An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hey! Chapter 4 is now up! Enjoy xx
She released a huffed breath. “I absolutely cannot believe we’re doing this,” she said, studying their scrawled list of rules. “This is crazy, this is absolutely insane.”
He lifted his hand, almost reached out to place it on her clenched fist but thought better of it. “Hey, we’ve got this. We’re the top students of the entirety of Avonlea High, if anybody can pull something like this off, we can.”
She snorted.
Gilbert plastered one of his trademark grins onto his face. “Alright, Carrots. This time Monday morning, we’ll be an official couple.” He reached his arm across the table, hand palm open.
“You and that damned nickname,” she hissed back, but placed her own hand in his anyway. It dwarfed it.
They shook, hands clasped in one another’s tightly, then immediately dropped them.
“God help me,” Anne whispered.
OR
the enemies to lovers fake dating shirbert au nobody asked for
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
AN: It’s been a long time shirbert fans... anybody still up for some fake-dating shenanigans?
It was raining by the time Diana arrived—the sort of rainfall Anne might have basked in and even written a poem or two about if she’d had a mind for it. Instead, with Gilbert’s short visit still fresh in her mind, it only exacerbated her horrible mood.
Once out the door (slammed behind her, much to Marilla’s great woe), Anne threw her denim jacket overhead to avoid the inevitable ruination of the pretty outfit she’d decided on that day. The walk to the back door of her friend’s car was all it took to dampen her hair and muddy up her beloved white hightops. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine what the state of her hair might be once dry again. The half hour she’d spent on taming the wild red lockes surely going down the drain with every squelching step she took. She shuddered to picture the disobedient strands frizzing and curling annoyingly around her shoulders.
“Anne!” was the first thing she heard when she opened the car door, her hands cold and clammy from grasping the freezing handle.
It was Diana who had exclaimed it, smiling brightly from her spot in the driver’s seat. At its most brilliant sight, Anne’s sour mood nearly melted away - she did so love Diana’s smiles. So for a fleeting moment it was as if it were summer again and they were having one of their lovely days of sloth, with the sun vibrant on their skin as they lay in the fields behind Diana’s house watching the clouds slowly drift across the sky. No school to worry about or boys to try and decipher.
Then thunder rumbled and she was brought back to the present. Sitting wetly in the backseat of Diana’s car next to Jane and catching the very last few syllables of words mumbled from the front.
The brunette beside Anne reached across the gap in the seats to pinch Ruby, who squeaked indignantly.
“We brought coffee,” Diana went on, pulling out onto the road. The higher octave of her voice gave way to the obvious—she was being purposely breezy. Acting as if Anne hadn’t just opened the door and interrupted a conversation in which they had most definitely been talking about her. “I had them put an extra shot in yours because I know that’s the way you like it. Ruby? The coffee?”
Ruby rolled her eyes as she passed the drink to Anne. But she didn’t turn back around when it was in the red-head’s grasp, instead hovering there with an oddly expectant look on her face. A look, Anne realized, that was present on the other girl’s faces as well. Even Diana, big brown eyes wide like a doe’s in the rearview mirror.
“What?” she asked, pausing with her mouth halfway to the straw of her coffee and glancing around awkwardly.
When the only response was the low and torrid voice of Harry Styles drifting through the stereo and a raise of Jane’s eyebrows, Anne’s lips thinned in realization. The very word she had interrupted when she’d opened the door hadn’t been a word at all. It had been a name. Gilbert’s name.
Anne flopped her head back onto the cushioned seat, “Oh god,” she bemoaned. Could she not escape it for five minutes? Not even amongst her most beloved kindred spirits?
But there was nowhere to hide. Not with the three sets of eyes watching her so curiously. Waiting for her to give an explanation that she surely did not have. She was beginning to grow tired of Avonlea’s uncanny ability to spread gossip like wildfire.
“Watch the road,” Anne snapped at her best friend, “or you’ll kill us all.”
Diana gasped and averted her gaze, focusing instead on navigating the road through the pelting rain.
“You can’t deny it happened,” Jane said matter-of-factly. “It’s all over everything.” Then she whipped out her phone, pulling up twitter as a way to prove her point.
“Don’t believe everything you read.” Anne snapped at her.
“So you’re saying it’s just a made up rumor?” asked Ruby, almost hopefully—because while Anne had despised Gilbert since the time she’d first laid eyes on him, Ruby had simply adored him. While Anne would spend every single valuable and precious minute of her English classes poking holes in Gilbert’s foolish arguments, Ruby was sitting not two seats away, mooning. It was exasperating.
“I’m just saying,” Anne folded her arms defensively across her chest, “there was a lot more to it than that.”
“So it happened?!” Ruby exclaimed, with such force she knocked her binder into Diana’s lap and almost spilled both of their drinks.
“Ruby!”
“Well I’m sorry but—this is—you can’t just act like this isn’t a big deal, Anne! He’s Gilbert! ”
“I’m well aware of who he is.”
“You hate him!”
Anne bit the inside of her cheek. Of course she hated him. Of course. But it’s not as if she could tell the truth: that she had used Gilbert as a mere line of defense against dearest Diana’s cousin—her very own flesh and blood. Though how that was possible was beyond Anne considering he was so insufferably annoying, whereas Diana was so sweet and kind and considerate. She never would have pushed anyone the way that Roy had Anne. She never would have refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, never would have imposed so thoroughly on Anne’s personal space that she felt as if suddenly all of the oxygen in the world had run out except what was left in her lungs.
Hell, even Gilbert had taken Anne’s ‘no’ at face value. He had nodded and left, much to her great relief. And how terrible a concept to consider: Marilla inviting him to stay for breakfast! What would she have done then?
“Anne,” Jane poked her cheek. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”
Like hell she did. Maybe the decision to kiss Gilbert had been rash, but she wouldn’t have done it had she not felt as though she’d been forced into a corner. And while she did hate Gilbert’s guts, the mere aspect of her kissing him shouldn’t have been ground breaking news. He’d been there. She’d used him as a shield. That was it.
Even if the memory of his lips moving fervently against her own had haunted her dreams all night, it was nobody else's business. After all, he’d technically been her first real kiss. And even if she did think him an insufferable pompous ass, she wasn’t entirely incapable of admitting that he was a rather good-looking boy. She wasn’t blind for chrissake.
But even so, she had absolutely no intention of that little tidbit of information ever leaving the confines of her own mind. Nobody needed to know that she found Gilbert Blythe attractive. Or that she may have very mildly delighted in the fact that he’d been so quick to kiss her back. Or—or that she’d felt a bit of a thrill when she’d seen him again that very morning; a thrill that may or may not have caused her to even entertain the plan that he’d so eloquently presented to her.
The severity of the realization jolted her. Rose her blood levels to an alarming height. Had she just admitted to anticipating Gilbert’s presence?
“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you!” Anne exploded. Though she couldn’t tell if her anger was directed at her friends, at herself, or at the mere prospect of having anything but ill feelings toward her long time rival. “What I do with my life is nobody’s business but my own! I don’t intrude on your private lives like this.”
Ruby shrunk back, but Jane wasn’t deterred. Everyone knew Anne had a terrible temper sometimes. When she yelled it was usually because she felt like she’d been backed into a corner and couldn’t see an escape besides pushing everyone else away.
“Sorry, Anne, but I’m your friend. Friends talk about this stuff. They don’t keep secrets.”
“It’s not a secret.” Anne grumbled. But she knew it was a weak argument. That her friend was right and that she had absolutely no excuse as to why she should keep the truth from them.
Because you’re actually considering Gilbert’s offer, a vexing voice said in her head, And telling them you only did it as a way to escape Royal would ruin it. The voice only annoyed her more despite its truth.
Anne took a sip of her coffee with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Any excuse to avoid talking on the subject further. Avoid meeting the tense stares of her friends.
