A/N: The paintings are George Bellows' "Romance of Autumn", at the actual Farnsworth and Claude Monet's "Meadow with Poplars" at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. I'm doing full out research here, people. This is crazy. Also crazy is how long this chapter is for me. I wouldn't recommend getting used to it. Thank you as always for your wonderful support.

"Regina? What are you doing hurrying about so?"

Regina stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of her mother's voice rising from the floor below. She had thought she would have plenty of time to prepare for Emma's arrival, but State Senator Gold had kept her so much later than he was supposed to, already in a snit about that fall's midterm elections, and once she had rushed home to change out of her intern-appropriate business wear, she found that none of the outfits she had considered wearing out for the evening looked appropriate. She cursed Gold, the time, and her wardrobe, and slipped on a robe to walk gracefully down the stairs to find her mother.

There was no yelling allowed in the Mills house. Unless Cora was the one doing it.

She found Cora at the entrance of her study, a grand room with bookshelves and files that Regina wasn't allowed in without express permission from her mother.

"I'm sorry, Mama, but I didn't want to be late for my ride."

"Your ride?" The suspicion was unmistakable despite her seemingly casual demeanor. It was one of Cora's secret weapons—a casual observer may never know what she was truly thinking, but those closest to her could easily find the intended truth. Regina stood a little straighter. She couldn't have this—whatever this was with Emma—fall apart on her end.

"For Shakespeare in Rockland, Mama. I asked you about it yesterday at dinner. It's extra credit for English."

"Oh, of course, darling. I remember." Cora's edge softened at the reminder, but her need to always find something at fault in her daughter's actions lead her in another direction. "Do you need this extra credit, dear?"

"No, of course not, Mama," Regina was quick to assure, "But it doesn't hurt."

"So right, dear. Well, enjoy. Be home by ten."

Her mother settled into her reading chair, but Regina didn't want to risk tempting the precarious balance by leaving without express permission.

"I will. May I go finish getting ready?"

"Yes, dear," Cora replied, turning her eyes to her book and waving a vague hand in Regina's direction. "Run along."

Not taking her directive literally, Regina walked back up to her room with as much haste as she could.

The minute she passed the doorframe, she closed the door and ran on her tiptoes to look at the clock.

She had five minutes.

Of course Emma probably wouldn't even show, so she was getting worked up over nothing, but she needed to be outside waiting in case she did. Mother probably wouldn't come out to catch her coming back down again if she was careful, so she could wear something less frumpy than what she did for school. It hardly mattered anyway. It was just Emma Swan, probably pulling some sort of elaborate prank on her. She certainly didn't care about impressing her.

She pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater set, letting her hair down and rubbing off some of the makeup that Cora insisted upon for work.

It was good enough.

She grabbed her purse and jacket, padded down the stairs, slipped into her shoes, and shot through the door, instantly breathing easier on their front walkway in the evening air.

She took the moment to arrange herself, scanning the road as she fastened her watch on her wrist and checked the time. 5:30 exactly.

She inhaled deeply. Now it was just up to Emma.

The second she spotted her ride roll up her driveway, Regina was beyond glad she had been outside to meet it.

Emma smiled and waved from behind the window of a vintage bug that had clearly seen better days, leaning over to help open the passenger door for Regina who had hesitantly began to cross to the side, derision for the car overriding any of the fears she had been entertaining about going somewhere with Emma.

"Will this thing even make it to Rockland?" Regina leant in from the open door, inspecting the interior.

"Hey!" Emma protested, though oddly amused by Regina's clear disdain. Her deep affection for her car usually had her vigorously defending its merits, but this time, she took no offense. "It's only 15 minutes, tops, and I'll have you know the bug is super reliable." The engine gave a little rumble as if in reply, and Emma was reminded of why Regina had been waiting outside to begin with. "Once it's started. Sorry I'm a little late."

Regina gave a non-committal hum in response, appreciating that at least Emma had a car of her own, and moved to get in.

She paused hovering as Emma sent a rapid hand out to dust the seat clear before Regina sat, fumbling in her haste and nerves.

"Sorry," she apologized, offering Regina a smile before shifting into drive. "Ruby's not always the cleanest."

