Not being able to see anything is weird in the beginning. The soup is hard to eat. She dips her spoon into the soup, but when she tries to eat, the spoon is empty. It isn't easy to hold the spoon even, when she can't see her own hands. After the first dish Perry serves bruschetta with different toppings. Laura first tries to use her knife and fork, but surrenders quickly. It is hard enough to eat the bread with her hands since the topping keeps on landing on the table rather than in her mouth.

But it gets easier. It still feels strange to eat, talk and move while being virtually blind, but Laura has always been quick at adapting. It isn't easy to tell the voices apart, but she gets better at it with time; knowing who is who is a different matter altogether.

A girl she presumes to be LaFontaine and the guy with the slight British accent, the one that has an abbreviation as a name, keep on talking about science stuff that Laura doesn't understand at all. When they talk about genomes, genetic drift or leukocytes, Laura is reminded of the horrible biology lessons she had to suffer through in high school. T.J. or whatever his name is and LaFontaine however are immersed in their own little word.

Natalie is quiet. She has a soft voice - except when she talks to or about J.P. As far as Laura can tell, they used to date… apparently it didn't end well. Then there is the guy from her Lit class, who keeps on saying bro or hottie whenever he talks. There are other voices she can't really distinguish between. The only voice she can always identify is Carmilla's. It's probably, because she is sitting right next to her. Yeah, that has to be the reason. It has nothing, nothing at all to do with the fact that her heart leaps in her chest whenever the other girl speaks.

Slowly Laura starts cutting the spaghetti in little pieces feeling the wrath of her ancestors upon her. She says a silent prayer asking for forgiveness. It's not like she has a choice. There is no way she can properly eat spaghetti blind.

"If my grandma could see my right now, she'd turn in her grave."

"Why's that?"

"She was Italian. She once threw a fit when I put the spaghetti into the pot before the water was boiling. She was very peculiar about food." Laura had been able to eat spaghetti properly, before she even knew what spaghetti were. After her mom's death, her grandma had moved in with her dad and her. Her grandma wouldn't be happy if she knew that her only granddaughter lived off fast food and instant noodles. She'd be furious.

"So, you're half Italian?"

"I'm… My grandmother was Italian, so I suppose I'm a quarter Italian. Why are you asking?"

"Just curious, hottie."

"So, you speak Italian?" a girl asked. It sounds like Natalie.

"Ehmm, no."

"Too bad."

"I understand some, we used to visit my nonna's relatives in the summer when I was younger, but I never really got to learn it properly."

"Really, Will?" Carmilla suddenly says next to her. Laura isn't sure what they are talking about.

"I love the song." She turns her attention from Will to the music in the background. For the first time she actively listens to the music. There had been music throughout the whole evening. A lot of different songs, a jumble of different genres. But the song that starts playing is unlike anything she has ever heard before.

It's an instrumental song. Just the piano and it's eerily beautiful. Most piano songs she knows remind her of a time long gone, a time when her mother was still there; she always felt like there is something inherently sad about the music a piano creates. Listening to it always makes her want to bawl her eyes out.

But this, this is different. It feels hopeful; strangely it reminds Laura of the spring; of the first flowers after a long winter, of a meadow full of rainbow colored flowers.

"This is beautiful."

"The music? You like it?" Carmilla asks tentatively.

"I love it."

"You sit next to the composer. My big sis, she's very good, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Laura says at the same time, as Carmilla says, "I'm not."

"You are," Laura repeats, "I used to play the piano when I was younger. But my dad didn't like music after… he didn't want me to play anymore. So he sold our keyboard."

"I heard playing an instrument is like riding the bike. Once learned, it's never forgotten," one of the guys says.

"Who told you that? Playing the piano is much more than just hitting the correct keys at the right time. It certainly isn't like riding a bike." Carmilla sounds angry.

"I haven't touched the keys in over fifteen years, I'm sure I can't even play any of those ridiculous kids songs anymore. And I was never good anyways."

"We have a piano," Will says, "if you want, you can play something later, Laura."

"I don't know…"

"Carm could help you out; she's a good teacher as well."

