Anya cast a quick furtive glance towards the door, checking again that she had remembered to lock it. On the other side, the party raged on, and Anya knew that she only had a few minutes before someone would undoubtedly try to barge in - probably hoping for a bit of privacy with their one-night stand.

It was rare for Eden students to throw parties in their dorms, mainly due to the fear of getting found out (and the subsequent Tonitrus Bolt), and it was even rarer for Anya to attend. She usually only cared about hanging out with Becky, or trying to get closer to Damian for Plan B, so she didn't have much motivation to try to get along with the other students. Many of them were rich snobs who looked down on her for being a commoner, and Anya couldn't be bothered putting up with their snide remarks when she was around.

Thankfully, Becky also didn't usually care for the parties at the Eden dorms - she had far too much shopping to catch up with - but on this occasion Anya made an exception.

If she was going to try Plan B, she was going to commit to it.

Hoping that no-one would disturb her just yet, Anya turned to Becky Blackwell - her best friend in the whole world - who, at that moment, was perched on the bed with an eyebrow raised, clearly wondering why Anya had brought her into a secluded room at a party and locked the door. Becky knew that her friend was a stranger, but recently Anya's behaviour had taken a turn for the borderline weird.

Ever the patient friend, Becky waited with her hands folded in her lap, and took a deep breath. "Are you going to tell me what's going on? What's so urgent that you had to drag me away from a party?"

"Oh don't be so grumpy, I only tore you away from Bill Watkins! What were you two talking about, anyway?"

Becky flushed. "N-nothing! Just the latest episode of Berlint in Love, Bill is actually surprisingly cultured, ha ha..."

Argh! I need to change the topic before I give anything away!

Anya tilted her head to the side, inquisitively. "Bill watches Berlint in Love? Wait - nevermind that! I need to talk to you about Damian." (She actively decided to ignore that Becky just called him 'Bill' and not just 'Watkins' as she normally would.)

At this, Becky instantly lit up. "Ooh please tell me he kissed you after your date ages ago! I've been dying to hear what happened!"

Anya shifted on her feet unsteadily. She never found it easy talking about Damian with Becky, largely because she could never mention anything to do with Plan B or Operation Strix. So that complicated things. But Becky knew love, and romance, and teen drama, and Anya could work with that.

"Well, um, it wasn't a date, we just went as friends -"

"Oh it was definitely a date-"

"- but we held hands through, like, the whole film-"

"Oh my god that is so cute!"

"- and, uh, something happened when he walked me home the other day…"

"He walked you home? What a gentleman!"

"Becky, stop interrupting me! I'm trying to tell you something here!"

"Ahh! Sorry, go ahead…" She mimed zipping her mouth shut.

"Okay. Well." She took a deep breath. "It was really nice. The night was really warm, so we just walked really slowly and talked about stuff, mostly school. I think he was too shy to talk about anything else. He walked me to the front of my house, but when I took my first step on the stairs, I slipped and fell and…"

Anya remembered that moment with perfect clarity. She told Becky about how close their faces were, and how she really had thought about how perfect his lips looked.

"...and then I ran up the stairs," Anya finished as she retold the story to Becky.

"Oh Anya, you silly girl," said Becky affectionately. "You lost your nerve?"

Anya wasn't sure if Becky was referring to anything specific, but she nodded. She did lose her nerve. She felt something flutter in her chest and she didn't know why, so she ran in a safer direction, like an amateur.

Anya had cursed herself. How was she going to get better as a spy, as an asset to the mission, if she got flustered so easily, and let her emotions control her? Why did she have to run away?

Out loud she tried to form the words that she had hidden away: "I just… I think I feel confused. I've always liked Bondman - no not like that, stop that grinning! It's just that, I wanted to be him. He's so cool, and knows how to get out of a bad situation, but that time…"

Anya gulped. She couldn't believe she was about to say this.

"...I wanted to be Princess Honey."

A few emotions passed across Becky's face: utter mystified confusion, puzzled understanding, then sudden realisation, then pure excitement. She wanted to scream with joy. Still, Becky knew this was a delicate operation, so she didn't want to get too excited too quickly, as she knew that would only push Anya away. The next few sentences were crucial.

"Do you… know why you wanted to be Princess Honey?"

"Um… his arms around me felt really nice… and warm…"

Becky, sensing her friend's embarrassment, gave an encouraging nod. "And? what else?"

