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Partners
“I can do this,” Marinette said, facing the mirror with all the determination of a warrior about to go into battle: hands clenched, jaw tight, chin raised. “Just relax.”
She nodded grimly, then spun on her heel and exited the girls’ bathroom. And froze. Adrien was waiting for her, leaning against the wall as if posing for the front cover of Vogue. He smiled that summer-warm smile—the one that always threatened to melt her into a puddle of lovestruck goo.
“Ready to get started on this assignment?” he asked.
Fluttery wings took flight in her stomach and stirred her heart into a clumsy beat. “I’ll always be ready for you.”
He blinked. She blinked.
“I-I mean for the assignment! I’m ready to do the assignment! Because we’re partners. And partners work on assignments together.”
She averted her face with a wince, hot to the tips of her ears. Why? Why did her mouth always have to betray her?
His smile twitched back into place. “Great,” he said.
“Great.”
She marched ahead with wooden stiffness, refusing to say another word lest she spew more nonsense and mortification. This was not a good start.
They found seats in the library at one of the unoccupied study desks. Of course, before she could sit down, she tripped on her bag, knocked over a chair, and would have crashed to the floor in a graceless pile of limbs had Adrien not caught her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stared into his green eyes. A light scent wrapped around her, like clean linen threaded with hints of citrus. (The hoarder of facts that lived in her brain noted this was the new Adrien fragrance, Pure. The besotted part of her was just a one-beat tone of Cute Boy, Smells Nice, Much Yes.)
“Marinette?”
A dreamy smile curved her lips. Then she realised what she was doing and scrambled out of his arms. “I’m slime! I mean fline! No, gah—”
Screams sounded from somewhere outside of the library. She tensed, ears straining. More screams, some cliché villain laughter, and a mushrooming puff of purple smoke. Just another akuma attack.
Wait. Akuma attack!
“I need to pee!” she blurted.
And blinked. Adrien had just said the same thing.
They shared an awkward smile and dashed off their separate ways. Time for her to beat some akuma butt.
Movie Disaster Night
Marinette sprawled on her bed like a distressed starfish, unable to relax. The assignment was to write a movie review and, as partners, give a presentation to the class about the cinematography used and all that thematic blah blah. The usual boring stuff. Normally, this would have been no issue for Marinette, but going to watch a movie with Adrien—just the two of them, alone in the dark—had her heart skipping and stumbling like it was trying to do a gymnastics routine.
“It’s not a date,” she told herself. “You have to get a grip.”
But no amount of scolding could stop her imagination. She could see the scene clearly in her mind: the two of them seated side by side, elbows brushing. They’d share one bucket of popcorn and, most important of all, accidentally touch hands. Then their eyes would meet and—
Bzz, bzz, bzz
A new message popped up on her phone. She peered at the screen, then almost flung the phone away when she saw the sender’s name.
❤❤ Adrien ❤❤:
There’s a session for heartsong at 7pm tomorrow
did you want to see that one?
Heartsong. Romance. Alone in the dark with Adrien.
Me:
NO
NO ROMANCE
❤❤ Adrien ❤❤:
Oh
A keening groan escaped her lips. Even her fingers were betraying her now, but she was trapped in the Panic Tunnel of Flustering, and the texts just kept spilling out.
Me:
We should watch witching hour
❤❤ Adrien ❤❤:
Isn’t that a horror
Me:
Yeah. I love horrors!
Can’t get enough of all that blood and ghosts and death
Lies. She was full of lies.
❤❤ Adrien ❤❤:
If that’s what you really want to watch then ok
Me:
Great! See you then!
Her phone slipped from her fingers. She rolled over onto her stomach, smooshed her face into her pillow, and let out a muffled scream.
The movie theatre was crowded. Marinette stood on her tiptoes, peering around for any sight of Adrien. “I thought he wanted to meet near the escalators,” she murmured.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Found you.”
She jumped with a yelp, spinning around. There was a distinct thwack as her purse hit Adrien in the face. Horror gripped her soul. Even Munch’s The Scream couldn’t have looked more distressed, because she had just hit the love of her life in the face. In the face!
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed.
He laughed, though she didn’t miss the way he scrunched his nose in a wince. “It’s fine.”
No, it wasn’t. Not at all.
“Oh, I got us some popcorn to share,” he said, raising the bucket of popcorn. “Hope you don’t mind sweet and salty.”
Her smile was strained. “P-popcorn?”
Oh no. This was accidental hand touch zone. Danger! Danger!
“I hate sweet and salty!”
Dismay slapped itself to Adrien’s expression like a heavy rock. “Sorry. I should have asked you first before I bought—I can get you a different flavour or—”
“No.” She forced herself to calm down, though her smile was jaw-cracking wooden. “I don’t need popcorn.” (Knowing her luck, she’d probably choke on a piece and he’d have to give her the Heimlich manoeuvre.) “Let’s just go to our seats.”
He still looked like a puppy that had been scolded, but he managed a smile. “Okay. As long as you’re sure.”
“Very sure.”
This was the only way to avoid temptation. She would just have to watch this movie popcornless.