“I don’t see why it would be such a big deal that you kissed him anyway. Half of our grade has been expecting you two to jump each other’s bones for years.” Jane shrugged nonchalantly.
Anne felt the large gulp lodge in her throat as she choked out a cough, “What?”
Ruby craned her neck around to face her, baby blue eyes wide and vulnerable. Diana released a quiet titter of laughter but didn’t take her eyes off the road.
Traitor.
Jane rolled her eyes exasperatedly, briefly meeting the hurt look of their sensitive friend, “Oh give up, Ruby. He’s known you his whole life and hasn’t made an attempt at you,” When Ruby faced the front again, lower lip jutted out in a pout, her dark gaze swiveled back to Anne’s, “ You , however, caught his attention from the moment you arrived.”
Anne flared her nostrils indignantly, “Not true.”
The girl next to her threw her hands up in frustration, “It is too!”
“Is not.”
“What are we, five?” Jane quipped. And then her face turned smug, “Besides, you guys did end up kissing, didn’t you?”
Jesus, it was a good thing they’d barely missed seeing Gilbert at green gables. Anne hated to think how insufferable her friends might have been had they known he’d stopped by that morning.
She let out a dramatic huff, placing her coffee in the cupholder between them and then crossing her arms to her chest. “Do you just believe everything that Josie Pye posts?”
Jane opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Ruby turned around in her seat again, “We don’t have to. You’ve been evasive enough to answer the question on if you kissed him or not for us.” She said with an adorable scrunch to her eyebrows. It was obvious she was stung but didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.
A loud clap of thunder sounded outside of the car, mirroring Anne’s emotions perfectly. Oh, how she wished she were a storm cloud sometimes. Floating above it all, no care in the world. No expectations except for that of releasing their torrential rage on unsuspecting passers-by. Perhaps if that were her, she wouldn’t have gotten herself in such a messy situation.
She watched as the windshield wipers slapped at the front window, avoiding looking her friends in their eyes. “How far are we from the school?” she grumbled. Though it was certainly going to be a tough task in it’s own, it would be better than sitting under the excruciating scrutiny of the three girls she was trapped in the small car with.
Diana cleared her throat. “Just another block,” she said.
“If you want me to make sure Josie stays off your back today, I need to have the details.” Jane stated simply.
Anne ground her teeth at the annoying tenacity of her friend. “There aren’t any.”
“There aren’t any? ”
“That’s what I said.”
“How could there possibly not be—“
“Jane!” Anne snapped, teeth gnashing out like that of a caged dog’s, “Just drop it!”
There was a stunned silence for a moment as Jane snapped her mouth shut. No other sound but the constant pattering of the rain against the windows and the quiet hum of the radio. In the rearview mirror, Diana exchanged a sympathetic look with Anne.
“Fine,” Jane said finally, a cool resolve in her brown eyes, “But just because you hate Gilbert doesn’t mean everyone else does. If I can’t get the answer from you, I’ll just ask him.”
Anne stiffened—every muscle in her body pulling taut as she fought the urge to strike out with her constant weapon of choice: words.
Gilbert wouldn’t sell her out… would he? Not when he himself was riding on the possibility of a public relationship saving face.
God, would pretending to date him actually work? Could they even do it? Could she do it? Certainly he’d do something to piss her off. Something that would cause her to lash out and make it obvious that they were not, and would never actually be, in a relationship.
The thoughts tormented her as Diana pulled the car into the student parking lot. As she parked in her normal spot near the entrance. As she turned off the engine and they were swallowed by the sound of the falling rain. How fitting to see that Mother Nature bore such a pitiful mood—gray clouds swirling in the sky the very same way Anne’s feelings were swirling in her head.
As her friends giggled amongst themselves—already having moved on to the next subject of interest and opening their car doors—she took a shaking deep breath. Steeling herself against whatever the day might throw at her and clambering out of the car into sheets of cold rain.
+++
When the lunch bell rang, releasing students from their third period classes, Anne’s relief was as palpable as a cool wave crashing against a hot sandy shore. She gathered her things hastily—stuffing them into her bag and barely zipping it back up before hurrying from her calculus class and out into the crowded hallway.
She had very little want of being left in the classroom with a certain tall, dark, and tousled boy. And since that was how things normally went—since Anne and Gilbert were usually the last two left in the classroom, quickly scrawling the last of their work out on the worksheets before them—her rush to leave the confines of the classroom wasn’t without warrant.
Not for the first time since being acquainted with Gilbert Blythe, Anne cursed the fact that they shared a fair amount of classes. (Or unfair if you’d asked her.) But this day… This day had taken her dislike to an entirely different level.
Or maybe dislike wasn’t the correct word for the churning she felt in her stomach every time she’d caught a glimpse of his disheveled dark curls across the room. Maybe awkwardness was the proper noun with which to describe the tension she felt pulled taut between them. If she could even assume it was a reciprocated tension in the first place, that is. She certainly felt it—choking the air around her like a thick and unwanted layer of dust. But… Gilbert hadn’t necessarily shown any discomfort at the sight of her. He’d backed off on making his usual snide comments or witty remarks, yes, but she wasn’t positive that it was because he was playing an angle or if he genuinely thought it better to leave her alone.
Nevertheless, it made Anne’s gut twist uncomfortably. And because the whole school seemed to already know what had transpired the previous afternoon, she loathed to even look in his direction let alone exchange their usual haughty comments. She had, in not so many words, been avoiding him for the entirety of the school day—ducking out of shared classes with all the speed of a bulleting train and keeping her line of vision pinned straight ahead even when she felt his warm honey gaze settle on the side of her face.
This, of course, did not escape the notice of her ever so nosy classmates. In fact, the fervent silence between the two known rivals after such an unexpected public display of affection had only caused an even deeper upset among her peers. Anne liked to think she had learned to never underestimate the might of a small town’s grape vine, but she certainly hadn’t expected such… such backlash from one simple spontaneous moment in time.
To walk through the hallways of her familiar high school and notice the boisterous noise of groups dwindle around her felt much like her early days in Avonlea—except this time, instead of having smacked the town’s golden boy with a heavy textbook, she’d kissed him. And apparently that warranted an even more uproarious reaction.
Anne pushed through the crowd of students and scrambled to her locker—head down in an attempt to ignore the whispers around her. She’d thought that, after three and a half years, she had moved past the days of being an outcast; past the days of being a subject of interest on nearly every one of her classmate’s tongues.
Apparently she’d been wrong. All this time they’d only been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the precise moment she did anything out of the ordinary, so that they could pounce.
As she exchanged binders and textbooks with what had been stacked neatly in her locker, she was so thoroughly enveloped in her own vortex of thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the tall and skinny figure approach her.
“Anne,” the figure said. And despite the familiar trill of the voice, she startled, nearly slamming her fingers in the locker as she’d closed it.
“Dammit, Cole,” she hissed, but there was a smile beneath it.
She turned to her friend, a feeling of ease settling on her shoulders as it always had around Cole Mackenzie. He was leaning against the lockers with his hands wrung loosely around the straps of his backpack and his familiar blue eyes were warm with affection. After a moment, Anne realized there was a dark smudge just under his right eye—more than likely a result of wiping at his face after working with charcoal or graphite. A quick glance at his smeared hands confirmed just as much.
“You’ve got art on your face,” she said, gesturing at her own as a way to show him.
He released a breathy laugh before using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it off. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner, I got caught up in class.”
Anne snorted despite herself. “Sure you did,” she said. “Keep acting like you weren’t flirting with that new exchange student.” She twisted her mouth into a feigned look of utter despair, “You left me to the wolves.”
Cole laughed as she schooled her features back to their normal, friendly state and swung her bag around her shoulder. She entwined her hand with his as they made their way in the direction of the cafeteria.
He fixed her with a faux imperious look. “I was only showing Gabriel the precise way of shading. Charcoal is a difficult medium to work with.”