Regina had moved on from the car to observing the blonde, strangely compelled by her awkwardness, which seemed to be driven by a need to please. Regina couldn't imagine any scenario in which she should have this kind of power between them, but it was hardly the first thing about the situation that had managed to confuse her.

Soon, though, the name Emma mentioned registered. Ruby Lucas. Mary Margaret's best friend. And also, apparently, Emma's.

In accepting the blonde's invitation, she had forgotten about the others. Emma's friends, some of the most widely accepted as popular at school. Even if in her wildest dreams, Regina did end up having a relationship with Emma, she wouldn't just be hers. No person was an island, especially in high school. Except for maybe Regina. She had likely made a terrible mistake getting into the car. There was no way this wouldn't end poorly.

But Emma had already pulled from the driveway and headed onto the main road. It was too late to abandon ship.

"Ruby?"

"Yeah, um, Ruby Lucas?" Emma glanced over at Regina to find herself on the receiving end of a glare that very clearly said the girl knew who Ruby was. Of course she did. "Right. We drive to weekend meets together most of the time."

Emma could feel Regina tensing in the seat next to her. She was dreading that their night would be awkward and this drive really had to set the tone. She would do everything in her power to make the ice queen melt in her favor.

"Alright, I admit it."

"Admit what?" Regina had expected her to continue, but apparently Emma wouldn't until she glanced over to catch Emma trying to make eye contact. She steeled herself for whatever bad news Emma could possibly give. She would survive it.

"I'm the slob," Emma proclaimed dramatically. "It's me. Please don't think any less of me."

"Wouldn't that require thinking something of you to begin with?"

"Ooh, ouch." Emma grinned at her passenger, who was still observing her seriously, her response given completely unsmilingly, but Emma had seen the shift. Regina Mills may have been the hardest person to read she had ever encountered, but she couldn't hide everything.

"Here's hoping I make tonight good so you'll be able to be appropriately disappointed in my car's interior on the way back."

"You don't happen to have George Clooney waiting for us at the museum, do you?"

"Can't say I do."

"Then I think your hope is already a lost cause."

Emma paused to consider the girl beside her, looking out the front window at the blooming Maine countryside. She was still composed, rigidly uncomfortable in her surroundings but confident in herself, and Emma could swear she saw the corners of her mouth twitch each time she landed a hit. Emma found she liked the sass, even less playful than Ruby's, quicker, and she definitely liked the new information. Every little bit would help, she imagined, and it was certainly helpful that Regina had great taste in leading men.

"What if it were Matt Damon and Ben Affleck?"

Regina pretended to contemplate the offer. "I suppose I could reconsider."

"Thank you. In that case, we'll just have to change our plans a little—"

"The theater closed Good Will Hunting last week," Regina interrupted, taking maybe a little more pleasure than she had to in shooting down Emma's attempt at being clever.

"I'd give you credit for the effort, but I'm afraid it was just too disappointing."

"Damn." Emma smiled. She should've known Regina had some fight in her from English. "It's a good movie though."

"It is." Regina confirmed, fondly remembering seeing it with her father at the beginning of its run, the last time they had had a full weekend together.

"Doesn't matter," Emma insisted, righting their course to the evening's plan. "Much Ado is plenty good even with its lack of heartthrobs. Though Denzel does make a decent showing."

Regina had to agree with the blonde's appraisal, but she was more interested in how well Emma seemed to know the film, considering she hadn't pegged her as someone who would want to go see it in the first place, let alone a second time. It both eased her concerns about the evening and created new ones, finding fresh distress in not being able to read the girl as easily as she hoped.

"So why this anyway?"

"Huh?" Emma had been distracted by the gains she felt she had made, and glanced over to Regina for some sort of hint.

"The Farnsworth and Kenneth Branagh on a Saturday night," Regina explained. "Why this outing?"

"It seemed like something you'd say yes to."

Everything seemed to tumble around her as she processed that she had no reason to believe Emma was actually taking them to the movie. It was all some sort of elaborate set up after all, her fear told her, winning out over her logic.

"This is all a ruse to get me out somewhere?" She remained calm, but her resentment was palpable beneath the surface.

