I could feel him, though barely. My radar is usually strong, but he slipped under it sometimes, quietly, and I wouldn't see him for hours.

I wasn't complaining. Thinking about T still makes me cry.

But what are you gonna do?

Nothing to do now.

~

The puppy dog looked at me with his stupid puppy dog look.

I know that look. I hate that look. But I had to admit, it was nice to have an admirer following me around.

"I'll tell you a funny pick-up line," he says, holding out his hands, palms up, like it's not his fault. "It's not my fault. It's terrible."

I take a swig of the homebrew in my tankard and thumb the fish on the handle. I'm a bit tired of listening to him, but I can't seem to shake him. At least he keeps my tankard full.

"Alright," I say, shifting my weight to the other leg. The beer is pretty good. Flowery on first sip, but it grew on me.

"We're going to have sex tonight," he says, with a theatrical eyebrow waggle. "You know how I know?"

I shrug appropriately, and he flicks me finger guns.

"Because I'm stronger than you."

I laugh, because it IS terrible and funny at the same time, but it also makes me vaguely uncomfortable.

I realize he has a good five inches on me, and although I think my strength is pretty good, he outweighs me by at least forty pounds.

"Let's go back to the tavern," I say. "My beer is empty."

He follows dutifully, like the puppy dog he is.

~

The night is cool, but the party is hot. Our walls are slim pale birches, and the ceiling is a delicate lace of branches, high above our heads.

It's packed. People are brushing against me. I don't like it. My fish tankard is full of daiquiri; the sides are icing up, literally. My breasts are pressed together and jammed up underneath my chin. It's been a very long time since I've worn a corset, because it makes me uncomfortable, the way the men look at my sideways. I can read what they want to do in their eyes, and it rarely has anything to do with me.

The puppy dog has stepped out of the party to get some fresh air. He doesn't like crowds, and I don't blame him.

The knight is before me. He's not dressed in a costume, just his regular gear. The streaks of silver in his hair glitter in the torchlight.

"Shit, it's hot," I complain. My hair is down; it isn't usually. It curls and sticks to my neck. It's becoming unruly, a damned sweater wrapped around my throat.

"Here, hold this," I say and pass my tankard to the knight. His eyes skitter over my face, and he doesn't know what to say exactly. At least he's not staring at my breasts.

I scrape the hair away from my face and start wrapping it into a rope around my wrist, preparing to tie it up.

~

I stumbled out of my tent, dressed in normal clothes. The sun was blazing, unforgiving. The air was still and painfully hot.

A quick trip to the outhouse, during which I hold my breath the whole time. Then back to my tent.

It's a mess. Time to pack up.

I poke my head in, grab my backpack, and sit back on my heels.

The puppy dog is RIGHT THERE, standing about four meters off, grinning shyly.

"HOLY CRAP," I say. "THAT'S NOT CREEPY AT ALL."

He blushes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

Yeah. Not creepy at all.

~

The party rages. The golden torches, the shout of the laughter. People dressed as sperm wiggle through the crowd, freely distributing frozen blended drinks. I never figured out why they were dressed like sperm.

I twist my hair around my wrist. The knight watches as my hands travel to the end of my hair, high over my head.

"You have a beautiful neck," he sighs, just barely audible above the roar of the crowd.

"What?" I shout. The liquor I've been consuming slows the connection between my ears and my brain.

They finally connect, and I register what he said, just as he says: "Nothing." His eyes slide away and he looks at something else while I knot my hair on the top of my hair.

The words echo in my head.

~

I am standing at the counter in the blazing morning sun, stirring three creamers into my tea.

"I was talking to T last night," my friend says, leaning on the counter next to me. "He admits he fucked it all up, and it's his fault things went south. He says if he ever got his shit together, he would love to have another chance to make it work."

My hand stills. I set the spoon on the counter.

"Don't say that," I say, quietly.

"I thought maybe it would make you feel better," she says, a plaintive note creeping into her voice.

"Don't say that," I repeat. I pull the brim of my hat over my face and burst into tears.

"Oh god!" she says. "Oh god! I didn't mean to upset you!"

I press my veil to my eyes and choke on breath.

"It's okay, it's okay," I say quickly, pressing knuckles into my eyes. "It's fine."

She hugs my shoulder. "I was trying to make you feel better, not worse!"

"I know," I sigh, my mouth twisting with tears held in. "I just know..." I stop, wipe my eyes with my veil.

She waits until I face her, my mouth twisted with a rueful smile, peppered with unshed tears.

"I just know he'll never get his shit together."

She hugs my shoulder and I swallow my stupid sorrow.

And I know it. Boy, do I know it.

~

"I'm gonna turn in, I think," I tell the knight. Flashes of lighting illuminate his face briefly, before plunging us into darkness.

"Probably wise," he says. "Looks like a storm is coming."

The air is chill, downright cold, and there's an ominous wind blowing. The flashes of lighting are coming so quickly now it's hard to tell which boom of thunder belongs to which.

He holds out his arms for a hug, and I hesitate, then step in. He's been a gentleman, despite my 'sexy' outfit, and I appreciate that.

He hugs me, firmly, a little longer than strictly necessary. His face is pressed into my neck.

Just before he pulls away I feel a stealthy kiss on my neck, soft lips touching softer skin.

A flash of palm as a wave goodbye, and he disappears into the sea of pavilions.

I crawl into my bed that night, thinking about boys and wondering about lovers.

I wonder what kind of lover he would be. I wonder, I wonder.

I wonder if he would pull my hair.

I sleep the sleep of the blissfully drunk and dream of nothing.

.

Rosie.

Before&After