Arturia sat on the kitchen counter, watching Diarmuid prepare dinner for the evening. She swung her legs and tapped her fingers on the granite, just keeping her eyes on her boyfriend and enjoying the day.
"Medium rare?" He turned to her, that cheesy apron still on him.
She refrained from smiling at his tousled hair, apron and goofy smile, "Yes, that would be perfect." She grinned, leaning back onto the counter.
He turned back, now paying more attention to the meat he was making. He looked happy. There was light music playing in the living room—dancing towards the kitchen. The smell of beef surrounding them and the smallest of movement in his hips affirmed that he was feeling happy.
"What are you thinking about?" Arturia asked, leaning forward.
"Hn?" He let his gaze return to her, his eyes blinking and long lashes fluttering.
A grin snaked on her lips and she hopped down from the counter. She walked up to the man and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him. His arms slid over her waist, drawing her closer. She let her laugh slip and she looked away.
"What is it?" Diarmuid asked, his hazel eyes looking down at her.
She pulled him down to her lips without warning and planted a soft kiss on them.
He laughed and kissed her back, rubbing circles on her waist.
Arturia laughed into the kiss and slowly pulled away.
"What is it?" He mumbled again, this time against her lips.
She could smell his cologne, like the first time they kissed. She could feel his tensed shoulders as if he were keeping himself in check or trying not to make her uncomfortable. "I had to kiss you, you're Irish."
He had to hide his blooming blush, a laugh erupting from his chest as he looked down at the cheesy apron, "I forgot about that," he rolled his eyes before he kissed her on the cheek, "I definitely forgot about that."
Arturia hugged him tightly and then let him go, "You better not let that meat burn."
He lifted her chin up towards him and then gave her a peck on the lips, "I promise it will be delicious."
"I have no doubt."
After dinner and a glass of orange juice (Very elegant, I know), they made their way to the living room where they planned to watch a few movies before calling it a night. Currently, Jeanne was busy with work and Cú said that he had some business to take care of and he would spend his time with his sister, who lived on the other side of the city. Thus, with no double date, they decided to spend their time at home.
"What are you up for?" Arturia asked, laying down on his lap as she flipped through the CD album.
He brushed her hair, feeling how soft and silky it was; almost as if he were caressing satin, "Whatever you would like."
"Oh," she huffed, "You better choose something, I have no idea what I want to watch right now." She peered over the CD case, "Anything that interests you?"
He twirled her hair, "Mystery?" He murmured, lifting a brow.
A smile grew on her lips and she sat up, her hair falling from his grasp, "Awesome, I have the perfect one."
Arturia stood from the couch and quickly searched through another Album before finding the CD that she had been searching for. She popped it into the player and hurried back to Diarmuid, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You know," she whispered to him as the movie began to play, "it's nice being here." A blush lit her face and the man next to her just chuckled.
"It's nice having you next to me." He whispered back, kissing her head gently.
The couple kept silent for most of the film, except when they were arguing over who the killer was. Of course, they were both wrong in the end.
"I still think the girl would have been a good plot twist." Diarmuid popped a grape into his mouth.
"No." Arturia shook her head, "It should have been the mother. I swear, that woman gave me the creeps." She laughed, faking a shiver.
Diarmuid shrugged, "I think it was too bloody."
"Gory, you mean?" The young woman corrected.
"Whatever," he laughed, "I'm a Science teacher, not an English one."
Arturia was back to laying on his lap, "So glad you aren't." She giggled and then pulled him down towards her again, just so that he was centimeters away, "I would have hated you."
His honey eyes had fixed on her pale lips; they looked rough and chapped, but oh so kissable, "And why is that?" He hushed over, as if people were there to hear them.
"English teachers are much too cocky for my taste." She answered back in the same quiet tone.
"And what about me?" He asked, leaning closer as his hair fell close to her face.
She shrugged, "Hmm," she bit her lip, "I don't know."
He laughed, "What do you mean?"
"Well…" She let her eyes drift from his, "You're a bit strict."
"Ha! Hardly."
Arturia nodded, "Oh, yes you are! You barely let me see you at school."
Her gave her an unamused look, "Riight," he deadpanned. Diarmuid looked back at her lips (of which she had pouted to one side), her mesmerizing green eyes letting him go for a second. And then, as if in a spell, he kissed her.
Their lips moved against one another and she sat up, not once breaking the kiss. They settled on the couch a little more comfortably. His right hand held her face gently while his left was placed securely on her back, so she wouldn't topple over and onto the floor.
She had her hands tangled in his hair, lightly grasping the dark curls in her fingers. She was seated next to him, legs off to one side. His lips tasted like orange juice but it did not bother her.
Arturia was the one to stop the kiss as she pulled away from his lips; her soft breaths on his jaw.
The television turned off after a few minutes of inactivity, sending the room into a dark abyss.
