Rite of Spring

You walk quickly from the classroom, through the crowded hallways, down the stairs and out the door. It's spring! Glorious spring! After five long months of winter it's cool, but not cold. The trees are budding and the early flowers are blooming with delightful pinks and yellows. And after spring, Summer vacation! You take a deep breath of fresh air, and head toward your bicycle, your brain abuzz with the possibilities for this weekend. Tomorrow, Friday, is a holiday so no college courses until Monday morning. Time to enjoy the weather and maybe a beer, or go for a hiking trip even. You smile to yourself. Sure, you'd study a bit, get ahead on some assignments, but hard work all year long has given you freedom when you really need it: on a beautiful weekend!

"(Name), (name)," a familiar voice echoes across the commons. Your jaw clenches. Feliciano claims he's in the same program as you, but you suspect that he says that because he needs you to walk him through the course work. But, you smile; when he studies with you he tends to bring his cute German friend for added assistance. When Ludwig looks at you with those dazzling blue eyes your heart skips a beat. Just thinking about him makes you all swoony. And Feliciano brings his own alcohol for those study sessions, which is considerate.

You stop and turn toward his voice. He's just exiting the same building you rushed out of, though he wasn't in your class. Feliciano waves at you, his smile spreads across his face and he jogs to reach you. You also can't help but notice that he's not carrying a bag, or books, no notebook or pens. It would be troubling, except he always passes. Somehow.

"Bella, our class together and the assignments," he begins, a little flabbergasted. Today he's wearing a suit coat and jeans, like an adjunct college professor, but far too young.

"Do you need my help again?" you finish ruefully, adjusting your backpack straps. Together, you head toward the bicycle racks outside the campus library. Always full of colorful display of brands and sizes, they are especially full today. The sun dips behind some clouds and a chill breeze comes up. Maybe a jacket would have been good, but you left it at home in you excitement for a nice day.

"Graci! Yes, tonight?" he clasps his hands in front of him, pleading. But he does this every time, so it does little to convince you to help. The library doors open as the sun reappears, flashing light across your path.

"I'll do it on one condition," you hold your index finger up as you step next to your bike and turn to face him. You heart beat races, but you force yourself to continue. "You bring Ludwig with you, but don't tell him I asked you to bring him. Okay?"

A knowing grin creeps onto his face, but he nods. "Of course. Five O'clock. You make the dinner, I will bring the German. You are magnifico."

You watch as he practically skips away and you want to kick yourself. He's going to rat you out the minute he can figure out how to work around your condition. But on the plus side, you think as you mount the bike and push off, he's going to bring Ludwig. Now you just have to figure out what to make for dinner as you follow the gently curving path through campus. It's not that you're a bad cook, but the simpler the better. The less chance you'll give your guests food poisoning if you grill. Food choices are still running through your mind when you pull up to a typically busy intersection.

A car honks next to you, causing you to jump, barely keeping your footing. You look around wildly, settling on the laughing driver next to you. Your roommate, Alfred, is still in the middle of a fit of laughter, tapping the steering wheel and wheezing. You wait patiently while trying to get your heart rate down.

"Very funny," you lean down toward his car, arms resting on your handlebars and sneaking a glance behind him to make sure he's not holding up traffic. He doesn't always pay attention to things like that.

"You ready for tomorrow dude!" he wipes a tear away from the corner of his eye, and grins. You've told him a million times you're female and therefore not a 'dude' but it has, thus far, not stopped him saying it. "I'm packing two kegs and enough food to feed an army in the trunk of this tthing, so we are going to par-tay!"

"That was this weekend?" you swear, then purse your lips. "Ok, but tonight Feliciano and … another guest are coming over to study, so this has to definitely be tomorrow. No 'pre-game' Thursday. Got it? School first."

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you can show me some of your history flash cards while you're 'helping' Feliciano and ogling Ludwig," he giggles and drives away before you can say anything more. You don't ogle Ludwig, you fume as you take back roads trying to beat Alfred home. This is one the games you play with him: who's faster? Today is a good traffic day for you and you hop off your bike and park it in the garage before he pulls up, with enough time to catch your breath. You grin victoriously as he huffily slams the car door.