"No!" Emma responded instantly, her gaze snapping back to Regina, thrown by how mercurial she could be. "I mean, I wanted to hang out, and this seemed like something we could both enjoy," she justified, as quickly as possible. Regina seemed to accept the explanation, if warily, so Emma continued.

"I don't know very much about you yet, Regina Mills, but you're smart and you've got high standards so I figured art, Shakespeare, and a chance to get away from Storybrooke was as good a chance as any."

Regina observed her driver. She was still nervous and apparently genuine in her interest. Regina couldn't explain any of it, but it appeared what Emma said was true. She supposed she could give her a little credit.

"You were right. It was a good idea."

Emma smiled in relief. She may come out of this evening a little battered, but there was still hope for success. She turned back to the road, happy to move on to a safer topic of their shared English class. The rest of the drive was relatively painless, and Emma once again felt her confidence rising.

But she couldn't shake the growing nagging of Mary Margaret's warning.

"I much prefer The Importance of Being Earnest."

"Right? Like if you're gonna critique your society, you should at least make me laugh."

Safely out of the car, the pair continued their discussion, walking into the building side by side amidst the other moviegoers.

Most of the museum was closed for the evening, overheads turned off in favor of soft lights radiating from the floorboards, only the hall to the theatre open and guarded by an older gentleman in a security blazer.

As they passed the pieces lining the walls, the decidedly New England landscapes and portraits, Emma noticed a particular one had caught Regina's eye and she slowed down to properly observe it.

"You like that one?" Emma pointed out the work in bright colors sitting in an ornate frame, hoping she had been correct, but thinking it didn't much seem like the girl she was with.

Regina stopped and soaked in the piece, impressed with Emma's attentive eye.

"It was my favorite when I was little," she admitted. "I am glad to see it still up front."

"Did you come here a lot?"

Emma didn't miss the sad smile that came with Regina's answer.

"My father used to take me on occasion. He would always say a museum didn't have to be grand to be good."

Despite the softness of Regina's words, Emma could sense that another set of walls was about to go up, one that probably didn't agree with being this open with a stranger. If there was anything she could do to help, it was to give her openness in return.

"Your dad sounds like a smart guy. I came on a fieldtrip my first year here, and coming from the city…but I started liking the quiet of it all. The MFA is great but it all seems unattainable, you know?"

"Did you go to the MFA a lot?"

Now it was Emma's turn to be reluctant about sharing, but she knew her past often had the added bonus of gaining someone's sympathy. Everyone knew that she was Archie's foster kid and referencing any of her life before him got her instant kindness from good hearted town folk. Most of the time she hated it, but she couldn't deny that it would be an advantage in winning Regina's favor. Besides, the shock of her familiarity with fine art could be enough on its own.

"Not a lot, a lot," she explained. "Admission is free for kids after school and on weekends. If it was rainy, or if home was rough…Sometimes it was just the nicest place to go."

"I think I would've liked that."

Regina was still looking at the painting, and Emma would've chalked the words she heard to her imagination if it weren't for her turning at the last moment. Granted, it was hardly the saddest story from her sorry childhood, but normally at any mention at all, people would clam up, apologize, or best of all, offer a bumbling "oh" and change the subject entirely. Suddenly the piece on the wall started to take on new meaning. It didn't look like it was Regina's favorite for the bright colors and the fanciful landscape but instead the sense of adventure and escape, just the way Emma had stared at Monet and thought about running through the flowers.

This whole "make her your friend" deal was going to be tiring for sure, but Emma was finding it more and more interesting.

"C'mon," Emma nudged, watching a couple hurry by, "We've got to get good seats!"

The small theatre was mostly settled by the time they got there, and every single member of the audience was at least 30 years older than them.

Regina warmed at the sight, her wondering if they'd see anyone she knew filling her with hope instead of dread, and her happiness only increased in Emma's clear discomfort.

"Are you alright?"

"What? I'm totally fine. Is the back okay?"

"Fine by me. I don't have any vision impairments."

"Good, because that's where the cool kid—" Emma paused as she slid past a couple in their 60s to get to the middle of the row. "Young adults sit. To watch Shakespeare. On a Saturday."

Regina could've laughed as they sat, Emma subconsciously wiggling in her seat.

