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[color=808080][color=5d8c77][b]clover[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/LLKrPq8][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]..........[/color] [color=8a6038][b]evander[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.ibb.co/ZpxTNHjL/6baf7800-15f2-4767-9bc2-f38063c02a89.png][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]..........[/color] [b]the strawberry fields[/b][/color]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]

[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The sun was warm against Clover’s shoulders where they peeked out from beneath her large straw hat. Her wicker basket, which was weighed down by dozens of strawberries, left a woven imprint in her skin as she let the handle rest in the crook of her arm while her other hand kept her hat from fluttering away in the wind. Her smile was unguarded and bright as she watched the children run and laugh through the rows of crops without a care in the world, weightless with the freedom only a child could possess. 

At one point when they ran circles around her, she reached down, scooping the wrapped sucker from Elliot’s hand, quickly lifting it out of reach before he could jump and snatch it back. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Hey![/i]"[/color] he whined, flailing his arms and jumping dramatically. [color=d6d6d6]"That’s for Harper!"[/color]

[color=5d8c77]"And she can have it,"[/color] Clover mused as she tucked the small treat into the pocket of her overalls. [color=5d8c77]"After you both stop running around like little hellions."[/color] She laughed fondly, giving her pocket a gentle pat of reassurance. [color=5d8c77]"I’ll guard it with my life."[/color] After giving him a playful salute, she shooed them both off to continue running and playing or whatever other nonsense they wanted to get up to. 

Clover slowly walked through the lines of strawberries looking for only the ripest and reddest berries to harvest. It wasn’t necessarily [i]picking[/i], not for her. Whenever she walked past a berry that was [i]just right[/i] it always fell from the stem and rolled just into view. The Demeter kids loathed working the fields alongside her. No matter how hard they worked, knees and elbows caked in mud, she always returned with a more plentiful basket without a speck of dirt beneath her nails. That day was no different. Her basket was nearly overflowing and berries continued to present themselves like rubies before her. 

She had stopped when a strawberry nearly the size of a tangerine rolled into the pathway between the rows of bushes. Clover leaned over to pick it up, contemplating if she should give into temptation and eat that one herself when a loud squeal startled her. The basket that had been dangling from her arm, slipped from the grove it made and fell to the ground, spilling half of its contents across the packed earth. She stood up abruptly, heart racing as she frantically searched for the source, frightened that children had gotten hurt in the handful of seconds she looked away. But when her gaze settled on Harper, the girl was nothing short of elated as she bounced up and down. [color=d6d6d6]"I knew it would work!"[/color]

Clover pressed her hand to her chest, catching her breath as she turned her attention toward the culprit of such excitement. Her cheeks immediately flushed to a red that rivaled her hair as she noticed the two unfamiliar lovebirds caught in the middle of a kiss that looked like it was seconds from getting [i]much[/i] worse. She wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but she was thankful for Harper’s outburst if only to save herself from awkwardly having to interrupt and remind them they were quite literally in the middle of camp. Still… She was a romantic. She couldn’t help the airy giggle that slipped out along with the bashful smile that curled at the corners of her mouth as she turned away. 

[color=5d8c77]"Go on,"[/color] she instructed them quietly, while shooing them with a gentle push to both of their backs. [color=5d8c77]"It’s time you go clean up for dinner anyway."[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"[i]Clover![/i]"[/color] Harper and Elliot both whined in unison. They threw their heads back, groaning and stamping their little feet dangerously close to the lost bundle of berries. 

[color=5d8c77]"If you smash my strawberries, I’ll get you,"[/color] Clover playfully teased them, reaching out to tickle both of their sides and scare them back a few feet from the mess. They both giggled and swatted away her hands, unable to remain grumpy while tickled. [i]Classic.[/i] She then reached into her pocket, pulled out the sucker and slipped it into Harper’s pocket. [color=5d8c77]"After dinner,"[/color] she warned with a small wag of her finger. [color=5d8c77]"Alright, now go!"[/color] Harper and Elliot quickly ran off, their laughter immediately returning as they chased and ran circles around each other in the general direction of the cabins. 

With no one else remaining in the fields, Clover slowly lowered herself with a soft sigh. Her bare knees pressed down into the dirt as she turned her basket upright and set it aside, before she set to collecting all of her runaway berries.

The day had split open and poured gold over everything.

Evander returned to camp with salt still clinging to his skin and the ghost of the sea breeze caught in the soft fall of his hair, the shoreline lingering on him like a blessing he had not asked for but accepted all the same. His walk beyond the camp’s edge had been meant to clear his head, nothing more than habit, the ritual of a man who carried too many thoughts and preferred to set them in motion rather than let them rot. But somewhere along the beach, with waves lapping at the sand in steady, ancient rhythm, his phone had buzzed in his hand and the world had shifted beneath his feet. 

Athena’s Scholarship—[i]his[/i] scholarship, the program he had fought tooth and nail to build, to pitch, to defend, to make real in a world that too often left bright minds behind if they were born in the wrong zip code or with the wrong last name, had been approved. Not just approved. It had gone live that morning. Applications were already coming in from young men and women he would likely never meet, and somehow that made it all the more sacred. For the first time in years, joy did not feel like something fragile or borrowed. It felt [i]earned.[/i]

He had dressed without much thought that morning, but by the time he crossed back through the valley it felt as though even the gods themselves had conspired to make him look more put together than he had any right to. A muted taupe knit polo clung softly to his frame, textured and refined in a way that made it look effortless despite the quiet luxury of it, the collar resting open at his throat where the first button had been left undone. 

His sleeves had been pushed up to his forearms, exposing warm skin kissed by the sun, a silver watch gleaming at his wrist with every swing of his hand. Black trousers sat clean and sharp at his waist, held in place by a simple leather belt, and there was something unfairly polished about the whole of him, like he had stepped out of a magazine spread and accidentally wandered into a strawberry field instead of a private lounge in Manhattan. Even he knew it was a bit much for camp. But today, with triumph buzzing bright and electric beneath his ribs, he found he didn’t care.

That was how he ended up in the fields, on a whim, with celebration still fizzing through his bloodstream like champagne. He’d told himself he’d only stop for a minute. Maybe pick a handful of strawberries. Maybe let himself have something sweet while the news settled into something real instead of dreamlike. A few ripe berries had already found their way into his palm, gathered with the absent indulgence of someone too pleased with life to care whether it was proper to snack before dinner, and in his other hand rested one ridiculous monstrosity of a strawberry—nearly the size of a tangerine, glossy and red as spilled lacquer. He had just bitten into it, juice bright against his tongue and sweet enough to make him laugh under his breath, when he rounded the row and found [i]her.[/i]

He stopped so abruptly it was a wonder he didn’t choke.

For a heartbeat, maybe two, he simply blinked down at Clover where she knelt in the dirt like some pastoral vision dragged from an old painting and dropped carelessly into the middle of camp. The straw hat shadowed her face in soft, honeyed angles, but not enough to hide the flush still lingering in her cheeks or the tumble of red hair that seemed to burn brighter in the late afternoon light. Her overalls, the strawberries scattered around her, her bare knees pressed into the earth, the wicker basket tipped beside her like a little disaster, it should have been messy. Mundane. 

Instead, it looked almost [i]mythic.[/i] Like the field itself had decided it needed a patron saint and shaped one from sunlight, freckles, and a laugh too gentle for a world like theirs. There was dirt on the ground, berries rolling out of reach, children’s laughter fading into the distance, and still the sight of her caught him square in the chest with enough force to leave him momentarily stupid.