“Don’t tell me,” Anne lowered her voice, acting as though what she was about to say was an absolute scandal, “You stood behind him and guided his hand with your own, heart pounding against his back as he leaned into you.” She caught at her chest with her free hand, “Oh, how romantic! ” she squealed, much louder than she’d meant to. A few students looked in their direction.
An exasperated laugh burst from her friend’s lips and he squeezed her hand lightly. “Not so loud, Anne.”
She shrugged. “People are gay, Cole. They can get over it.”
Cole wasn’t necessarily closeted. It was a pretty well-known fact within their friend group that he was very much homosexual—you have one conversation with him and he just couldn’t hold back his flamboyancy— but the world was still filled with small-minded bigots. And in a small town like the one they lived in, it was easier just to keep the knowledge of his sexual preference to a minimum.
“I suppose this means our vow to marry one another is broken,” she continued forlornly. It was a joking promise they’d made to one another when they were fifteen and certain they’d be deemed outcasts forever—no one but each other to lean on.
Of course, she’d had Diana. Beautiful Diana. But there were many things Anne experienced that her beloved best friend just couldn’t understand. Diana was popular, beautiful, a glittering star among the backdrop of the night sky—something with which Anne found little to no relatability being the scrawny ostracized girl that she was. But Cole’s friendship allowed a quiet solace; a person who knew what it was like to feel unwanted and unpopular.
Cole snorted. “You broke it first,” he said, “What do Gilbert Blythe’s lips feel like?”
Anne nearly tripped over her own two feet, having briefly forgotten the mess she’d gotten herself into. She snapped her head to look at the tall boy beside her and fixed him with a desperate glare. The look on his face was nonchalant, but she knew he was dying with curiosity.
“Why’d you have to bring that up?” she said, unable to help the whiny tone that had weaved itself into her words.
Cole clucked his tongue. “You left me on read last night. You deserve it.”
“I think I’ve gotten punishment enough,” she replied, a frown twisting at her lips. “It’s all anybody can talk about when they see me.”
He looked at her. “Anne. You kissed Gilbert Blythe . ”
“Yes, I know what I did.”
“Gilbert. Blythe.”
Anne unlatched her hand from Cole’s and threw her arms up exasperatedly. “Can people stop saying his name as if I don’t know who he is!?”
They turned down a slightly less crowded hallway, taking a shortcut they’d found halfway through their freshman year. “Can you stop brushing it off like it’s no big deal?”
“It isn’t a big deal.” Anne grumbled.
He ignored her. “How’d it happen anyway?”
There was a tearing feeling in her stomach—indecision on if she should tell him the truth of the matter or not. The small part of her brain that was hung on Gilbert’s earlier suggestion rioted at her to choose not.
It won. “It just—happened. Okay?”
Cole screwed his nose up. “What does that even mean? ” he said. “What, did you just randomly see him and say ‘fuck it, I’mma give into the three years of overwhelming sexual tension’ and decide to eat his face off?”
Anne blanched at him, stopping dead walk in the middle of the hallway. “Sexual tension?” she sputtered. “Have you been talking to Jane?”
Cole released a light laugh at the expression on her face. “No, but I’m not surprised she feels the same way. Everybody does.”
“I hate it here.” Anne said sadly, mouth turning down at one corner. What a piteous thing to confuse hatred with sexual desire. Because certainly— certainly —Cole and Jane were wrong. There was absolutely no sexual tension between her and Gilbert Blythe. None whatsoever. And she was positive in the fact that there never would be.
“Drama queen.”
“How observant of you,” Anne replied, beginning to make her way down the hallway again. “It’s as if we’re friends. Almost like you know me.”
Her blonde companion snorted, but followed after her.
“Apparently not,” he continued vexingly. “Not if you’re sucking face with Gilbert frickin’ Blythe.”
“Cole, I love you, I really do. But if you don’t shut up right this very moment, I will not hesitate to murder you.”
“Anne—“
“I’m serious,” she said, “I live on a farm—lots of sharp tools at my disposal, Mackenzie. Don’t push me.”
He laughed—a short and exasperated release of breath. “Has anybody ever told you you’re kinda scary when you want to be?”
She glanced over to where he was matching her stride beside her, smiling crookedly and impishly.
Cole’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Please don’t flash me your murder eyes. It gives me the creeps.”
Reaching across the space between them with her arm, she patted his shoulder lightly. “Good.”
They lapsed into casual conversation then, walking quickly the rest of the way to the cafeteria and occasionally bumping each other’s shoulders teasingly. She really did appreciate Cole, she decided. Well, she’d always appreciated him—but unlike the rest of her companions, he never pushed her to talk about the things he knew she was most uncomfortable with. Teased her relentlessly maybe—okay, certainly —but he always, always, knew when enough was enough.
As they passed through the metal-doored threshold of Avonlea High’s sorry excuse for a cafeteria, (even their library was larger than the sparsely decorated area—hardly even eight long tables adorning the length of the walls and smaller rounded ones few and far between) Anne startled at the absolute terror she was faced with.
Being such a small school, the majority of the senior class was pushed into the same lunch schedule. Meaning all the kids she’d grown with for the past few years—all the classmates that knew most definitely about Anne’s adamant hatred towards one Gilbert Blythe—paused fractionally when they noticed her fiery mane out of the corners of their eyes.
Anne’s heart rate kicked up, stomach twisting painfully as the cafeteria quieted ever so slightly and heads swiveled to gawk at her.
She felt Cole’s hand squeeze hers. “Christ,” he mumbled beside her. “They really don’t have any lives do they.”
She snorted, eased slightly by his encouraging and easy-going presence. “Our school doesn’t even have a total of five-hundred students. This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened since you showed sophomore year and Billie Andrews made it his mission to torment you.”
Her friend winced. “Don’t remind me.”
“Shit, sorr—“
“Anne!”
The breath that had frozen in Anne’s chest upon realizing the upset she’d caused when first entering the cafeteria thawed the rest of the way at the familiar cadence of Diana’s voice. She could see her friend’s veil of dark hair, her infectious smile big and bright as she stood from their usual table tucked in the far corner of the room. The rest of her friends, still sitting, waved to her gregariously.
Friends, Anne reminded herself. Those are your friends and not even the disastrous evening before and whatever trouble Gilbert Blythe insights next can take them away from you.
She felt a warm smile tug at her lips as she moved toward the familiar corner, pulling Cole behind her as she went. But as she got closer, doubt crept into her mind. She saw the nervous glances Tillie, Jane and Ruby exchanged with one another—however miniscule they might have tried to make them seem. The scrunch of Diana’s nose, bringing her hand down from her enthusiastic wave and rubbing at a non-existent itch. Anne recognized it immediately as her bosom friend’s nervous tick.
Her steps slowed as she approached the table, nearly causing Cole to stumble into her from where he’d been following behind. Josie Pye—she was sitting straight backed, arms folded across her chest and an accusing glare flashing in her blue eyes.
Oh no.
Now this— this was the part she’d forgotten all about. Josephine Pye and her ridiculous aversion to amiable conversation. Her insufferable adamance on making Anne’s existence appear as a show for all the school to see. Josie fancied herself a puppet master, tugging at the strings on Anne’s back from the very first moment they’d met. And though a tedious friendship had developed between the two over the last few years, some things just never changed.
“Hey,” Anne squeaked out, instantly noticing how guilty she already sounded. She winced, sat stiffly on the stool across from her friends.
Cole rolled his eyes and plopped down beside her, shoved his bookbag towards the end of the table and folded his artist hands in front of him as he leveled Josie with a shockingly protective gaze.
“There will be absolutely no mentions of a certain happening with a certain someone taking place at a certain time yesterday afternoon, got it?” His voice left no room for discussion.
Diana nodded eagerly, reaching across the table and giving Anne a sympathetic squeeze of the hand. Jane pursed her lips, obviously wanting to say something, anything, about the unfinished conversation the girls had all had in the car that morning—but seemed to think better of it. Tillie and Ruby, always the more soft spoken of the group, simply sat quietly, glancing between Cole and Josie, the latter of which had narrowed her eyes in an obvious challenge.
