The Heat of an Indirect Kiss
'Indirect kiss, huh.'
The moment that thought took root in my mind, my hand froze up for some reason.
I could see Esilla pretending to be nonchalant, gazing out the window.
She was carefully wiping the sauce from the corner of her mouth with a white handkerchief.
Just moments ago, she'd been slurping away at this very spoon from my hand.
Her red lips looked unusually moist, glistening with a hint of wetness.
Lips...
No, hold on a second.
This was getting weird. No, really weird.
I glanced back and forth between the spoon and Esilla.
Was it okay to eat from it?
Or should I not?
What if I wiped it down with a napkin right now?
That would come with its own problems.
I'd look like some prissy type making a fuss about it being dirty after someone else used it.
Esilla would probably get hurt or annoyed if she saw that. She'd gone out of her way to cover for my secret, pretending it was all a coincidence.
No reason to tank her goodwill here.
But putting the spoon down and asking for a new one? That would scream that I was overthinking what just happened.
Is there really a problem here?
I tried to pull myself together with some logic.
The spoon was in my hand first.
I was the one who basically force-fed it to her.
If it turned into an indirect kiss, that was on me for shoving it in there first.
I'm the one who started it, right?
Looking back, there was nothing embarrassing about the setup. Girls sharing food and a spoon? Big deal.
I didn't need to overanalyze like this just because she was a stunningly beautiful woman.
It was nothing more than a casual meal between friends of the same sex.
"Milady?"
Esilla's voice came softly.
"Why aren't you eating?"
She'd turned from the window and was looking at me again, her face full of curiosity.
Perfectly calm, like nothing was off at all.
Even the flush on her cheeks had completely faded.
...Is she seriously unfazed by this? It hit me how ridiculous I'd been, running simulations in my head all alone and working myself up.
"Oh, nothing."
I played it cool.
Screw it.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved the spoon into my mouth.
The cool silver touched my tongue.
The taste was still amazing.
Tender chicken, rich broth, the soft chew of the bread.
Yeah. Nothing had changed.
But my ears were burning anyway.
Maybe because that image of her red lips working the spoon kept popping into my head.
This is weird.
I ignored the rising heat in my face and kept my head down, focusing on the spooning.
"Milady."
Esilla called again.
"What," I muttered without looking up, eyes fixed on the stew bowl.
"Your face is red."
I flinched.
"...It's hot. The stew's hot."
What a lame excuse.
The stew had come from the cafeteria ages ago and was already perfectly cooled.
But it was the best I could come up with on the spot. "Is that so."
Doubt dripped from Esilla's voice.
"But your face was already flushed before you even ate, when you were just holding the spoon and staring into space."
"..."
No comeback for that.
Why'd she notice that level of detail?
My face burned hotter. My neck was probably red now too.
I gave up responding and scraped the bottom of the bowl with my spoon.
The more excuses I made, the deeper I'd dig my grave.
She took my silence as confirmation and didn't press further.
Instead, she gracefully lifted her teacup for another sip of black tea.
Slurp.
In the quiet corner of the restaurant, the sound stood out sharply.
I instinctively glanced up at her.
Her lips meeting the rim of the cup.
Red against white porcelain, gently pressing together.
Her pale throat moving subtly as she swallowed.
The sight dragged my thoughts right back to that spoon in my mouth.
Something was seriously wrong here.
I dropped my gaze in a panic.
"No, really, it's just hot."
Defending myself to myself was pathetic, but sitting quiet made my insides itch worse.
"Of course, Milady."
She agreed curtly.
Agreed, but without a hint of belief.
I picked up the spoon again.
Best to finish fast and bail.
I shoveled in a big bite of stew.
Hot broth slid down my tongue.
Delicious. So damn good.
That's all I should be feeling right now.
I forced out the stray thoughts blooming in my head and zeroed in on eating.
I mechanically stuffed the rest in, not even registering if it was chicken, potato, or soggy bread hitting my mouth.
Just repetitive spoonfuls until—
Clink.
I set the spoon in the empty bowl.
Having demolished my meal like a soldier, I roughly wiped my mouth with the napkin.
"Done."
I crumpled the napkin and tossed it on the table.
"Very well."
Esilla set her teacup down.
Hers still had half the black tea left.
But she showed no interest in finishing, rising smoothly from her seat.
I scrambled up too, shoving my chair back.
"Let's go."
I bolted for the exit without waiting for her reply, speed-walking like my life depended on it.
///
After lunch, stepping outside brought the warm late-spring sun bathing the campus.
Fresh air.
"Haa..."
Finally, I could breathe a little.
The heat in my face felt like it was washing away in the breeze.
And between Esilla and me? Total silence.
I stared straight ahead as I walked; she trailed half a step behind, wordless.
This quiet should have felt awkward, but right now, I was grateful for it.
Any chit-chat might drag that spoon fiasco back to the surface.
I'm an idiot. Why'd I pull that stunt?
All to break her stubborn streak? Dumb pride.
Watching her flustered was fun, sure.
Didn't expect the backlash to hit me full force.
Got to be more careful. No more dumb pranks.
"Milady."
Esilla broke the silence.
"What."
I snapped back without slowing.
"You're walking too fast."
Her point made me notice my pace.
Yeah, quicker than usual. Almost marching speed; I was getting winded.
"Oh."
I slowed a bit, coughing awkwardly.
"Just tired. Wanna get back to the dorm and crash."
"Understood."
She matched my reduced stride without further questions.
Soon, the weathered red-brick C Dorm came into view.
At the entrance, I stopped.
"Thanks for walking me."
I gave Esilla a quick nod.
She returned a light bow.
"Rest well, Milady. See you tomorrow."
Stiff and polite as ever.
Was I really the only one freaking out?
Her serene demeanor left a weird taste.
Like I'd been the only one overreacting, fidgeting solo. Kinda unfair.
I turned and headed inside.
Climbing the creaky wooden stairs to the third floor, a strange floatiness lingered in my chest.
Whatever. If she's fine, I can just forget it.
Room 305.
Sounds from inside—Aria must be back from afternoon classes.
I fished out my key and unlocked the door.
Click.
"Aria! I'm back!"
I called out brightly as I stepped in.
"L-Lady Elise?"
My orange-haired roommate jumped at her desk, turning with wide eyes.
That harmless, bunny-like expression melted away the mess in my head.
Yeah. Hanging in the room is the best.
///
At the same time, outside C Dorm.
Esilla waited until Lady Bellaph had fully disappeared inside before slowly turning away.
"Haa..."
After a few steps, she veered toward a thick tree pillar by the path.
Thud.
She leaned her forehead lightly against it.
Bonk, bonk.
Then started bumping it gently.
"You're insane, Esilla de Argent."
She muttered low.
Her face against the bark—cheeks pure white no more, flushed crimson down her neck and ears.
Bonk, bonk.
"Definitely lost it."
The soft thuds echoed faintly down the wooded path.
Indirect kiss.
That word had shredded her rational thoughts into chaos.
The spring breeze blew, but it did nothing to cool the fire on her face.