"I wouldn't want her to…"

"It would be my pleasure," Carmilla says quickly, "but you don't need to; no pressure, cutie."

Laura closes her eyes under the goggles and remembers her mom teaching her how to play the piano. The memory is so vivid that it gives Laura a chill. It seems to her that she can even feel her mother's hands on her fingers as she guides them over the keys. Her eyes start burning and she quickly shakes her head, trying to get rid of the painful memory.

"Laura?"

"Yeah, sorry. Maybe one day." She tries to keep her voice from betraying her.

"I drove our piano teacher crazy when I was younger," Will says, "I hated it. And I was so bad at it; there aren't even words to describe it. Mother had us practice the fucking piano, while all my friends were outside playing in the woods. And of course, Carmilla was a natural."

"I wasn't."

"Yes, you were. She composed her first song at the impressive age of nine, while I was mud wrestling my best friend in our back yard."

"It was a shitty song."

"Ell liked it."

Carmilla doesn't answer for a long time. The seconds tick away, the tension building until Carmilla breaks the silence with a nonchalant reply. "Ell liked everything."

"You know that's not true."

"She liked you, Will." Her voice is quiet, her words finite. The playful tone that always resonates in her words is gone, replaced by a bitter note.

Laura doesn't have a brother or a sister, but she knows that the relationship that Will and Carmilla have is most definitely not what a healthy brother-sister relationship is supposed to look like. There is always some sort of rivalry and teasing, but something major must have happened between them. Probably not too long ago since most grudges fade with time.

The others at the table seem to be used to their behavior, they quickly change the topic to a movie that Laura hasn't even heard about. They laugh about how the lead actor looks like a potato, a hot potato, but a potato nonetheless.

Laura can't help but think about the silent girl next to her. The hurt in her voice had been real; echoing some of the pain Laura had felt at the memory of her mother. But everybody just ignored it and stopped paying attention to her. It doesn't feel right.

She knows what pain feels like; and she knows what it feels like to feel the need to hide the aching pain away. Taking a deep breath, she thinks about something to say to the other girl. Laura isn't really good at making small talk. She can always talk about the weather, but that's just cheap.

"Carmilla," she starts, "so… philosophy."

It is the first thing that comes to her mind remembering Carmilla's field of study. It's a start; everybody likes to talk about what they are passionate about, right?

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why philosophy?"

"Your interview skills are impeccable, Lois Lane. I'm sure you mean to ask why I choose to delve into the vast realm of philosophy rather than do something useful with my time."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"It's ok, cupcake. You're not the first and certainly not the last to ask."

Laura wants to argue, but Carmilla beats her to it.

"Maybe I just like to waste my mother's money on things I know she hates; maybe I'm one of those dimwits who think their whole world will suddenly make sense once they can quote Kant, Hegel or Hume; maybe I just don't want to accept the world the way it is at the moment; maybe I really don't give a fuck about anything; maybe I like the challenge of trying to make sense things that are not explainable; maybe I like to make fun of imbeciles who think they can impose order on an arbitrary universe: maybe I just enjoy finding always more questions instead of answers; maybe I am…"

"Alright, alright… so basically you're a misanthrope who hates the whole world?"

"Hell is other people," she starts reciting, "hell is my moronic brother…"

"I love you too, Carm," he interjects. The tense exchange that only happened minutes before seems forgotten. She just ignores him.

"… hell is his equally stupid friends; hell is cute girls asking too many questions when I'm not in the mood to answer them."

"All right, got it. Too many questions, I'll just shut up now."

"Didn't think, you'd back down so easy, cutie."

"I know, when I'm not wanted."

"Ouch. Don't take it personally; I'm just not what you'd call a very social person."

"I have noticed."

So much for making her feel better; Laura knows she should be angry at Carmilla for brushing her off like that, but in a weird way she thinks she understands the other girl. She's been hurt and is only trying to protect herself.

Again Laura wonders what Carmilla is even doing here. She said something about being forced to attend the dinner, but she can't really make sense of it. At first Laura had just thought the other girl was being dramatic and just in a bad mood, but she slowly realizes that there might be more to it.