The moment that Witching Hour’s eerie opening music played, Marinette knew that she had made a mistake. It wasn’t that she was terrified of horrors—not like Mylène—but she did find them unsettling and would never, ever watch one alone.
But that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was Adrien.
He sat beside her like a stiff mannequin, gripping the bucket of popcorn as if it was the all that tethered him to the world. He hadn’t touched a single piece. Even his drink was untouched.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
Music shrieked in a jarring chord—the typical jump scare accompaniment. Adrien flinched and he was suddenly holding her hand in a death grip.
His hand.
Holding hers.
Heat bloomed like burning tomatoes on her cheeks. Their eyes met, and she tried to say something, but all that came out was a squeak.
That was when the akuma attacked.
“Come on, come on,” Marinette muttered.
She’d managed to ditch Adrien by claiming she needed to pee. (Really, she needed to come up with a better excuse. At this rate, she was going to become Pee Girl.) Unfortunately, she was struggling to find a good place to transform. The toilets were full and there were too many people around.
Ugh. She’d just have to find an alley or something.
She sprinted for the exit and almost crashed into Adrien.
“Marinette!” he exclaimed. “What—why—”
“H-hi,” she said, giving a wooden wave. “I, um—the toilets were full. Figured I’d have better luck outside.”
A giant crêpe went sailing past the glass doors behind her and crashed into a car. Her smile widened, hurting her cheeks.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Best to change the subject before he questioned her further.
“M-me? I, um, wanted to get popcorn.”
Her nose scrunched. He had barely touched his popcorn. Why did he need more?
“Anyway,” he said, “I’d better hurry. Good luck with the toilet.” He threw finger guns. Winced. “Um, yeah,” he muttered, and scuttled away.
Marinette blinked.
Another crêpe went flying past, followed by the screeching of car tires and screams. Right. Akuma.
Marinette stood outside the movie theatre, shoulders slumped and her expression as drooping as a wilted flower. This was terrible. The akuma had been defeated, but there were only twenty minutes left of the film. What would Adrien—
Her jaw dropped. Adrien was running towards the theatre. Adrien. Outside.
Oh no, had he been looking for her?
He skidded to a stop in front of her, his cheeks flushed from exertion. “I’m so sorry!” he said. “Were you looking for me?”
One blink. Two blinks.
“Huh?” she said, very intelligently.
“I, uh, had to leave to make a phone call because—because my bodyguard always forgets to feed his goldfish!” He smiled, showing every one of his teeth. “That’s why I took so long. Can’t let those poor fish go hungry, right?”
Frankly, she thought it was a bit weird to make such a phone call during a movie, but she nodded all the same, grateful that she didn’t have to explain why she had taken over forty minutes to find a toilet. (Because her explanation would inevitably end up involving constipation, and she did not need to go there again. Not ever.)
“Um, I really am sorry,” he said, rubbing the base of his neck. “I know we came here to watch the movie together, but I ended up missing most of it.”
“It’s fine. We can just watch a different session.”
“Actually, about that …” He bit his lip, his expression sheepish. “Could we maybe see a different movie? I, uh, don’t really like horrors.”
Gone was any shred of nervous tension. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she exclaimed. “If I had known, I would have never suggested Witching Hour.”
“You seemed excited to watch it.” He shrugged, as if that was all the explanation needed.
She resisted the urge to facepalm. Sometimes, he was way too nice for his own good.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s just go with Heartsong.”
“But you didn’t want to watch—”
“I’ll deal.”
This was for the sake of Adrien’s happiness. This was her duty as his friend.
Try, Try Again
It took two more tries (and many more excuses) before Hawk Moth gave Marinette a break and allowed her to finally, finally watch Heartsong with Adrien.
She sat next to him in the cinema, careful to keep all of her limbs within the No Touch zone and her gaze fixed on the screen. Or, at least, that had been the plan. Heartsong was a drama filled with laughter, yearning violins, and heartfelt moments, and she quickly became absorbed. Even the dreaded bucket of popcorn ceased to trouble her.
But then Adrien picked up her drink, placed the straw between his lips, and took a big old drink.
She blinked. She stared. She went bright pink. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Huh?”
She pointed at her cup.
Adrien glanced at her cup. Glanced at his cup. Glanced back at her cup. Then his eyes widened and he practically shoved her drink into her hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I don’t know why I grabbed—it was a mistake!”
“Shhh!” the woman next to them hissed.
He ducked his head, rubbing the base of his neck. “Sorry.”
Meanwhile, Marinette could only stare at her drink—or, more specifically, the straw that had touched Adrien’s glorious lips. If she took a sip now, her lips would also touch that spot. A famed indirect kiss.
Needless to say, she struggled to pay attention to the rest of the film, too busy plotting how to take the straw home without him noticing. No way was she going to chuck such a precious item away.
Too bad he happened to look at her just as she was putting the straw in her bag.
He frowned. “What—”
“Akuma! There’s an akuma!”
Marinette leaped to her feet, straw in hand. “I need to pee!”
Maybe Hawk Moth did have good timing sometimes.
But only sometimes.