The blonde grenade snapped her eyes to Anne instead. “I think that—“
“No.” Anne said icily, surprising herself. She’d never been one to overtly challenge Josie. But after dealing with Royal Gardner and Gilbert Blythe and every single pair of eyes that had followed and judged and questioned her all morning, she’d had enough.
She cleared her throat, “No,” she tried again, less hostile this time. “We will not be discussing the kiss because it’s my business and I owe absolutely nobody an explanation.”
“Periodt,” chimed Cole, snapping his fingers. Diana giggled, attempting to smother it with her hand but failing rather obviously.
Tillie’s eyes had turned wide as saucers. “So it’s true? You and Gilbert kissed?”
“Of course it’s true, I saw it with my own two eyes.” Josie snapped, “And obviously—“
“Josie, Anne literally just said we weren’t discussing it.” Diana huffed. It was the most annoyed Anne had ever seen her act with Josie—it made her want to tackle her best friend in a hug. “Please just drop the subject, okay? If she wants to explain herself then she will.”
“Must I repeat myself?” Cole raised an eyebrow at the blonde dragon across from him who was just barely containing the angry smoke Anne was sure to pore from her nostrils.
“Please,” replied Jane, amused.
“Periodt!” And he gave another flamboyant snap of his fingers.
Josie rolled her eyes imperiously. “You guys are dumb,” she said to the snickering gaggle of girls beside her, then she faced Anne again. “Look, I’m not one to really care all that much about your romantic life—“
Cole opened his mouth to protest but without even glancing his way, Josie cut herself off and snapped, “Shut it, Mackenzie.”
He raised his hands in the universal sign of defeat.
“But as your friend,” loosely Anne had to bite back from commenting as Josie continued, “I worry about what this means for your… reputation.”
“Oh, for the love of god, Josephine Pye. We’re in high school, not running for the frickin’ electoral college. I promise you, me kissing somebody is not that deep.”
Did any of them have lives?
A throat cleared beside her—Cole’s. “I mean,” he said quietly, “it kind of is when you’ve vowed to hate said kissee for the rest of your days. ‘So long as you bring air into your lungs’ I believe were your exact words.”
Anne snapped her head over to her traitorous friend, one who’d not moments ago was just defending her.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The gays,” he said solemnly. And then, upon seeing Anne’s unamused look, “Joking, joking—I mean, not joking obviously, but… Look, Anne. As overdramatic as Josie is being—“ said girl harrumphed impertinently, “—Everybody and their mother knows how much you hate Gilbert. I’ll fight tooth and nail for you, girl, but this whole situation is questionable in the least.”
“I just want you to know,” began Anne, “How much I hate all of you right now, nevermind Gilbert.”
“Hey!” Tillie protested, “I haven’t done a single thing besides ask if the rumor was true in the first place.”
“Tillie Boulter with-holding.”
Jane opened her mouth, “I—“
“You’re on thin fuckin’ ice, Jane Andrews.”
Anne was so incredibly and entirely tired of this entire situation. So much for not talking about it… God, she should just out and admit the reasoning already. Clear the air, make sure that everybody knew it was a farce. A ploy to get Roy Gardner to finally leave her alone.
Who was she kidding anyway? Even entertaining the idea that Gilbert had planted in her head earlier that morning was absolute insanity. Them? Dating? Imagine the uproar then. If her classmates were so nosy as to be absolutely entranced by the fact that they simply kissed, imagine if they announced they were dating .
Oh dearest Snow Queen, she asked of her longest comfort, What would you do?
She set her jaw then, determining it was time to come clean. “Listen, guys. Gilbert and I didn’t actually—“
“Anne?”
She froze. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take a single breath for what felt like a solid thirty seconds. Her friends all startled to look behind her, Cole craning his neck to meet the gaze of probably the absolute last person Anne wanted to see right then.
“Roy!” Diana chirped with false cheer. Her eyes flit between Anne and the monstrous cad that stood behind her, betraying the panic she felt on behalf of her best friend. “I thought you had B lunch?”
Anne refused to turn around, still frozen as she watched, horrified, as all her friends looked at each other confused and curious.
“Well, I did. But the adviser decided to switch some of my classes around. She thought it would be best if I stayed with the rest of the senior class even if British academia didn’t quite meet up with American—Anne, are you trying to hide?”
She was, she totally, full-heartedly was. She’d sunk into herself, almost as if she were trying to allow the lunch table to swallow her whole.
“Anne, sit up ,” Josie hissed at her. Was she—god, was she batting her eyelashes at the boy behind her? The boy in which Anne could very clearly feel inching closer to her with every second she didn’t acknowledge him?
She took a deep breath, turned around in her seat finally for fear that he might reach out and touch her, place his disgustingly delicate and nimble hand on her shoulder. “Roy,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Hi.”
“Hullo.” Roy replied, probably smiling in a way he thought was enormously charming. “Your dress is quite beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the one wearing it, I might say. Almost .”
Oh, for the love of all that is good and— He was insufferable. Anger, white hot and immediate bubbled in her blood.
“What do you want?” She said, rather bluntly. Cole elbowed her in the arm, shot her a confused look. I’ll explain later, she hoped her face portrayed to him.
Diana, ever the mediator, cleared her throat. “Royal. These are my friends. Tillie, Ruby, Jane, Josie, and Cole.” Cole watched him hesitantly, the girls all exchanged giddy glances. “Of course, you already know Anne.”
“How could I ever forget.”
Anne had to resist the urge to feign a gag.
“Anyways. Guys, this is my cousin Royal.”
“Roy. Call me Roy,” he said. But he didn’t even glance at them, his eyes were trained solely on Anne’s. And Anne rather wanted to punch him in his obnoxiously pert nose.
“It’s nice to meet you, Roy—“ Ruby had begun, but the miscreant cut her off, paying sweet Ruby no attention.
“Anne, I was hoping we might talk?”
Anne clenched her jaw, fought to keep from squeezing her eyes closed in exasperation at the sheer audacity Roy had to even ask that of her.
Right. This was why she’d entertained Gilbert’s plan. This was why she had desperately kissed him. Because Royal Gardner had no boundaries and despite being related to her best and closest friend, every moment spent in his presence was a moment she knew she’d never get back.
“Talk,” she said stiffly. She stood up, grabbed a confused Cole’s hand and yanked him up beside her. “But make it fast because Cole and I still haven’t had a chance to get in the lunch line.”
“I am… so confused.” Anne heard one of the girls say behind her. Diana shushed her.
“Privately? Perhaps?”
She was seriously going to punch this boy in the face. Like, actually. Right there in front of everybody.
“Privately?” Anne snapped coldly, her fury like fire in her veins. She stepped around him, cornered him to the table, making sure her back was to the rest of the cafeteria. Too many rumors were already circulating around her. If she caused a scene, lord knew she’d never come back from it. “Are you joking?”
She saw Cole step back from the corner of her eye, scuttle to the other side of the cafeteria table with the girls. All their eyes were wide and unsure of what to make of the situation.
“Anne, there’s no need for such hostility. I was just trying to—“
“Deliberately make her uncomfortable?” a new voice chimed in from behind her. There was an unrecognizable hardness to it, incongruous to all of the other times she had heard it before. Across from her, her friends' eyes widened impossibly, gazes landing on the new addition to the already intolerable conversation.
Anne could feel as all the eyes in the cafeteria turned toward them, a sure spectacle to behold.
She watched as Roy’s jaw hardened, eyes trained behind her with a new intensity as he tracked the movements of Gilbert Blythe lazily sidling up beside Anne.
