#hilaude

“Spring feels so far away,” Hilda whined when the server left.

Claude snickered. “Remember when Leonie insisted we had to try ice skating at least once?”

Though she groaned, Hilda was smiling. “At least I was smart enough to stay by the wall of the rink. You must’ve been covered in bruises.”

“She said she had me,” Claude argued, gesturing with a hand. “And she did, kind of. Kept me from breaking my nose at least.”

“It’s funny that you’d bring that up.” Hilda paused, squinting at Claude. She blushed as she explained, “That was the first time Lorenz kissed me.”

“What?” he asked, incredulous, leaning forward so his hair swung from the movement. “I thought that was at Marianne’s birthday.” He laughed. “We all made such a big deal out of it.”

Hilda pressed a fingertip to her lips, eyes wide, as she shook her head. “No, it was after the skating. He walked me home.”

“He did,” Claude said, with a tone of recognition. “That’s so cute.”

“Is it weird?” Hilda asked, concerned. “Is it weirder now?”

“I mean,” Claude kept eye contact, but he fussed with the cutlery on the table nervously, “it’s not what people expect, but whether it’s weird depends on you, I think.”

Hilda frowned. “And not you?”

Claude laughed. “Oh, no, I’m definitely weird.”

“Claude,” Hilda chastised.

But the server had returned with their drinks and prolonged Hilda’s suffering. She ordered a smoked jackfruit platter, while Claude ordered a beef brisket sandwich.

“See even that,” Hilda insisted. “We’ve been here a dozen times. Why not order pulled pork? You hate it from almost everywhere else, from the quality of the meat to how much sauce they use…”

“Because we’re on a date,” Claude said, obviously a little surprised that he’d need to address this element, but Hilda was still confused and so he mumbled the rest. “I worried you wouldn’t kiss me.”

Hilda moved her hand to cover her mouth, in quiet shock at first, but then laughter overtook her, soft and hysterical. “You’re ridiculous.”