He swallowed the bite of strawberry and stepped forward, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a way that was looser, warmer, and far less guarded than he typically allowed. Joy had already softened him today, perhaps that was why the offer came so easily, why his voice carried no teasing edge, no carefully curated distance, only something unexpectedly open. He crouched just enough to gather one of the escaped berries near his shoe, the oversized strawberry still in his hand, bitten and gleaming, as he looked at her with the peculiar sort of gentleness that only surfaced when he forgot to protect himself from it. 

[color=8a6038]"Need help?"[/color] he asked after a beat, rich and low and touched by the kind of uncharacteristic charity that came from a man who had just been handed proof that maybe, just maybe, the world could still be changed by stubborn people who refused to stop trying. And with the sun warming the back of his neck, sweetness on his tongue, and Clover kneeling in the middle of the berries like something out of a half-remembered dream, Evander thought, absurdly, unexpectedly, that perhaps this day had not yet reached its peak.

Clover didn’t notice the approaching steps, the soft sound lost beneath the fading laughs of children and her own shuffling along the dirt. It was shoes far too nice to belong in a field of strawberries that came into her peripheries first. Then a familiar voice came warm and soft in a way that was foreign to the point she could not believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Her hand gently held her straw hat in place against her head as her gaze trailed along the crouched form in front of her. Dark pants led to a neutral shirt before her squinted eyes settled upon wire glasses and a face she knew well, although the happiness behind it felt bright and unguarded in a way that caught her by surprise. 

Her smile widened and bloomed, curling unabashedly into her sunkissed and freckled cheeks. [color=5d8c77]"[i]Evan?[/i]"[/color] His name fell from her lips in soft disbelief. Out of everyone who happened to wander into the fields, he was the last person she would have imagined running into, let alone offering her help. Clover took in his appearance better, noticing the subtle way he looked more put together than anyone in a summer camp had a right to. He always dressed nice, like he was expected to give a TED talk or tutor students who attend Harvard. She imagined his shirt cost more than her entire wardrobe of secondhand and thrifted clothes. But he didn’t wear it arrogantly or like he expected people to take notice. It was just… unapologetically Evander. 

[color=5d8c77]"You look nice today,"[/color] she beamed up at him. Compliments and kindness came easily to Clover like breathing, it wasn’t a choice or decision as much as it was just part of who she was at her core. She ran her hands along the pants of her overalls, attempting to remove as much dirt as possible before she reached out to take the strawberry from him. The tips of her fingers gently brushed along his palm, half wrapping around the berry when she noticed the bite taken out of it. Her cheeks flushed beneath her freckles, quickly withdrawing her hand with a quiet laugh. [color=5d8c77]"Stealing my prized strawberry?"[/color] she teased him gently before gathering up a handful of run away berries. [color=5d8c77]"I appreciate the offer, but I’d feel terrible if you got dirty because of my clumsiness,"[/color] she admitted with a soft honesty as she placed her handful of strawberries back into her basket.

The sound of his name in her mouth did something strange to him.

Evander had been called many things over the years, some respectful, some dismissive, some sharpened into weapons by envy or expectation, but [i]Evan[/i] fell from Clover’s lips like something warm enough to soften bone. It was simple, harmless even, and yet it landed somewhere embarrassingly tender beneath his ribs, brushing past the polished layers he wore as carefully as his clothes. Maybe it was the sunlight. Maybe it was the absurd buoyancy of the day itself, the way the world had finally chosen to tilt in his favor after years of him shoving against it with bleeding hands and gritted teeth. Or maybe it was just her, kneeling in the dirt with freckles across her cheeks, smiling at him like he was not difficult, not sharp-edged, not exhausting to understand, but simply [i]someone she was glad to see.[/i]

He grinned back before he could think better of it, the expression easy and bright in a way that felt almost foreign on his face. Not the usual dry, knowing tilt of his mouth. Not the carefully curated version of amusement he used like armor. This one was lighter, boyish in some dangerous, unguarded way, as if the news from the beach had stripped him down to a version of himself he rarely let anyone witness. He let himself sink lower into the dirt without a second thought, his expensive trousers meeting the earth in a way that would have horrified him on any other day, and reached for another runaway berry with the hand not occupied by the monstrous half eaten strawberry he’d scooped off the ground before he’d seen her. 

[color=8a6038]"I couldn’t help it, I’ve never seen a strawberry so big before…I don’t mind,"[/color] he said lightly, placing the other berries he’d gathered gently into the basket as though he had all the time in the world and nowhere more important to be. [color=8a6038]"If I can survive ancient monsters, I think I can survive a little dirt."[/color] Besides, it was the best day he’d ever had.


The thought pulsed through him, bright and golden and almost too big to keep contained. Athena’s Scholarship had gone live. Applications were already arriving. Somewhere out there, brilliant kids with futures too often overlooked were opening a door because he had forced one into existence. And tonight, tonight, surely, [i]surely[/i], his mother would see it. The proof of him. The evidence he had always known he carried in his chest but had never been able to offer in a form the gods respected. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones with the same certainty as the tide; he would be claimed properly, and he would leave the limbo he had occupied for far too long. He would move into the cabin that should have been his from the beginning, and the idea of that made his whole body hum with the kind of joy that left him almost reckless in his softness. 

[color=8a6038]"It’s a great day, don’t you think?"[/color] he asked, glancing up at her with that same impossible grin still lingering as he reached for another berry near her knee, careful not to brush her by accident even though some part of him noticed the nearness with inconvenient precision.

Clover’s brows creased, tugging upward in curious confusion at the brightness that seemed to radiate off of Evan. While she never considered him to be a particularly angry or grumpy person, he was never happy, not like this. Something about it caught her off guard, but in a pleasant sort of way, like when the tide crept up the beach just high enough to brush her feet with a surprising warmth. [color=5d8c77]"Is it?"[/color] she mused, studying the light behind his eyes and the soft dips in his cheeks from where his smile curved so wide that his face had to concede to make room for it. [color=5d8c77]"I suppose everyday is great in its own way,"[/color] she replied with a soft smile as she gathered more berries into her palm. She couldn’t recall her day being anything beyond ordinary: strawberry picking and clumsiness. But she wasn’t going to be the raincloud that dampened his sunshine either.

He set another strawberry into the basket, then rolled the absurdly large one in his hand like he was considering whether or not to offer her a bite before deciding he quite liked having an excuse to keep holding it. His shoulders were looser than usual, the line of his posture no less elegant but somehow less rigid, less braced for impact. The sea still lingered in him, the salt in the air, the rush of wind along the shore, the way the horizon had looked endless when his phone rang and his life changed by degrees he was still trying to comprehend. 

