She blinked not to roll her eyes at his arrogance, teasing whether or not she had deserved his attention. If she were to have rolled her eyes to joke with him, she would have. Yet, somewhere in that joke would lie truth, and so she withheld it. Of course, he meant it lightheartedly but he also he added that she had missed him. Then he attempted to overcompensate by reassuring her. She crossed her arms softly, resisting him just a bit. He had a good sense of humor, but it stung for him to say that.
She did miss him. To Harrison, it seemed a simple game. Become engaged to a lady who his mother had suggested, get bored, move on. Was it really that simple to him? Simple enough that now that she’s interesting for him, he can just go back like she’s another one of his options?
Of course, though, she reminded himself that she did not know what he did. When they agreed to separate, neither of them seemed interested in the other. As much as they lit the matches, the candle between them never caught flame. They tolerated each other, as a married couple should. But marriage was not just tolerance, it was also love; a love they did not feel. Harrison believed her lackluster, and Azucena never liked his ego.
She took a quick, shallow breath to recalculate. Then, she looked at him with quiet love, tilting her head as she gave him a small smile. “Was that so hard to admit, Harry?” Her voice was gentler in that moment, admiring him in oblivion.
As unaware as he was, she continued to think him very cute. His reference to the past sobered her in a way, that she showed a quick refrain from her seductive allure, and took a minute to enjoy his presence, one she did not expect to see much of now. It was sweet; the way he took himself ever so seriously, his dopey flexing of his own charms, and how in the midst of his silly arrogance, he was still able to admire her too.
At his last sentence, she finally gave in and rolled her eyes playfully. Although she must say she was invested in this mutual linguistic tutoring. Funny how the trilingual connoisseur of every European tongue (double entendre you rake) did not know Spanish. And since when did he love Latin so?
“What about italian?” She asked curiously. “I had assumed you would be first to mention your native language.” She paused. Bored by the semantics, she decided to return to her flirtation. “Or are you just going to keep adding onto the list until you no longer have anything to teach me?” The girl inquired. “Worry not, there is a lot more between us to share.” She said, speaking to him in a relaxed, sensual tone. And although she expected this interaction to be nerve wracking and perhaps awkward, she was progressively realizing she did not feel nervous at all. Quite the opposite, actually.
When she brought him back to face her, she had felt him freeze for a few seconds before melting back into her. He had not expected it, and she could tell. But as little as they had expected it, she believed they both found comfort together nose to nose.
Still, when he came too close, she had doubts. His firm hands got a hold of her waist, that part she did like, but then he wrapped them around her back, and embraced her. Instinctively, she stiffened just a bit. Azucena was not used to affection in that way. She was not hugged by her mother, nor her childhood maid. She did not see a reason to embrace her friends after that. The only person who she had that with was her father; but Harrison was not her father. So she did not respond, she just allowed him to hold her.
She was raised with her heart in the freezer. A heart that always threatened to shatter the stalagmites that encapsulated it, begging to burn as it was really intended to when it was made of foreign matter. Harrison was a threat to its condition, like sun rays shining above glaciers. In his arms, she discerned that if anyone was capable of changing her, it was him.
He pulled away, and continued his charade. His dialogue was enticing, a bit shallow, but held such charm. “Give it a few more dates of ours, and I will allow you to hug me.” She flirted shamelessly, matching his energy.
In the grass, Harrison feigned injury as a reaction to her comments, and Azucena giggled. “I had thought you did not resonate with the original name, because it did not apply to you.” She said, looking down at her journal and then up at him again, and before she replied he continued as he did. He bragged ever-so-humbly about his devilish handsomeness, and then joked with her too. She scoffed, a small chuckle following. “I? A troublemaker?” She pretended to be offended, but really was beginning to enjoy the moment sincerely.
She had asked him to lend her his cloak, and to her delight, he obliged. Azucena looked ecstatic, and she took her frail arms and slipped them into the sleeves. She felt much more comfortable when sheltered by his article of clothing. It smelled of him, and she took in the scent as she felt the crisp air or autumn. “Thank you.” She said timidly.
The winds grew more passion to them, but the two did not seek shelter from the weather. Instead, Azucena watched him as they conversed more. The wind blew back and forth the strands of her hair, but she did not flinch as she watched her debutante in fascination; her stolen dream, standing before her. The question was; would she reclaim it?
@kristi harrison