Romantic

It's Thursday, going on ten o'clock; what is she doing there? It's a collective question silently posed by both the girl alluded to and the woman whose house she is in; neither of them are sure or want to admit what the minor is doing in the other's house on Holy Thursday, about a half an hour away from home and forty-five minutes away from the school the older works at and the younger attends. Some time ago, this woman, this English teacher, got up to get the younger girl a drink and currently lingers in the door way to the living room, drinks in hand and eyes glued to Jamie. This girl, this student, is seated on the couch and looking out the window, seeing past her reflection as well as that of the owner of the house, head angled to the right to do so. Whether she's lost in thought or the darkness of the outside world (which can be taken literally or figuratively), Ms. Gallagher cannot be sure; all she knows is that she needs to remind Jamie of where she is and why.

"Will you dance with me?"

The woman in her early thirties has been standing in the doorway for nearly thirty minutes, curious as to how a single girl can make her this nervous in her own home. When the question slipped out, she wasn't exactly thinking; she just needed an excuse to start moving. Sixteen-going-on-seventeen-year-old Jamie is sitting on the woman's couch, still as a statue until she comprehends the latter's request; that's when her head whips around and she finally looks her in the eye. Jamie, she isn't entirely sure what she's doing in with this woman, in this English teacher's house, but she does know that she likes it. At least, she would, if she could get over her paralyzing nerves and if Ms. Gallagher would sit the fuck down already.

"Dance?" The underage girl chokes, nothing but her lips moving. "With you? In here?"

"Where and with who else?" Ms. Gallagher says, managing a crooked smile to draw Jamie's attention away from the former's nervous laugh. She finally places both her and Jamie's drinks down on the coffee table that Jamie doesn't even notice until now, even with it right in front of her. Ms. Gallagher steps away into the space between the coffee and the entertainment center and waits for Jamie to follow; instead, the minor giggles. "What's so funny?"

"There's just," Jamie clears her throat, reminding herself to be nervous, "there isn't any music."

It takes a moment, but Ms. Gallagher lets out a soft laugh in reply, showing a minimum amount of teeth in a smile. "Give me a minute, okay?"

Without waiting for a response, she turns around and opens a door in the entertainment center; Jamie can see a CD player of sorts and several piles of CDs. Ms. Gallagher picks up a pile and, seemingly without looking or thinking, pulls one out and quickly shoves it into the player. In moments Ms. Gallagher's turned back around, facing Jamie with the same smile as music fills the air. "Better?"

"Chopin?" The girl asks, shaking the smile off of the older woman's face. "We listened to this about two days ago in history... I see someone's a romantic."

"Yea, well," The woman clears her throat, heart beating all too fast, "do you want to dance or not?

The minor's surprisingly hesitant, biting her lip and cracking her knuckles, but soon rises and crosses the room to where the older woman is. Jamie slows as she gets closer to Emily, feeling herself start to tremble; she wonders when she became so brave, courageous enough to even say hello to the former.

"Do you want to lead, or shall I?" Ms. Gallagher asks, her left fist resting on her hip, the other simply hanging at her side. She isn't quite sure why she bothered asking; the past hour or so alone has hinted to the fact that she would more than likely be dominant over Jamie, age difference or not.

The minor's smile twitches and her eyes flutter. "I don't really know how... Teach me?"

Suddenly, the same shiver runs down two different spines.

The teacher nods a little longer than standard, saying, "All right. Sure; why not? Put your left hand on my shoulder and give me the other." Jamie obeyed and felt another pleasant shudder run through her as the woman's hand came to meet her hip. Once in position, the latter felt it valid to finally look at the other, the woman, the English teacher; she felt goose bumps and butterflies at the sight of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen staring into her own hazel pair. Ms. Gallagher swallowed during the dead space their eye contact had caused, reminding herself of how dangerous this was and how much trouble they could both get in; and how it was so much more than worth it.

Another command slips past the older's lips and she starts to move, the minor following suit. Her eyes flutter again, her sight going from their feet to those eyes and all the perfect features which accompanied them; strawberry lips which whispered numbers -- one, two, three -- to raven hair barely reaching her shoulders to too-white skin which, combined with too much sunlight, could cause a tumor.