"There are a few things I'm good at," Carmilla purrs. Seriously what is it with her that reminds Laura of a cat; and not a adorable, little house cat that spends the whole day sleeping in your bed or cuddling with you, but a big, dangerous cat that can rip you apart in a single moment of abstraction.

"Huh?" Laura tries very hard to repress the images that are trying to invade her mind. Things Carmilla is good at sounds very ominous and… promising. She remembers the mysterious girl asking her if she wants to get out of here. She remembers her hand on her arm, touching her reassuringly. Laura swallows hard.

"I'm a pretty good listener."

"You are?"

"Yes."

So Laura starts talking. Rambling might be a more appropriate term. She talks about her studies, about how much she loves university (a lot), about her favorite classes, about some stupid works of literature that she admires, about living on her own for the first time, about how messy her roommate is, about how Betty always steals her TARDIS cup, about how much she loves Dr. Who, about how she dressed up as the Doctor last Halloween.

Carmilla is just silently listening, every now and then asking a question. Laura talks about how she got lost on the way to her first class (she doesn't mention that it was Danny that showed her the way at last), about how she still gets lost, since her sense of direction is non-existent. That's when she realizes that the building of the philosophy department and her department are right next to each other.

"You know, now that I think about it, it's really weird that we never met before. Silas U isn't very big after all."

"It's big enough for you to never cross paths with my dear brother, LaF or Perry."

"True, but then again I'm never around the Economic Faculty. And I don't even know where the biology labs are. However, the philosophy department is located right next to mine."

"Maybe we have met, you just can't remember."

"I'm sure I would remember you," Laura says quickly. Too quickly she realizes.

"And why's that, cutie?"

Laura blushes. "Just… because."

"Ah." Carmilla knows. Of course she knows. She could as well be wearing a huge sign on her forehead proclaiming her stupid crush for the other girl.

"I just meant… If I had seen you before, I'm sure I would recognize you," she tries again in an attempt to recover whatever dignity she has still left.

"Technically, you still haven't seen me, buttercup."

"Well yeah, but you know what I mean."

She laughs. "I do?"

"Of course you do. That's so weird, I don't even know what you look like and… " I am already falling for you. Laura bites her lip. Damn Carmilla and her sultry voice and charm that makes her think and say things she wouldn't otherwise.

"And?"

"… nothing."

"If you say so." Again Laura can hear her smile. Laura knows she should just stop talking, before she makes an even bigger idiot out of herself. But she likes talking to Carmilla. She's different.

They fall silent. Laura listens to Will tell one of the other guys about some kind of video game. This is probably the most awkward situation she has managed to maneuver herself into in a long, long time. Luckily the others seem to have ignored her conversation with Carmilla and have been talking among themselves. She wonders what Carmilla is thinking.

Laura curses her quick mouth; whenever she gets nervous the connections between her mind and mouth gets disconnected and stupid words just stumble out of her mouth.

"You want to find out, cupcake?"

"Find out what?"

"Do you want to know what I look like?"

"Of course," Laura says promptly. Again her mouth is faster than her mind. "I mean… why not."

"Give me your hands."

"What?" Laura isn't sure what Carmilla is means to do with her hands, but she complies anyway. She turns in her seat and stretches her arms out. "I'm not sure this is going to work, since I can't see where you… oh!"

It doesn't even take Carmilla a second to find her hands. Soft fingers grasp around Laura's wrists, gently squeezing her hand while her thumbs rest on the palm of her hand. Laura forgets how to breathe for a second; momentarily disconcerted by the feathery touch on her skin.

The other voices, Will's soft laugh, the clinking of cutlery against dishes disappears completely; it's like there is a bubble around them that drowns out all the other voices. It's only them here.

"Since your seeing ability is somewhat… limited tonight, we'll try something different." She hears Carmilla shift next to her. Laura can feel their knees touching; nervously she wriggles in her chair.

