Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl. Olive chided herself as she buried her face in her hands. So close. She'd come so close and then chickened out completely from telling Enoch exactly how she felt. All the same she was pleasantly warm from head to toe, despite her bitterness with her own cowardice. There were so few times when Enoch let go for a few minutes and everything was so keenly driven by emotion he didn't ever like to outwardly show, that it was when she felt she knew him best of all. Every word and movement from the press of his hand on her back to his annoyed huffs whenever she stopped the kiss first, was more real than all of his pretences and airs, and she loved that part of him more every time it appeared.

Olive's fingers drifted up to her lips and a silly, breathless grin started to creep across her face. Enoch was right, that had certainly been new. As had been the way he'd looked at her then. It was as if he'd never seen her before and she had dared to hope just for one brief moment that it meant something. But she was not getting her hopes up for anything of that kind. Still...it had been a right sight more than a nice feeling, brief though it was.

She must have been leaning there against the door, lost in her wandering thoughts, for longer than she thought because the next thing Olive was aware of was the door pushing against her back and clicking closed again as someone tried to open it.

"What-"

"Sorry!" She jumped and stepped out of the way to open the door to find her mother standing wide eyed on the doorstep.

"What on earth were you doing, Olive? I thought you were out with Enoch today?"

"I am-I was...was." She quickly corrected, biting her lip sheepishly to try and stifle the unquenchable smile that didn't want to leave her face. "I've been home for a while."

Her mother stared at her knowingly and shook her head. "Oh I know that look, dear, better make sure it's under control by the time your father comes home or he'll want to throttle that boyfriend of yours."

"Right..." Olive wrinkled her nose but could do nothing to stop the blush rising in her cheeks again as she quickly ducked into the living room to grab the discarded cloths and antiseptic before she could be caught out. "Mum?"

"I thought we'd just have pasta tonight, you can help if you've been out all day with that boy. Come and put the shopping away."

"One second..." Olive stuck her head into the kitchen quickly as she passed, heading towards the hallway bathroom to hide the evidence. By the time she popped back into the kitchen, half a dozen plastic shopping bags were on the countertop waiting to be sorted and put away and her mother was putting the kettle on and retrieving a mug from the cupboard.

"Mum?"

"Mmhm?"

"You don't think Enoch's as bad as Dad thinks do you? It would be nice if at least someone didn't think I was being stupid." She wrinkled her nose slightly, holding the fridge door open a little longer than she probably should have to put the milk away.

"I think I don't know him from a bar of soap so it wouldn't be entirely fair to judge him on first impressions. Would you like a cup?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks. I'm afraid Enoch's not very good at twenty-first impressions either. He's not very sociable-at all sociable actually." Olive huffed. "I just really would rather Dad didn't start every conversation with 'Is that boy still around?' or 'I still don't like that boy one bit', or anything of the equivalent. It's...nasty and that's why you haven't seen much of Enoch because Dad would tear him to shreds." Or try at least. She had a strong feeling that Enoch would give him a run for his money that would benefit no one at all in the end.

"Your father just loves you and he wants to protect you."

"But I'm seventeen, I'm not seven." Olive couldn't stop the smile that played at her lips as she found herself repeating Enoch's same words.

"Unless the first time he met this boy, he was happy as a lark and involved in seven different curricular activities, your father would have behaved exactly the same way to anyone."

"I don't think so. I think it's because Enoch's so different."

Olive looked up from the tiled floor as her mother laughed and turned around with her tea in one hand. "I can't remember a time you didn't talk about him so much. Is that exactly why you like him?"

"Yes I think it is and I'm not ashamed of that."

"Is 'like' still the word though, Olive? I know that look."

"It might be. It might...not be."

xxxXxxx

"He seriously got you flowers from your parents' own shop? I don't know if that's romantic or not." Emma scoffed and pushed her lunch tray forward a few inches.

"Oh I think it's sweet."

"So did I. He did the same thing when he asked me out the first time." Fiona smiled to herself and pulled out the flower she'd been using as a bookmark to slip behind her ear while they were out of class. None of the boys had so much as made an appearance in the cafeteria yet.

"More of a romantic than he looks apparently-certainly more than others." Emma smirked over at Olive who went pink and wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine Enoch having a romantic bone in his body ever."

No, frankly neither could Olive. Romantic and Enoch were two things completely worlds apart. He could be nice, and sweet even when he was feeling amiable and they were alone, but she couldn't say she could picture him being romantic.