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting,” Gilbert said as he threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders. She had to fight to keep from stiffening up, knew what he was doing, knew exactly what game he was playing at as he pulled her closer to his side and tucked her neatly beneath his arm. And while her blood boiled at his intrusion, at the audacity he had to come running in like he thought he was some god-awful knight-in-shining-armor, at the way her friends’ expressions all changed immediately—all smirking and knowing and not nearly as surprised as she thought they’d be—the smallest part of her was relieved.
Relieved.
Like she’d still been gunning for that stupid, ludicrous plan that Gilbert had blabbered on about that very morning to actually work. Which in itself was most positively and unmitigatedly not going to happen in a million—
“Right. Is this him then?” The accusation in Roy’s voice broke Anne from her spiraling thoughts, solidifying the situation she was in. There, in front of all of her friends and essentially the entire senior class, she was facing off with one of the most impudent males she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.
And, lord above, Gilbert Blythe of all people was the only person with the ability to make Roy leave her alone.
“Just a few months.” His words pinged around in her mind, “We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again .”
She scowled, resisting the urge to fidget beneath Gilbert’s arm. The heat radiating from his body where their sides were pressed flush together was rather difficult to ignore. She felt as though she could feel it fuse with her blood, travel through her veins and warm her cheeks, her toes, clog up her lungs.
“Is this who?” Anne replied, her scowl deepening.
“The boyfriend. The reason I can’t pursue you… or so you say.”
A choking sound came from her group of friends, though she absolutely refused to look in their direction. She was positive that the fire she felt across her cheeks no longer had anything to do with Gilbert’s body heat.
Roy raised a single brow when she opened her mouth, snapped it back shut immediately—a fish floundering on dry land. Gilbert’s arm tightened around her shoulder, probably meant to be comforting, reassuring, but it only made her want to elbow him in the side. The mortification leaching any and all relief she’d previously felt by his presence.
“I—uh,” she stuttered. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?
“My god, he broke her,” she heard Cole whisper.
“Anne? You did tell me you had one, right?” Roy’s eyebrow was still raised, the brazen confidence leaking from every pore. She hated him, she decided. Hated him more than the curly haired boy whose arm was wrapped around her and whose current silence felt like a ticking time bomb.
“I did,” she replied, and to her utmost horror it came out weakly.
“As much as I love being talked about as if I’m not standing right here,” Gilbert interjected, and Anne wasn’t sure if he’d noticed it but his thumb had started rubbing tiny comforting circles where it rested on her upper arm, “Anne doesn’t owe you an explanation. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t owe you a damn thing. So whether she has a boyfriend or not—whether I’m that boyfriend or not—is none of your business.”
Woah.
Wait a minute, not woah , what the hell? Had he really said that? Had it really made her heart rate kick up in her chest at the way he’d not only defended her but her right to make her own choices without explanation?
Royal blinked, opened his mouth, closed it. But Gilbert ignored him, turned his head to face Anne. The expression on his face said It’s up to you , the small curve at the corner of his mouth added, Carrots.
She closed her eyes, counted one, two, before opening them back up and meeting Roy’s gaze.
God help her.
“Yeah, Roy,” she said, swallowed thickly, “Gilbert is my boyfriend."
hey there! loved your advice for writing dialogue, and I absolutely love your writing. i was wondering if you could do one for setting up a scene? i’m the opposite of the previous ask. i tend to rely entirely too much on dialogue and lose track of what is happening around the character. it’s particularly difficult to start scenes and set the mood for some reason. i just feel like it’s too stiff when i try. any way you may be able to help me? any advice you have to offer? love your work xx
abi my loooooove <333 Hopefully this helps!
Beginning a scene (especially a chapter) is super tough. Sometimes it’ll take me a half hour just writing the first sentence, and rewriting it, and rewriting it. My first piece of advice is perseverance. And maybe lower your standards a little. It’s just the first line - not life or death.
For general description. The next word that comes to mind is specificity. I think the thing that separates decent writing and really sophisticated writing is specificity of detail.
This doesn’t necessarily mean getting as specific as humanly possible, but it means honing in on details that push the story forward and add atmosphere and character to the scene.
For instance, it’s all good for Anne to be lounging on the couch reading. That’s already a lovely image. But wouldn’t it be more evocative if Gilbert notices her kicking her ankle over the loveseat’s arm or her fingers fanning through the pages she’s yet to read.
This, like dialogue, takes practice.
I also try to pick a type of imagery to use. Most of the time, I rely heavily on nature imagery because it’s what I love best. But for a war fic, maybe you use a lot of war imagery. This is best utilized when the image is clever, and maybe not readily associated with what it’s being used to describe.
Some examples from my own stories that are somewhat good examples of this: “The sunlight peeking through the trees turned the ground into a kaleidoscope of light and shadows.” and “This woman, with her apricot hair and cheeks of constellations, was one thing that he’d write into the story of his life and hold there.”
Body language beyond gazes and eyebrows can really suggest some good stuff about a character. What are they doing with their hands? How’s their posture? Are they fidgeting? etc.
OH ALSO. Start a scene a few seconds into the action. I’ve noticed I tend to start a few seconds before a character says something. It gives me just a second to set up the atmosphere, setting, etc. without getting carried away. In theory, when a person starts talking, we’re getting to the beginning of the Good Stuff.
Another possible way to begin is describing whatever the dominant feeling is in a character and why. Are they hot because they’re working in a field? Are they nervous because they’re about to confess their love to their favorite redhead? Does the comfortable breeze represent the ease a character feels? Are churning clouds in the distance an ominous warning?The possibilities are endless.
^Reading through my old stuff, one way or another, this is what I seemed to be doing even though I’ve only just now put it to words.
I hope this helps! My askbox/messages are always open if anyone ever needs a helping hand or work of encouragement!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hey guys! Just posted chapter two, this time it’s Gilbert’s pov!! Really hope you enjoy and please don’t be afraid to leave comments and kudos on Ao3!!
By the time Gilbert Blythe had begun to walk the cobbled pathway that lead up to his home, the sun had begun to creep its way below the horizon. The evening country sky was awash with beautiful hues of reds and oranges. Burnt bright and fiery.
It reminded him of Anne.
Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. The girl with constellations on her skin and cosmos in her stormy gray eyes. The girl who kissed him and left his mind to spin on its axis. The girl who hated him.
He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, making a poor attempt at banishing the swirling mess of thoughts in his mind.
Anne despised him. Anne despised him and she’d kissed him.
The same phrase had been endlessly looping through his subconsciousness for the better part of an hour now. For all the years he’d known her - for all the times they’d bickered and bantered and fought - never even in his wildest imaginations had he thought he would feel the weight of her lips against his.
Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was something of an absolute mystery to him. And it never ceased to amaze him just how frequently he felt caught off-guard around her.
He never returned Anne’s ill affections. Never hated her. Never wished anything of poor luck upon her life (he knew she’d already been through far too much), but sometimes the words that came out of her mouth felt like a knife being held to his throat. Like- if he made any sudden movements the sharpness of her words would tear into him.
And, god help him, it always thrilled him to no end. To be on the receiving end of her cunning wit and look her in the eye felt much like looming over the edge of a very high cliff. Except, instead of enormous crashing waves or deadly spikes being on the opposing side, it was the ever so intriguing face of one fiery red head.
He absolutely delighted in having the ability to rile her up. To push her buttons. To cause her skin to flush angrily and shoulders to tense and pretty face to squash into a scowl. She probably found herself to be intimidating. And she was to a certain extent... but mostly Gilbert only found the whole thing rather adorable.
To put it plainly: where her rivalry with him was based on hatred, his was based on pure amusement and intrigue. And he was always ready to take whatever punches she threw his way.
Until a few hours before. When oddly enough, he had most certainly not been prepared for her attack. An attack that wasn’t an attack on his character or intelligence, but on his consciousness. On where he thought a line was between them. On everything he thought was capable of taking place.