"Are you still alright? Or do you feel your "coolness" dropping by the minute?"

"Okay, so it's a little unusual," Emma admitted, mostly to calm herself. "Whatever. We're starting a trend," she proclaimed, settling herself decisively in her place as the lights dimmed. "I will not apologize for my appreciation of good adaptations."

In the dark of the theatre, Regina allowed herself a smile. This was actually happening. And Emma, Emma was…good company.

She leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You won't have to."

Emma would've been desperate to come up with some sort of response to Regina's unexpected proclamation if Emma Thompson's voice hadn't cut through her thoughts.

"Sigh no more ladies, Sigh no more…"

"Thank god," Emma exclaimed as the pair burst into the cool evening air. She twirled around, catching the sight of Regina hurrying out behind her, trying to hide a smile as she tucked loose hair behind her ears. Emma was infinitely grateful that Regina was less of a goody-two-shoes than she seemed to be, because ten minutes into that discussion she simply couldn't take any more.

"I'm going to have to agree with you there."

"God, I am so sorry, I had no idea the Q & A would be so painfully bad."

"To be fair, you couldn't have possibly known that man was an amateur actor. Or that he thought it would be a good idea to go into a Clouseau-inspired Dogberry reenactment."

Emma groaned through her laughter. "At least the professor was decent. But still, thank you for escaping with me."

"I think it was best to leave with Ms. Thompson's performance as fresh in our minds as possible anyway."

"Isn't she great?" Emma's enthusiasm grew at the thought of her favorite part. "I'm pretty sure I'd fall in love with her Beatrice in a hot second."

"Mm," Regina smirked, "The original Sam and Diane."

"Right! Nothing like a good bickering to get things going. But, if that's not your thing, there's always brooding, evil Keanu to fall back on." Emma tried to arrange her face in a perfectly still scowl in tribute to the actor but wasn't entirely successful.

This time Regina couldn't hold back her laughter at Emma's inanities. The blonde seemed almost slaphappy between escaping the old people and the small seats and the joy of a happy ending.

Emma stopped moving about the second she heard it. Regina had a wonderful laugh. It was over much too soon as Regina caught Emma smiling at her and seemed embarrassed by her outburst. But why? They hadn't spent very much time together at all, and a good deal of it was filled with awkward confrontations, but Emma was settled. She'd genuinely like to be friends with the girl underneath that could laugh like that.

"Hey," Emma started, settling a little, not knowing how this next idea would go over. "How would you feel about grabbing a bite to eat? I know I only asked you for the movie, and I'll take you home right away if you want, but there's a great little shop on the water…"

Regina almost gaped. Every moment spent with Emma just led to more confusion. She wanted to spend more time together? Even after Regina hadn't made any particular effort to be warmer than usual? She felt she should cut things off, demand that Emma take her home immediately, and forget that this night ever happened. She could avoid any potential pain from Emma's eventual betrayal and finish up the last weeks of school the way she always did, heading into the summer and then college with no ties to Storybrooke.

But between being out from underneath her mother's thumb, the cool spring air, having actual Saturday plans for the first time in what seemed like forever, and most importantly of all, the company of this inherently irritating and yet endearing girl, she found she didn't want to.

"Sure," she replied, "I'd like that."

The chill was beginning to settle in her bones with the last of the Daylight Savings light gone, but Emma couldn't be bothered to care.

"This never gets less amazing. Never."

Despite her scorn for the fact that Emma's declaration had been made with a very full mouth, Regina nodded along in agreement, barely containing a moan herself.

Food had been an excellent idea.

Especially when that food was buttered lobster rolls with warm buns and a shared side of fresh-out-of-the-fryer fries from a shack that looked like a strong wind might knock it into the waiting Atlantic.

The kind of place Cora would never allow Regina to eat at.

They sat in the newly opened "patio" which was just some picnic tables blocked off by heavy sheets of plastic, picking up the fallen hunks of meat with their fingers.

There was something about it all that just felt so comfortable, even with the underlying currents that ran though the pair, even with the impending complications that Monday would bring—sharing fries with Emma Swan felt like the most natural thing in the world, even though none of it was.

"Damn, woman, with your salads I didn't think you'd be able to put that away."

