Work Text:
The courtyard after school was quieter than usual, the air cooling into the soft gold of late afternoon. The distant hum of a passing car was the only noise, aside from the occasional rustle of leaves when the breeze slid through the chain-link fence.
Griffin sat perched on the low brick wall near the far end of the yard, sketchbook balanced on his lap. He wasn’t really drawing anything—just tracing shapes and lines without thinking, pencil tapping a slow rhythm against the page. He preferred this spot because no one came here. No loud groups. No teasing. No questions. Just quiet.
That quiet broke with the familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the pavement.
Elizabeth.
She had that unmistakable walk—half-bounce, half-strut—like she was the main character and the rest of the world was her stage. The sun caught her hair as she neared, the light glinting off the little red bow clipped haphazardly above her head.
“Griffin,” she called, drawing out the syllables, “why do you always sit here like some kind of statue? You’re gonna turn into stone one day. I’ll have to put you in a museum.”
He looked up, startled. “I just… like it here.”
“Well, that’s boring.” She didn’t wait for him to defend himself. One second she was standing there, hands behind her back, and the next she leaned in—swift as a dart—pressing a quick kiss against his cheek.
Before he could react, she leaned further and brushed her lips against his. Just as quickly, she pulled away, giggling like she’d just pulled the funniest prank in the world.
Griffin froze, eyes wide, the pencil slipping from his fingers and landing soundlessly in the grass. Heat rushed to his face, and he swore he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.
Elizabeth grinned. “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”
“I…” His voice caught. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because it was fun.” She tilted her head. “You should’ve seen your face—you looked like you just saw an alien.”
He swallowed hard, looking down at his shoes. “…I thought it meant something.”
Her smile faltered, eyebrows knitting. “You thought it was… real?”
“Yeah.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “It’d be nice. To kiss like that. Sincerely.” His cheeks were burning now, and he wished he could disappear into his shirt.
Elizabeth blinked slowly, like she was processing a language she didn’t speak. “…I don’t get it.”
“It’s not…” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I-It’s not a sense of humor. I meant it.”
There was a pause—a long one. She didn’t look away, but her smirk returned, curling in the corner of her mouth.
“Oh—okay, Griffin. You earned it! Kiss me again…!!”
Griffin’s heart skipped, and for a moment he thought she was mocking him. “…Really?”
“Yeah!” She stepped closer, eyes sparkling. “Go on.”
His throat was dry, but he nodded. Slowly, he leaned forward, closing the space between them until his lips pressed softly to hers. It was nothing like the quick, teasing peck she’d given him. It lingered—brief but warm—before he pulled back.
Elizabeth laughed, light and airy, and placed both hands on his shoulders to push him away. “Okay, that’s enough, Romeo.”
He felt his face heat up again, but this time his chest ached in a way he didn’t quite understand. She was already turning toward the hopscotch grid, ponytail swaying, like the moment had been nothing more than another of her games.
“Race you to the bench!” she called over her shoulder.
Griffin stayed frozen for a second before sliding off the wall to follow, notebook tucked under his arm. Even if she laughed… he’d take what he could get.
—————————————————————————————————————————
That night, lying in bed, the quiet felt different. Usually, the dark corners of his room made him uneasy, the muffled hum of the neighborhood keeping him half-awake. But tonight, it was his thoughts that wouldn’t let him rest.
He kept replaying it—the warmth of her lips, the way her eyes sparkled right before, the faint smell of strawberry gum on her breath. He knew she’d been teasing. He knew it probably didn’t mean a thing to her. But to him, it wasn’t just another joke.
He imagined, for just a moment, what it would be like if she’d meant it. If she wanted to kiss him again tomorrow. If she wouldn’t laugh afterward.
But he also knew Elizabeth—knew her quicksilver moods and the way she treated everything like a stage. He couldn’t expect her to be someone she wasn’t.
Still… when his eyes finally drifted shut, he was smiling.
Because for a brief second that afternoon, she’d let him believe it was real.