The way she moved was mesmerizing. He had never seen anyone dance so exquisitely as her, and he found it nigh impossible to draw his eyes off from her. Only Milly’s pestering was strong enough to win over his attention, and even then, he kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
“You need to get your shit together.”
Offended, he frowned at her. Just how many drinks had she had?
“Look at that!” She smacked his shoulder, making him spin so that they were both staring at the young woman whose shirt had already ridden up, exposing her midsection. Lelouch blushed even though he’d seen far more over the past holiday.
“You’re just going to sit here like a toad while she dances with some guy?!”
“She can dance with whomever she chooses. Who am I to get in her way?”
“That’s not the problem. You know that’s not the problem. Come on, Lelouch. I know you; you’re not stupid or blind.”
“You’re right. I’m not stupid or blind.”
“Then why the hell are you sitting here and talking to me instead of dancing with her?”
He shook his head. Milly didn’t understand; dancing may come easily for her and C.C., but unfortunately, he couldn’t count it among one of his talents. Of course, ballroom dancing was something he had been educated in since a child, but here there was no use for that kind of knowledge, save for the sole purpose of making a fool of himself. He was much more content just watching as he drank his soda.
“Lelouch, I’m saying this as your friend, but you really need to start being more proactive when it comes to C.C. And I don’t mean in the sexual sense since you apparently are so incredibly capable of taking the initiative in that regard.”
Choking, he doubled over. Wiping his drink from his chin, he stared with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. How the fuck did Milly know about that? There’s no way C.C. would have told her; he didn’t think she was the type to go around and yak about who she’d slept…”slept” with. So what the fuck?
“I have my ways,” she simply said in reply to his question. “But that’s besides the point. Grab hold of your manhood, Lelouch, and get your arse out there where it belongs!”
Stumbling over himself, he excused himself from this sweaty body and that as he continued to clumsily bump into them as if he were but a pinball, when a pair of hands suddenly grabbed him and placed them on her waist.
Sweat crawled down his neck and soaked into the collar of his shirt as she pressed her backside up against him. Oh, God.
He glanced at Milly, who stood watching with a wide grin. Flashing him a thumbs-up, she proudly watched as if she were a mother watching her daughter’s first ballet recital. Lelouch sighed; he was way too old for this. Clearing his throat, he tried to pull his hands off her to wipe them on his pants, when she slowly moved them up until they were dangerously close to her chest. Alarmed, he enthusiastically resisted until another pair of hands suddenly appeared from the side and pulled him free. He turned to see none other than C.C.
Confused, he looked back to the woman who had pressed up against him just seconds earlier and, upon closer inspection, found that her green hair was just a wig. He wasn’t quite sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
“I’m hungry. Let’s get out of here.”
“I think all of the pizza places are closed. It’s past midnight.”
She waved him off as she wove her way through the mass. Lelouch stared at their hands and decided he liked the way their fingers fit together.
“I was thinking about something else.”
She refused to tell him what exactly she had in mind and instead chose to show him. Standing in the middle of the vast kitchen, he rubbed his hands together.
“Are you sure we’re allowed to be in here?”
“Why do you think I have the key?”
“But isn’t this all the university’s property? This is the school kitchen.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she muttered. Taking out a carton of eggs and some bread, she placed them on the sparkling counter. “Just relax. This is all food I bought with my own money. We’re not stealing from the school if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Now,” she said with a note of finality. Tying her hair up, she looked at him. “How do you like your eggs?”
A couple days back, Lelouch had decided after several hours of thinking, that he was very much in love with Cera Corabelle, but in all honesty, he’d probably be hard-pressed to think of a moment when he loved her more than he did now – something that would hold true for the rest of his life, though this was yet unbeknownst to him at the young age of 26.
So, instead of blurting out a confession, he calmly replied: “Poached, please.”
But damn. Did he love her more than eggs at 1 in the morning, poached or not, stolen from the school or not.