Regina looked up from her last bites of sandwich at Emma's words, but she didn't find the anger or discomfort she was expecting, just a little guilt from knowing why it was she ate all those salads and how she likely shouldn't have indulged—but considering the rail-thin Emma had demolished hers and moved on readily to their fries, she couldn't be bothered. All that was left was the extreme curiosity of why Emma would know her eating habits. She raised an eyebrow and leant back to consider the blonde.

"And how would you know what I eat?"

"Oh, shit," Emma whispered, realizing how her thoughtless commentary was bound to get her in trouble. Again. "I—I'm sorry, Regina, I didn't mean it like—I mean, you're tiny, you should eat more—Okay, that's not the right thing to say either."

Regina would've smiled at Emma's flailing, but she was genuinely curious and didn't want to offer Emma an out in the form of good humor. She settled her mask more firmly, and crossed her arms, still fixing Emma with her stare.

"Right," Emma swallowed under the intensity of the focus. This could go very well or very poorly. "I'll just answer your question then. I may've started paying extra attention to what you do after you turned me down in the library."

Regina kept her cool even as she felt her heart rate speed up at the admission. The amount of effort Emma had dedicated…but she still didn't have the answers she wanted.

"Is that why you started engaging more in English?"

"Yeah," Emma answered sheepishly, still unable to determine how the truth would work in her favor. "You're really great at participating, and I like the subject, so I thought, shared interest?"

Regina considered her response in silence for a moment, not knowing how to proceed. Emma was apparently being honest with her, and she wanted to know more, but she also didn't want to ruin whatever they had started, and the girl was clearly on edge, shoving the last of the fries in her mouth in a nervous effort to seem blasé.

"So is this you winning a bet?"

Emma's eyes blew wide as she stopped chewing, food stuck halfway down her throat.

"Are you supposed to come back to your friends on Monday my panties in hand?"

As she continued, Emma coughed violently, choking for entirely different reasons. She scrambled for water, desperate to free up her airways to talk.

"What?" She sputtered. "God—what? No? No. What?"

Regina didn't bother with any of her masks anymore. She laughed, whole-heartedly at Emma's panic, the fear and concern so easily read in her sea green eyes. She hadn't known it would throw her so off guard. It was just supposed to be a stupid joke, to make her feel comfortable. Regina knew she might've gone too far, but she didn't really have a lot of experience with joking around, and it didn't seem to matter because she hadn't laughed so hard in ages.

"I'm sorry if my knowledge of American teen culture is limited," she elaborated between gulping breaths, "But there seem to be very few reasons why the most popular kid in school would court the time of the least…"

"Oh my god, it was a joke," Emma laughed to herself in relief, unknowingly boosted by Regina's own joy, but desperately glad she had misread her panic.

"You should not be allowed to do that," Emma breathed, scolding lightly. "I could've choked to death."

"I do know the Heimlich."

Emma laughed again, this time completely taken with Regina's effortless deadpan.

"Oh, good. I'll let you test it out next time."

"Well maybe if you hadn't been stuffing fried food into your face in an effort to avoid the truth, my joking wouldn't have been an issue."

"Fair," Emma admitted. But with the energy falling, she felt like she owed Regina something of the truth. Not about the bet, but it wasn't really about the bet anymore.

"Look, Regina," she began, more confidently than she had expected. "I know it—this—was out of the blue, but I just wanted to—there's nothing inappropriate going on here. Okay? Whatever goes on at school doesn't matter, because I think you're really interesting, and I'd like to get to know you."

Regina was struck by Emma's sincerity, when just minutes earlier she had been a bumbling, childlike mess. She didn't often think her peers very mature, but there was something in Emma, a depth that she could call on. It made Regina trust her. And that was unheard of.

"Okay," Regina agreed.

"Good. Now you can stop trying to kill me with your terrible sense of humor, and we can go get some ice cream."

There it was. The child again, instantly lightening the mood.

"Is your stomach just a bottomless pit?"

Emma bobbed her head vigorously. "You should've seen me at our last carbo load. That pasta never stood a chance."

With a smile, Emma led the way. Regina followed completely willingly behind.

"Yeah, I probably should've explained the athlete part before admitting I stuff my face."