Because while he didn’t hate Anne, he was never stupid enough to believe that they were friends. He was attracted to her, yes, how couldn’t he be? She was intelligent. Passionate. Beautiful in a way that he could really only describe as being... out of the ordinary. Not in a bad way, but in a way that was quiet. In a way that it was obvious she couldn’t tell exactly how many heads she turned. But she had a fire in her soul that roared against him. A vicious tongue that, at times, could be downright degrading. And a wall towered between the two of them because of it.
So why, after she’d used that exact tongue for something he would have never expected from her, did he have the incredibly disorienting and unexplainable urge to run after her and do it again. Kiss her again. Procure the same tilt-a-whirl feeling in his head that the heat of her lips moving against his had caused.
A feeling that he hadn’t even felt with Win-
He tamped those thoughts off right at the start, giving his head a fierce shake. That was a train of thought better left unridden.
Damn it all, how could one moment in time leave his mind reeling with such a mighty force that he felt like he couldn’t make sense of anything?
“Blythe,” an accented voiced reached out from only a few paces away, and it was in that moment that Gilbert had realized he’d stopped completely. Staring blankly at his front door for the last few minutes, wrapped entirely in his own thoughts. “Blythe you moke, is that you?”
Sebastian Lacroix, Gilbert’s roommate (brother really), stood on the wooden porch of their house. Looking at the boy with a bemused expression and shaking his head slowly.
Gilbert had burrowed himself so far into his own head that he hadn’t seen the rusted old truck sitting in the driveway as he pulled in behind it.
“Hey Bash,” Gilbert returned drily as he forced his feet to move. He climbed the creaky old steps of the porch and skirted around the older man.
Bash followed behind him as he passed through the door and into the cozy atmosphere of the small living room. Gilbert removed his shoulder bag and tossed it onto the fluffy couch as he heaved a sigh.
“I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. Wanted to see if I should order some pizza for dinner,” said Bash as he clapped a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder.
The boy reached into the back pocket of his jeans and was unsurprised to find that his phone was dead. He held the dark screen up to show Bash just as much.
“You really need to start bringin’ a charger with you if you’re gonna be gone studying long enough to drain the life from your phone,” scolded Bash.
Gilbert merely rolled his eyes, “You got it, Dad.” But as soon as the joke left his mouth, he winced.
The relationship between Gilbert and Sebastian was... complicated... to say the least.
They were family, there was no denying that, but the way they came together as roommates - as brothers - was a rather tedious story.
In the simplest of renderings, it went like this: Sebastian Lacroix had been in Gilbert’s life for as long as he could remember. A constant companion and person to lean on.
At age seven, (eleven years prior) a round faced Gilbert had been told by a young social work intern that his father was dying. It hadn’t been his job, he was merely shadowing the case worker assigned to John Blythe (he’d been sick for a long while with no family able to look after him and his young son) but when it was revealed that John was far sicker than anybody originally thought, no-one had wanted to be the one to tell a child he was going to lose his father. The young man’s heart had hurt for the boy, but had the feeling that he was capable of taking a great deal. That he knew more than what he should have for his young years.
That intern had been Bash.
Sebastian always said that the reason he’d decided to take Gilbert under his wing so fiercely was because of pity. Because he’d felt bad for the scrawny little runt who’d just had the world ripped from beneath his feet. But Gilbert knew the truth. He always had.
Only eighteen at the time, Sebastian had been just as lonely as Gilbert had felt. Young, shunned from his home in Trinidad, and lost in a new country, he’d been in just as vulnerable a position. Just as in need of a friend.
So they’d bonded. Gilbert becoming like a shadow at Sebastian’s side.
When seven years later, Gilbert had held his father’s hand as he passed and he’d been officially dubbed an orphan, Bash was there. Holding his other hand as if to tether him to his spot. To earth. An acknowledgment that, even though Gilbert had lost his last blood relative, he was not without family.
And since that moment, Bash had done everything in his power to prove just as much.
Despite the fact that he was mature well beyond his years even at that age, had Bash not come along with the license to be a foster guardian, Gilbert would have been immediately placed with a random family. He’d had no other extended relatives. Nowhere else to go.
So Sebastian had stepped up. Signed on to be his legal guardian. Acted as an older brother. And then, when Gilbert had finally turned eighteen over the past summer and been freed from the system, as an equal partner.
Though the shades of their skin and chapters of their lives varied, they were brothers. Just as close as blood. If not made closer by the things life had thrown at them.
“So... pizza?” Bash said, interrupting his thoughts once more.
“Uh- yeah. Go ahead.”
Gilbert made his way over to the computer desk along the wall and plugged his phone into the charger. He held it in his hand as he waited for it to light up.
“What’s got you all in your head?” asked Bash as he padded over, feet bare against the carpeted floor. His phone was poised in his hand. Prepared to make the call to the pizza place, “Is it Winnie?”
Gilbert’s lips thinned. The sound of his ex’s name still made him feel tender. Vulnerable.
“Nope.”
“So she’s stopped pestering you then?” Bash raised a thick dark brow, forehead crinkling.
The younger man barked a lifeless laugh, “I wish,” then he lifted his hand and waved his brother off, “it doesn’t matter. Call for the pizza, I’m starved.”
Bash shrugged, “Whatever you say, Blythe.”
Winifred Rose, to put it lightly, had broken Gilbert’s heart.
They’d cut things off only a few weeks ago, right before school had started again. It had been a long time coming, her being in the grade above him and all. She’d graduated the previous year and had planned on going to nursing school in the next town over.
At first she’d been adamant on still wanting to be with Gilbert. Promising that being in college wouldn’t change how she felt about him. And it was fine for a bit. Great even. Couples dated while one was in college all the time. But the closer they’d gotten to the fall semester starting... the further she’d been pulling from him.
And one accidental uncovered text message later, he’d found out exactly why that had been the case. She’d been fooling around with a college sophomore.
Suffice to say he’d cut that shit off right then and there. And she hadn’t stop pestering about a second chance with him since.
At least he no longer had to see her at Dr. Wards office. She’d been interning with the family physician alongside him, but the nursing program for her college courses had been far too demanding to stay on.
The moment his phone blinked to life in his clutch, it began buzzing like crazy. A lump gathered in his throat as his eyes skimmed the various messages and twitter notifications.
Gossip certainly spread fast in Avonlea.
Moody (7:05 pm): dude
Moody (7:05 pm): did i just hear that you and anne kissed outside of red bird
Moody (7:06 pm): holy SHIT
Winnie (6:32 pm): you can’t ignore me forever gilbert... will you please just talk to me?
Winnie (7:09 pm): why am i seeing that you kissed another girl all over your twitter mentions
His jaw clenched. Maybe he’d undersold just how desperate Winifred was being... She’d texted him every day without fail. Making excuse after excuse as to why she’d done what she had. That it didn’t change how she felt about him. That she loved him.
It had only pushed him further away.
After sending a quick and elusive reply to his classmate and friend Moody Spurgeon, he clicked open the thread of messages from Winnie. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
It had been weeks since he’d replied to her. Was he really going to risk interaction just because of a petty accusation? She certainly didn’t deserve any sort of explanation from him. Especially not about being seen kissing another girl. Not after what he’d found in her phone.
But maybe... a small part of him was still hurt enough to rub the kiss in her face. To subject her to the pain he’d gone through. Did that make him a bad guy? Did he care?
He dropped the phone onto the desk and raked a frustrated hand through his mess of curls. He did care. And he knew it wouldn’t be right.
Sometimes he really did hate having a self-conscience. Sometimes... he wished just once in his life he could be sporadic. Free. Make decisions without mulling over them endlessly beforehand.
Kiss somebody without warrant.
He groaned inwardly as he made his way over to the couch and flopped down face first into the mess of plush pillows. His arm dangled off the side and feet over the armrest.
And there he was. Back to square one. Thinking of Anne and how she’d left him there. Breathless and confused and covering it all up with a smirk. Having to confront the boy behind him that she’d left staring.