Carmilla is still holding her hands and lifts them slowly up to her own face. Laura hopes that the other girl can't tell how nervous she is. She tries to keep her fingers from shaking, willing them to stop trembling. Carmilla guides her hands until Laura feels the soft skin of Carmilla's face under her fingers. Carmilla is still holding her hands in place, one thumb softly caressing Laura's sensitive skin. Her touch ignites small wildfires all over Laura's skin, burning even hotter than her cheeks. Nope, they should definitely not be doing that. Still Laura doesn't find it in her heart to tell Carmilla to stop.

Her heart is busy anyway.

"I'm all yours, cupcake," Carmilla says. It's barely a whisper. She loosens her grip, her fingers grazing Laura's forearm as she lets them drop down.

They are closer than they have ever been before. Unconsciously Laura had leaned into the touch, into Carmilla's movement as she drew her closer, following her hands towards Carmilla; it's really hard to tell how close they actually are since all Laura can see is the darkness surrounding her. She can hear Carmilla draw steady breaths, can feel her warm breath on her skin, clouding her senses.

She finally finds her voice. "I really don't know what to do. This..."

"Don't overanalyze it, cupcake. Just… feel."

Laura feels her remaining resistance drop in a heavy sigh that escapes her lips. Her arms and her hands for that matter are frozen to the very spot where Carmilla had guided them; her muscles tense and unyielding, not daring to move even an inch. But the sensation of feeling Carmilla's words, even before they leave her mouth, makes Laura snap out of the stasis that had captured her. Her hands are still clumsily touching Carmilla's cheeks feeling her jaw move up and down forming words that she can barely make out.

Laura knows that she should just withdraw her hands; she should break the contact between them. Just do the proper thing. She knows what they are doing is wrong. She knows, but that isn't keeping her from tentatively moving her fingers over Carmilla's skin. Damn, how can her face be so soft and inviting?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a light turns to a dark, admonishing red, trying to warn her not to cross a predetermined line; warning her of the danger sitting across from her. She ignores the tug in her chest that tells her to keep her hands to herself. But even in midst her inner turmoil she knows that at the moment there is nothing more she wants to do than get lost in the feeling of touching the other girl so intimately.

The need to keep the contact is growing stronger by the second. She knows that whatever it is they are doing is a disaster waiting to happen, reminding herself of their company. She's in a room full of Danny's (the girl who was supposed to be her date for the evening she reminds herself) friends and she feels like they are watching her every move. If not watching, then at least listening to every word she says.

And then there is Carmilla. Laura can't deny the obvious attraction she feels for the mysterious girl. She's had crushes before. She knows what attraction feels like; at least she thought she knew. Now she isn't so sure anymore. She has never before felt such a strong pull towards somebody, her attraction for the other girl feels inescapable. She feels drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. A flame she knows is probably going to burn her alive once she comes to close.

And she can't bring herself to care. Laura is falling. She can't help it. It's stupid really. She hasn't even seen the other girl and they know each other for what? An hour at most. That is to say, they don't know each other at all. There are so many things she doesn't know about the other girl; so many mysteries and questions. Carmilla is a puzzle she wants to solve.

Of course she remembers the argument between Carmilla and Will; remembers what Will said about Carmilla getting back at him by fooling around with Laura. Her mind is screaming at her to stop. Most likely Carmilla is playing with her; playing her. But when her thumb accidently grazes what could only be Carmilla's lips, she feels her heart leap into her throat. She lets her thumb linger for a moment longer than she should have and feels Carmilla's mouth turn into a smile.

It takes all her self-restraint to not draw the line of her mouth with her fingertips. Reluctantly she moves her fingers away, still remembering the feeling of Carmilla's lips. She completely loses herself in the soft touches.

It doesn't even matter that her touches are clumsy and awkward. This isn't something she has ever done before; touching a stranger in such an intimate way. But then again, this is Carmilla, not a complete stranger. She trails her fingers over Carmilla's chin, cheeks, her nose and her forehead; she feels plump moving her hands around in the darkness in front of her. Not being able to see the girl she is currently touching. She tries to imagine what she looks like, tries to draw a mental image of Carmilla in her mind. It is driving her crazy that she comes up empty.