Emma's explanation of what exactly a "carbo load" was had them discussing her running all the way until their cones had been handed over, and despite her words, she showed no reluctance in digging in.

"I did know you were an athlete—"

"Oh, yeah?" Emma cut off her admission, her eyes glimmering at the prospect that Regina might've been paying attention to her too.

"School colors and track suits on big meet days are hard to miss."

"Right." Emma deflated a little. Team pride did end up being pretty ostentatious. "At least my wearing a track suit makes sense because I'm on actual track?"

Regina rolled her eyes in begrudging amusement.

"So does lobster and ice cream also help your running?"

"Nope. But it does help me recover from a grueling week. And pretty much everything else." Emma emphasized her point with a giant lick from her double fudge brownie cone.

Regina took a much more delicate taste of her own and for the second time that night had to stop herself from vocalizing just how magnificent her food was. It didn't hurt that it was made even better in its illicitness and rarity for her.

"I might have to agree."

Emma caught the subtext in Regina's words just the same.

"Did you ever play any sports?" She asked as they sat down at a table in the corner. There was more chance they'd see someone from school here, but it was still relatively quiet this early in the season.

"Not really," Regina admitted hesitantly. It had always been just another reason to be left out when all the other kids were on the same community teams. "I had tennis and golf lessons when I was younger, but I was only ever meant to be passable."

Emma unconsciously pulled a face at the sports that she had long associated with fancy-ass people way out of her peer group. "What, like at a country club?"

Regina hadn't missed Emma's reaction, and though her tone wasn't as judgmental as her expression, Regina felt her anger rise just the same. Wealth was supposed to help her popularity, even in the most superficial of ways, but now it was just pushing away the one person who had shown an interest in years. All because her mother had told young Regina that the only sports worth knowing were the ones that would allow her to make connections. When all Regina had wanted was to try softball for once. It took all her effort to respond as if everything was fine.

"Yes."

Emma considered Regina for a moment. The rigidity was back, her muscles straining slightly, and for once Emma could see a little into what was driving it. She may have wanted what Regina had, but not the way she had it. She felt trapped by it, by what people like Emma associated with it. Emma decided to chance that her interpretation was right.

"That must've sucked."

Regina was pleasantly baffled by Emma's assessment, but Emma just kept eating as if nothing had happened, already biting down the edges of the cone.

"It kind of did," Regina confessed. "It wasn't very child-friendly, and I didn't much like the sports either."

"Yeah, I do not have the patience for golf. And I definitely would not have as a kid."

"I hate it!" Regina professed gleefully, thrilled at agreeing with Emma.

Emma laughed in return, thrilled to have broken the walls that seemed determined to keep rebuilding themselves.

"You've never been on a team then? Soccer, basketball—?"

"No," Regina confirmed, still upset she never had the chance.

"Me neither," Emma confided. "Not really. I could never get in any of the leagues as a kid. But every once in awhile I'd be in a neighborhood where the kids got together to play kickball or something. But you can run on your own." Emma's personal details were starting to come to the surface more easily now, not just in an attempt to get Regina to stay receptive to her. She inherently felt she could trust the girl without knowing why.

Across the table, Regina was starting to feel the same way, even if her brain kept telling her that she shouldn't. But Emma had responded so well to, almost everything...she could reveal something else.

"I ride."

Emma looked at her a moment, confusion plain across her brow. "Like a bike?"

"No." Regina steadied herself. "My horse. Rocinante."

"You have a horse?"

Regina briefly panicked when she wasn't sure what was underneath Emma's questioning, but it was cut off as quickly as it started when the blonde continued.

"That's so cool!"

The panic was instantly replaced with confusion. Of all the potential responses Regina had been anticipating, none of the positive ones had been anywhere near this enthusiastic.

"Cool?"

"Yeah, cool!" Emma burst, the little girl who had never even thought to want a pony getting a chance to dream. "I've really only seen them on TV. Or the BPD mounted unit. I think I pet one once. Do you do those jumps and stuff?"

"Yes," Regina confirmed, mystified at the way Emma truly seemed invested in the answer. "I don't compete much anymore, but I still run practice courses with him."

