Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was bouncing around from foster home to foster home, stuck in a system that treated her no better than a burden, she never dared hope that one day she might make it to university. She could hardly hope to make it through middle school—she’d been forced to transfer so many times, a different school for each different family, that she hardly thought she’d make it out of eighth grade in one piece.

That was the year the Cuthberts found her, though. The year Anne felt, for the first time, as though she could make a permanent home in the green-gabled house, the quietly loving siblings, that took her in.

The moment her adoption papers were signed, she never dared look back. It was as if an entirely new world opened up for her—a high school in Charlottetown, a stellar GPA, and above all else: the unwavering support of her new family, who encouraged her to chase her dreams no matter how far-fetched they may have seemed.

In all truth, the education program at U of T wasn’t so unattainable, but Anne worked and worked and worked so that no obstacles might stand in her way, and sure enough it paid off. Literally, in the form of a full scholarship that included room and board, a meal plan, and even a stipend for textbooks. Marilla and Matthew had been so proud of her that she’d seen them both cry for the first time in five years. And that was the moment her own heart soared, for the pride shining in their eyes directed at her and her alone.

She remembers the looks on their faces as she decorates her side of her dorm room. Her parents left her about half an hour ago, and already she aches for them to come back to her. She’d put on a brave face when they were saying their goodbyes, but all she wanted was to cry and throw her arms around them and force them to bring Green Gables to Toronto so that she’d never have to leave her home behind.

That was an impossible dream, though—instead she puts her energy into turning her wall into a collage of happy memories with her family, from photos to pressed flowers from their garden to little string lights that remind her of the way the sun would throw its shadows across her wooden floor as it rose at dawn and set at dusk.

She is so thoroughly engaged in her task that she does not notice the entire family shuffling into the room behind her until it’s too late.

Three things happen in quick succession then. One, Anne becomes aware that someone is clearing their throat rather loudly, as if to catch her attention. Two, Anne startles and turns around quickly to greet the four strangers staring at her. Three, Anne forgets how narrow her new dorm bed is and subsequently catapults herself off of it, landing face-first on the floor at the feet of the family.

Immediately there are gasps and inquiries about whether she is okay, but Anne just does her best to laugh it off, hating her pale skin for how it gives away her flush. She’s certain that as she stands and brushes off her shirt her face is beet red, but when she meets the eyes of a girl who appears about her age—chocolate brown ringlets, warm eyes, and a stunningly kind smile—she no longer feels embarrassment.

Oh, how she hopes this girl is her roommate—somehow, even as she asks Anne again if she’s okay, she does so in a way that convinces Anne that she isn’t judging her at all. Rather, she really is concerned for Anne’s well-being.

It is a rare gift, the ability to make Anne Shirley-Cuthbert feel comfortable so quickly. Years of bullying and abuse from her peers and foster parents had put her on the defensive at all times. This model of a girl makes Anne want to let down all of her walls.

“I—hello,” Anne exhales, amazed at the other girl’s graciousness as much as her beauty.

Her smile is blinding. “Hello. I’m Diana Barry. You must be Anne.”

Anne nods perhaps too vehemently. “Y-yes, that’s me. Anne is spelled with an E, of course, so if you wouldn’t mind speaking it as such, I would appreciate it greatly.”

Diana nods very seriously, though the grin teasing the corners of her lips gives away her amusement. Anne grins, too—her roommate’s smile appears to be contagious.

“Of course,” she says. She pauses when the woman beside her—likely her mother—clears her throat again. “Oh, these are my parents, and my little sister Minnie May.”

Anne smiles politely and waves at the family. They greet her kindly, but then Minnie May, who can’t be more than ten years old, stomps up to Anne.

“You fell on your face just then,” she declares, and Diana’s eyes widen.

“Minnie May,” she hisses.

Anne just laughs brightly and waves it off. “I did, yeah. Pretty silly of me, huh?”

“It looked fun. Can I try?”

“That’s enough, Minnie May,” Mrs. Barry interrupts, then offers Anne an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dear.”

“It’s no problem at all, really.”

“Let me flip off the bed, Mum, please—”

The rest of the time spent with the Barrys passes in much the same fashion, with Minnie May doing or saying something her family deems inappropriate and Anne laughing it off, mostly because the girl is actually quite funny. Once Diana’s side of the room is set up to her mother’s liking and her father has collapsed into the desk chair after hefting all the heavy bedding into the room, the family says their goodbyes, and Anne and her new roommate are left all alone.

Diana immediately drops onto her bed, letting out a great, big sigh.

“I love my family, but they can be so very exhausting,” she breathes.

Anne mimics her roommate on her own bed and tilts her head to look at the photo that’s eye-level with her: her, Matthew, and Marilla riding a hot air balloon at a county fair, Marilla looking terrified, Matthew smiling bigger than she’d ever seen him do, and Anne positively vibrating with excitement. She smiles softly.

“Is your family like that?” Diana asks, and Anne grins.

“I think if anything, they find me exhausting.”