Her right hand slid over his neck, slowly and teasingly. Her fingers stopped on his collarbone and with ghostly touches, outlined it, reaching his shoulder. She felt the muscles under her hand and then she pulled him back into a soft kiss.
Diarmuid was warm, soft and yet tense under her touch; but she enjoyed it. The way goosebumps would form on his neck as she tugged his hair a bit, or how his breathing sped up with every kiss, even just how his face was flushed and he seemed confused when he opened his eyes after a kiss.
He flinched when she set a simple kiss on his jaw, "I-I," he pushed her away gently, "I think we should stop here for the night." He was not really concerned of where things would lead as their kisses had not been suggestive but he did think that there had been enough of kisses for the night.
"Oh," she frowned.
"It's rather late now and maybe I should drive you home." He spoke, reaching for the remote of the television, so that they could at least see something.
Arturia shrugged, "Or I could stay the night?"
"No. No, that really would not be gentlemanly of me." He shook his head rapidly, "Your father would be worried."
"I'm the only one at home today. Father is still in London, in case you had forgotten." She grumbled as she sat properly on the couch.
No comment.
"I am not suggesting we sleep in the same bed. I could borrow Cú's room for the night; I'm sure he would not mind." She continued.
"I just feel I have to take you home. It is my duty to make sure that you're safe." He answered, his voice low.
Arturia rubbed her neck, "What would be better than to let me stay over and have me sleep in the room over? Then you wouldn't have to worry about me falling down the stairs or getting killed in my own home like in the movie. You know, killers tend to attack young girls in a big empty house."
Diarmuid cringed, shaking his head.
"One out of ten murders happen to women at home, you do know that, right?" That was a clearly made up 'fact'.
She was a tough cookie, "Fine," he huffed, "but only for tonight. Since you're home alone and after this film I would not like to be the one responsible for your death."
She grinned, "A great choice."
"But," he paused, "I would prefer if you sleep in my room and I in Cú's since I am sure he would not like his girlfriend's best friend sleeping in his room."
"Deal." She stood from the couch and followed him up the stairs after they had shut the T.V. off for good.
He opened the door for her and she trickled in, taking note of the green bedspread and white pillows. There were a few family pictures here and there but the room was rather void of anything that personalized it. It looked like a normal room.
"Here we are, I hope you like it." He smiled at her.
Arturia stepped in, walking to the King bed and falling on it, "Woah, this is a nice bed."
Diarmuid nodded as he leaned on the door frame, "I guess."
She laughed, "Of course it is."
They were silent for a while, just looking at each other.
Arturia coughed, "I'll get lonely here."
It was his turn to laugh, "We made an agreement."
"Well, I'm sure Cú would not like you sleeping in his bed either." She deadpanned, "How about I sleep on the floor and you on the bed?"
Diarmuid shook his head, "No, there is no way I'm letting you sleep on the floor."
"It's not that uncomfortable. I always do it when Gwen, Jeanne and I have a sleepover at Jeanne's." She explained, looking at him with big green eyes.
"No, I'll sleep on the floor if you feel lonely."
A blush ran across her face and she looked down, hiding herself from the light above her, "I would not like it if you were uncomfortable because of me."
"No, I wouldn't be. So far as you feel safe, it is all I could ask for." He pushed himself off the door frame and walked towards one of the many closet doors, pulling out sheets and blankets.
Arturia awkwardly sat on the bed, silent as she watched him get his makeshift futon ready. He handed her a red pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt.
"Here," he smiled, "I am certain you would not like to sleep in that." His eyes ran over the uniform, "It would not be comfortable."
Arturia laughed and she gave a nod, "I suppose so." She slipped off the bed, "May I borrow the washroom so I could change?"
"Sure, just don't forget to bring it back." He gave a cheeky grin.
Arturia glared at him in a light-hearted manner, "So silly," she commented and then continued off to the washroom.
"Are you asleep?" Arturia whispered, looking over at the electronic clock. The neon green light blinding her eyes for a bit until she read the time.
1:06
"No," Diarmuid whispered back and slowly shifted.
Her hand fell over the edge of the bed, "Can I hold your hand?"
He did not reply.
She sighed, ready to pull her hand up again but it was stopped midway when he took a hold of it. His hand was warm, and big; it was refreshing.
"Thank you," She whispered, her eyes slowly closing with the reassuring grip around her hand.
Jeanne huffed as she sat on her bed, hugging her knees tightly. She hit her head against her knees a couple of times and closed her eyes shut. Her mind was out and about leaving her much too pensive for her own good. It was late but she was still feeling insecure.
She was strong, but not after a long day at work where everything seemed to go wrong. Not when her mind was telling her she wasn't worth it. She knew she was worth it, but the doubt still lingered. She had to be patient, but it was too difficult when everything was piling up on her. The pressures of university, her career and a boyfriend were heavy for her to carry by herself.