A hand found itself directly in front of Grace's face. White, but tanned, connected to a wrist with a woven bracelet wrapped around it.

"Lunch?" It's Arthur. Today he's got on a navy denim shirt, opened to reveal the white top underneath it. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, giving Grace a lovely view of his strong forearms. His hair is, as usual, flopping over his face, but today it seems a little more well managed.

"Are you gonna say something, or are you gonna just sit there checking me out?" He prompts, jerking his hand slightly to get her attention.

Grace jumps, blinking up at him, "Lunch?" She repeats slowly, her face warm from embarrassment, "Where?"

Arthur laughs once, "I dunno. Greggs?" He leans down to grab her hand and guide her out of her seat, "Or we could even stretch to McDonald's." He teases with a cheeky wink.

Yep. Grace one hundred percent fancies this guy.

She laughs lightly and lets herself be pulled up, "Alright, alright! But I want a burrito. Seeing Will with his yesterday really made me crave one."

"Whatever you so desire." Arthur grins, taking her backpack from her and slinging it over his shoulder.

The gesture makes Grace feel all fuzzy inside, but she squashes that feeling instantly. He's just being a gentleman; that's how guys like him are taught to treat everyone.

"What's on your mind, Sunshine?" Arthur asks, noticing Grace's silence.

"Nothing," she says quickly, rushing to get into step with the tall boy, "How's your day been?"

"Better now that I've seen you." He says teasingly, nudging her in the shoulder as the walk.

Grace feels herself flush. How does he keep doing that?

"Look at you! You've gone all red!" Arthur exclaims, "I should flirt with you more often I reckon."

"Shut up, Arthur." Grace grumbles, looking everywhere but at him. She hates that he has this affect on her. Every time he so much as glances her way, she gets all warm and mushy inside. The feeling isn't unfamiliar, and she knows it only ends in heartbreak.

"I want to play a game." Arthur says suddenly. Grace doesn't know why he's so hyper today, but it makes her feel kind of giddy. His joy is infectious.

"Alright, Jigsaw." She giggles, causing him to let out a loud, happy laugh. She feels a hint of pride that she can make him laugh like that. Especially when he looks so beautiful doing so.

"Favourite colour?" He starts.

Grace rolls her eyes, "Red." She says without thinking, "That was a shit one."

"Go on then, you give me a better one?"

"If you could go anywhere in the world, right now, where would it be?" She asks after a moment.

He goes quiet for a second, really mulling it over, then grins, "Florence."

She purses her lips, "Florence? Why?"

"Because it's one of the biggest contributors to the renaissance of art in world." He tells her. There's a sparkle in his eyes.

"You like art?" She asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah I do. Not enough to study it, and I don't have any talent... But it's beautiful."

"So that explains it."

"Explains what?" Arthur looks at Grace confused.

"Statuesque." She teases, bumping him with her shoulder as he did to her.

Arthur rolls his eyes, his cheeks brightening. If red wasn't her favourite colour before, it definitely was now.

"Rude," he shrugs her backpack higher onto his shoulder, "Where are you from?"

She groans internally. She hates this question. She knows what he means by it, but she decides to make him work for the answer, "London."

Arthur blinks. "Oh." He says, a little stumped, but he soldiers on, "I mean, heritage-wise."

Grace smirks a little, "My family is Caribbean. They come from a lot of different islands."

"Well, where did your parents move from?"

Grace frowns, her head jerking to the side slightly, "What do you mean? They were born here."

Arthur's eyes widen, realising his mistake, "Shit. I was making assumptions again, wasn't I?"

"Yup." Grace confirms, but she shoots him an understanding smile to ease his embarrassment, "It's okay, we get things like this a lot. You wouldn't have known. My grandparents are the ones that moved here."

"'We'?"

"Black people, I guess," She laughs, "I've been referred to as an immigrant or the child of an immigrant plenty of times, even though me and my parents were born in the heart of London."

"Oh," Arthur says sadly, "That must be hard."

"Meh. I don't mind it. I mean, people aren't to know. This country is full of immigrants who help to make it better. I don't hate people who mistake me for one, because I don't look like a textbook British person... What would upset me is if someone were to deny my right to be here."

"Do you think you have a right to be here?" Arthur says, then groans, realising how that sentence came across, "Shit I meant... Would you call this your home even though your family isn't from here?"

"Of course... I think a lot of people like me struggle with their national identity. But I embrace it. I don't have any connection to the Caribbean aside from my grandparents. I don't live there; I haven't been there since I was a child. If I went there now, they would call me English. So, why would I claim to be one of them. I love my heritage, and I'm proud of my family history. But at the end I'm British."

Arthur is silent through all of this. His brain is working at one hundred miles an hour, sorting through this new information. The thing that stuck out the most was how eloquent Grace was. He knew that about her already. The way she carries herself, the way she talks, the way she treats others. She's like a Disney princess. But when she spoke about the issues she faced, something so delicate and controversial... It was so attractive, her ability to perfectly express herself about an issue she was so passionate about.

"Wow. You're beautiful." He says before he even realises it.

"What?" She says, startled, "Um. Thank you?"

"Sorry." Arthur looks down, "You just... You spoke so eloquently. I understand you completely."

Grace's signature grin returns to her face and she shrugs, "I've had a lot of practice with that speech."

"You shouldn't have had to." Arthur says seriously, looking at her with a resolute expression.

"I know. But what can you and I do about it?" She says woefully, a sad smile on her face.

"A lot. I could do a lot. And I will when-" He cuts himself off.

"When what?" Grace presses, very confused about what he's saying.

"Nothing. Nothing. I just meant leading by example." He says, dismissing the question.

Grace frowns. She decides to let it go. There's clearly something deeper going on, but right now, she doesn't think it's appropriate. Something tells her it's a touchy subject.