"So you are a secret athlete! You're probably like Olympic-level and you had to stop competing to give other people a chance." Emma grinned, leaning in. "Maybe I'll invite Rocin—" She had the name on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't quite get it to roll off.

"Rocinante," Regina supplied with a smile.

"Rocinante," Emma repeated, determined to get it right the next time, "To our next carbo load. If you make him do some hard running, after all."

"I'll be sure to ask him on your behalf."

"Good, I could use somebody on the team who could match me in speed," Emma boasted suavely. "And who could compete in the steeplechase! I am nowhere near coordinated enough for that shit."

"Why do I not have any trouble believing that."

Emma allowed the laugh at her expense as she polished off the rest of her cone.

"So is that what you do after school? Ride?" She questioned, genuinely curious what Regina was up to outside of school when she barely did any of the clubs she used to. She regretted it almost instantly, watching the suspicion reappear in Regina's eyes.

"Yes…why?"

Grateful for the opening, Emma explained her activities instead. "Being on the team doesn't leave time for much else while we're in season. Not that I'd be doing anything in particular anyway. Sometimes I'll actually dedicate some time for photography outside of class assignments, but that's about it. I'd rather just hang out."

Regina apparently accepted her interest for what it was, but something was still off about the subject. "I'm allowed two hours with Ro directly after school when I don't have tutoring or extra rehearsals for orchestra."

Emma decided to bypass the "allowed" for a moment to focus on what she thought might be safer territory.

"Orchestra, huh. Let me guess, violin," She joked, hoping to help the conversation along.

"Yes."

Regina's terse response had her feeling like this wasn't safer territory after all, though Emma didn't think it had to do so much with orchestra as the instrument.

"You seem like more of a cello girl."

Regina scrunched her eyebrows, nonplussed.

"Then why would you guess violin?"

Oops. She could go with revealing her yearbook research or that she likely would've guessed violin anyway. Neither was particularly appealing.

"It seems like the over-achiever thing to play." Emma wasn't particularly confident in her answer, but Regina allowed it, being the one to move them on.

"I can also play the cello, though not particularly well. Violin and piano."

"That's crazy impressive."

"Thank you."

Regina wasn't sure she wanted to get into her musical life at the moment, and for the first time that night she sought to avoid Emma's gaze, turning to see the street through their window.

She hadn't realized just how dark the sky had gotten absorbed in conversation with Emma, but her glance out the window was immediately followed by a glance at her watch.

"I have to get back home."

Emma felt more than heard the hint of franticness hidden behind the statement and glanced at her own watch. 9:40. It was a little early for a weekend but a lot longer than she had imagined spending with Regina.

"No problem," she affirmed, getting up with a smile.

Regina smiled graciously and promptly led the way out the door.

The car ride back to the Mills' house was relatively quiet. Regina kept checking her watch and looking out the window as if willing the car to go faster.

Emma watched the regal girl in beside her. Despite Regina's best efforts to maintain her façades, Emma was starting to see something in Regina she was unfortunately all too familiar with from her time in the system. A lot of the little things were starting to add up to create a fuller picture—not of the girl but of the situation she was trapped in.

Catching Regina's eyes as she looked back over, Emma felt her investment in the relationship deepen.

These stakes were higher than a bet.

As she turned onto Regina's road, Emma looked over once more, hoping to catch the brunettes' attention.

"Thank you," she began sincerely, "For giving me a second chance. For hanging out tonight. I had a really good time."

Regina felt herself warm at Emma's words. She could no longer sense any deception, and her speedy, if somewhat reckless, driving had put them in her driveway a full five minutes before curfew. She turned to face her (friend? Acquaintance? New beginning?) and graced her with a smile.

"I did, too."

Shifting into park, Emma turned fully to Regina, unable to keep her question from escaping.

"Maybe we could hang out again soon?" Emma couldn't help her excitement. Especially when she found she actually did want to hang out again soon.

Regina thought she wouldn't mind that at all.

"Maybe," she allowed as she slipped out of the car and walked towards her front door, trying to hide her nerves.

She didn't have to turn back to know that Emma was leaning out of her car window.

"Good night! See you Monday!" Emma called after her.

Watching Regina enter her house and shut the door behind her, she shifted into drive with enthusiasm.

Phase two was a success.