Yet another chapter that wasn't in the original plan - hopefully only two more to go!

A huge thank you to yunarthur for helping me see things about these two that I completely missed!

Before she knew what she was doing, Anne was storming out of her house—down the garden—past her gate—turn left—his gate—up his path, feet crunching against gravel. She didn't slow down, didn't hesitate, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she knocked on his door, hard, impatient.

With no immediate answer, she knocked again. Harder.

Then the door swung open, and there he was—barefoot, not even a bit winded after that jump over the fence.

Seeing her standing on his doorstep knocked the air right out of him. His eyes went wide, lips parting in a small, startled oh.

"Anne—?" Gilbert's voice was slightly hoarse, like he wasn't sure if she was real.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, breathless, heart pounding against her ribs.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Don't do that," she took a step closer, staring him down, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. "Don't pretend you don't know."

Anne searched his gaze, frantic, desperate, her skin still alive with the feeling of his fingers—those barely-there touches that somehow set her entire body on fire. How did he do that? she thought, frustrated. How did he make me feel like this with almost nothing at all?

"Why did you leave?"

Gilbert opened his mouth, then hesitated. "I—"

"I saw it," she whispered. "In your eyes. You felt that too."

Something snapped.

His gaze lifted, locking onto her, and there it was again, those searing flames, that hunger, that unspoken, undeniable pull. The thing they'd both been dancing around since they met. The space between them felt charged, electric, waiting for a single spark to ignite.

Then—

he groaned, low and deep, before closing the distance between them like gravity had decided for him.

And suddenly, he was kissing her.

His lips were on hers, raw and desperate, hands grasping her waist as he pulled her inside. The door slammed shut behind them, his palm fumbling to lock it without ever breaking contact. He backed her against the wall, his body pressing flush to hers—solid, warm, intoxicating. One hand tangled in her hair, the other traced a slow, deliberate path up her spine.

Her head fell back, a gasp slipping from her lips as he left a trail of kisses down her neck, his nose grazing her skin, his teeth skimming the delicate curve of her collarbone. She moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, like he had no intention of stopping.

Her fingers tangled in his curls, exactly how she'd imagined—no, fantasized—gripping, tugging, pulling him impossibly closer. She felt dizzy with the overwhelming pleasure, drunk on his scent and the feeling of his body pressed to hers. His lips hovered just below her ear, sending a shiver of something dangerously close to need down her back.

"I've dreamt about you every night this week," he whispered, before catching her earlobe gently between his teeth.

Anne melted at the sound of it, at the way his breath, thick with want, skated over her skin. A wave of heat coiled low in her stomach, her pulse a frantic, unsteady rhythm. Her eyes met his, still starving, still aching. His dark gaze flicked over her face, drinking her in, an unspoken question lifting his brow.

She swallowed. Nodded.

His smirk was slow, wicked, before sinking to her lips one more time. His hands roamed, sliding over her waist, up her back, tugging her toward the stairs, his touch leaving her lightheaded, like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. She reached under his T-shirt, her fingers skimming over the firm lines of his stomach.

He let out a low, needy sound that sent a rush of heat straight through her. She trembled in response, gasping at the feel of his skin under her fingers. His mouth curved against hers at her reaction, like he liked knowing what effect he had on her. They moved messily, blindly, somehow reaching his bedroom, kissing and laughing between stumbles, until he walked backward into the bed, knees hitting the edge.

He sat, chest rising and falling, lips parted, gaze burning.

Anne stood before him, breathless, heart thudding. Slowly, she reached for the hem of her tank top and peeled it off, letting it drop to the floor.

Gilbert's eyes darkened.

She stepped closer, his hands immediately finding her waist, his fingers dragging up, over her ribs, to her neck. He pulled her down, their lips meeting again, his other hand sliding to the small of her back, tugging her into his lap.

She gave in to him, her body molding effortlessly to his, getting utterly lost in that feeling, her hands sliding into his hair, the world narrowing to just this—

"And then I woke up."

