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free arm.  He was going to tell her that he would
write her one now, which should gain him some distance, and the use
of his other arm, but Mae was too fast for him.
    As he was reaching for his lute, Mae quickly
shifted.  One second she was sitting on the ground next to
him, her arms around his, the next she had plopped herself down in
his lap, and had wrapped his arm tightly around her small waist.
 Gel couldn’t quite understand how she had managed it. 
She held his arm there in a viselike grip, and Gel had to use the
arm that had been reaching for his lute to keep from falling over
completely.
    ‘Well, you’ll have to give me something else
then, won’t you?’ she said, and he thought he saw her cheeks flush
before he looked away.  He would not look into her face this
close, or he might lose any chance he had to get out of this alive,
and with dignity.
    Once more, Gel cast around for something,
anything that could save him.  But he was distracted. 
Mae was sitting on him.  His arm wrapped around her waist, the
smell of her hair, the way her skirts had hiked up again and he
could see her pretty legs, this time close enough to reach out and
touch.  Gel was not thinking straight.  And so he said
the first thing that came to mind.
    ‘I want to ask you to the festival’ he
started, swallowing nervously.  Once again, he had more to
say.  He was going to continue with “but I also want to ask
Sheane, and I can’t ask you both, and I don’t know what to do”, but
he never got that far.  Once again, he wasn’t given the
chance.
    With those few words, Mae’s eyes went wide.
 She let out what Gel could only describe as a squeal of some
sort, and she hugged Gel, throwing herself into him.  Gel’s
supporting arm gave out, and he fell back into the grass, Mae
falling with him to lie on top, her arms still wrapped around his
neck.  Her short, golden hair had fallen around his face in
the fall, and it felt and smelled lovely.  Mae pressing
against him felt lovely as well, but he had to try again. 
    ‘But, Mae, listen’ he started, trying to push
Mae up and off of him.  He did not get far.
    As soon as he started, Mae untangled her arms
from around his neck, put them on his shoulders, and pushed. 
Pinned as he was by her legs laying across him, and her arms on his
shoulders, Gel could not help but look into her beautiful blue
eyes, now only a few inches from his face.  Her short hair was
just long enough to fall around his face, and it cut his vision off
from everything but her determined gaze.
    ‘No, Gel, no,’ she said, suddenly serious,
and staring straight at him, ‘No buts.  No listens, no
bringing up Sheane.  You’re mine now, and I’m not letting
go.’  Gel had never seen her so serious, or so beautiful.
    As Gel tried to come up with any sort of
protest he could, his mouth opening and closing silently in stunned
confusion, Mae shut off any further chance for salvation.
    She leaned forward, pressing herself against
him, her eyes closed, and she kissed him.  And Gel lost track
of everything.
    Protesting that he liked Sheane too, that he
couldn’t choose between them.  Concentrating on the Duke’s
recital the next day.  Even complaints about how annoying
studying with his tutors was.  All these thoughts and more
disappeared, and the afternoon did too.
    Several hours later, Mae stood in front of
him, quickly straightening her dress and hair, and blushing
furiously.  Gel still didn’t know what to say as Mae leaned
in, quickly brushed his lips with a kiss, and whispered ‘well…bye’
before running off towards the town.
    Gel stood and watched her leave for a while,
trying to process an afternoon spent kissing his best friend, a
girl he now thought he loved, before picking up his lute case and
starting the slow walk home, shaking his head in confusion most of
the way.
    When Gel reached the old stone house, he
walked slowly up to his room, tossed his lute on the floor, and
flopped,