Reaching the end of the row, Freya bent at the waist to peer at the next shelf down, still half-distracted both by what she was trying to find and what Kyle had confirmed. His schooling was also something she hadn’t thought much about, but once she voiced her suspicions she knew they had to be true – to some degree. More than just posture gave that history away. His bluntness, intensity, and obvious discomfort in new and lightsaber-less situations all spoke to an upbringing completely different from her own, both at home and at school. In hindsight it was easy to dismiss her public school education as lax, but at the same time she couldn’t imagine growing up in an environment that wouldn’t have allowed her to act like a kid while she was a kid.
Instead of satisfaction, she felt strangely heavyhearted to be right this time. Even the vaguest sketch of his past sounded awful to her, alone at every turn. No wonder he acted the way he did.
She exhaled softly, blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face as she spotted the author she was looking for. Her fingers pulled at the two books from her list, but she barely saw them, her mind pulling at a loose thread. Now that they were friends – or something like friends, even Freya knew better than to try and convince herself that falling asleep next to each other several times a week was something normal friends did – she no longer had to struggle as much with her feelings for Kyle. More specifically, the good feelings, the ones that had grown to overshadow the anger and apprehension and bitter disappointment from early on in their arrangement. Whether sympathy, curiosity, or the inexplicable contentment that came during their quieter moments, now she could just feel it all without the aftertaste of guilt and impending doom burning her throat.
Well. Mostly without. But some relief was better than none.
Tilting her head at Kyle’s question, Freya straightened and began to answer as she inspected the books in her hands. Paperbacks, not too worn, and not too smelly, either. Perfect. “Ten minutes ago I would’ve had a different answer, but I always – ”
She glanced up at Kyle and her voice abruptly abandoned her. Before looking up, she knew he was close – that would be Force’s doing, her perpetual awareness of his proximity to her – but this new pose was unexpected. This… leaning. It brought him fractionally nearer to her own eye level, allowing her a closer view of his face than she was used to. And, for some reason, that was enough to derail her entirely.
What was so different about meeting his eyes this time, compared to all the other times? Nothing, except he looked... different. Casual. Like the cold, rigid mask fell away and accidentally revealed a human being underneath. Lips slightly parted, she looked and saw nothing veiled or calculating in him now, nothing she was unlearning to expect from him after such a long time anticipating the worst. Instead, this interest was closer to what she had started to become familiar with over the past few weeks without fully realizing it. Genuine, open interest, in her and not just her power or their potential together, reflected in deep brown eyes she thought she knew very well but now suddenly seemed new.
All of which had the alarming effect of speeding up her heart rate for reasons that were not altogether unknown to her and definitely did not fall under the bounds of friendship.
Freya blinked and recovered before that thought went any further. “I… always thought we were close in age,” she answered, the corners of her mouth crooking wryly to match his newfound ease. “Just not, you know. This close." A small, indecipherable laugh escaped out from under her breath, and she shook her head. "Anyway. I’ve got what I need.”
She raised the books up between them, a physical barrier as much as it was desperately needed change of subject, and nodded toward the front of the store. “We can go now.”
Without waiting, she stepped around him and headed back the way they came, donning again her own carefully neutral mask. It was time to leave. To go back home, where she was alone and it was safe and no one could read her mind. All of this was more difficult than she anticipated. Much more difficult.