Anne groaned and threw an arm over her face, as if sheer willpower could erase the dream that had been haunting her since last week.

The silence in the room was deafening.

"What the actual fuck," Diana said flatly.

Anne peeked between her fingers to find both Diana and Cole slack-jawed, staring at her like she'd just confessed to not liking books.

Cole was the first to recover. He blinked rapidly, then sat up straighter, flinging out his hands in pure exasperation. "Wait, hold up— so you two spend a hot, romantic, novel-worthy night under the stars, looking at each other with those 'I wanna see you naked' eyes, and then just—what? Did nothing?" He scoffed. "Anne, if a man looked at me like that, I'd be climbing through his window. I literally left so you two could finally start making out. Even your subconscious is telling you to do him. What happened?"

Anne groaned again and sank deeper into Diana's couch, like she could disappear into the cushions and avoid this conversation entirely. "I couldn't."

Cole narrowed his eyes. "And why, exactly, not?"

"Have you even talked to him since that night?" Diana leaned forward, arms resting on her knees.

Anne stiffened, then grabbed a throw pillow and pressed it over her face, releasing a deep, frustrated huff.

Cole smirked and turned to Diana. "I think that means no."

Anne sat up, cheeks flushed, hair wild around her face, looking absolutely helpless. "How could I? How could I look at him and pretend I wasn't thinking about kissing him? That having him there, so close, didn't mean anything?" Her head dropped back against the couch. "I can't even get that stupid dream out of my head."

Diana sighed. "Maybe that's a sign you should, I don't know, talk to him? Give him a chance to say something? How did you even manage to avoid him for an entire week?"

"I just… didn't leave the house while he was home," Anne admitted, staring up at the ceiling before shifting her gaze back to her friends. Her expression was tight, uncertain. "What if—for him—it was just casual? What if he didn't feel what I felt?"

Diana uncrossed her arms, her expression softening at the way Anne visibly struggled. "We both see the way you look at him."

"And the way he looks at you," Cole added, pointing a finger at her.

Anne huffed, pretending to be occupied with the loose threads on an embroidered cushion. "You guys are reading too much into this."

"Leave those poor flowers alone." Diana reached out, snatched the cushion from Anne's hands, and tossed it across the room. "Anne, you two practically set things on fire just by standing next to each other."

Cole nodded solemnly. "It's actually a public safety hazard."

"It's not like that," Anne rolled her eyes.

Diana and Cole exchanged a look that screamed: It's exactly like that.

Diana tilted her head. "Okay, fine. Let's entertain your delusion for a second." She leaned forward. "If Gilbert doesn't like you the way you like him, then explain why he's been circling you like a lovesick puppy since he moved in?"

Cole gasped, snapping his fingers. "Oh! Or how about last Friday when you invited him—"

"No, YOU invited him," Anne corrected.

Cole waved off the interruption. "Only because you were too busy ogling him." He continued, undeterred. "Anyway, he sat down right next to you."

"That was accidental!" Anne protested.

Cole smirked. "It was a big quilt, Anne. He could've picked another spot. And—" He tilted his head, a wicked smirk on his face. "How many times have you checked if it still smells like him?"

Anne's eyes went wide as her face turned red. "You are evil."

Cole cackled.

Diana jumped in. "Or that time he brought you your favorite iced coffee from that little shop on the corner?"

Anne scoffed. "Miss Baker knows my order!"

"But he went out of his way to ask her."

"Or when you wore that rosebud-print sundress and he looked like he forgot how to breathe?" Cole pointed.

"Or when your pollen allergies flared up, and your eyes went all red and puffy, and he brought you antihistamines?"

Anne threw up her hands. "It was just convenient! There's a pharmacy in his hospital! Nothing romantic about me looking like a swollen tomato!"

Cole clasped his hands together, eyes twinkling. "Or how he always finds an excuse to talk to you when you're out in the garden—"

Anne groaned. "We talk about plants! He grew up on a farm!"