Diana laughs a bit. “You do have a way of making your presence known.”

“You startled me!” Anne laughs, rolling over to face her roommate.

Diana does the same, laughing as well. “You went head-over-feet because I cleared my throat?”

“I was extremely engrossed in the most significant, Herculean task I will ever undertake at uni—decorating my side of our dorm room.”

Diana laughs again. “You have such an interesting manner of speaking, Anne.” Anne doesn’t have a moment to wonder if that’s a bad thing before Diana continues. “I adore it. Should we go get some food at the dining hall? I hear their grilled cheeses are to die for.”

It is then that Anne decides that Diana Barry must be her platonic soulmate. A kindred spirit for the ages.

“I would love nothing more,” she says earnestly.

Diana grins that marvelous grin of hers, and the girls set off on their own for the first time arm-in-arm, side by side.

Anne allows a gentle bloom of hope to spring in her chest—that this friendship of theirs might last forever, that she will never have to fear being all on her own again. She squeezes her eyes shut tight for a moment and wishes it into the wind as it blows her fiery hair around her face.

Would that it had been so simple.

*

Over the course of lunch, Anne learns quite a bit about Diana. Apparently, she grew up in a small town on PEI called Avonlea, which Anne found to be a marvelous coincidence—Matthew and Marilla had grown up on a farm there, though they'd moved to Charlottetown for new work when their crops became more of a drain on their limited resources than a means of survival.

Some of Diana's high school friends are also attending U of T, news that makes Anne's stomach churn nervously when she first hears it because, well—Diana already has connections here. She does not need Anne the way that Anne needs her.

Rationally, Anne knows that she will likely make other friends in classes and through clubs she plans to join. But Diana has become her first and only lifeline, and after 18 long years without a single friend to call her own, Anne cannot help but worry that she will lose her roommate's favor somehow. That she will make a misstep too great to overcome, or talk herself into an accidental but unforgivable insult, or simply annoy her new friend so much that the brunette would become sick of her.

There are so many ways for a new friendship to end, Anne knows. She has seen them all play out countless times before. She does not want to be forced to go through it again.

That is why, when Diana informs Anne of a frat party taking place just off-campus that night, Anne agrees without hesitation. Sure, she's never been to a party before, but Diana's high school friends will be there, which means there is a chance for Anne to meet them, and to win them over. She cannot pass up this opportunity to form new bonds so early—it is imperative that Anne makes the best first impression she possibly can, and hopefully before some other overly verbose redhead weasels her way into their good graces first.

That night, as they are getting ready to go out, Anne makes an admission that she knows Diana will not judge her for.

(She worries about it nonetheless.)

"Diana," she begins as the other girl helps style Anne's hair, "I've never actually been to a party before."

As expected, Diana takes this information in stride. She grins excitedly, squeezing Anne's shoulder with her free hand before she returns to her task of braiding Anne's hair so intricately that Anne believes the method should be studied by beauticians the world over.

"This will be an exciting night for you, then," Diana chirps. "Oh, Anne, it'll be such good fun. You have to watch out for creepy guys, of course, and don't even think about accepting an open drink from anyone, but really just think of it as a night out with the girls. We'll dance, we'll talk, and most importantly, we'll stick together. Does that sound alright with you?"

Anne's eagerness builds with every word that comes out of Diana's mouth. By the time she finishes her impassioned speech, Anne has to struggle to sit still in her seat, so thrilled is she with the prospect of having such a girl's night out.

"It sounds absolutely wondrous," she breathes.

Diana sends Anne a grin in the mirror that she reflects back earnestly. This is already shaping up to be one of the most exhilarating nights of her life.

*

The girls from Diana's hometown introduce themselves as follows:

Ruby Gillis, with a giddy, warm hug.

Tillie Boulter, with a grin that reaches her eyes.

Jane Andrews, with a wave and an intrigued raise of her eyebrows.

Josie Pye, with a judgemental once-over that nearly causes Anne to shrink in on herself.

Luckily, Diana brushes quickly past Josie’s less-than-stellar welcome by proclaiming that it is time to head across campus. As they set out, Ruby slows to walk beside Anne.

“So, Anne,” the small blonde begins, “do you have a boyfriend?” She pauses. “Or girlfriend? Or—partner?”

Anne catches sight of Josie rolling her eyes, though the other girls’ ears seem to perk up as they wait for Anne’s response. Even Diana seems curious—they didn’t get a chance to cover the matter of significant others because they were far too busy giggling over the most scandalous books on each other’s proverbial To Be Read list and learning more about their families.

(When Diana discovered that Anne was an orphan who’d been adopted out of the foster system, she simply squeezed Anne’s hand warmly and thanked the heavens that Anne had found a family who loved her. Anne had to turn her head to wipe away the sudden tears that fell down her cheeks, as Diana, ever gracious, pretended not to notice.)

“Um,” Anne begins, “no, not as such.”

Josie lets out a derisive snort. “What does that even mean? Are you with someone or not?”

