That girl was so flaky. Lee could barely stop himself from shaking his head at her as he slipped his arm around her waist to stop her falling to the ground. Not that he resented the opportunity to hold her in any way. “You alright?” He asked without looking at her. No reply. Sighing (he hated all this stopping and starting, especially when his knee hurt so much) he looked at her. Her eyes were glazed over and she was staring at something “Annie?” He shook her and she started.

“What are you doing?” She snapped.

He withdrew his arm quickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wonderful one minute and then to be shot down in flames so spectacularly the next. It occurred to him that the moments when he felt closest to Annie were when she wasn’t ruining things by opening her mouth.

“Nothing. Let’s go. What were you looking at, anyway?”

“Not much really, just that stone circle over there. Can you see it?”


“People are always doing that aren’t they, putting stones in circles. Why do they do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure”

“How do you think they got the stones there? I mean, look at them, they’re going to be heavy aren’t they? And wasn’t everybody shorter back then? So wouldn’t they all be weaker?”

She turned and looked at him and he wanted to drown in her big, brown eyes. Liquid trust seemed to pour out of them and into his and it made him want to explain all the mysteries of the world to her. She wasn’t exactly a wall flower - the only time he had ever seen her shy was the first time they had spoken - and she certainly seemed to want to take charge of everything she did and everyone she met, yet he wanted to look after her. By asking all those questions Lee felt as though she had let herself be vulnerable in front of him and this wasn’t the first time, either. He smiled as he remembered Christmas Eve last year. Annie, him and their friends had rented Titanic and Pearl Harbour and she had insisted that they watch them with the lights off. Lee had quietly made his way over to sit next to her (hoping that he may, at last get to kiss her as he had, for a while now, thought that kissing her would be like tasting honey) and moved close enough to feel the heat of her skin. He remembered not being able to concentrate on the film because of the building tension and the way electricity seemed to run up and down his veins. At the end of Titanic though, he realised that the reason she liked the darkness was that it meant she could cry without being seen; he could feel her body shaking with suppressed sobs. His insides melted and he put his arm round her, ready for her to push him off. Instead she pressed her face into his shoulder, whispering unsteadily “oh my god, I always cry at these films, I’m such a girl. Don’t tell anyone” and he smiled and squeezed her tightly. If only he could hold her again, he felt sure he could answer all her questions...assuming she stood still in his arms long enough for him to try.

The End

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