How To Preface A Guitar Solo PV Closed

@Veronica Turner

She fancied him. That was new, a pretty girl thinking he was something enough to fancy. She seemed sheepish, shy, sort of retracting on the statement when she got even the slightest impression that he'd turn her town. Truth was, he didn't know if he would do that or not - he could be horrible, he knew that, and he felt like anything he did would be automatically terrible.

He had a lot of butterflies - a lot of them, mostly nervous ones. So many, in fact, that he felt like he was going to be sick. He stared at the water like it was telling him what to say, and in a sense, he sort of hoped it started to talk to him and show him how to act, because his silence was deafening - and in a situation like this? Not even a subject change could make anything less tense, and it would make it a lot worse, and his brain felt like overcooked spaghetti, and he suddenly thought that it would be a great idea to act on impulse. That was never a good idea, in his situation.

He found himself shutting her up by gripping the collar of her shirt, yanking her forwards to clumsily mash their lips together in a childish kiss. His lips stayed closed, his grip on her shirt softened - and then it really hit him what he was doing, and he felt very terrible because this was not a smart thing to do. He felt like a goddamn dunce.

"Aye, Veronica, I'm sorreh, I - that wos real out of turn, I-I'm sorry-" This was not cute. This was not funny. He felt horrible, and the butterflies felt more like moths, now.

@Veronica Turner

Gem was ready to be chewed out for springing that on her like that– instead, though, she’d leaned in and closed the gap between them, much gentler than whatever he did. Before he had time to do anything else, she had her head on his shoulder, telling him something about how he should trust his instinct and all. His best response had to have been a low hum, clutching his hands together– that was technically his first kiss, it shot him back real far. Crazy. It was crazy.

He remembered back at home, in Sheffield, this kid Richard would go around kissing girls until their lips were sore. Then, after that, he’d break up with them if he didn’t like them enough. He just considered them, that was all he ever did. He never wanted to only consider someone, and he definitely didn’t want to treat Veronica like she was something to consider. She was so much more than that, and he swore she knew it... she was a Gryffindor, after all. They knew their value.

Spelltastic, he thought, staring at the river, the way the water rippled like a challenge. What was there to do now? He’d kissed her, she’d kissed him, and now they were sitting quietly. His anxiety felt like it was smoldering in the cold.

“Hey, it’s... getting a bit late, an’ I don’t want us to get caught out here snoggin’, so... well, do you want me ta walk you ta yer common room? Or would ya rather joost go yourself? I’ve got quite a lot of homework...” so that was his excuse. He felt real stupid, even stupider than before. He was just a dumb, stupid, idiot little boy that only spewed barmy to try and make excuses so he could think. Dumb dumb dumb. He wanted to hit himself on the side of the head.