It had been ridiculously comical when he’d turned to see who it was she was hiding from. He vaguely recognized him from the hallways of Avonlea High, though he’d only begun seeing him around fairly recently. And by the jealousy that had been written all over his face, he obviously hadn’t been around enough to know that Anne and Gilbert would be the very last two people to ever expect kissing each other.
Whatever that boy had done to cause - no force - Anne to kiss Gilbert... Well, it had to be bad. He hadn’t even minded that she’d used him as a way to avoid the boy. Figured it was definitely for good reason. So when he’d opened his mouth to make a remark, Gilbert had merely gave him a thin lipped smile and a nod of his head. Brushing past him and maybe hitting him with his shoulder a little harder than necessary as he did so.
A ding sounded from where his phone lay on the desk, signifying yet another incoming message. At the very same moment, the sound of Bash’s footsteps could be heard as he crossed through the kitchen door. Gilbert tensed momentarily, and then rushed to sit up.
But it was too late, Bash was leaning over and reading the message on the screen.
His eyebrows shot straight up as he glanced over to where Gilbert peered at him over the back of the couch. The smile on his face was one that surely meant trouble.
Gilbert jumped off of the couch and scrambled back over to the desk, not meeting Bash’s eyes as he snatched it out of his line of sight.
“I’m sorry, did I just read a message saying you were seen kissing somebody?”
Another incoming message chimed, and Gilbert’s hand clenched on the phone. This damned town. You’d think they had nothing better to do than to go spouting every detail that seemed to be out of the ordinary for the entire world to hear.
Gilbert shook his head exasperatedly at Bash’s coy expression, “It’s none of your business.”
“Come on! Eleven years I’ve been in this blasted town and nothin’ interestin’ ever happens. Give your brother a break and tell him the gossip will ya?”
Gilbert released a small bout of surprised laughter, “Not a chance.”
Bash narrowed his eyes at him but turned away instead of questioning him further. As he walked back into the kitchen, he grumbled under his breath.
“Worked my ass off with crazy teenagers every day as a CPS worker just ta’ come back home and deal with another one and he ain’t even got the decency to share the town’s gossip. I swear...”
“I can hear you!” Gilbert called after him, shaking his head in amusion. Bash had a dramatic flare that rivaled that of Anne’s.
Dear god stop thinking about her.
“Wasn’t tryna’ to be quiet!” Bash called back as he crossed through the kitchen and into the dining room, “And you’re answering the door when the pizza arrives. I paid for it!”
Gilbert rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.
When he pulled his phone from behind his back to check the messages, the smile dropped from his mouth. One was a reply from Moody, but the other was from Winifred.
Winnie (7:42 pm): is she your girlfriend?
Before he could stop himself, he’d typed out an answer and hit send.
Gilbert (7:46 pm): would it even make a difference
Her response was immediate. And brought a frown to Gilbert’s face.
Winnie (7:46 pm): is that what it takes for you to answer then?
Winnie (7:46 pm): wait forget i said that. i’m glad you did.
Winnie (7:46 pm): and in answer to your question... yes. it would for me.
He hesitated a moment before replying again.
Gilbert (7:47 pm): and what if i said that she is my girlfriend
The typing bubble appeared. Stayed there for a few seconds.
Winnie (7:48 pm): then i would respect that
Gilbert dropped his phone down onto the desk in surprise. Three weeks. Three weeks had she been messaging him nonstop. And this was all it took for her to take a step back?
He didn’t know if he wanted to release a cry of excitement and relief or if he wanted to curl into a ball in the face of the possibility of things actually being a hundred percent over with the girl he’d dated for a full year.
She cheated on you. It doesn’t matter if it was just a fling or not, it still hurt.
His phone dinged again.
Winnie (7:51 pm): so?
Winnie (7:52 pm): is she your girlfriend or not gilbert. stop messing with me
He hastily typed out his reply. But his eyes widened as his thumb hovered over the send button.
Oh, Anne would absolutely murder him. An actual verbal massacre would take place in front of god and everybody.
But... she’d also been the one to kiss him. She’d been the one to need an escape from another boy. This couldn’t be that big of a step up right? Maybe... maybe they could use each other. Team up to get the respective unwanted attention off of their backs.
Besides... Green Gables wasn’t too far from his house. Just a mile or so. He could always stop by in the morning before school, explain the situation, and then take the beating while fewer witnesses were around.
It wasn’t as if he couldn’t hold his own against her anyway. And what had he said about wanting to be more spontaneous?
With the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, his thumb made the final movement to hit send.
Gilbert (7:52 pm): yes. she’s my girlfriend
+ + +
“Why, Gilbert Blythe! It’s been a long time. What brings you here so early in the morning?”
When the elder woman had opened the front door of her house to find Gilbert standing there, arms nervously crossed behind his back, the surprised smile that had broken across her face was radiant.
“Hello Miss Cuthbert,” Gilbert greeted politely. His hands were ringing themselves, fidgeting where he’d hidden them from her sight, “Sorry to intrude-“
“Oh nonsense, young man. It’s always a pleasure to see an old friendly face,” Marilla interrupted him, “Please. Come in. I have a fresh batch of plum puffs I made just last night.”
He made to interject- to say he only needed to be there a few moments so that he may speak with her daughter- but the older woman was far stronger than she looked. And she’d yanked him in and shut the door behind him before he knew it.
He ran a hand through his mess of curls awkwardly and shifted his weight from one foot the other.
“Miss Cuthbert,” he began as he watched her flit about the tiny area. She’d grabbed a plate from the kitchen and a pan of pastries from a bar just inside the dining room, her long shawl unraveling from around her shoulders in her haste, “I came here so that I might possibly speak with Anne before we head to school?”
Marilla paused in her escapade, glancing over at where Gilbert stood in the doorway, “Yes of course. I believe she’s still in her bedroom getting ready,” she pointed toward a hallway that was just through the dining room entryway and across the living room, “the very last door.”
Gilbert nodded politely, already beginning to move in the direction she’d pointed, “Thank you Miss Cuthbert. This should only take a moment. I’ll grab one of your plum puffs on my way out if that’s alright.”
“Yes yes, of course. And for heaven’s sake child. You’ve known Matthew and I nearly your entire life. Call me Marilla.”
He flashed her a charming smile just as he was about to disappear into the hallway leading to Anne’s bedroom, “Marilla,” he echoed.
When he reached Anne’s door, he hesitated. He could hear the faint sound of music playing from a phone speaker and her quiet voice happily humming along. And from the looks of how the shadow he could see through the crack in the door was swaying around, she was dancing.
A quiet smile graced his lips before he lightly rapped his knuckles against the worn wood.
The humming stopped and the music paused. When he heard her moving toward the door, he took a slight step backward, “I’m almost ready Marilla. I’ll be out for breakfast in just a-“
The moment the door was open and her gray eyes met his, she stopped abruptly. Mouth snapping shut and face turning the same fiery red as the hair on top of her head.
Her eyes promised his death.
Gilbert grinned at her, “What’s up, Carrots?”
The next thing he knew, her hand was on his arm and he was being jerked into her bedroom.
He found himself intrigued as he glanced around. It was a cute little area with a twin bed in the middle, a vanity along the side wall, and several pieces of art framed and hung all around. No doubt drawn by her friend Cole.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she seethed, pulling his roaming gaze away from the small space.
“You Cuthbert ladies sure have a thing for yanking people into rooms,” he replied cheekily, ignoring the acidic tone in the red-heads voice.
He studied her a moment. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and an angry flush coloring clear down into the neck of her pretty floral patterned dress. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, framing her freckled face.
She was as beautiful as always. As fierce as ever.
And her blue eyes blazed with the same hatred for him that he always knew he could find there.
In the face of it, he couldn’t help when his smile widened crookedly.
She took a deep breath. As if trying to calm herself, “Listen if you came here about what happened yesterday, I-“
“It’s not about that,” he cut her off, “Okay- well yeah. It is. But I highly doubt I’ll be saying anything you expect.”