[color=8a6038]"Have you ever taken a walk outside of camp, along the beach?"[/color] he asked, his tone drifting almost dreamy with the memory of it. His air was still tousled from the sea-breeze, he was certain he smelled faintly of the ocean. [color=8a6038]"It’s my new favorite spot. Quiet enough to think, loud enough that the ocean drowns out the parts of your brain that should probably shut up for once, and there’s cell signal."[/color]

She lifted her head after placing more berries back into her basket. Her green eyes studied him with a delighted sort of curiosity, trying to find the cause of his happiness without drawing attention to it. Clover could ask, but she didn’t want to dampen it, content to sit in its radiance while it lasted. [color=5d8c77]"I haven’t,"[/color] she responded while wiping the dirt from her palms against the denim of her overalls. [color=5d8c77]"I always loved going to the beach back home but…"[/color] Her voice trailed off, brows furrowing softly as she brushed some windblown hair back behind her ear. [color=5d8c77]"I don’t know,"[/color] she sighed softly as her smile wavered, [color=5d8c77]"I try not to wander outside of camp alone. I’m not much of a fighter and I’m scared of what sort of monsters could be lying in wait just beyond the borders."[/color]

Something in Evander’s expression gentled at that, the bright, buoyant edge of his happiness softening into something quieter and warmer as he glanced up at her through the golden slant of afternoon light. Fear looked out of place on Clover, not because it made her lesser, but because there was something so inherently sunlit about her that the idea of her having to live in cautious half-steps felt unfair in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. He reached for another strawberry near the hem of her overalls, dropping it carefully into the basket as though the motion gave him something to do with the strange little pull in his chest. 

[color=8a6038]"I could take you sometime, if you want,"[/color] he offered, making a show of sounding casual about it, just a light shrug of one shoulder, like the words were no heavier than the berries in his hand, even though he found himself oddly aware of how they landed between them. [color=8a6038]"It’s not too bad, usually. Not too many of them seem to like getting close to the ocean, and I don’t wander too far."[/color] He shrugged again, easier this time, his smile never quite fading as old memories flickered through him—salt air, laughter, and younger versions of himself and the Hermes boys slipping past the camp borders like they were stealing something sacred just for the thrill of it, all scraped knees and reckless grins and the kind of boyhood daring that made danger feel smaller than it was.

Clover stilled as her fingers curled around a berry beside her knee. Her gaze slowly lifted between red lashes and the brim of her hat to look over at him with a soft sort of confusion that creased her brows. The offer was simple, friendly, given as easily as he had when he dropped to his knees in the dirt with her. There was no subtext or ulterior motive… [i]yet[/i] something about it and the silent weight that hovered between them when neither of them spoke felt… [i]different.[/i] Had they ever really spent time together… alone? Aside from gathering the scattered remains of a small strawberry explosion, she didn’t think so. There was something about the thought of them walking barefoot along the beach, side by side with their toes in the sand that made a strange sort of fluttering take root in her chest. 

[color=5d8c77]"That sounds nice,"[/color] she responded before logic or thought had a chance to settle. Clover would be lying if she said she didn’t yearn to visit the ocean. It might be on the opposite side of the country, but something about the steady rush of the tide and salt in the air made her feel closer to her dad. She finally picked up the berry held between her fingers and dropped it into her basket. [color=5d8c77]"I’ve never been to an East Coast beach,"[/color] she admitted with a sheepish sort of smile that only curled upward on one side. [color=5d8c77]"I like collecting sea glass and sea shells, like [i]buckets[/i] full… to make jewelry."[/color] A quiet laugh hummed to life behind her smile as she gathered more strawberries by dragging both of her hands along the ground, scooping up several into her palms, then discarding them into the basket. [color=5d8c77]"So I’d be insufferable,"[/color] she concluded while raising dirt covered fingers to sweep a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

Something in Evander’s expression softened again, the sharp cleverness that so often lived in his face giving way to a quieter sort of fondness as he listened to her talk. There was something almost disarming about the way Clover admitted things, unguarded and earnest, as if she had never learned to make her wants smaller just to keep from burdening anyone with them. He could picture it too easily, her barefoot in the surf, skirts or overalls damp at the hem, crouching every few feet to scoop up bits of worn glass and shells with the same reverence she gave strawberries in the field. 

The image settled somewhere annoyingly warm in his chest, and instead of resisting it, he let himself smile. [color=8a6038]"Sea glass is pretty,"[/color] he said simply, like it was obvious, like [i]she[/i] was obvious. His fingers absently dropped another berry into the basket as he glanced at her dirt-smudged hands and the loose strand of hair she’d tucked back with them. [color=8a6038]"I don’t think I’d mind if you were insufferable about it,"[/color] he added, the teasing in his voice so light it barely counted, gentled by a warmth he didn’t bother to hide.

Her brows rose like a silent admission of surprise as she looked across the small strawberry scattered space between them to meet his gaze. Clover had accepted that her excitement over small things like collecting sea glass and sea shells or wishing on shooting stars might have frustrated others, but hearing that he wouldn’t mind it was something else entirely. She couldn’t fight the unbidden smile that bloomed across her face at the thought of someone just letting her be insufferable without impatience or annoyance. [color=5d8c77]"I’d only make you carry my bucket if it got [i]really[/i] heavy,"[/color] she amended as her nose scrunched at the playful comment. [color=5d8c77]"And I could make you something if you find a piece of glass or something you like,"[/color] she added, turning a berry over between her fingers before setting it in the basket. [color=5d8c77]"I don’t think anything I make would really match your wardrobe, but…"[/color] Her voice trailed off, punctuated with a small shrug of her shoulders.

A small laugh slipped from Evander then, soft and unexpectedly genuine, the sound almost foreign coming from him in such an unguarded way. He reached for two more runaway strawberries and placed them carefully into Clover’s basket, each one set down with a precision that made the simple task seem almost ceremonious. The field smelled of crushed green leaves and warm sweetness, the late sun spilling honey over the rows and catching in the loosened strands of her red hair beneath the brim of her hat. He glanced at her as she spoke, at the scrunch of her nose, the easy brightness in her smile, the dirt smudged against her overalls, and something in his chest gave that same strange, warm pull it had been suffering from all afternoon. For once, he didn’t feel the urge to hide behind wit sharp enough to cut the moment apart before it could settle.

[color=8a6038]"I wouldn’t mind carrying the bucket,"[/color] he said lightly, the words threaded with teasing but lacking any real complaint, as if the idea of following her down the shoreline while she filled it piece by precious piece sounded far more tolerable than it should have. His mouth curved a little wider at one corner, a smile touched with a fondness he likely would have denied if called on it. 

[color=8a6038]"Especially if it’s the price of not having to listen to you mourn every shell or shard you had to leave behind."[/color] There was a quiet warmth to the remark, a gentleness that made it clear he wasn’t mocking her for the admission, but meeting it exactly where she offered it, earnestness for earnestness, even if his still came dressed in dry humor. The thought of Clover with a bucket bumping against her leg, sunburnt shoulders and sea wind in her hair, stooping every few feet to rescue some tiny forgotten treasure from the sand, lodged itself in his mind with alarming ease.

His gaze dropped briefly to the berry in her fingers, then rose again to her face as she offered to make him something, and the lightness in his expression softened into something quieter. The idea should have struck him as impractical—he was too particular, too polished, too inclined toward clean lines and expensive neutrals for handmade jewelry scavenged from the tide. And yet, sitting there in the dirt with strawberries at their knees and Clover smiling at him like that, it felt absurd to pretend he cared more about aesthetics than the thought of her making something with him in mind. [color=8a6038]"I think I’d like something made from sea glass,"[/color] he admitted, voice lower now, honest in a way that seemed to surprise even him. His eyes lingered on her for a second too long, bright behind the lenses she had just straightened for him, before his attention dipped back to the basket between them. [color=8a6038]"You know,"[/color] he added, that small smile returning, [color=8a6038]"I’m starting to think these fields might be just as good as the beach."[/color]

Clover’s head perked up, smile brightening, as she looked around hopeful that she might find the cause of his happiness. Her eyes scanned the fields finding them devoid of anything spectacular or anyone. It looked no different than it had any other day, empty not long before evening as campers hurried back to their cabins to clean up or rest before dinner. Her shoulders sagged, just a fraction, deflated at the thought of his meaning slipping through her fingers. It was only when her attention settled back on Evan that she noticed the way his gaze still remained on her, like an answer she had been too stupid to understand because it couldn’t have been… [i]her?[/i] It was never her.

