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The night air was terribly cold, and biting, and it would have been incredibly miserable to Dove, if it hadn’t been for the fact she was aptly distracted by the woman beside her.
She thoughtlessly ran her gloved hands along the strap of her bag, a motion which she’d picked up as an instinct at some point, and had yet to give up. For reasons easily summed up as an unreasonable, and innate, emotional attachment to the gesture.
The date had been, overwhelmingly, lovely. (Beyond that, even, if she dared to venture into such synonyms without flustering herself in the process.) Dove had never personally experienced much appeal, or genuine interest in topics of dates, or other such interactions; but Magnolia had, if nothing,been beyond herself in proving to be a stark, and unique figure in Dove’s life
It wasn't as if Dove hadn’t found herself curious about relationships, prior. They were interesting to read about, and come to understand, within her textbooks; and she would be lying to not say she paid vague attention and interest to the ones around her through her school years (which, seemed normal for someone wanting to go into an investigative field, really.) – But she couldn’t exactly say she found herself chasing, or personally interested in one.
Emphasis on the preterite tense, however. As that prior nature was quickly amended when she’d first interacted with Magnolia Faragher.
She wasn’t sure she could reliably , or genuinely, without help, describe the emotions she felt with Magnolia – mostly out of lack of necessary, non-textbook & cliche vocabulary terms, – but what she could definitely, with no question, say was that she was beyond interested in Magnolia. Which had proven to make her chest warm, and haunt her dreams for two weeks, and four days, now. Which seemed as close to definite proof she was feeling things beyond what’s typical.
All of which proved, in turn, to be beyond enough to have her sincerely (and, embarrassingly quickly,) accept the offer of dinner with her.
“Distracted, Dove?” Magnolia had said, suddenly – which made Dove incredibly aware of the fact she had not been an active participant in their conversation of the past two minutes,
Dove felt heat rise up her neck, "Not at all," she said, quickly affixing “I was just thinking about something else for a moment.” Her voice had a softer, faster, lilt than she intended, but alas.
"About?" Magnolia had further prodded. Her head tilted, slightly, with the tufts of the fawn bangs that framed her face catching the warm-yellow light of an inconveniently distant street lamp– speaking with a tone that Dove could really only describe as teasing, and whatever other appropriate adjectives.
(Because Dove really didn’t have a doubt that Magnolia knew almost exactly what she was thinking about. Really it wasn’t rocket science.)
"Tonight," she replied, nonetheless. Suddenly aware of the disparity of the heat in her face and neck to the rest of her body. She smiled, "It was nice,” which was an incredibly dumb comment, retrospectively– because of course it was.
A moment, and that realization, passed before she added quickly, "More than nice, it was lovely", averting her eyes again. "I enjoyed our conversations," she further-further amended, and she suddenly found it in herself to pray it was not a dating taboo to make obscenely obvious comments about dates. Otherwise, she was infinitely sacrilegious and would end up hanged by the coming-Monday.
Thankfully , her comment had its actual-intended consequence, and did not make her want to repent for every sin she had committed formerly leading up to this moment.
Magnolia’s lips curved into a now-familiar smile (technically a smirk, but the connotation of that didn't very well fit this circumstance. So a smile.) and Dove stared a bit too intently at the way her eyes creased, before computing the fact she’d actually said something, too.
“‘Lovely’” Magnolia repeated back to her, which would’ve been more humiliatingly teasing if it didn’t sound affectionate from her mouth. “I’m glad you thought so. I’d hate to think I’d bored you,”
“That’d be incredibly hard for you to accomplish, anyway.” she laughed, closing her eyes before facing back to the pavement ahead of them. (A mercy, considering she likely wouldn’t be able to reasonably and capably handle looking at Magnolia’s rapt expression much longer; because Dove was human , and flawed , and excessively weak to the emotions she was experiencing in her brain.)
She realizes that was (maybe, probably,) a bit too honest and blatant of her. But alas. Things you only realize moments later, in retrospect; The flaw of man.
Blessedly, it was easy to distract herself from the embarrassment by looking up at the faint stars in the sky. Which were becoming increasingly hard to see with their approach to the tall, apartment buildings.
She, in her haze, almost belatedly realized their now-rapid approach to her building, and she quickly dragged herself out of whatever she’d been thinking of to look back to her side.
“This is it,” she said, gently, as if Magnolia hadn’t already known. (Which she was now realizing as an embarrassingly recurrent theme tonight.)
“So it is,” She replied evenly- lightly, if she wanted to play with adjectives a bit more– as she followed her line of assumed-sight to the neutral toned building which was like only 100-or-so steps away. Depending on pace.
Dove enjoyed the greater distribution of streetlamps on the residential-street, she realized, looking back to Magnolia’s eyes.
“Thank you,” she began, smiling (which’d proven itself incredibly natural,) as they got to the door, “for tonight, inviting me to dinner.” she promptly added.
She was exceedingly stiff. She realized; which made her avert her eyes as she fished keys from her bag.
“You were good company,” Magnolia said, simply, and kindly, (which was beyond evil, because it wasn’t hard to compute that it was not that simple) “I had a lovely time,”
Magnolia’s hands were remarkably warm, even though the gabardine of Dove’s coat.
Tragically, her lips were warmer.
It was barely a few moments; she could feel the soft, tentative lips against her own – which on its own, could mean nothing, really. If she tried, she could pretend. But it was hauntingly apparent that she could feel warm breath against her own, and every chance for her to pull away if she so desired, and hands that just barely touched her neck. Which made it impossible to be diluted, or ‘nothing’.
She was sure saccharine was not a word someone would sanely use to describe Magnolia Faragher – but Dove believed it was the only word in her vocabulary that’d fit right now. If the buzz and rush in her head was anything to compare to and treat as ample reason.
“Sweet Dreams, Dove” She'd said, after pulling away. Which was cruel, because Dove would have anything but peaceful and sweet sleep, dreams, or rest of any kind tonight.
She stood, humiliatingly limpidly, at her doorstep watching as Magnolia walked away. Key already in lock, before shakily turning the knob. Forcing weak legs to walk past the single barrier, and into the warmth of the hallway.
…
When she accidentally sees her reflection in the entry room mirror, she could there's a faint, hardly-there, stain of red on her lips.