A New Perspective
832 Words
"He's truly one of a kind."
Becky set down her empty glass with satisfaction, motioning for Amy to pour her another drink. As Amy topped off her glass, she cautioned, "Don't overdo it, remember you have plans tomorrow."
The reminder of her engagement with Gabriel at the market brought a nod from Becky, sipping her drink thoughtfully. "Say, Amy, do you think this counts as a date?"
"That depends on your feelings. Do you fancy him?" Amy asked.
"He's not really my type," Becky replied, though no sooner had she said it than the young man's smile surfaced in her memory, brushing her heart like a kitten's playful paw, leaving her uncertain.
"But, Amy," Becky continued, pulling the glass away from her lips, unsure whether it was the drink or the man that left her wanting more, "he is indeed special."
Amy observed Becky's enamored expression, chuckling silently to herself without bursting her bubble.
Becky spoke up again, "Still, if we're just lovers, it wouldn't matter if I didn't like him, right?”
Amy held a different view. "I think even lovers should have mutual affection."
As the words lingered in the air, silence swept through the room, making Amy realize too late that she had misspoken.
"Am I right, Amy?" The blonde woman's eyes were shimmering with unshed tears as she looked at her. "You're implying that Luke must have had some feelings for Fiona, aren't you?"
Again with the nightly ritual—Becky's drunken reminiscence of Luke, a scene Amy had witnessed countless times since their breakup. If only someone could help her mentor forget that deity.
Surely, Becky was aware of this impasse? She mused to herself, "If Luke could be intimate with many, why shouldn't I?"
She could. There was nothing stopping her, even some would encourage it. Sweet Gabriel lived just a floor away. All she had to do was step out and knock on his door—a simple act.
Why hadn’t she taken that step? Deep down, it was because she didn't genuinely want to. She wasn’t that kind of person, she wasn’t "Luke."
Yet, how she wished she was. Without it, her inner balance would never stabilize.
Ultimately, the essence of what she wanted was—
"Revenge. You want to retaliate against Luke, don't you?"
As Becky admitted the motivation that Amy had inferred from her expression, even if the notion of retaliation had been present from the moment she considered finding a lover.
To Becky, Gabriel was unrelated to love or desire. He merely served as a pawn to incite Luke's anger.
The real question, however, remained—"Would he even care?" Becky asked softly.
Amy couldn't answer, nor did Becky expect her to provide one. Becky was asking herself, a question only she could resolve.
Time passed until the silence was broken by a loud thump as Becky slammed her glass onto the table, as if reaching a decision.
"I won't wait any longer," she declared, speaking both to herself and Amy. "Who knows when he’ll make the first move."
"What are you talking about?"
Perched on her chair with a professor's commanding presence, Becky was all authority—except in words.
"Amy, have you ever heard of passion potions?"
Amy: "?"
___
"I heard you visited the academy and treated a few novice mages. You're a saint, my dear angel."
Despite Harry's booming voice, the young man seated by the desk remained undisturbed, immersed in an open book, several strands of his brown hair cascading over the pages.
Watching him, Harry's earlier anger dissipated, diminished by his captivating beauty and her love for him.
"Luke," she called gently, "answer me, won't you? Was it you at the academy, healing those mages?"
She knew they were competing for an apprenticeship under Becky.
"Mmm."
The cryptic reply left Harry puzzled by his reticence. Wasn't he curious about her sources? Would he go on to clarify that his ministrations had motives other than Becky? Or was it that he had done it entirely for Becky?
With no further words from Luke, Harry conducted the query-answer session within her own mind.
Deciding to move on, she broached another topic. "Did you know? Becky has a new apprentice, a very fetching youngster."
"You should meet him," Harry suggested with a knowing grin. "You know her as well as I do—a single glance and you'll discern if he's an apprentice or something more. Perhaps a lover?”
Luke's response hurt more than his indifference. He set his book aside, meeting her eyes. "A lover?"
Harry restrained her jealous bile, nodding. "Just a guess."
Wary of his next words, she felt a premonition; one more mention of Becky and she'd break down.
How fortunate then, he didn't.
The god of wisdom merely nodded, refocusing back on his book.
---
Author's Note:
Becky: Will this work?
Amy: Too effectively.
Forgetting Luke will take more than Becky's efforts—it'll require Gabriel's exertions in all areas, won't it?
- Writer