“Not,” Anne says.

“Well, Ruby’s got a boyfriend,” Tillie laughs.

Anne would like to kiss the dark-haired girl for how she’s saved her from Josie’s scorn.

“Stop it, Tillie!” Ruby scolds, though she’s grinning as well. She looks at Anne. “He’s a year older than us, and he goes to school here, too. His name’s Gilbert Blythe, and he is the dreamiest boy in all of North America.”

“What, he couldn’t crack the other six continents?” Jane snorts, and Anne has to hide her smile behind a cough.

The other girl catches her gaze and grins. Thankfully, Ruby seems too caught up in reminiscing about her beau to notice their exchange.

“How did you two meet?” Anne asks out of genuine curiosity.

All the girls burst into crazed giggles, and Anne comes to the familiar realization that she’s missing out on an inside joke.

“He’s from Avonlea, too,” Diana supplies helpfully.

“Yup, we’re all one big happy family!” Tillie giggles.

This sets the girls off into another frenzied round of hysterics—even Josie laughs freely, a sight Anne did not think she would ever see.

Her spirits fall a bit as she forces out a fake smile, pretending as always to get the joke so that she might avoid becoming the butt of it. As if, by acting as though she is able to share in their joy, she might convince them that she has any right to. That she belongs.

"It's interesting that so many of you ended up so far from home," Anne says once the laughter dies down. She sends Ruby a teasing smile. "Don't tell me you came all this way for a boy."

Ruby laughs at that, thank goodness, and swats playfully at Anne's arm. "Of course I didn't." She pauses. "Well, not entirely."

Anne laughs with the other girls sincerely, now, grateful that she seems to have found her stride in the conversation.

"McGill was far too expensive, not to mention—ugh, I mean, Quebec."

Every last one of them grunts in agreement, a tacit say no more. Anne spent a short while in Quebec, until her case worker made a surprise home visit and found Anne and the three other foster children under the family's care half-starved and covered in filth, purposefully neglected by those who were meant to take care of them.

Somehow, Anne thinks that might not be such a great story to share. Not that she would want to, anyway.

"U of T was just my best option," Ruby concludes. "Gil's just an added bonus."

Anne smiles warmly at the girl beside her, moved by the love she obviously holds in her heart for her boyfriend. Anne can only hope that one day she might find someone to love in kind—what she would not give just to have a hand to hold, a shoulder to rest her weary head on, a person who could love and accept her for all that she is, freckles and crooked bottom teeth and motor mouth and all.

Before Anne knows it, they've made it to the frat house in question. It is quite obvious that a party is happening inside, as they've made no effort to pretend as though there isn't one—music blares through the windows, LED lights cycle through colors so quickly Anne's head spins, and students mill freely on the porch, spilling out of the open front door without a care in the world. The stench of alcohol permeates Anne's senses immediately, sharp in a way that wakes her even as it puts to sleep those who drink it.

Diana grabs hold of her hand and reminds the girls that they are to stick together in pairs or groups and to find their own unopened drinks, and then they are off and crossing the threshold, and Anne is officially at her first ever party.

*

Of course, she is immediately separated from her friends. A group of rowdy, drunk idiots crashes through the foyer, forcing Anne to release Diana's hand. Her group, who she was told to stick with no matter what, is suddenly lost from her, and Anne is left doing breathing exercises and reminding herself not to panic.

How big can the house be, after all?

Massive, as it turns out. Actually, massive might be an understatement. Anne seems to have found herself in a mansion so vast every turn she takes pulls her deeper into its bowels, like a Greek hero wandering the Labyrinth without Ariadne's string to guide her way.

This is, Anne decides, a fucking shitshow. So much for a girl's night out.

Somehow, she finds herself in a kitchen. Liquor bottles litter every flat surface in the room, though the music is much quieter here, the crowd thinner. Anne sighs at the sight of the alcohol before her, not very keen to partake now that she does not have a buddy to keep watch over her, and makes for the large refrigerator to try to find a soda. She'd take a juice, at this point—turns out anxiously half-running through an unfamiliar place can really get a girl parched.

It is as Anne is searching through the fridge that she finds the door suddenly slammed shut, her head only just making it out before a concussion could occur.

"What—?" she exclaims, jumping back.

"No rifling through the fridge," a stocky, blond boy informs her with a sneer.

Anne knits her eyebrows. "You could've said that rather than nearly taking my head off!" she argues.

"Maybe if you had some manners you wouldn't have had to worry about that. Where'd you come in from, the street?"

Anne rolls her eyes. "Yes, much like every other person here, I walked inside from the outside," she says in a condescending tone. She juts out her lower lip in a faux-pout. "I know that's a tough concept for you to wrap your small mind around, but I'm glad to explain it to you again with pictures if you like."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Suddenly, Anne finds herself crowded in a corner where two countertops meet. Her heart races furiously in her chest.

"Get off of me," she demands, shoving the boy's shoulders.

He hardly budges, so solid is he. Anne thinks he must be made of stone, with a pebble brain to match.