"Then why does he ask you all these questions like he doesn't already know the answers?" Cole shot back.

Diana leaned in. "Ooooor—" she dragged the word out dramatically, "when you invited him for coffee, spent the entire afternoon together, had dinner, and then hung out until midnight?"

Anne scoffed. "It wasn't like THAT!"

"Pray tell, what was it then, Anne? Because that sounded suspiciously like a date."

Anne opened her mouth. Then shut it.

Damn them and their stupid, accurate observations.

Diana grinned like a cat that got the cream. "That's what I thought."

Anne exhaled sharply and pushed herself upright. "Okay, yes. I like him. And yes, I noticed all of these things. Obviously. I'm not blind."

Cole clutched his chest. "The confession we deserve."

Anne pointed at him. "Don't make a thing out of it."

"Oh, we're definitely making a thing out of it," said Diana. "Now explain why you won't do anything about it."

Anne sighed, rubbing her temples. "Because! He lives right there. Right there! Do you know how horrific it would be if we dated and then broke up? I'd have to see him all the time. Every day. Just there. Existing. Being all hot and charming and—" She cut herself off abruptly.

Diana and Cole exchanged another look.

She just played herself.

Anne scowled. "Shut up."

Diana pressed a hand to her chest, feigning innocence. "I didn't say anything."

The room fell silent, each second marked by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

After a moment Diana got up and sat beside Anne. Her voice was even softer now. "Anne, I'm gonna hold your hand when I say this—not all guys are like Roy."

Anne flinched.

"And we really think there's a possibility for something great here," Cole added.

Anne flopped back onto the couch. "Look. It's just—he's already said he's staying. For longer. And I like living here. It finally feels like my place. I don't want to pack up my life again and leave."

Diana frowned. "But isn't that… a good thing? Him wanting to stay?"

Cole nodded. "Yeah, if anything, that makes it better—less of a countdown, more of a chance for something real."

Anne pressed her lips together, her heart beating a little too fast.

Diana hated seeing her friend tie herself in knots. "Anne. What if it doesn't end badly? What if it works?"

That was the real problem, wasn't it?

It was so much easier to pretend Gilbert Blythe was just a passing thing. A summer crush. Something fleeting with an expiry date marked by the beginning of September.

But if he stayed—if he was here, really here—then there was no ignoring what she'd been trying (and failing) to suppress.

The thought of getting together only to lose him and then having to see him every day terrified her.

But the idea of never trying? Never exploring what could have been?

That scared her more.

Diana and Cole were still watching her, waiting, hopeful.

Anne exhaled sharply, pushing off the couch. She grabbed her bag and marched toward the door. "I need air."

Cole groaned. "Which means she's not doing it."

Diana sighed, throwing herself back against the cushions. "I hate it here."

"I heard that," Anne called over her shoulder, refusing to give them the satisfaction of looking back.

Diana barely lifted her head from where she was sprawled on the couch. "Good! Maybe it'll haunt you into making a move!"

Cole sighed dramatically, tossing a cushion in the air and catching it. "Godspeed, Anne. May your avoidance bring you endless peace and fulfillment!"

Anne bit her tongue, ignoring them both, and shut the door behind her with a little more force than was necessary.

As soon as they heard her footsteps fade down the stairs, Cole turned to Diana, propping himself up on one elbow. "So. Will she go for it?"

Diana scoffed, tucking her legs beneath her. "Absolutely not. But we've done all we could."

Cole groaned. "Right? The more we tell her it's a good idea, the less she wants to do it. It's like trying to convince a cat that it actually wants to come inside."

"Maybe we should call Josie Pye and dare Anne to date him. That might actually work."

They sat in silence, both lost in their thoughts.

Cole started tossing the cushion again. Then—

"Is it morally wrong to place bets on our best friend's love life?"

Diana sighed. "Probably."

Pause.

Cole smirked. "Twenty bucks says she caves."

"You're on."