After lunch, Clara leaves towards the math hallway while I have to go to the science wing. I have chemistry with Mrs. Gildon. Yes, Mrs. She’s married. And has a son! Even while she’s outside of my age strike zone, I’m also slightly against breaking up a happy marriage.

However, if they aren’t married yet…

Well, heartbreak has the potential to heal. A little magic to soothe things over, and everything will be hunky-dory!

One review of lab safety procedures in the coldest room in the school later, and we’re all gathered in the locker rooms to change for our mandatory gym class. Unfortunately for my own daydreams, they installed stalls with doors on them for privacy. I don’t really know why; it’s not like anyone will attack another here…

…Scratch that…

Anyway, we start our stretches led by Coach Stone. I’m going to avoid the feelings I have for yet another one of my teachers for right now. Currently, I have my eyes set on Clara who is pointing her perky ass up as she reaches for her toes.

God…

“Alright, it’s Friday, so you know the drill…” Coach Stone says as she walks over with a bag of foam balls. Lining them along the center line of court, we split into two groups and hug the back walls.

*TWEET* Coach Stone blows her whistle, and about a quarter of the students run forward, grabbing as many balls as they can hold. The rest of us hang back, watching.

Balls fly, some streaking and whistling through the air. Others drop with a small bounce as they not-so-athletically-inclined somehow got their hands on a ball. Then there’s me, running around, desperately trying to get out. You see, somehow, Clara has already gotten out and is chatting with her friends on the side.

“Oeuf!” Some strange noise escapes me as a ball pelts my in the stomach. Trying to hide to sudden bout of pain, I awkwardly stumble to the sidelines. By this point, Clara and her posse have stopped their chatter and are just watching the game.

Confident Swagger fills me, adjusting my muscles to correct my visage, and I walk up to Clara.

“Clara,” I call out, thankfully without cracking my voice with the anxiety and fear that is slowly filling my heart. Oh God, this was a bad idea.

“Yeah?” She flippantly responds, barely sending me a glance and raising an eyebrow. Oh…be still my beating heart. It’s not like I buried her under the floorboards. Heh, I can’t believe that is what I’m thinking about right now.

“Can I talk to you…in private?” She turns to look at her friends, seeing them not paying either of us attention, then she turns back to me.

“Sure. Follow me.” With that command, she starts walking, passing in front of me. I glance over at Coach Stone, only to find her cheering on the people still playing dodgeball. Alright, I guess I’ll just do as Clara says…for now.

Leading me behind the bleachers, she crosses her arms, emphasizing her bust, and stares me down. Already under her judgmental stare, I eke out a little more courage from Confident Swagger. “I know your secret,” I say, killing any and all emotion on my face and in my voice. If my assumptions are right, then it’d be best if she thought I was disappointed, that I might try to blackmail her.

Her eye flinches, infinitesimally. She smirks though, casually waving off my statement. “What secret? I don’t you know this, but I’m pretty open with my friends about my life.” Oh…how confident.

“I know you don’t wear underwear at school. Or, actually, in general.” That last part was a lie, but the way she stiffens up just makes something inside me squirm…squirm in anticipation.

“W-What? Of course I wear t—fucking underwear! What are you trying to do?!” Hmm, she’s replaced her confusion with anger. That’s natural, probably. She doesn’t want her secret out. I somehow know it. If others knew, her reputation would crash and burn.

Ergo: deny all accusations.

I step forward, tilting my head slightly. “You don’t. You didn’t yesterday. You didn’t today. I’ve also noticed that you’re somewhat of a hugger.” This…sexually isolated child. I don’t think she got a talk about the Birds and the Bees. Her…methods of enjoying herself are a little dated. Perhaps something a barely pubescent girl would do.

Not responding, I step a little closer to her. Her throat bobs. “You…enjoy the feeling of your clothes on your body. The way the fabric scratches against you. You enjoy the feeling that someone might find out.” That last one’s a stretch, but I’m confident on the other two.

“N-No…NO! I-I-I didn’t want anyone to find out! I-I just r-really like my friends. I like hugging people, okay?!” Ah, the façade comes crashing down.

Another step.

I give a small smile, almost a smirk. “I don’t care about whether or not you wanted people to find out. The only thing I care about is you.”

She reels. “What?” Emotional aftershock. Or something. I’m just doing what feels right.

“I like you. Actually, I like a lot of people, but I specifically like you. Here. Right now. Under these bleachers.” The final step. I’m right in front of her. She has an inch on me, so I have to slightly look upwards.

That doesn’t matter. Her breath hitches, eyes glazing over. She’s still processing my words. Though, I can feel her almost there. Likely has never had anyone confess to her. Or maybe, she’s realizing she has feelings for girls. Or maybe, she’s feeling a million things at once and can’t process them all.

A familiar warmth fills me, traveling into my vocal chords and imbues them with power. “I’d love for you to be my girlfriend.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Our lips are at each other’s door. Just a slight push over to meet. I can feel her warmth. Her breath upon me.

One last breath. A whisper. “Yes.”

We lean into each other, soft lips encapsulating each other.

flintseal

If anyone thinks this is unrealistic, first, probably...yeah. Second, there's a magical system. Go read an actual erotic novel, probably a well-reviewed one, if you want realism. Or just get married. Whatever. I'm not your mom.

Thanks for reading!