"You're the one causing problems here, freak. Do I need to show you how to behave?" he says, his voice low and threatening.

Real fear courses through Anne's veins, but before she can bring her knee up to meet the boy's groin, he is being pulled back by a large hand.

"Problem here, Billy?" this new boy asks, his tone full of forced casualness.

Anne notes the way he steps between her and this Billy, his body physically shielding her from further harm. From her vantage point, she can only make out a broad set of shoulders, and a full head of curly, black hair that she has to look up at from where she stands.

"Yeah, why don't you take the garbage out?" Billy sneers.

Anne's vision tints red. How many times had she been looked down upon, compared to the dirtiest things anyone could imagine, by people who did not know her? She would punch the lights out of the big blond douchebag if the big brunette was not standing in her way.

"That's enough of that," the other boy cautions. "What ever happened to being gracious to guests?"

"She's no guest of mine."

"Good thing she's one of mine, then."

Anne peeks around the boy's bicep to watch Billy's face twist up angrily. He glares at her, and she sends him a smug grin, a subtle and deliciously satisfying fuck you that even he could read.

"Go find your sister, Billy," the taller boy sighs. "Last I saw, she was doing Jell-o shots off of Moody's stomach."

The look of disgust on Billy's face overcomes that of the loathing, and he finally stalks off, leaving the tension in Anne's shoulders to seep out slowly.

The other boy—the kind one, the one who saved her ass—turns around to face her, and her breath catches in her throat.

Hazel eyes meet hers, kaleidoscopes of color that stare deeply into Anne's own. His lips are full, his brows are thick, and his chin is charming in a way that Anne never knew chins could be.

All in all, he's the hottest man she's ever seen. And he is looking at her with such genuine concern that she has to grip the counter behind her with both hands to steady herself.

God, she wants to lick him. He's far too handsome for his own good.

"Are you alright?" he asks, and Anne realizes too late that she has been staring.

She shakes her head. "No. I mean—yes. Yeah." She clears her throat. "Thanks."

He offers her a warm smile. "Billy's the world's biggest asshole—it's alright to be shaken. What he did was really fucked up."

Anne swallows hard. "I was gearing up to kick him in the balls before you stepped in," she admits.

The boy throws his head back and laughs brightly, giving Anne an uninhibited view of his Adam's apple as it bobs along his throat.

Did she mention that she wants to lick him?

"He'd have deserved it, that's for sure," the boy says.

"Next time give me a minute before you come rushing in like some knight in shining armor, alright?" she quips.

His grin turns crooked, devilish. "What kind of knight lets the princess slay the dragons, hm?"

"Who said I was the princess? Maybe I'd like to be a knight, too."

"You'd probably give all the other knights a run for their money," he admits.

Anne grins. "I think I'd make a rather marvelous Lancelot, all things considered."

The boy whistles, placing his hands in his jean pockets. "Are you kidding? You'd run circles around that guy."

She rolls her eyes. "You haven't even seen me in action. There's no possible way you could come to such a determination without feasible evidence, which leads me to believe you're engaging in nothing more than shallow flattery, which I detest most greatly."

He stares at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, and Anne realizes that she has crossed the threshold from good conversationalist to fucking weirdo so quickly she didn't even recognize it in herself.

Suddenly, he bows his head, taking a step back from her to bend forward at the hip. "My apologies, good sir. Clearly, you're entirely incapable." He looks up at her through his eyelashes just to shoot her a devious grin.

Her heart takes flight and soars. Her stomach does a set of jumping jacks, then a few backflips for good measure. Her brain goes kaput, unable to comprehend how it is that she's managed to find a kindred spirit in a house full of drunk assholes.

"Petty insults are just as loathsome," she informs him when her mind comes back online. "Try again, fool."

"Fool?" he laughs, straightening. "I've been demoted from knight to fool?"

"How the mighty fall," she sighs in false disappointment.

"And here I thought I had a shot with a fellow dragon slayer."

Anne recognizes the shift in his tone, the softening of his smile. She's seen it happen enough to other people to be able to pick it out herself.

This boy is flirting with her. And she thinks she might just want to flirt back.

"It's never too late to atone for misdeeds," Anne says, eyeing him carefully.

That grin comes back in all its crooked glory. "Oh yeah? And how does one go about doing that?"

"You can find me a drink that won't blind me with one sip, to start."

The brunette watches her with a smile too gentle for their surroundings. "I can do that. Easy."

He finds her a clean cup and pours her a Coke, letting her watch as he does so that she knows it’s safe. It’s dangerous, of course, but she would not have questioned him, anyway—Anne has a feeling her fellow knight is the farthest thing from the kind of guy she would need to be wary of in that way anyhow.

He hands her the cup with a flourish and another bow, grinning up at her again, and her heart starts racing for the second time tonight, although this time the sensation is entirely welcome.

Maybe, she thinks, this could be the start of something magical.

Charming chin and all.