Still… Her cheeks flushed as her entire face warmed like it was kissed by summer, from her wild wind-tousled hair, to her rich freckles and rosy lips, all bright and red in the amber glow of the setting sun. Clover froze for a moment, her hand hovering over a large berry, as she tried to decipher his unspoken meaning. [color=5d8c77]"The fields are quite pretty in the evening,"[/color] she responded, dazed, stupid, and unbelievably naive. Before anything equally ridiculous could leave her mouth, a large gust of wind swept across the valley, rustling the strawberry bushes, and knocking her straw hat off her head. [color=5d8c77]"[i]Oh no,[/i]"[/color] she gasped, reaching up to try and catch it. Her hands waved frantically, fingers brushed along the brim, but she only fumbled, then tumbled over as the breeze sent the hat bouncing and fluttering away along the dirt.

Evander had to bite back a grin when her answer came, sweetly earnest and so gloriously oblivious that it almost made him laugh outright. Of [i]course[/i] Clover would hear what hovered beneath his words and still reach for the safest, most literal interpretation, as if the universe itself had handed her an easy answer and she’d politely chosen the scenic route instead. But he didn’t mind, couldn’t, not today, not when joy sat so full and bright in his chest it made everything feel touched by gold. This was the best day of his life, he was almost sure of it, and the lightness of it made even her adorable misunderstanding feel like something he would tuck away and remember later with embarrassing fondness. So when the wind tore through the field and stole her hat from her head, and she lunged for it only to topple backward into the dirt in a flurry of startled limbs and freckled panic, he moved before he even thought about it.

His arm shot out, longer reach catching the brim just before the hat could tumble any farther down the row, fingers curling around it with a victorious little snap of motion. The momentum pulled him forward with it, and suddenly he was bracing himself over her, one hand planted in the dirt beside where she’d fallen, the other holding her runaway hat aloft like some ridiculous knight returning a stolen treasure. He grinned down at her, unguarded and bright, the last of the evening sun caught in his brown hair until it glimmered almost golden, and for one stupid, inconvenient heartbeat all he could think was that she was unfairly pretty like this too, flushed and rumpled and sprawled in the dirt like the field itself had tried to keep her. 

He shoved the thought away as quickly as it came, dusted off the hand he’d braced with, and leaned back enough to offer it to her, her hat still safe in his other grasp. [color=8a6038]"You okay?"[/color] he asked lightly, warmth threaded through the words like it was the easiest thing in the world, like catching her before the wind could steal something from her had somehow become the most natural part of his day.

A small, startled gasp escaped Clover’s parted lips as Evan moved faster than she thought capable, becoming a monolith above her, blocking the setting sun as he snatched her run away hat… or so she assumed. Her eyes, wide and stunned, never once looked behind her to see if he was successful, but were locked on his face. His tousled brunette hair was haloed in golden light, smile never once faltering, as he looked down at her over the top of his glasses that had slid halfway down his nose. Her cheeks burned bright, redder than her hair or the sunburn that teased along her pale skin or the strawberries splayed around them like a clumsy frame of disorder. Time seemed to slow as they were frozen in that startling, compromising predicament, hidden in the rows of bushes. 

Clover’s hand lifted on its own, absent thought or reason as the tip of her index finger lightly pressed against the bridge of his glasses, slowly pushing them back up onto his face. She tried, with a severe sort of focus, not to touch him, but as she pulled away there was the faintest brush of her skin along the bridge of his nose. She swallowed and only then did she manage to look away, having no clue what came over her or why she did that. [color=5d8c77]"You have fast reflexes,"[/color] she commented with a frayed, nervous laugh as she tried to fill the silence and cut through the tension. 

Her attention flicked back to him, finding her breaths had steadied at the small bit of space he made between them. She hesitated for a second or two as her green eyes slowly trailed down to his extended hand. It was a simple [i]kind[/i] gesture, but something about… well [i]everything[/i] felt like it was charged with meanings she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around. But, it’d be rude not to accept his help and—before she could rationalize one way or another, the same hand that adjusted his glasses slipped into Evan’s palm. Her fingers slowly slid across his soft skin until they curved around the back of his hand and tightened their grip for support. With his help and a bashful smile, Clover managed to lift herself back onto her knees. 

[color=5d8c77]"Yeah, I’m fine,"[/color] she reassured him with a gentle squeeze against his hand before letting her fingers slip from his grasp and returned to gathering berries as if the sudden and heart racing detour didn’t just happen. [color=5d8c77]"I’m clumsy,"[/color] Clover clarified as if that rectified the incident or downplayed each and every time she fell down. [color=5d8c77]"Thank you."[/color] Her gratitude came out little more than a whisper, soft as the breeze that stole her hat as she slowly reached out to take it from him. Her smile widened, warm and faintly uncertain as she took the straw hat and placed it securely back on top of her wild ginger hair. 

For one impossible, suspended heartbeat, Evander forgot how to breathe.

He had meant only to catch the hat. That was all. A simple reflex, a quick reach, a harmless act of assistance made easier by longer limbs and a good day. But then Clover looked up at him from the dirt with those wide green eyes, sunlit and startled, and the world narrowed in a way that was frankly inconvenient. When her hand lifted, slowly, carefully, like she was handling something fragile, and the tip of her finger pressed to the bridge of his glasses, sliding them back into place with that severe little concentration of hers, heat rose up the back of his neck so abruptly it nearly made him resent his own bloodstream. 

The faintest brush of her skin against the bridge of his nose was nothing, less than nothing, barely contact at all, and yet it struck him with the absurd force of something intimate. He became suddenly, acutely aware of everything, the warmth of the evening, the smell of crushed strawberries and green leaves, the way freckles scattered themselves across her face like sun-kissed constellations, and the humiliating fact that she was somehow even prettier flustered.

He swallowed, harder than necessary, and when she took his hand to let him help her up, the soft slide of her fingers into his palm sent another ridiculous flicker of awareness through him. Her hand was warm. Smaller than his. Dirt smudged and sweet in a way that made his brain unhelpfully offer him the image of her barefoot on the beach again, sea glass glittering in her pockets. By the time she was upright and slipping away from his grasp, he had just enough sense left to school his expression into something passably composed—though there was still the faintest flush at the tips of his ears if one knew where to look. 

He exhaled softly through his nose as if he could breathe the moment away, then looked at her with a gentleness that surprised even him. [color=8a6038]"You’re welcome,"[/color] he said, quieter now, the words settling between them like something warm and sincere.