She wants nothing more than to rid herself of the stupid goggles that make it impossible to see Carmilla. Before she knows what she is doing her hand moves of its own accord, touching the strap that is literally rendering her blind. Carmilla must have sensed her agitation, must have felt her hand move away, because she leans towards Laura.

"Don't," she says. Laura stops dead in her tracks. "Let's savor this… fantasy a while longer."

Carmilla's hand finds hers that is still cradling the strap only seconds away from yanking the goggles off. She covers her hand conveniently making it impossible for Laura to move her own hand away. Then again, it's not like Laura would willingly break their physical contact.

"Thank you."

"I… you-" Again, she doesn't find words to express what she is feeling at the moment. As an aspiring journalist she should really be more articulate; she should really think about a career change.

Carmilla moves her hands again. Laura's other hand is still resting on Carmilla's cheek. The thought of breaking the contact hasn't even occurred to Laura. Second later, Carmilla has moved their hands, so that now Laura is holding the other girl's hands in hers. Laura latches onto her hands. She fears that Carmilla is just going to dissappear if she loosens her hold.

Carmilla laughs. Her laugh is like her voice. On the one hand it's deep and vibrant and sends a shiver though Laura's body, but on the other hand it's so soft and soothing that Laura wants to drown in the sound.

"My turn."

Carmilla's hands are soft – not as soft as her face though. Laura gently navigates them to her own face. She holds her breath in anticipation, her skin tingling when Carmilla's fingers touch her cheek. She feels nervous and self-conscious.

Carmilla cups her cheeks with her hands and runs her thumb down her jaw line. Her touches are confident; she knows what she is doing. Laura's heart sinks at the thought that she isn't the first girl that Carmilla has touched like this. Her own touches had been clumsy and inexperienced; Carmilla knows exactly what she is doing.

She's running her fingers across her cheeks, drawing patterns Laura isn't able to make out. She's drawing small circles, letters and shapes on her skin. It feels like she is trying to convey a message in her touches that Laura can't make out; like she is writing in a language Laura doesn't know.

She is running her fingers over the bridge of her nose, grazing the point of her nose with her fingertips, letting her fingers trail over the side of her nose. Carmilla lets out a small grunt when she touches the goggles, annoyed at the barrier that blocks her fingers from roaming freely. Her fingers glide up towards her forhead, drawing the outline of her face, trailing along her hairline, tracing the curve of her brow with swift fingers. She uses one hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, while the other hand moves on to caress her cheek again.

The soft touches are sending shivers down Laura's spine. Carmilla's fingers explore her face like it's the most precious thing she has ever touched. At times it feels almost like she is massaging Laura's skin, drawing small circles on Laura's temples, before running her fingers over her forehead again. She is running her fingers down her face in a circular movement, her hands meeting just below her mouth. Her thumb barely grazing Laura's lip, that quivers slightly at the touch.

"You are beautiful, Laura," Carmilla whispers, the syllables hovering over her nose in a rush of warm breath.

"It's not like you can tell from touching my face." It sounds harsher than she wants it to. Carmilla's flattery made her even more self-conscious and her mind slowly starts working again; remembering the warning bells that had been ringing in her head nonstop since Carmilla first touched her.

But Carmilla only laughs, her fingers playing with a another stray lock of Laura's hair. She hasn't moved an inch away, if anything she is only getting closer to Laura.

Laura feels soft hair touching her face, a floral and musky smell invading her senses. Her heart stops for a second, before throbbing violently in her chest. Laura hears Carmilla breathing into her ear. Evenly. It's driving her crazy how composed Carmilla still is, drawing steady breaths, while she is very near to fainting.

"When I told my idiot brother that I was only being nice to you, I lied." Her voice is so deep and sensual that it makes Laura's insides tingle. "I'm totally, one hundred percent hitting one you."

Laura isn't stupid. Of course she knows that what they are doing isn't a friendly get-to-know-you game. Her words aren't a surprise, since all Carmilla had done since they met was hitting on her. But still… saying the words makes what they have more real.

Laura feels Carmilla's breath on her skin and her mouth is still so close, nearly touching Laura's earlobe. She closes her useless eyes and tries to even her breathing.

Worst. Crush. Ever.