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The classroom is deathly quiet.
One can practically hear a pin drop, can hear the red ink of your ballpoint pen flowing out onto the paper as you grade essays about Shakespeare. It’s all a façade to the naked eye, to the students who loudly chat as they wander to their next class, to the principal who walks by and gives a polite wave without stopping in to talk to you.
Your eyes are buried in the endless pile of white pages as you absent-mindedly ink a comma into an introductory paragraph. You swallow hard and move onto the next, hoping you can focus on the thought of different themes in Shakespeare, but the minutes seem to drag themselves out. It’s impossible.
You keep your eyes there, though, as not to glance up at the woman perched on the desk in front of you, her legs delicately crossed at the ankles. Nobody can see her through the windows of the classroom, despite her tall body, despite her cold red lips and light smirk. Quietly, the woman purses her lips and plucks a non-existent piece of fuzz off the fabric of her dress. She runs a palm over the waves of her brunette hair, fingers tugging through any knots.
She, too, waits.
When the warning bell rings, your two bodies relax a bit, but neither of you move an inch. Both of you stare out the door of the classroom, watching the last few Baxter High students shuffling towards their assigned rooms. It only takes a minute for the last bell to ring, signifying the beginning of the last period of the day.
Slowly, you take in the time and close the door of your classroom before turning around to face the woman. Yet, you still sit back down at your desk.
However, this time, your body is more relaxed, more confident. You lean forward on your elbows to finally take in the sight of the woman, trying to hide the relief growing on your face.
Lilith.
Lilith gasps playfully. She quickly hops off of the desk and you can’t help but let your eyes trail up her thighs as Lilith straightens out her dress. Her heels click on the linoleum floor as she heads towards your desk, a dangerous smirk on her lips.
"I think we’re alone now," she sing-songs, like the Tiffany song from the ‘80s. But you simply raise your eyebrows at her. Lilith pouts. "So, I assume it isn’t the moment for jests?"
It isn’t. Not with the sinking feeling that grows in your chest any time the brunette is around you. You let the smile fall from your face and nervously runs your lips together.
"I missed you," you whisper, so tender the words might as well mean something else.
They have to for the two of you - at least, until Lilith can destroy your greatest enemy, can sit on the throne of hell herself.
You could reign together, she promises. But for now, your love lives in moments like this, lives in the softness of Lilith’s eyes as she looks at you.
After all, she wasn’t supposed to fall for you. She was supposed to get Sabrina and scurry back off to the underworld to be at the beck-and-call of him. Neither of you ever want to say his name unless you have to. It sends a dagger into your chest just to think about it.
Lilith softly sighs and bites her lip. Of course, she wants more than this. She wants nothing more than to hold your hand, to be royalty with you. She thinks the two of you should run this entire world anyway. You two had shown more strength in your time together than anyone, than the disgusting slithering snake that could call her down with a move of the finger.
For a moment, Lilith’s breath shutters when you place your hand on top of hers. To everyone else, the moment is subtle and easy, but to you, it is slight rebellion. It is a fluttered breath, eye contact that lingers, simply more footwork in the complicated dance you must follow around each other, even if it hurts.
Every move, every inch you move closer to each other in public is planned perfectly. As it is, it takes a free period in the day for the two of you to even allow yourselves to brush fingertips, to let your palms touch, soft over the top of the desk. Careful, easy to pull away if you are caught.
You play it safe, but your eyes always linger over Lilith’s painted lips, waiting for the next moment you can feel them on your throat.
“He won’t know, Lil,” you breathe. It almost sounds like a beg, like a pathetic child wishing for a second dessert. Verbally, you feel as if you are on your knees, though you are still at your desk, brushing your thumb over the top of Lilith’s fingertips. You wish you could brush your thumb over Lilith’s lips, but this is how you stay. Subtle. Careful. Though, when Lilith’s blue eyes meet yours, you have to take a sharp breath in, nearly biting your tongue. “They have to accept us one of these days.”
“Satan will never truly accept me,” Lilith says, her voice clipped. “What makes you think he’ll accept us?”
“I just…”
Lilith knows before you can even finish the sentence: hate thinking about you with him. Lilith can’t even look herself in the mirror any time she sleeps with him. But she must. She has to swallow her pride, has to swallow the repulsion in her throat. To think of you. To think of the happiness she will feel when you’re finally together in a place other than a closed classroom or your living room, protected with a strong spell.
Lilith glances at the clock and the hour hand ticking closer and closer hits her into action. The school day is almost over.
She opens her mouth to speak but stops herself, pulling her hand away from yours. Losing her comfort feels like an electric shock, but Lilith knows best, knows the man has eyes everywhere, even now. It’s a risk. But if Lilith behaves, if Lilith keeps quiet, you two can tiptoe around him.
You swallow hard and straighten in your chair. “Will you come over later?”
Lilith falls into a brilliant smile, the love flashing in her eyes. “Of course.”