He dusted a bit more dirt from his hand, though his attention never strayed far from her as she settled her hat back onto her hair and returned to gathering berries with that same earnest little focus. The sight of her trying to downplay the whole thing with [i]I’m clumsy[/i], as if that somehow erased the way his heart had briefly forgotten its rhythm, made the corner of his mouth tilt upward. There was no edge to the smile, no dry wit sharpened into a shield. Just fondness, light and unguarded and still buoyed by the kind of happiness that had made him softer than usual. [color=8a6038]"It wasn’t a hassle,"[/color] he reassured her, reaching for another runaway berry and dropping it carefully into the basket beside her knee. [color=8a6038]"I’m just glad you’re okay."[/color]

His gaze flicked to the brim of the hat, now secured once more atop her wild red hair, and his smile widened just a fraction as he tipped his head. [color=8a6038]"Really, this was the wind’s fault,"[/color] he added, voice threaded with gentle amusement, like he was willing to blame the entire Atlantic coastline personally if it meant easing the uncertainty in her expression. [color=8a6038]"Clearly it got ambitious and tried to steal your hat."[/color] He glanced up toward the strawberry rows swaying softly in the evening breeze, then back to her, still annoyingly aware of how lovely she looked with pink in her cheeks and dirt on her knees. 

Clover’s laugh was warm and unguarded, without a care for being too loud or too effervescent as it carried across the fields by the wind that nearly stole her hat not a moment earlier. Her smile widened, toothy and bright, at his small jest like he had just told the best joke she had heard all day. She continued to grab the last remaining stragglers as a soft chuckle still clung to her words. [color=5d8c77]"If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I have bad luck,"[/color] she confessed between weightless giggles. [color=5d8c77]"You know, if it wasn’t for the weird way bad things always work out in my favor."[/color] She spared him a quick sidelong glance from beneath her long lashes. [color=5d8c77]"Like dropping all my strawberries or nearly losing my hat,"[/color] she continued as she slowly dropped the last runaway berries back into the basket. [color=5d8c77]"I’m sure there’s some good that’ll come from it… I just don’t know what yet…"[/color]

Her words trailed off as a realization slowly settled in her chest like the tide, warm and steady, but with a current that rose and fell, leaving strange fluttering in its wake. She could see the pieces forming slowly, often too slow and a beat behind everyone else, as she often did. The spilled berries and wind swept hat all came back to Evan, to the dirt that caked his expensive pants and that impossible smile that she never recalled seeing before. Sure, it [i]could[/i] have been because of her, but Clover had been around him countless times… and he never smiled at her like that. Was he obvious and she oblivious? Or was she missing something? Perhaps she was in denial or that felt more logical than any other conclusion she could possibly reach.

Clover slowly set her basket aside, but rather than standing up, she shifted off of her knees, sitting on the ground without a care as she crossed her legs beneath her. She wiped the dirt from her palms along the denim of her overalls while she tried to organize her thoughts and words. [color=5d8c77]"Can I ask you something without upsetting you?"[/color] she asked quietly, finally forcing her gaze to meet his, even as a blush burned warm across her cheeks. [color=5d8c77]"What’s made you so happy?"[/color] Her hands rose quickly, dirt stained fingers splayed innocently in mock surrender. [color=5d8c77]"Don’t get me wrong, I… [i]like[/i] this side of you."[/color] The admission fell clumsily from her mouth as her hands slowly lowered to rest in her lap. [color=5d8c77]"I’m just… not used to it."[/color]

Another gust of wind swept through the valley, rustling the bushes around them and the trees that circled the field. The brim of her hat wavered, but before it could attempt flying away a second time, Clover reached up and pulled it off. Shoulder length crimson hair blew wild and free in the soft breeze as she tucked her straw hat securely beneath the edge of her basket. When she looked back up, her face was no longer hidden beneath a shadow, but illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun warm against her rosy, speckled skin. Her smile still persisted even beneath her uncertain curiosity. Her fingers slipped back through her hair, attempting to tame it and keep it out of her face as she looked back over at him. [color=5d8c77]"Happiness looks good on you,"[/color] she added with an honest and sincere warmth behind her eyes.

For once, Evander did not reach for a deflection. The question landed softly, but it struck somewhere far deeper than most things ever did, and for a brief moment he simply looked at her. Really looked. Clover sat there in the dirt as if it were a throne built just for her, legs folded beneath her, hat tucked aside, red hair set loose by the wind until it framed her face in wild copper fire. Without the brim shadowing her, the last light of evening touched every freckle, every rosy inch of her skin, and when she told him happiness looked good on him, something in his chest gave a slow, startled pull that made him forget every practiced, polished answer he might have offered anyone else. His instinct was to be private. To make a joke. To say something clever and safe. But today had already made him softer than he knew how to hide, and Clover, earnest, sun warm Clover, had asked him so gently that it felt almost cruel to deny her the truth.

He hesitated only a second, gaze dropping to the strawberries between them as if the answer might be hidden there among the red and the dirt. His fingers turned the absurdly oversized berry in his hand, now half-eaten and sticky with juice, before he exhaled through his nose and let the weight of it go. [color=8a6038]"I got a call while I was out walking the beach,"[/color] he said at last, quieter than before, the teasing warmth gone from his voice and replaced by something steadier. [color=8a6038]"The scholarship program I’ve been building… it was approved. It went live this morning. Applications are already coming in."[/color] Even now, saying it aloud made the words feel unreal, like they belonged to someone else, someone luckier, someone less stubbornly accustomed to fighting for every inch of ground. But the joy was there all the same, bright and impossible to contain, threading through the edges of every syllable despite his attempt at composure.

He shifted then, lowering himself more fully into the dirt across from her rather than hovering half-crouched, as if the confession deserved the dignity of being spoken properly. His trousers were already ruined, after all. The thought almost made him smile again. [color=8a6038]"Athena’s Scholarship,"[/color] he continued, the name leaving his mouth with the careful reverence of something he had carved from himself by hand. [color=8a6038]"I’ve been working on it for years. Planning it, rewriting it, finding donors who wouldn’t pull out the second they realized I wasn’t making them a profit. I poured more of my own money into it than was probably wise."[/color] His mouth curved faintly at that, though there was no regret in it, only the weary amusement of someone who had long ago accepted that worthwhile things were rarely cheap. [color=8a6038]"I built the whole thing to honor my mother."[/color]

The admission sat heavier between them than the rest.

His eyes flicked briefly toward the horizon, toward the line where the strawberry rows gave way to the broader valley and all the cabins beyond, where the camp still hummed with the quiet rhythms of evening. For years he had carried that ache like a live coal beneath his ribs, Athena’s son in every way that mattered, and yet unclaimed, sleeping in Hermes with all the others who had nowhere else to go, telling himself it didn’t matter while every part of him knew it did. 

[color=8a6038]"Or… that’s what I told everyone. What I told myself, too."[/color] His fingers tightened slightly around the berry, enough that juice threatened at the edges, and he let out a slow breath. [color=8a6038]"Part of me wanted her to see it and finally think I was worth claiming. Worth acknowledging. Like if I built something impressive enough, useful enough, undeniable enough… she’d have to."[/color] There was no bitterness in his tone, not exactly. Just an old exhaustion, long familiar and too deeply rooted to be ashamed of anymore.

But when he looked back at Clover, the harder edge of that confession softened, worn smooth by the simple fact of her listening. He did not often say these things aloud. He certainly did not say them to people who looked at him like he was not ridiculous for feeling them.