Chapter Text

"So I haven't seen you around," the boy says as he leans against the counter beside her. "Are you a freshman?"

Anne nods, trying to ignore the way he's stepped a bit closer to her despite the fact that the room around them is fairly quiet and nearly empty. Not that she wants him to give her space—if she had it her way there wouldn't be enough room for air to pass between them.

"Yeah, although—" she pauses, wondering if she should finish her sentence.

"Although...?" he prompts, offering her a curious grin.

She clears her throat. "I've been in Toronto for the last week, getting a feel for the area," she explains, deciding to keep the fact that she was held back a year in elementary school to herself.

It hadn't been her fault that she wasn't able to attend third grade—her foster parents at the time had been particularly heinous, and withheld her education as punishment once they learned how much she loved going to school. He doesn't need to know that, though.

The boy's face lights up. "Oh, yeah? Have you been anywhere good?"

"My parents and I spent a lot of time in Koreatown," she says. "I couldn't get enough of the food. Honestly, I would eat my way through this whole city without stopping to breathe if I wasn't such a stereotypically poor college student."

He throws his head back as he splays his hand out over his chest. "God, a woman after my own heart." He lifts his head just to send her a coy little grin. "I'll have to take you to the best restaurant in town one day soon."

Anne's stomach flutters with anticipation. "I'd very much like that."

"Yeah?"

She nods, feeling drunk despite not having taken a single sip of alcohol. They've gravitated even closer together, somehow—precariously close. Close enough that one duck of his head, one lift of her chin, would see them kissing.

She has never, ever longed so deeply to kiss someone as she has this boy.

He smells of pine and mint and books, and she is positively dying to know if he tastes just as intoxicating as he smells.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are extraordinarily beautiful?" he mutters.

Anne is certain that she has died and gone to heaven. Her cheeks heat even as an uncontrollable smile spreads across her face, and she scoffs, averting her gaze from the intensity of his.

"What did I say about shallow flattery?" she says, and looks back at him to find that his expression has become entirely earnest.

"I can assure you I've never meant anything I've ever said more in my entire life."

She swallows hard, eyeing him carefully. His eyes hold a sincerity that her heart can't handle. Not now, not yet.

"You know, you still haven't told me your name," she deflects.

He sends her an arrogant grin, one that should be off-putting but instead has the effect of setting goosebumps across her skin.

"Maybe I wanted you to keep referring to me as a handsome knight in your head," he says.

She laughs. "How quickly you've forgotten your demotion."

"Haven't I redeemed myself yet?"

"That remains to be seen, fool."

He grunts, feigning pain. "You're killing me, Smalls." Anne only grins in response, and he watches her for a moment before he seems to come to a decision, nodding once. "Just so that you won't keep thinking of me as a fool," he begins, and she laughs brightly, "my name is actually—"

"Gilbert?!"

Anne is jolted forcefully back to reality at the sound of the very shrill, very familiar voice that half-screeches the name. She jumps away from the boy she was speaking to and turns to find Ruby and the Avonlea girls staring at them in varying levels of shock. Josie simply wrinkles her nose in disgust.

Anne looks dazedly between the girls and the boy beside her, who is sending the group a warm, welcoming grin.

"Hey guys," he greets with a little wave.

Ruby's lower lip begins to tremble something fierce. Suddenly, it clicks.

Gilbert. The boy who has been flirting with her for the last 20 minutes is Gilbert Blythe. Ruby's—Ruby's boyfriend.

The look on Josie's face certainly makes much more sense, now. As do the tears beginning to well in Ruby's eyes.

The small girl turns tail and runs off, her friends following after her, and Anne sends Diana a pleading look.

"I didn't know," she promises.

Diana watches her for a moment before she seems to come to a decision. She sticks her hand out for Anne to take, and relief turns Anne's legs into a pile of silky (and unfortunately pale) pudding.

"Wait, where are you going?" Gilbert—the scumbag—says as Anne starts to head out with her friend.

The sound of his voice ignites a rage within Anne, one that she has always known she was capable of, but one she has never allowed herself to truly feel, from the soles of her feet to the roots of her fiery hair. She could open her mouth and eviscerate this boy with one well-placed blow. She could slap him across the face hard enough for his head to spin like a top.

Or, she could find her new friend and make the wrong she's committed right. Ruby is somewhere in this house heartbroken, partially because of Anne's actions. And that means more to her than the betrayal stinging her chest.

Honestly, he doesn't even have the decency to check on his girlfriend after he was caught cozying up to Anne? He does not deserve a second more of her time.

She turns her back on Gilbert and follows the path Diana burns through the house until they reach the foyer once more. The Avonlea girls are surrounding Ruby in a circle, fanning her face with their hands and napkins as tears pour freely down her cheeks. When she catches sight of Anne, her expression becomes downright murderous, something Anne did not think the smaller girl was capable of.

"Ruby, you have to let me explain," she begs.

