes anticipating my answer.
"I'm not famous yet," I tell all of them with a playful grin, "but I could be in the future."
"She's gonna be a super hero!" Olaf claims. "And I get to be the sidekick!"
"A super hero, huh?" a familiar voice juts in.
Looking up, my eyes widen, jaw dropping, and heartrate picking up as I observe the figure leaning casually against a bookshelf.
"Elsa," I gasp.
The children immediately turn around to follow my gaze, and Elsa quickly goes from seemingly confident, small grin on her face, to nervous and shy as twenty little eyes hone in on her.
"That's her?" Ellie whispers loudly, Elsa being sure to hear.
As the kids begin to mumble amongst themselves, I slowly move Olaf from my lap and stand. Elsa remains by the bookcase, biting her lip and cradling her brace.
"Sh-Should I not have come?" she asks.
"No!" I cry out before I remember I'm in a library and should probably use the "inside voice" I always preach to the kids. "I just…"
"Wasn't expecting me?" Elsa offers to finish.
"C-Can you blame me?" I question nervously, not really wanting to jump into the reasons the two of us have been distant lately right this second.
Elsa looks to the floor as a dejected look crosses her features and I suddenly feel like crap. One minute in to seeing her after all the shit I put her through, and I'm making her out to be the enemy again.
"I… I didn't mean it that way," I fumble, fiddling with my hands. "Elsa, I'm sorry, but…can we talk later?" I force myself to look at her as I tell her, "I really want to talk to you again. Face to face. Will you wait for me?"
Smiling softly, she nods and answers, "Sure, Anna. I was here merely to check out something to read when I remembered you worked here."
"You can…wait here if you want," I offer. "I'm about to read to the kids."
"Well, I do love stories," Elsa tells me, her grin flickering back to life.
Laughing softly, I joke, "Even The Cat in the Hat?" and it's like the fissure between us closes up by itself. We're basically back to normal again, joking and subtly flirting, despite the painful ordeal just a few weeks ago.
Maybe Kristoff was right; maybe everything will be okay.
"I'll just sit here," Elsa says, walking over to a table as I follow her. "Don't worry about me and take your time. After all," she smirks, "it's been years since I read or heard any Dr Suess."
Mirroring her grin, I retreat back to the reading circle only to find the kids all staring at me and smiling. Olaf even goes as far as wiggling his eyebrows suggestively—where he learned that, I probably don't want to know.
"You're blushing, Anna!" Ellie points out.
"She was blushing too, though!" Marshall adds, pointing across the room to Elsa.
"Why is she here?" another kid asks.
"Are you guys going out after this?"
"Have you kissed her yet?"
"Can she read to us?"
"Can she talk to us?"
"Can we talk to her?"
The questions are being fired at me a mile a minute and I'm just staring slack-jawed at the tiny humans before me. Looking quickly over to Elsa, I find her blushing and hiding her laughter behind her hand. Apparently she finds this amusing.
Well, two can play at that game.
"Sure," I tell the kids calmly, smile growing subtly sly, "she can read to you all."
"W-What?" I hear Elsa sputter from her spot at the table.
The kids all cry out before they're picking up their cushions and running to seat themselves in front of Elsa, who is just staring at them like she's never seen kids before.
"Well, come on, Miss Elsa," I can't help but continuing playing. "Don't keep the children waiting."
"Please, Elsa?" all of them ask simultaneously.
Elsa just sits there blinking for a moment—no doubt trying to compose herself, as this is surely the last thing she had been expecting when she came here—before she shoots me a glare which tells me I'll surely get it later. Despite this, she then looks back at the kids and smiles a smile so serene and genuine I feel like it could stop a war.
"I'd love to read to you all," she tells them gently, taking on a tone only a mother would use.
I'm made a bit uncomfortable by that, as I'm not sure what Elsa's thinking at the moment. Could she be screaming and crying inside because she's reminded of the loving figure she lost in her mother and father? Or is that the furthest thing from her mind, and she's exactly how she seems? In her element.
Regardless, I'm internally swooning as a small girl named Lilo hands her Green Eggs and Ham and Elsa freaking winks, causing Lilo to blush. Her cousin, Stitch, looks absolutely love-struck from his seat beside her. The only thing I can think is: back off, kid; this girl is mine.
Apparently sometime during my stupor, I had also moved my own cushion closer to the mass of children before Elsa as Olaf crawls back into my lap. He looks up at me, grinning at the look of adoration present on my face that I'm doing a horrible job at concealing.
"You didn't know she was coming, did you?" he asks.