[color=8a6038]"The truth is…"[/color] He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had changed—lower, gentler, more honest than perhaps he had ever intended to be. [color=8a6038]"It stopped being about that a long time ago."[/color] His gaze drifted to the basket, to the strawberries she had so carefully saved, to the dirt beneath their knees, to all the ordinary little things that somehow made the moment feel sacred. [color=8a6038]"I know what it’s like to be brilliant and still have to fight twice as hard just to be taken seriously. To have doors closed before you even reach them because you don’t have the right connections, or money, or name."[/color] His throat tightened slightly, but he pushed through it. [color=8a6038]"There are kids out there who are smarter than half the people sitting in Ivy League lecture halls, and they’ll never get the chance to prove it unless someone gives them one. I wanted to be that someone."[/color]

A small silence followed, filled only by the rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of camp preparing for dinner. The wind caught in Clover’s loose hair again, sending another copper strand dancing across her cheek, and Evander found himself absurdly grateful that she had asked. That she had noticed. That she had cared enough to want to know.

His smile returned then, smaller than before but deeper somehow, no less bright for being gentler.

[color=8a6038]"So yes,"[/color] he said, a little self-conscious now that the whole truth had been laid bare between them, [color=8a6038]"I’m happy. I think… for the first time in a while, I actually feel like I did something right."[/color] Then his gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary, taking in the gold of the sunset on her freckles, the softness in her expression, the way she sat in the dirt like she belonged to the earth itself, and the warmth in his chest shifted into something quieter and far more dangerous. 

Clover remained silent, her gaze intent on his as he spoke, taking in every word with an attentive patience and understanding. Her expression was radiant and beaming with a smile so wide her face could barely contain it. Accomplishments were always something to celebrate and be proud of. Evan had every right to be ecstatic about what he achieved. She couldn’t even imagine accomplishing something like that in her wildest dreams. He had the right to brag, even just a little… just to her. She wouldn’t dull his shine or tell him to be more humble. She’d let him burn bright and unapologetically because victories deserved to be cherished. 

[color=5d8c77]"That’s amazing, Evan! Congratulations!"[/color] Clover practically sang as she leaned forward to rest her hand gently on top of his. Her fingers slowly curled around the side of his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She lingered there for a second or two longer than necessary before slowly pulling away and settling back against the dirt across from him. 

For some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, Clover was a little surprised to hear about the lengths he went through—money, time, and sheer willpower—to create something that… didn’t benefit him at all. She had known he came from money. It was obvious between his clothes and just the way he carried himself. She never thought he was spoiled or selfish per se, but she didn’t realize how much he truly wanted to help other people. It reminded her of her father. While her dad might have lived more modestly than Evan, he put so much of his time and effort into helping those less fortunate than him, because life was a gift and everyone had the right to live it without struggling for shelter or food. 

Clover shared the same pull to help others like her father, and seeing a similar drive in Evander made something warm stir to life just beneath her ribs. Her smile softened, head tilting to the side slightly while her fingers toyed with a tear in her denim along the knee. [color=5d8c77]"I didn’t realize you were so… charitable,"[/color] she commented quietly, her words tinged with a gentle and unfamiliar fondness.

She lingered in that comfortable silence for a long moment until her thoughts slowly wandered their way back to his other admissions about his mom and originally pursuing his scholarship for her. Something about that struck Clover like a cold breeze on a hot day: sharp, startling, and didn’t quite belong. Before she could keep them at bay, her thoughts fell free, words tumbling out one after the other. [color=5d8c77]"I’m glad you stopped doing it for your mom. Because it’s not… Or, at least, it shouldn’t be."[/color] She inhaled softly, raising her calloused fingers to sweep wild locks out of her face. [color=5d8c77]"It’s for the people you’re trying to help. It’s for you. Don’t cheapen your success by giving it to her—"[/color] She slowly shook her head while holding his gaze. [color=5d8c77]"—It’s yours. You earned it."[/color]

While she wasn’t the type of girl who often blasphemed. The Gods deserved respect for no other reason than they were powerful and could destroy them without lifting a finger. But she had also spent countless years at camp watching bright, starry eyed faces wander through the border with hopes of finding themselves and a parent they never knew, only for the Gods to show their children little more attention than they did before coming here. Some waited years before they were claimed. And some, like Evander, waited longer and still heard nothing. Clover was lucky. She knew who her mother was before setting foot in camp and was claimed the second she did. But she couldn’t ignore the plights of her fellow demigods just because the struggles didn’t apply to her. 

[color=5d8c77]"It’s not easy being a demigod,"[/color] Clover commented with a soft understanding of someone who shouldered countless burdens and watched countless others struggle beneath the weight of their own struggles. [color=5d8c77]"So many people here are desperate to be noticed by their parents. It isn’t fair. We’ve been raised to believe that love is conditional. We didn’t choose to be born, especially not to a God. We shouldn’t have to prove ourselves worthy of our parents’ love… It should be freely given."[/color] Her words, while tender and offered like the comforting warmth of the setting sun, hit with a powerful conviction that couldn’t be ignored. Her thoughts weren’t clumsy or tripping over one another, but clear and concise as if they had festered in her mind for far longer than she let on. 

Clover looked across the space between them, holding his gaze unwaveringly, earnest and unyielding as her next words carried a heaviness that contrasted the weightless lilt of her airy voice. [color=5d8c77]"If your mother needs some grand accomplishment to notice you or deem that you are worthy of her attention…"[/color] She leaned forward, closing some of the distance between them as her voice dropped to little more than a whisper like she was sharing a secret only for his ears. [color=5d8c77]"Then she isn’t worth your time. That is her loss… Not yours."[/color] Her shoulders rose and fell in a gentle shrug, openly unapologetic in the way she so casually talked down upon the Gods. Clover might have lacked courage in many aspects, but she never once stood down from her convictions or what she thought was right, regardless of whomever it upset in the process. 

[color=5d8c77]"The people who matter are the ones who were there for you before you made a name for yourself. Your friends and your family… They’ll be so proud of you when they hear about what you’ve done,"[/color] she added, the warmth seeping into her words as her smile slowly returned, bright and honest like it had never left. [color=5d8c77]"And…"[/color] she went to continue, but her voice trailed off before she finished, brows creasing in thought. Clover didn’t know if she was someone Evander would consider a friend. To the best of her knowledge this might have been the longest conversation they had ever had outside of training or whatever other camp functions put them in close proximity to each other. But still, she felt the need to say it, not for her… but for him. [color=5d8c77]"Well, I mean… [i]I’m[/i] proud of you, for what that’s worth."[/color] It might have been weird coming from her, but someone needed to tell him, someone who wouldn’t dim his light.

Evander listened like a man caught in the pull of a tide he had not realized he’d stepped too far into until it was already around his knees.

Every word Clover spoke landed with a quiet, devastating precision, not because she sharpened them into something cruel, but because she offered them with such unguarded sincerity that there was nowhere for him to hide from them. He had expected congratulations, perhaps a little teasing, perhaps that warm, sunny sort of encouragement that seemed to spill from her as naturally as breath. He had [i]not[/i] expected her hand settling over his—light, gentle, and lingering just long enough to make his pulse jump so hard it startled him. The squeeze of her fingers sent a ridiculous rush through his body, warm and bright and deeply inconvenient, his stomach tightening with a swarm of nervous butterflies so boyish it nearly offended him. By the time she finished, with her voice soft but unwavering as she told him his success was [i]his[/i], that it belonged to him and not some absent goddess who had not yet bothered to claim him, Evander found himself sitting there in the dirt feeling a little breathless, like she had somehow reached into his chest and loosened a knot he had forgotten how to untangle.

He stared at her for a second too long.

