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Anne?”
She turned around, startled at the sudden voice in the silence. He was seated up against the headboard of the new twin bed. A recent change that was made to her gable room, having been swapped in instead of her single bed. His face looked half bemused, half concerned. Understanding, she smiled fully to reassure him that all was well and content in her mind. She was happy.
Last night she spent her first night in Green Gables as a visitor, as a married woman. In the very room that she had fretted over this young man’s friendship, over their conversations and then their possible romance. This was where she first realized her love for him, dreamed dreams of him and for him. As a child she had acted out her tragic romance standing right here next to the window. How very glad she was that her romance did not turn out that way after all. Please God, let it not. All these thoughts came to her early in the morning after she had slowly made her way to the window to watch sun come up over her blessed Green Gables, the way she had done many a time before.
Now, through the curtains, the sun cast lines and rectangles of light in her room, partly on his sleepy face. She was openly gazing at him. This was a habit that was familiar to both of them. They were used to searching for clues and hidden hints of passion in each others faces for most of their young lives, both of them unsure of themselves. They laugh about it now, knowing that communicating was far easier than guessing.
How funny life can be. It was so strange seeing him there in her room. But it also felt as if it was always meant to be. Him with her family. Her with his. Still strange, although certainly not unpleasant, to see him sitting there bare chested. He was always too warm in the night, but cold when he woke up. “Always” She smiled in her mind. As if she knew this for many years when in reality it was just a few weeks that they shared their nights together. Three whole glorious weeks of being life mates.
He wore a most “romantical” expression on his face, as if he could not help but admire her. His curly dark hair stood up in all angles, giving him an adorably confused look.
She tried not to look too long at his muscular arms, his strong chest and that twitch in his chiseled jaw. What a jawline. That jawline should get its own poem. Or a song. A verse at thr very least. It thrilled her to no end. If she kissed him just at the corner where it met his neck, he usually went a little insane. The last time she tried it while he was cooking up a stew for their dinner. Suffice it to say that it had burned beyond salvation on the forgotten stove while they were otherwise occupied. She blushed crimson at the memory, feeling a heat at the pit of her stomach. Damn you, alabaster skin.
He smirked knowingly. Oh no. She had clearly been admiring him for the past 10 minutes at least. Surely he knew what she was thinking about. Surely he is going to be pompous about it.
“What are you thinking of Anne Shirley Cuthbert Blythe?” Gilbert teased. A twinkle in his eye.
She accepted the challenge. Who could make the other squirm the most? What a funny word, that. Squirm.
She smiled to herself knowing that he would never make a move on her whilst in her childhood room. Being a gentlemen and all. How infuriating. She decided to play with him.
She ran her fingers through her firey hair, seemingly absent minded as she swept it to one side, touching her collarbone lightly. Her shoulder dipped, causing the strap of her nightgown to fall over her shoulder, revealing the creamy skin of her right breast. She looked at him over her bare shoulder with lustful eyes, before joining him back under the sheets.
He gulped “Wh-uh- what? What are you thinking of?
She grinned cheekily before replying.
“Stew”