Josie turns her back on Anne to block her from Ruby, much like Gilbert did with Billy earlier. It very much makes Anne want to grab the tall girl by the back of her hair and tell her to fuck off, but Anne supposes that if she thought someone hurt her friend the way Anne has clearly hurt Ruby, she would likely be just as over-protective as Josie is now.

"Just go away, Anne," Ruby cries.

"I didn't know who he was! I swear it!"

The Avonlea girls look incredibly doubtful, barring Diana. Josie turns around just to send Anne another distasteful grimace.

"You were all pressed up against a guy whose name you didn't even know?" she sneers, her tone implying exactly what she thinks of such behavior.

Anne's cheeks burn despite herself. "I—I wasn't—"

"Honestly, we've been at university for all of five minutes and you're already as desperate as they come," Josie continues.

Anne takes a step back from her, wounded. Whatever resolve she may have held to speak up for herself earlier shrivels and dies in the face of Josie's pointed insults. Tears sting her eyes despite herself, and she swallows hard, hating that she's let the other girl's words get to her.

(The look on the rest of the girls' faces might hurt worse, though. As if they agree with every word Josie has spoken.)

"That's enough, Josie," Diana demands. "Nobody judged you for hooking up with Tommy Sussman at your first party." Josie's face contorts into a mixture of shame and anger. Diana turns on Tillie. "Or you, Tillie, for dating both Pauls behind their backs, at the same time." Tillie averts her gaze. "Don't even get me started on you, Jane."

"You've made your point, Diana," Jane says darkly.

"This is new to all of us," Diana proclaims. "At least hear her out before you brush her aside so callously."

Anne's heart swells so large she fears it may burst through her rib cage. She squeezes Diana's hand gratefully, and the other girl gives her an encouraging nod.

She looks back to the quartet, all of whom are staring at her expectantly. Ruby's tears have not slowed, though she seems more open to listening, at least.

"When we all got separated, I ended up in the kitchen," Anne begins. "I was looking for something non-alcoholic to drink when this absolute Neanderthal cornered me and got in my face. I didn't even do anything to him, though I should have kicked his teeth in, the venomous, vile—"

"Back on track, Anne," Diana stage-whispers.

"Right." She takes a deep breath. "Anyway, the boy I was talking to in the kitchen—"

"Gilbert," Ruby supplies with a hiccup.

Anne nods. "Gilbert, he stepped in to help me. I mean, I have no idea what Billy would have done if—"

Jane groans loudly. "Ugh, Billy? Billy Andrews?"

"I'm not sure of his last name. I imagine it might be something along the lines of vermin or bottom-feeder or fuckface—"

"Or, Andrews. As in, Jane's brother," Tillie interrupts.

Anne snaps her jaw shut so quickly her teeth rattle. Oh, but she just keeps digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole that seems not to have a bottom.

"Jane, I am so sorry—"

"Eh, he's an asshole," Jane says with a shrug. "No sweat."

Anne lets out a breath of relief. "How you two are related is beyond me."

"That's what happens when you're the only son," Jane scoffs. "Get spoiled into a rotten little shit."

"Can we get back to the matter at hand here?" Diana interjects. "Anne, you were saying?"

"Thank you, Diana," Anne says, and the other girl nods graciously.

Anne turns her attention back to Ruby.

"I promise you, Ruby, I had no idea who Gilbert was. I was just so afraid and he really did help me and I got so caught up in the moment that I just, well—"

"Flirted with the boy she spent the whole walk over here gushing to you about?" Josie finishes, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

Anne swallows. "Well, yes, but I didn't know that was him! And I assure you, now that I do know, I have absolutely no desire to ever speak to him again. In fact, I'm swearing him off entirely."

Ruby sniffles and wipes at her nose with a tissue Tillie dutifully hands to her.

"You really mean that?" she asks, and Anne nods.

"I really, really do. I solemnly vow to never speak to Gilbert Blythe again, not so long as I can help it."

She sticks out her pinky for good measure. One corner of Ruby's mouth turns up in a half-grin, and she interlocks her pinky with Anne's.

"Thank you, Anne," Ruby says. "You really are a true friend."

"It's the least I could do after causing you such torment. Really, Ruby, I'm so terribly sorry."

Ruby sighs. "That's alright, Anne. You didn't know any better, after all."

Anne nods, though she wonders exactly what Ruby is going to do about the fact that her boyfriend was flirting with another woman. And why hasn't he made an appearance yet? Why hasn't he chased down Ruby to explain his behavior to her?

Could it be that he did not realize he had done something wrong? That he was not actually flirting with Anne, but instead was just being friendly after her stressful encounter with Billy?

Oh, god. Is Anne truly as desperate as Josie made her out to be?

The thought nearly makes her sick, but she forces herself to plaster on a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Diana suggests.

It seems to Anne that her roommate is trying to prolong the tenuous peace as much as she possibly can. Anne shoots her a grateful look and gives her hand a squeeze for her troubles, to which Diana sends her a wink.

“I’m kind of hungry anyway,” Jane says. “Should we grab a bite to eat?”