Clover sat there in the strawberry field like she belonged to the earth itself, red hair wild from the wind, cheeks warm and freckled and lit gold by the sinking sun, and she looked at him as though none of what she had said was particularly extraordinary. As if it were simply the truth, and the truth should be spoken plainly. Something in him gave way all at once, a sudden yielding so instinctive and so utterly free of calculation that it happened before his sharper mind could intervene. 

One moment he was looking at her, heart hammering hard enough to make him feel off balance in his own skin, and the next he was moving. His arms curled around her shoulders and drew her in, one hand settling at her waist as if his body had made the choice on its own, as if it had known before he did that he needed [i]closer[/i]. The hug was warm and immediate and wholly unlike him, and for one suspended heartbeat all he could register was the soft give of her against him, the clean sweetness of strawberries clinging to her skin and clothes, the sun baked scent of summer and dirt and clover green things, and the humiliating fact that holding her felt so startlingly right it nearly stole the rest of his breath.

Then, just as quickly, awareness crashed back into him. Evander pulled away as though he’d remembered gravity all at once, every inch of him going hot with embarrassment so abrupt it left his face burning. Heat climbed from the collar of his shirt all the way to the tips of his ears, and his hands, gods, his [i]hands[/i], were suddenly very aware of where they had just been. He blinked at her, looking for all the world like someone who had just watched himself make a catastrophic social decision from outside his own body and could do nothing to stop it. 

His mouth opened, shut, then opened again, words catching awkwardly in his throat in a way that would have been funny if he weren’t currently dying inside. [color=8a6038]"I—sorry. Gods, I’m sorry, I just…"[/color] He dragged a hand through his hair, glasses slipping slightly down his nose again as his composure disintegrated in real time. [color=8a6038]"That was probably—too much. I didn’t mean to—well, I [i]did[/i], obviously, but—"[/color]

He stopped, visibly horrified by himself, and then let out a quiet breath that sounded halfway between a laugh and surrender. For all his polish, for all his intelligence, for all the carefully curated edges he usually wore like armor, Clover had somehow reduced him to a flustered idiot in a strawberry field. And maybe that should have annoyed him more than it did. But beneath the embarrassment, beneath the stammering and the flush and the desperate attempt to recover his dignity, there was still that same warmth blooming low in his chest, deeper now, steadier, frighteningly real. 

Clover’s eyes widened as he drew closer, unsure of what exactly it was that he was doing, but not moving either. Then his arms curled around her, pulling a quiet, stunned gasp from her parted lips. She could have gone rigid or pulled away, but her body reacted on instinct like a young woman who used hugs, comfort, and closeness as currency freely given, not earned. Her arms slipped around his torso, rough hands running along the fabric of his shirt that was far softer than her skin before settling against the plane of his back. Evan had always carried himself so poised and chiseled like cold marble, that feeling his warmth beneath her fingers was… unexpected, like finding out that beneath his projected perfection he was [i]human[/i], just like her. 

There was a second, maybe two where she was able to sink into the embrace. Her head slowly dipped and her chin lowered dangerously close to resting on his shoulder, and then it was all torn away like a breeze whipping in through an open door in the middle of winter, cold and startling where warmth had settled. Clover’s hands sort of just… [i]hovered[/i] in the air as he withdrew, fingers curling slowly into her palms as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them. She swallowed and blinked, watching the color flood his face and tinge his pale skin pink as she felt a similar tingling rush pour over her, blooming just as bright and unavoidable along her own cheeks. 

[color=5d8c77]"It’s ok,"[/color] she finally responded, quieter and a bit more apprehensive than she had before, like she was talking to a frightened rabbit and trying desperately not to scare it away. Clover’s bottom lip curled between her teeth as her hands slowly lowered until they rested in her lap, a little awkward, and still a bit unsure what to exactly [i]do[/i] with them. [color=5d8c77]"You don’t have to apologize… [i]or ask,[/i]"[/color] she gently reassured him, dipping her head slightly so that she could meet his gaze while her smile slowly returned, faintly tight-lipped, and curling more on one side, but still her. [color=5d8c77]"I like hugs,"[/color] she confessed with a tiny, innocent shrug.

He looked at her again, softer this time, eyes bright behind the lenses she had pushed back into place for him earlier, and whatever else he might have said dissolved into something simpler. [color=8a6038]"Thank you,"[/color] he said at last, the words low and earnest and stripped of all performance. [color=8a6038]"For what you said. No one’s ever… no one’s ever said it like that before."[/color]

He swallowed, then gave a small, helpless sort of smile, uneven and a little shy in a way that felt entirely foreign on his face.

[color=8a6038]"And for what it’s worth,"[/color] he added, quieter still, gaze dipping briefly before returning to hers, [color=8a6038]"I think hearing you say you’re proud of me might be the best part of today."[/color]

Clover’s lips parted, preparing to respond to his first comment with something gentle and playful in a way that could have maybe eased some of the anxiety she could see creeping along his shoulders, or how he stumbled for words when he was normally well spoken and intentional. But he filled the silence before she could, and his confession stole whatever words were sitting on the tip of her tongue. Her mouth slowly snapped shut, green eyes widening with slow recognition before quickly falling to the dirt that stretched between them. The flush that dusted her cheeks deepened violently to a red that was so warm it was impossible to miss. The tips of her thumbs lightly tapped together before her hands raised to brush wild hair back behind her ears, only for the wind to decide they belonged in front of her face instead. 

She drew in a soft breath that was a little unsteady, mirroring the erratic flutter of her heart as if she had just ran or laughed a little too hard. Her hands ran along the dirt-stained denim of her overalls, unable to sit still like she had a moment earlier. Clover didn’t know what to say. There were multiple times her lips parted as a thought bloomed, then her jaw snapped shut, and words vanished just a quickly. [color=5d8c77]"I…"[/color] she started, voice croaking slightly before pushing past it. [color=5d8c77]"I’m sure you’ll forget all about it once your friends and family start showering you with praise."[/color] The words, for something so soft, landed a little heavier than her normal brightness, like she wasn’t able to let herself be the best part of someone’s day… Or perhaps, never had been before and struggled to accept it. But even in her uncertainty, there was a faint phantom of a smile that lingered persistently in the gentle arc that curved at the corner of her mouth.

Evander looked, for perhaps the first time in his life, almost boyishly bashful. The heat still lingered high in his cheeks, softened now into something quieter as he watched her fidget with the edge of herself, watching the way she tried to tuck her own worth somewhere smaller and easier to overlook. It did something inconvenient to his chest, made that strange warmth there deepen into something more tender than he was used to carrying. He let a beat pass before answering, fingers absently brushing dirt from his palms as his gaze dropped briefly to the strawberries between them, then returned to her face with a softness he didn’t bother to hide. [color=8a6038]"I didn’t really tell anyone I was working on it,"[/color] he admitted at last, one shoulder lifting in a small, almost sheepish shrug. [color=8a6038]"There’s some things that are fun to brag about, I suppose, but this was… personal."[/color] The word sat heavier than the rest, honest in a way that made him feel oddly exposed, but not enough to regret it.

He shook his head once, like he could dismiss the whole notion of forgetting her as impossible on principle, then pushed himself to his feet in one smooth motion despite the dirt clinging stubbornly to his expensive clothes. The sun caught in his hair again, turning the brown faintly golden, and when he looked down at her there was that same unguarded brightness in his expression, gentle, and so wholly sincere it almost made the moment ache. He extended his hand toward her, palm open, invitation simple and steady. [color=8a6038]"Besides,"[/color] he said, his smile curving softer, deeper, [color=8a6038]"How could anyone forget you?"[/color] And the way he said it made it clear he did not mean it lightly, nor as flirtation alone, but as if the very idea of Clover being forgettable was so absurd it barely deserved consideration at all.

