Deirdre

He was the very epitome of beauty, his eyes crystal clear and his hair darker than the midnight sky. What was I next to him?-- I, with the brooding dark eyes and unkempt, greasy hair? Next to him, I was nothing. Next to him, I stood no chance at winning back the love of the woman who stood watching us-- Deirdre.

I think he knew it, too-- why else would he ask me to dance? And with such an arrogant, knowing smile stretching out his perfect jaw-- as if he could see all the thoughts in my head and found them amusing.

I wanted to decline, to tell him that I just wasn’t in the mood for dancing, and that perhaps he should go find someone else’s love to steal-- but I couldn’t say so in front of Deirdre-- not after I’d promised to try to get along with the bastard.

So we danced together. His strong hands were as smooth as Deirdre’s, and I felt suddenly self-conscious of how small and calloused my own hands were.

I scowled at him, and he, instead of kindly returning the gesture, swept me up in his arms and twirled me in the winter air-- so high and fast I could feel the cold night wind rush through my scraggly hair and down my back.

I gaped at him. Deirdre laughed-- her special laugh that never failed to send happy shivers down my spine.

Once back on solid ground, my astonished look quickly twisted into a scowl. I glared first at him, and then at Deirdre-- how could she have laughed? The man had just lifted and spun me around as if I were a ballerina! Had the woman no conscience? And him! Being tall and dark and mysterious and-- well, being him didn’t mean he had the right to treat the rest of us with no respect!

The frozen expression on both their faces enlightened me to the fact that at some point I had started to voice my angry thoughts aloud.

With that realization I closed my eyes and prayed for death-- or at the very least a dark hole to crawl into. But something much more pleasant than death came to me-- something warm and gentle that pressed up against my lips; instinctively, I returned the kiss.

When that something drew away I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see the laughing green eyes of Deirdre. What I saw instead made my heart falter-- I was looking up breathlessly into the clear blue eyes of that man-- no, that demon-- that was trying to steal my Deirdre.

He smiled at me. I tried to glare at him, but I couldn’t summon the right emotion for it.

Deirdre shrugged at me, and that hint of a smile hidden somewhere in her seemed to become more prominent as she began to walk away, her dark red hair swirling behind her in the icy air.

I stared, mouth slightly open, watching her.

Immediately, a warm weight settled around my shoulders. I didn’t have to look to know that it was him.

And though I knew that it was pointless, I shrugged away from what I’m sure was meant to be a comforting gesture and ran, calling after Deirdre. But my lonely voice was lost amid the floating snowflakes, along with his frustrated sigh.