"...You're thinking too much," Ms. Gallagher comments, causing Jamie's eyes to jump from the floor to the former's face. The woman gives a smile which makes Jamie think she knows something; something she's yet to discover. "Don't think too much, or you'll get old too fast; you'll have a stroke or some crazy shit like that. Let's play a game -- "

"While dancing?" Jamie lets a giggle escape her lips as she smiles, brow frowned.

"Yes; it's simple enough. I'll ask you a question, and you'll answer; then you'll ask me one, and I'll answer. Make sense?"

"I guess." The minor decides, keeping her head down but looking up at the teacher. "What... Am I allowed to call you by your first name?"

The older laughs lightly, smiling as her eyes follow Jamie's gaze to the floor. "Of course. Assuming you know it."

"Of course." Jamie says immediately, smile twitching again. "Em-mily; that's you." Jamie stammers over the teacher's name, nerves getting to her again; to utter such a name to the owner's face had never been considered beforehand.

The teacher laughs again, like music slipping from her lips; like notes from a piano, like the music she put on. "What's you favorite color?"

Jamie smiles and cocks her head to the side. "Is that seriously your question?"

"Hey, hey, hey," The older frowned as authority slipped into her voice, "You asked your question; there's no need to critiz -- "

"I like... green." Jamie smiles pleasantly, finally getting comfortable in her own skin again; comfortable with a woman's hand on her hip. "Green reminds me of you."

The younger girl, the student, the minor's face flushed as the aforementioned slipped from her lips, her mind's filter having failed her. Mouth opened slightly, Jamie stared intensely at the floor but saw nothing at all until Ms. Gallagher -- Emily -- giggled softly.

"I didn't, I..." But she stopped, hazel finding blue again and feeling no need to explain. Emily bit her lip subtly, an empty twitch shooting through it like one's shoulders might when in need of a hug; of physical contact.

"Ask a question, Jamie." Emily said gently, voice coming out much softer than the girl had ever heard before; it made her heart stop and melt and speed. "You really know how to kill a game... Why don't you like fun?"

"I thought you just said it was my turn to ask a question!" The younger shrieked, giggling slightly and bringing a broad smile to the woman's face. Once again, eyes find each other and dead space occurs yet again; the couple -- the English teacher and the student, the woman and the minor -- goes from dancing to nothing more than slow spins. Emily does not move otherwise with the exception of her hands, now both on Jamie's hips, the younger placing her hands behind the woman's neck.

"This is going somewhere, isn't it?" Jamie asks quietly, the fear which had filled her what now feels like hours ago but could not have been more than minutes returning.

"...Do you want me to answer honestly?" And Jamie is surprised that Emily's voice comes out as softly as her own has, and she melts again; she feels her blood run through her, shooting around through her veins and slipping through her organs. "Though that's sort of an unspoken rule to the game; all answers are suppose to be true, you know."

Emily pauses, meets the girl's eyes, and swallows hard. "So to be honest, I'm hoping something happens, yes... Would that be okay by you?"

"Honestly? I've, uh..." Fear seizes the girl's vocal chords, but she fights it; she swallows and exhales and looks Emily in the eyes. "I've been waiting for tonight."

The couple slowly ceases all movement, bodies closer than they had been. Emily pulls the minor slightly closer, fingers gentle but tempted against the fabric of her jeans and her shirt and where the two did not meet, but exposed a sliver of soft, tanned, perfect skin. In later days, neither would remember who reached forward first, but before either realized, their lips collided; Jamie thought only of strawberries and swore it was what she tasted, and unlike Emily, did not think of the boundaries they had crossed in the simple, blissful, perfect act, and neither cared. For the teacher as well as her student, it was better than anything, and not unlike taking a deep breath after being submersed in deep, dark, dense water for quite some time; not entirely different from being undone from restraints...

"Emily." Jamie's voice came out in a whisper when she noticed the two had parted. The woman nodded, eyes closed, pursing her lips and stroking the girl's cheek. "Honestly... Are we going to hell for this?"

Emily's eyes opened again, weakly in a way that would suggest that she had been deep asleep; and no, she was not dreaming. Jamie was there and with her and in her arms, and concerned; her voice alone told her that, though the girl trembled slightly beneath her as well. The woman, the English teacher, thought for a while before answering; then, in the same gentle, soft voice she'd previously used, she responded:

"Not yet, Baby."

Emily kissed her again, and Jamie believed in everything.