“I would love a strawberry milkshake right now,” Ruby says, sniffling gently.

“I could go for some pancakes,” Tillie adds with a shrug.

“Diner?” Anne suggests hopefully.

Everybody looks expectantly at Josie, who sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Fine, but if we get a round booth I’m sitting in the curve.”

“You’re so weird about the curve,” Jane says as they start to head out.

“I like the way it supports my back!”

Anne grins as the girls file past her toward the door. Diana sticks by her side, sending her a wide-eyed look of relief that Anne mirrors immediately.

“Hey! There you are!”

Anne stiffens at the sound of a familiar voice calling after her, and Diana pauses too. The other girls are out the door already, out of the cacophony of the party. Anne hopes against hope that Gilbert is not addressing her, and she tries to rush Diana out without success.

“Hey, wait up—hey, Carrots!”

A sharp, hard tug on Anne’s braid pulls her attention to the asshole who’s chased after her. Without thinking, that same rage from earlier guiding her hand, Anne spins around and throws her drink in his face.

“Leave me alone!” she shouts at a Coke-soaked Gilbert Blythe. He stares at her in shock, as do the other people around them. “You are a vile, pathetic excuse for a man. Do not speak to me ever again.”

She pulls a shocked Diana out the door, then, not sparing the boy behind them another glance.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is completely and utterly finished with Gilbert Blythe. Forever.

*

Classes begin the next day, a fact that Anne could not be more grateful for after the events of the previous night. Diana had the good sense not to ask Anne about her outburst at the party, though Anne could tell as they readied themselves for sleep and lay in their respective beds that she was dying to know why Anne had done what she had.

Upon waking up this Monday, Anne resolves to begin anew, a clean slate upon which to write the story of her future. She showers, brushes her hair through until it is dry and falls around her shoulders in loose waves, and dresses in the new clothes that she had bought with Marilla in preparation for the year. She even has time for a real, sit-down breakfast with Diana, who looks lovely as ever and is equally as excited as Anne to begin her first official day of classes.

The roommates are forced to separate after their meal; Anne has an art elective that begins at 9:30 sharp in a building all the way across campus from Diana's introductory economics course. With a hug and an exchange of encouraging words, the girls are off to begin their journeys and carve their own paths forward.

As she walks, Anne soaks in every possible sensation she can, breathing in the crisp autumn air. The gentle wind nips gently at her undoubtedly pinkened cheeks as the trees around her blend into gradients of reds, oranges, and yellows so brilliant she could swear they are aflame. Those that have already fallen crunch beneath her Oxfords satisfyingly, though Anne apologizes quietly to the leaves that she steps gleefully upon, her excitement for the arrival of one of her most beloved seasons overpowering her guilt for ruining the piles that line the walkway connecting the buildings on campus.

She blames her infatuation with the time of year for her distraction when she quite literally walks right into a lanky, blond boy with strikingly kind blue eyes.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Anne apologizes at once. "I was just admiring the fallen leaves and imagining what it might be like if I were a tree who cycled through so many lifetimes so endlessly."

The boy blinks at Anne before he offers her a tentative smile. "If I were a tree, I think I'd be a bit put off to be stripped down in front of the world every autumn and winter. No privacy at all."

Anne's grin is sure to remain permanently stuck on her face. "At least in winter you have the temporary cover of the snow. Poor things are positively exploited by mid-November."

The boy laughs a joyous thing that's not so much booming as it is breathy, but it makes Anne's smile grow anyway.

"I'm Cole," he says through his laughter, sticking out his right hand.

Anne shakes it dutifully. "Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."

"Well, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, I've got to get to class, but if you've got nowhere to be, I certainly wouldn't mind the company."

She gasps, then, grabbing his arm in alarm. "Shit! I've got a 9:30 ceramics seminar to get to!"

His face brightens. "That's where I'm going."

Something like a mixture of excitement and relief somehow simultaneously melt her into the cold ground and energize her like never before. She drags Cole along the path, their target building in sight.

"Well let's get going, then, before we make an awful first impression!"

"Anne—Anne!" Cole laughs, though his long legs make it incredibly easy for him to keep up with her. She turns her head to look at him, but she doesn't stop speed-walking. "It's only 9:15."

"Then we're already 15 minutes too late!"

Cole laughs again, but it doesn't much bother her. Like Diana, Cole seems to be laughing with her, rather than at her. She wonders how it is that she's managed to physically barrel her way into another (hopefully) kindred spirit's good graces, though she tries her best not to think too hard about it lest she earn the ire of whatever force is out there in the vast, infinite universe that seems to be smiling upon her of late.

(Barring the Gilbert Blythe incident, of course. But Anne will certainly not waste her time thinking about that.)

They make it to the assigned classroom 10 minutes early and come upon a smiling, laid-back older woman with tanned skin, plentiful freckles, and curly hair that's equal parts dark and white chocolate. She tells them to call her Jenny, then asks if they'd like to familiarize themselves with the clay and winks like it can be their little secret.

