Summer Rainault brushed her hands over her dress again, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the fabric. Tonight was the culmination of months of hope, weeks of planning, and days of daring activity. She’d get her freedom back, and win the heart of someone she cared about very much.
Even if they’d never met yet. If she didn’t reject her at the door.
She turned the rose quartz bracelet on her wrist, fingertips sliding over the heart charms dangling from it. The shimmering pink of the stone set off her pale green dress, and she hoped the signal would be clear enough, between bracelet, earrings, and cabochon choker. Taking a deep breath to subdue the butterflies in her stomach, she hung her keys from the strap of her tiny shoulder bag, and pushed away from her car. One hand clasped a little book tightly.
Waiting would only make her more nervous. She tossed her red hair over her shoulder, squared them, and marched up the driveway. Another deep breath to steady herself, and she pushed the doorbell to Lydia Martin’s house.
“Hi,” she said softly, when she opened the door.
Well, this was it. Lydia’s secret admirer. It was starting to build up to the point that Lydia was growing annoyed. Why go through all of this? Why not just come out and say it? Say what she wanted to? It was sweet, and romantic, but Lydia was direct, and preferred things that way. More than likely, she would have to send the poor boy packing, explaining that his love was sweet, but she had no interest. She had no time for anyone or anything that went down that path of emotions. Distractions, and nothing else.
Opening up the door, though, Lydia was surprised. Not a boy. Someone she had seen before, though, the few times she had been brought into SHIELD hq. She would recognize the red hair anywhere, given that Lydia had her own set of red curls. Oh, great. Now she had to be somewhat kind in this.
“You’re in love with me?” Lydia asked. Her teeth bit onto her lower lip for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. “Come on in. We need to talk.”
Summer had expected surprise. She had /not/ expected the quality of surprise. Almost … disappointment. She had to swallow hard when Lydia bit her lower lip; did the other girl not realise how that looked? How tempting that was?
She didn’t know what to say, which she mentally berated herself for. All that effort, and when the moment came she was tongue-tied. But Lydia was so beautiful, and so intriguing, and /so/ self-possessed. Hands clenched even more tightly around book and purse, she stepped in front of Lydia and into the house.
Summer stood uncertainly in the foyer and, reminded, offered, “I brought something for you.” She held out the book.