The fact that Clover had been the only person he told rested somewhere deep inside her, like an anchor that had sunk into her soul and hooked beneath something unmoveable. She was rarely the type of person left speechless. Actually, she was quite the opposite, often told she talked too much or didn’t know how to enjoy the peace of silence… But that small truth that Evan shared stole her words before they ever formed. She simply sat there, brows creased and raised as her wide green eyes looked across the small expanse of dirt, studying him with a curious sort of bewilderment. A part of her wanted to ask why, but he had already answered that. It was personal. But more importantly, she wanted to ask why her? Why share something that was too personal to share with his friends and family with [i]her[/i] of all people? Her curiosity often won out, but in this singular moment she didn’t ask… Like something deep inside of her knew the answer, even if her mind struggled to catch up. 

She watched him stand, half expecting him to continue about whatever it was he was doing before her clumsiness became his problem. But then Evan’s hand lowered toward her in a quiet offering, punctuated with a question that fluttered around her chest with all the other words he set free and gave flight within her ribcage. His question was rhetorical… [i]she thought.[/i] If it wasn’t, she didn’t have the faintest idea how to respond. But that still left his hand… outstretched, unguarded, and dusted with earth like the chaos of her didn’t know how to let go, clinging to his skin and clothes like dirt. Clover cleared her throat, gaze falling to the basket of strawberries on the ground between them. She gently tugged her straw hat from where it was pinned beneath the knotted wicker and placed it securely back on top of her head, taming her wild crimson hair while shielding her for a moment as she [i]tried[/i] to temper the wave of emotions that were often displayed plainly across face.

After drawing in a small breath that wavered around the edges, her left hand curled around the handle of the basket. Then slowly, with a rising cadence in her chest that she couldn’t calm, Clover lifted her head, the brim of her hat rising until her gaze met his. Intentional or not, she smiled, uncertain and anxiously hesitant, but still bright and warm. Her right arm rose until the tips of her fingers found the edge of Evan’s palm. They lingered there for a second trying to come to terms with this new and uncertain existence between them where they hugged and shared secrets and… touched hands. It was like trying to find solid footing in sand. There was enough stability to trust herself and take a step forward, but it was still uneven and shifted beneath too much pressure. She blinked, then slowly curled her fingers around his hand. His skin was surprisingly soft beneath her callouses as if the world needed to remind them of another difference that could be added to the pile of stark contrasts. 

The moment her fingers finally closed around his hand, something in Evander steadied. He tightened his grip just enough to be useful, grounding his weight as he drew her carefully up from the dirt, slow and deliberate like the moment deserved gentleness instead of haste. Her hand was warm in his, rougher than his own from real work and sun, and the feel of it sent a quiet, disorienting pulse through him that settled low in his chest. Once she was standing, close enough now that he could catch the faint sweetness of crushed strawberries and wind damp earth clinging to her, he gave her hand a small squeeze. He could not have said if it was meant to reassure her or himself, only that he needed the brief pressure of it, needed one more second before he let his fingers loosen and slip carefully from hers.

The space between them shifted after that, no longer accidental, no longer easy to dismiss, and Evander felt it like warmth under his skin. He brushed the last of the dirt from his palm against his trousers, though there was no real point to it, then looked at her beneath the brim of her hat with that same softened brightness that had not left him all afternoon. [color=8a6038]"Do you need to do anything before dinner?"[/color] he asked, voice polite in theory and far too gentle in practice, already knowing he had no intention of leaving her to do it alone. His gaze dipped briefly to the basket in her hand, then returned to her face, patient and open, as though whatever answer she gave would simply become the next place he followed.

Clover was surprised at how easily he helped pull her up off of the dirt. Then, because the world was never one to be kind to her for too long, the earth felt like it shifted under foot, or perhaps it was simply the pins and needles that pricked along her legs from kneeling for too long. But her clumsiness found its way back, like it always did, like a curse she was never quite rid of, just happened to avoid from time to time. She wobbled, only for a second or two, as if the wind was a little too strong and caught her off guard, or her knees had forgotten how to work. There was a fraction of a second where her chest brushed against Evan’s, their hands pinned gently between them before her heels found solid ground and her body remembered how to exist upright. 

[color=5d8c77]"Sorry,"[/color] she muttered so quietly that the breeze that swept between them stole it. Clover’s gaze fell to their hands, to where his fingers curled a little tighter around hers before he let her go. Her hand hovered frozen in the space between them, the tips of her fingers rubbing together absentmindedly at the absence of his warmth against her skin… like she had forgotten what to do with her hand now that it was empty. 

His question, a gentle godsend, snapped her from her daze. Clover’s hand fell listlessly to her side as her gaze lifted to meet his, finding the warmth and openness that still lingered there like a door that had been left open that he refused to close. The knotted wicker of the basket creaked as her grip tightened around the handle. For someone who talked as much as she did, words were becoming incredibly more difficult to find, let alone form sentences. Her thoughts were flooded with small, [i]stupid[/i], little things like… how she could feel the ghost of Evan’s hand still lingering in her palm, the way he looked bathed in sunlight over her after saving her runaway hat, or how he still hadn’t left, still stood so close that she could feel his warmth like sunlight along her skin on a cloudless day. It was all terribly confusing and made her stomach knot in ways she wasn’t used to. 

It took more willpower than she’d ever admit to focus. Clover blinked slowly, pushing past the haze to try and catch words like fluttering butterflies. She cleared her throat and pried her gaze away for a second to finally speak. [color=5d8c77]"Oh um… Just drop these off with the Demeter kids."[/color] She lifted the basket slightly as she spoke while her persistent smile never once faded, despite it all. [color=5d8c77]"And probably wash my hands,"[/color] she added more like a guilty confession, her words laced with a quiet chuckle as she rubbed the tips of her fingers together, feeling the dirt that still clung to her skin.

Evander caught the wobble before he quite realized he was doing it. His hand tightened instinctively around hers for that brief, breath-held second, steadying her without thought, his body leaning forward just enough that he could feel the soft press of her against him before she righted herself again. It was over almost as quickly as it happened, but the warmth of it lingered, her closeness, the way their hands had been briefly pinned between them, the quiet, startled rhythm of her breath. He didn’t comment on it, only let his grip ease when she found her footing, though the absence of her hand a moment later felt more noticeable than it should have. His gaze dipped, just for a second, to where her fingers hovered in that uncertain space before he looked back up, something softer settling behind his expression.

When she finally answered, words a little tangled but still bright, still unmistakably her, it drew an easy grin from him, one that felt unforced, light in a way that had come to him far more naturally today than it ever had before. The basket, the mention of dirt-streaked hands, the small, almost bashful honesty of it; it grounded the moment back into something simple and real. He brushed his palms together again out of habit, though there was no real urgency to clean them, and took a half step to fall into place beside her rather than across from her. [color=8a6038]"Then I’ll walk with you,"[/color] he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, voice warm and easy, touched with that same buoyant joy that hadn’t left him since he’d stepped back into camp. There was no hesitation in it, no second thought, just a quiet certainty that wherever she needed to go next, he’d be there beside her.



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