"Well, he, um, looked like he was going to… kiss me…"

Becky wanted to squeal, but she held back. "Did you want to kiss him?"

Anya couldn't hold it anymore. Her face turned as pink as her hair, and she gave the barest of nods.

Just then, somebody gave a hard knock on the door, and Anya jumped at the noise. It came at a good time though, as Anya was beginning to realise how mortifying it was to talk about Damian. So, she was beyond grateful to have the interruption, and she swung open the door to a familiar set of golden eyes.

"Er," said Damian Desmond. "Why are you in my room?"

Anya squeaked, and her face flushed scarlet. "This is your room?"

Now that he had pointed it out, it did look like Damian's room. Textbooks and papers were stacked neatly on the edge of the desk, with his Imperial Scholar cloak draped neatly on the back of his chair. Anya noted with interest that there was a photo of a dog that must have been Max taped next to his bed, and a framed photo of Damian, Ewen, and Emile on his desk.

Becky broke her out of her thoughts: "Wait - Anya! Close the door and help me go through his stuff!"

Damian recoiled, horrified. "You will do no such thing, Blackbell! How dare-"

"Relax, Desmond," laughed Becky. "I was only joking, and we were just on our way out, right Anya?"

Somehow, before Anya could say a thing, Becky pushed her out of the room (Damian sidestepped quickly out of their way) and they headed to join the rest of the party.

—

Since their not-a-date at the cinema, Damian found it more impossible than ever to actually get a read on what she was thinking at any given moment. During class, there was the occasional moment where their hands would touch, and Damian was reminded of when she had let him hold her hand for hours. But of course, the rest of the class didn't know that, and he had snatched away his hand at the speed of light each time. Then, there was their hug in the middle of the empty corridor.

What was the point of having a crush on Anya if he kept it a secret? If he snatched away his hand, afraid that people might see? If he avoided her touch, in case people thought they were together? If he only showed that he cared about her in private, and nowhere else?

So, when Emile had wondered aloud when they would be able to go to another secret party, Damian volunteered their dorm, much to the surprise of Emile and Ewen. Damian felt a bit bad for volunteering, but he imagined that they had thought he was far above such things as secret parties and illicit socialising, but they rightly guessed that there was only one reason that Damian would suggest something so… pedestrian. Only one person would influence him like this.

(She already thought it was something that they did as boarders, so why not indulge her just a bit?)

As backwards as it sounded, Damian was definitely the kind of person to get bored at parties. He just never realised he would get bored at his own. So he did the only thing that would come to his mind, and he searched for Anya.

The boys' side of the Cecile Hall dorm had a fairly simple layout, with each boy getting their own (large) room, and a central common room that had the kitchenette, sofas, and giant flatscreen TV. When he didn't see a pink-haired girl in the common room (he even checked behind the sofas), Damian went in search of her by knocking on every boys' door. He had given up and tried to get back into his own room, and escape from the party…

Until he realised his own door was locked.

There was a shuffle, and a rattling as they unlocked his room, and there she was.

Damian could have stopped breathing when he looked into the depths of her emerald eyes, and her gentle gasp of protest made his heart trip over itself trying to beat for her. He was suddenly glad that he had taken time to stuff his pictures of Anya in his desk drawer before anyone had seen them.

When they escaped and headed back to the common room, he followed them. (Where else was he going to go?)

He had almost made up his mind to try to talk to Anya and at least look like he was enjoying his own party, but he skidded to a halt when he saw what waited for him in the common room.

Students sat in a suspicious-looking circle, with a bottle spinning in the middle of it, looking expectantly at him.

Damian's heart lurched. Oh no.

"Damian-sama! Perfect timing, it's your turn!"

If looks could kill, Damian's stare might have turned Emile to dust there and then. Very, very reluctantly, Damian seated himself in the circle, hyper aware that Anya was in the same circle, too. The thought that the bottle would land on her filled his legs with jelly and deepened the pit of dread in his stomach.

"I'll pass," he mumbled. Then, to save face in front of his peers he hastily added: "I'll do it next time."

This seemed to placate Emile, who passed the bottle to Grace Fein. Damian tried not to think about how Grace's eyes seemed to glitter with something sinister that he could not quite place. Time slowed as Damian watched the bottle spin and spin and slow down…

… and land on Anya.

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Yes I did a little timeskip here because I've started to also get impatient and I want Anya and Damian to keep getting closer and feed my rusted heart