A repulsed expression marred her pretty features, “I hope you don’t suddenly think I’m going to do it again.”
A small burst of laughter escaped from him, “Trust me. Neither of us want that.”
Liar liar, he thought. Gilbert hadn’t been able to get the feel of her soft lips out of his head from the moment it happened. But he didn’t even want to admit that to himself let alone to her.
Her lips thinned. “What do you want?” she asked warily.
He leaned back casually against her closed bedroom door and stuffed his hands into his pockets, “Who was that boy you were hiding from yesterday?”
Her eyes narrowed, “Diana will be here in twenty minutes to pick me up and Marilla will have my head if I don’t eat breakfast with her and Matthew before I leave so if all you came here to do was interrogate me about-“
“Carrots relax.”
“Stop calling me that!” she snapped shrilly.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and held them up in defense. “Alright alright, I’m sorry,” he said, “There’s a point to me asking this. I promise.”
Anne released a huff. Crossed her arms and jutted her hip out to the side.
“Forgive me if I don’t take any of your promises to heart,” she retorted indignantly.
“Fair enough,” he replied, “But humor me. Please.”
At the last word, he’d looked up at her from his relaxed position on the door through his dark eyelashes. It was a move he knew worked on nearly every female in Avonlea. Except for Anne. The first time he’d tried it on her back when they’d met, he’d been awarded with a very hard textbook to the face. It was the first time it hadn’t worked. Hadn’t charmed the girl into a fit of embarrassed giggles or brought a pink flush to her cheeks.
He did it now adays just to see Anne’s scowl deepen. Apparently he’d grown a liking to flirting with death.
She rolled her eyes at him. Making a small noise of disgust that allowed for an amused smile to play on Gilbert’s lips.
“Fine. Whatever,” she started, “The guy was Royal Gardner. He’s Diana’s cousin. You probably noticed he just started at Avonlea High? He’s in the same grade as us and an absolute pain in my ass.”
Gilbert cocked an eyebrow, “I thought I was the only pain in your ass.”
“Don’t be vain. A lot of boys are pains in my ass.”
His lips twitched. “Is that so?” he asked before he could stop himself.
The punch she threw at his arm was very well deserved.
“You have a death wish Gilbert Blythe. I swear you do.”
Gilbert snorted. It was a bit of an understatement, if you asked him. He sort of felt like he’d traipsed right into a lion’s den.
He cleared his throat, “So if so many boys are already a pain in your ass... Why was this one a cause for you to kiss me?”
Anne looked down shyly. And if Gilbert hadn’t known any better, he might have said that the slight pink that colored her cheeks was from embarrassment and not anger.
It was gone in a flash though. She straightened. Head held high and stormy eyes meeting his in defiance.
“He’d asked me out the day before. Wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she glanced away from him, “I uh, had to tell him I was seeing somebody in order to get him to leave me alone. I wasn’t expecting to see him at Red Bird. And you were there... so I panicked. Seized the opportunity that had revealed itself.”
Gilbert nodded thoughtfully, fighting to hide the smirk that threatened his lips. So, this Royal guy thought he might be dating Anne? The situation was far more perfect than he’d originally thought.
“I was a pawn,” he replied casually.
Anne rolled her eyes at him. Probably for the millionth time in the span of the five minutes they’d been talking.
“You-“
He pushed on, “Do you remember Winnie?”
Her eyebrows scrunched together, “Your ex-girlfriend? What about her.”
Gilbert paused a moment, steeling himself. When the girl across from him placed a hand on her hip and raised an annoyed eyebrow, he released a breath.
“She maybe, sort of, thinks that we’re dating too. As well. Like- uh. Yeah.”
Anne swore quietly and looked down at her hands where they were fisted in the loose skirt of her dress.
“Why would she possibly think that?”
“Anne. You kissed me. In public. You know how this town is... I’m sure everybody thinks we’re together now.”
She harrumphed at that, and Gilbert couldn’t help but find it a little bit adorable.
Her eyes met his again, “It’s 2019, a kiss does not insinuate dating.”
Gilbert took a single step closer to her and was relieved to find that she didn’t back up. “Did you miss the part where we live in a small town in rural Maine or...”
“That doesn’t mean-“
“What if we let them think it.”
A surprised laugh burst from Anne as soon as the words had left his mouth. But when she looked at him again and saw that he hadn’t been joking, the smile dropped from her face.
“Wait you’re being serious?” she asked.
Gilbert swallowed. Nodded.
She began to shake her head furiously, “No way. No fucking way. I don’t even like you! You don’t like me!”
She stepped away from him and started to frantically tidy up the space around her as if to busy herself. She scrambled to her bed and grabbed the blankets there to fold across the mattress. She fluffed her pillow unnecessarily, causing Gilbert’s lip to twitch in amusement as she watched.
Anne’s voice was an octave higher than normal as she continued to rant and busy herself with the sheets of her bed.
Gilbert stepped forward, not even trying to hide the amusement that was sure to be written all across his face.
“Anne,” he said, “Anne calm down a second and listen to me, will you?”
She spun on her heal to face him, eyes bright with a mixture of panic and anger. Hands clutching viciously to the throw blanket in her grasp.
“Do not tell me to calm down Gilbert Blythe,” she snapped at him. There it was, the knife to his throat, “You come here to- to suggest what? That we suddenly start dating? I can’t even- We never- I can barely stand to be around you, let alone-“
It was a good thing the knife had never intimidated him before. And it certainly wasn’t now.
“We wouldn’t really be dating, Anne.” He interrupted her with a laugh.
She blinked, “What the hell are you talking about?”
He walked up to her slowly. Grabbed the blanket that dangled from her hands and then set it on her bed. Their bodies were inches apart and it was as if he could feel her there. Feel the heat radiating off of her.
He met her harsh gaze, “What if we just made everybody think we were dating. What if we made Royal think we were dating.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and straightened her stance. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t take a step back like he would have expected her to.
“What’s in it for you?” she asked, voice laced with poison and skepticism.
He shrugged, “I’ve needed Winifred to get off my back for a while. Call it an even exchange.”
“Nobody will believe it. We’ve been at each other’s throats since we met.”
On the contrary, she’d been at his throat. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that they’d be perfect friends if only she’d let him in instead of wielding her words against him like a mighty sword.
He leaned in a fraction, relishing in the way he heard her breath catch in her throat, “They’ll believe what we make them believe.”
She bit her lip, eyes expressing clear contemplation in the swirling grays and blues of her irises. But then she stiffened, and the shutters slammed shut against him. She moved forward, pushing past and around. Causing him to stumble backward slightly despite her small frame.
He turned to find her paused in front of the doorway with her back to him, fists clenched at her sides and back stiff straight.
“No.” Her voice was flat.
He took a step toward her, “Anne-“
“I said no. It’s a stupid idea,” she placed her hand on the doorknob and twisted. Pulled it open and then stepped aside to make way for him to pass through. She looked over at the place where he stood, a solid resolve in her eyes. “I think you should leave. Diana will be here any minute and now I have to rush my breakfast.”
Gilbert deflated. He was disappointed, but he wouldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to. Still, he’d already told Winnie... Been so determined he’d be able to convince Anne to take part in his plan.
As he walked through her doorway and past her, he paused a moment. Leaned down slightly so that their faces were closer together.
“Just a few months. We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again,” he said quietly. He could see his breath move the auburn locks against her face. His eyes flit to lock with hers, “Think about it.”
When her lips thinned and she refused to respond, Gilbert gave a curt nod. Then walked down the hallway, out into the living room and back into the kitchen.
He quickly brandished a wide smile and farewell to Marilla as he grabbed one of her pastries and left through the door. All the while knowing Anne watched through the window as he climbed into his car and backed out of the Cuthbert’s long driveway.
The entire way to Avonlea High, a smile curved at his lips.