"Don't feel too bad," you step around to the trunk with him as it pops open, "I still have to bring the food in. I'm here to help!"

"Not that I need your help," he lifts a keg in each arm. How he can be so strong boggles your mind, though it has its benefits, like moving day.

"Of course," you open the door for him and go back for the bags. You can't help but shake your head at the amount of food stuffed in to the car, "He really did buy a lot."

"Perhaps you vould like zome help?" a familiar, but wholly unexpected voice startles you and sends your heart racing. You didn't even hear him walk up! One complete slow turn later, you stare dumbfounded at Ludwig. His golden hair gleams in the sun. He's wearing tight black t-shirt and blue jeans with a jacket thrown over his shoulder. Black boots, polished to a high shine (no doubt with sheer grit and spit), reflect the sun as well. How did you not hear those thick soled things? Before the stare can get too awkward, you nod and step to the side of the car.

"Thanks," you offer belatedly, grabbing the two bags Ludwig doesn't and closing the trunk. You glimpse the bulge of his bicep around grocery bags and swallow hard. "So, what brings you by so early? I thought Feliciano said five."

"He said you vould need assistance vith zhe food. I offered. I hope zat is alright?" he heads toward the kitchen once you're both inside. He's been over enough with Feliciano to know his way around. Once through the front door, he goes straight back through a large living room. So, you muse, that's how the Italian did it. Just send him over early. Clever.

"I wouldn't say 'no' to your assistance," you try to smile winningly; you don't have many opportunities to be alone and close to him, but stop. It's dinner, don't go crazy, but the blush you feel staining your cheeks heats up. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to eat?"

Ludwig sets the grocery bags on the kitchen table, and hangs his jacket on the back of a chair. Alfred is nowhere in sight, must have gone on to his room. He smiles down at you, blushes and looks away, "I vill eat vhat is prepared."

"So wurst and beer then?" you poke him in the arm, hoping he will look at you again so you can see the smile in his blue eyes. He obliges, though he may not know it. The look lingers and you want to fall into those eyes.

"You should not tease," he tries to sound severe, but there's something eager in his face that you can help but grin at.

"I wouldn't tease about beer or wurst," you move around him to pull the sausage and a six pack of German beer out of the refrigerator. "That would be cruel and unusual punishment. Grilling is alright with you?"

Ludwig nods as he pulls a bottle from the cardboard case, examining the label critically. You see his brows furrow and you desperately try to think of what could cause it. You lick your lips nervously shifting from one foot to another. "You have gut taste in beer. Zhe best."

You finally breathe again. "Well, you deserve the best."

You could have said it flippantly, but you didn't. No, it came out like you were giving a dissertation on cancer, deadly serious. You spin away and begin walking toward the grill outside the back door. Pretend like it didn't happen, just ignore it. You almost make it to the door, escaping the embarrassment that you know is following when Ludwig beats you to it. His hand holds the door closed, though your arms are full, so it's not like you would have been able to get out anyway. You shy away from his body, but his chest is eye-level, looming. He does tend to loom. Your heart leaps wildly in your chest. He's so close you can smell his cologne. You risk a glance up. Your eyes lock.

His blush has colored his cheeks, his head is bent close to yours and he's breathing heavily. His voice is low when he speaks, "Do you include yourself as zhe best?"

You stammer, trying to wrap your mind around what he's asking. But he doesn't wait your answer. He leans in. you barely register that he's going to kiss you, when his lips brush yours. Gentle and soft. You tilt your head back to take in more of his increasingly eager mouth. He's sweet, but slow. You wish you could put your arms around him, to feel the muscle of his body, of his chest or pull him closer; anything other than the maddening first taste of his lips. You press your chest to his and his free arm wraps around your waist.

The kiss lingers until he finally pulls away. You're both a little breathless, blushing but smiling.

"Can we do that again?" you look up at him hopefully. His laugh sends a pleasant shiver through you.

"Of course, Liebling, after ve start zhe food. You must be patient," he takes the beer from your arm and opens the door for you. You step out into a beautiful spring day. Maybe what they say is true, Spring really is the season of love.