"Nope," I mutter.
"She is pretty," he tells me. "I can see why you like her."
He giggles as I instantly flush crimson, softly shoving him from my lap.
"Shut it, kid."
Elsa gets pulled into reading for a whole hour before I have to begrudgingly step in. We both receive ten pairs of puppy-dog eyes, but neither of us fall victim. Eventually, with the promise of Elsa returning to read again sometime soon, they leave Elsa and me alone and retreat for lunch.
"So…" I mumble once it's just me and her, stooping to pick up the mass of books Elsa had read.
"So," she repeats.
"Not what you were expecting this morning when you walked in here, huh?" I manage with a small smirk.
Elsa chuckles, and I have to swallow the knot rising in my throat because, despite everything that's happened, things I should never be able to make up for, we're standing here talking. We're talking and fumbling around the other like we always used to when we first met. This sends both waves of comfort and nostalgia over me because it's like my folly never happened, yet it also fills me with insurmountable pain. Pain because we are aware of the minefield we're tiptoeing through, yet we're choosing to ignore it. But Elsa's willing to look past that—to see the good in this war and hope that the opposing parties can band together to create something beautiful from the destruction that surrounds them.
Okay, so maybe I'm going a bit overboard with the war metaphors, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel like I had been thrust onto a battlefield suddenly.
"It was a surprise, yes," Elsa is saying, and I remember that we were actually in the middle of a conversation, "but a pleasant one. Your kids are adorable."
I smile automatically because who can't help but smile when talking about kids—evil people, that's who—but I'm also overcome with a blush as Elsa refers to them as "my kids."
"Well, they're not my kids, but I know what you meant," I say hurriedly out of embarrassment. I hear Elsa chuckle, but I carry on regardless. "They are cute though. I was kind of nervous when I landed this job 'cause I'd never worked with kids before, but they're such a good group. I fell in love almost instantly and they did too. Win-win."
"Well, you're great with them," Elsa compliments, smiling shyly once more as she looks from me, to them, and then back to me.
I feel my cheeks heat up even more and I just want to melt into the floor. Of all things, we're really talking about kids? Can this situation get any more awkward?
"When do you get off?" Elsa asks me next.
Fuck, she's asking me out now? Apparently the situation can get more awkward.
In any other situation, I'd be over the moon, head over heels, ready to profess my love for this girl, yet now her proposition only serves to wound me. Why is she being so nice? Why isn't she yelling at me? Cursing my name for all I'm worth? I don't deserve her forgiveness, I think, and I certainly don't deserve her kindness.
But I can't deny that it's all my heart has yearned for these past two weeks.
"Elsa," I mumble, refusing to look at her, "I don't…"
"Please, Anna," she nearly begs. "I agree, we need to talk. I… I-I need to talk."
I see the anguish under the façade of hope in her eyes, and I realize that maybe Elsa has been feeling the same as me. Perhaps my war metaphor wasn't so far off in reality. Instead of being enemy combatants though, Elsa and I are actually on the same side. I don't necessarily get it, but maybe Elsa feels this is her fault just as it is mine. I would try my damnedest not to let her think that, as I was the one who pushed her and she had a right to her opinions regarding her own body. Being willing to help may have come from the depths of my heart, but if this ordeal has taught me anything, it's patience.
"Anna?" she asks meekly, and I shake my head because of course I keep spacing out when I shouldn't be.
"Of course, Elsa," I tell her, smiling despite the inner turmoil still rampant inside me. "We can talk; I know we need to."
A moment passes where we just at each other with barely concealed grins on our faces. I can feel several of the children watching us from where they eat, and I'm just waiting for a chorus of "Sitting in a Tree" to break out.
"So?" Elsa prompts with a giggle. "You get off…?"
I blush, realizing I never answered when she asked me that earlier.
"Oh, duh," I mumble, causing Elsa to laugh again—yet I find myself not caring that it's at my expense again. "That might be helpful, wouldn't it?"
"Just a bit," she jokes.
Mouth aching by now due to how much I'm smiling, I tell her, "I'm off at three."
"Three," she repeats. "Want to meet back in Central Park? I know it's kind of far from here, but it is closer to both our places."
"No, no, that's fine!" I exclaim. "Central Park. I'll text you when I get off the subway to see where you are."
"Great," Elsa breathes. "See you soon. And thanks, Anna."
Smiling softly, we bid each other farewell. She's out of the room when I sigh like a love-struck teenager—which, let's be real, I am.
"No," I whisper. "Thank you, Elsa."