Ava waits for the right time, fluttering around the edges of Beatrice, always a moth to the light. She does it often and overtly enough that even Beatrice looks over in her direction, head tilted endearingly in confusion. Every time, Ava waves her off with a kiss blown playfully in her direction. And every time, without fail, Beatrice ducks her head in surprise and turns right back around.
(To her disappointment, Beatrice never pockets the kisses. Oh well. A girl can dream.)
So Ava keeps waiting for the right time. Because she can be patient.Β
Sometimes.
read the rest on ao3