All in all, it's a lovely start to the day.

Anne is almost disappointed when class ends 90 minutes later, as she's only just gotten the hang of managing the speed of her pottery wheel. Cole was a natural at it the whole time, and when she demands how it is that he created a vase in the time it took her to ruin three separate bowls, he flushes and explains that he's in the art school. Which checks out, really.

"I hope you know you're now officially my ceramics tutor," she tells him, and he laughs again.

"Do you really think Jenny cares about grades? I'm sure she's the type to give everyone an A for effort."

"That may be so, but I really would like to make my parents something nice before the semester is out."

Cole softens as they step out into the slightly warmer autumn air. "Are you very close with them?"

"As close as I can be. They're pretty wonderful, all things considered."

He quiets, and Anne fears that Cole may not be able to relate to her sentiments. She's grown up enough not to run her mouth and insensitively ask about his home life, though, so instead she asks if he'd like to grab a coffee in the hour she has to kill before her next class, and he perks up enough for her shoulders to relax.

It's an interaction she'll file away for later, when she worries that they may have had similar experiences. She figures it's safe enough to let him know over coffee and croissants that she was in the foster system and was adopted as a teenager, and he takes the information in stride. He does not offer up anything about his own family, which Anne thinks is fine and well—if ever he wants to share with her, she'll be there with open ears. Until then, she will not put her foot in her mouth, because she really does love spending time with Cole, and it would be a true tragedy to lose his friendship, no matter how new it is.

They part ways after they've exchanged numbers and followed each other on Instagram. Anne spends her walk to her next class once again lost in her thoughts, though this time it's the dappled sunlight angled perfectly through the auburn leaves cutting golden patterns across the worn grass that captures her attention. She takes a picture of the scene, just for her, and smiles to herself as she thinks about sending it to Cole for inspiration.

By the time she makes it to her English lit class, she is in such a good mood that she's certain nothing could possibly bring her down. She walks into the small lecture hall with a pep in her step, takes a seat in the very first row that's angled slightly to the left so she can see the entry way and the board simultaneously, and kills time waiting for other people to file in by organizing her pens and notebook in the most aesthetically pleasing manner she can with such little desk space.

She really, truly is not thinking of anything other than what a lovely day she is having when it happens. When she looks up, as voices begin to carry into the room and the sound of shuffling footsteps descend the stairs and the door screeches open and closed, and locks eyes with Gilbert Blythe.

Fucker. So much for a good day.

*

He makes it worse when he does not look away. Anne breaks eye contact first and tries to make herself look busy to put off what she knows will inevitably happen. He's not deterred, though, and he makes his way over to Anne and takes the seat next to her anyway.

She will not speak to him.

"Hi," he greets, tone casual as ever.

As if Anne did not throw her drink in his face and tell him never to speak to her again.

When she doesn't answer, he sighs exasperatedly.

"Fine, I'll do the talking then," he says. "I realize that the way I behaved last night was childish. I shouldn't have pulled on your hair like that, and I'm really sorry for—"

She scoffs. "You think I'm angry because you pulled my hair?" she demands, meeting his gaze. "Yes, it was childish. Yes, it was unwelcome—never touch me again, by the way." He raises his hands up innocently to express his compliance. "But that is not the only reason I did what I did, Gilbert Blythe."

He knits his eyebrows in confusion, but before he can respond, their professor takes her place at the front of the class. She's a slight, blonde woman who introduces herself as Professor Stacy, and she tells them to talk quietly amongst themselves while she familiarizes herself with the roll-call list.

Gilbert takes this as an opportunity to continue their conversation, unfortunately.

"Then what was it?" he whispers. "Did I offend you in some way?" Anne ignores him again, staring straight ahead despite the way his eyes burn a hole into the side of her head. "Also—how do you know my last name? It seems pretty unfair that you've got mine when I still don't know yours."

"And you never will," she hisses.

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert," their professor proclaims suddenly. "Please make yourself apparent to the class."

Shit.

Anne sighs in defeat and raises her hand, and her professor smiles at her warmly.

"Thank you, Anne, for being my first sacrifice." Anne smiles a bit despite herself, hoping that her prior annoyance with the obnoxious boy beside her is not staining her freckled cheeks an angry red. "Now, if you'd please share with the class your favorite book of all time, no explanations allowed."

Anne's grin widens. "Jane Eyre," she says without hesitation.

Professor Stacy's eyebrows raise as she appraises Anne before she nods and moves on to Gilbert.

His favorite book is Gulliver's Travels, which Anne takes personal offense to, because that just so happens to be her second favorite book of all time. On her honor, he will never, ever learn that information about her. In fact, he will never learn anything about her again. She will never speak to him again, so help her God, because he is an insufferable, arrogant, inconsiderate little—

"Congratulations Anne and Gilbert," Professor Stacy announces before the next student in line can share with the class.

Anne's stomach sinks with dread, as if it can sense what's to come next.

"You two will be partnered up for your final presentation. Happy getting to know each other!"