"Maybe not." Olive conceded and stood up momentarily to try and see over the crowd, half distracted as she spoke, "But it doesn't bother me anyway at all. He has his own merits."

"And you're welcome to them-Oh, I forgot to say, Jacob's parents wanted me to come for dinner sometime."

Olive looked around at Emma and stopped craning her neck to catch sight of Enoch or Millard. "What? Already? Well that's awfully nice."

Emma snorted. "Nice? Yeah, also terribly intimidating." She leaned forward over the table towards Fiona and Olive on the other side. "They're really, really rich. Maybe not Bentham family rich, but pretty darn close."

"What, really? I wouldn't have thought it at all..." Olive's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Wouldn't 'ave thought what? Move, Fiona." Enoch's thick accent interrupted over Olive's shoulder between her and Fiona. He stood there expectantly, waiting for everyone else to move on his request so he could be next to Olive.

The Irish girl just turned her head to stare at Enoch with a blank expression to rival his and a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me? Move yourself."

"Enoch, come over here, don't bully." Olive sighed and scooted a little more to her left to make enough room for Enoch to sit on her other side.

"Didn' ask you ta move, an' 'oo's bullyin'?"

"You didn't ask anyone. Do you ever?" Emma rolled her eyes.

"Wasn' talkin' ta you neither."

"Mr High and Mighty today, aren't we?"

Enoch seemed to choose to completely ignore Emma and sat down on Olive's right snuggly enough on the end of the bench seat to brush her shoulder every time he moved. "Ya wouldn't 'ave thought what? Talkin' 'bout me again?"

"Jacob, actually. Being as well off as his family apparently is."

"Oh 'ell...wish I 'adn't asked."

Olive shook her head slightly at Enoch's automatically dismissive attitude.

"Mmhm, his family's chain of stores is coming here. That's why they moved here at all, and his father writes books."

Olive had just opened her mouth to comment when Enoch, inevitably, beat her to it.

"Great, another fing for the Yank ta be all pompous and uppity 'bout."

Fiona seemed to choke on her water and Emma laughed harshly. "Well, that's rich."

"No, 'e's rich actually. Probably finks 'e's betta than eve-"

"Enoch, would you stop for a second?" Olive almost surprised herself when the words came out and Enoch did indeed stop talking for a second to stare at her. She caught sight of Fiona now stifling a laugh behind her hand before her face turned back to Enoch, whose knee was now pressed right against hers under the table.

"Well?"

"Sorry, only just got out of class, old bird kept the whole class late."

" 'bout time, I'm bloody outnumbered and don't like it." Enoch muttered beside her as Hugh and Millard appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

xxxXxxx

"I'm just saying it's a very...strange thing to find so fascinating like that." Olive wrinkled her nose slightly and tilted her head slightly as she stared puzzled at Enoch beside her on their lab bench. They were supposed to be dissecting a sheep's heart, which Enoch could probably do blindfolded in a matter of under a minute and the care and delicacy with which he did it was such a direct contrast to him in all other ways that it never failed to intrigue her. Though it was only ever present when he was drawing, or cutting something up, a task that required precision, Olive loved that side of him too. It was particular, specific and calculating and so very focused that it was fascinating to watch.

"Why strange? Yeh've got one ya know."

"Not that I hold and inspect, I'm pretty sure."

Enoch rolled his eyes at her but Olive could have sworn there was the hint of a smirk right at the corner of his lips as he put the organ back onto the cool, steel tray and pushed the scalpel further to her side with one finger.

"Go on then, you do it this time. Everyone already knows I can."

"Me?"

"No, the Queen."

"You are feeling sarcastic today."

"Alright, alright!" Mr Clark's deep voice boomed from the front of the classroom and all heads turned to him as he cast a look around at each bench in turn. "There's a lot more conversation going on than there is work. No one's finished until it's all correctly dissected and labelled. Get moving."

"I always am..." Enoch muttered, quieter this time and Olive giggled softly as she hesitantly picked up the surgical blade and stepped closer to the centre of the bench, and in so doing, closer to Enoch.

The moment she touched the blade to the heart, Enoch made a tutting sound with his tongue and his hand was suddenly over hers, guiding it the tiniest bit to the right. "There."

"Maybe I knew that, maybe I just wanted you to correct me." Olive attempted, smiling up at him but to no avail. Enoch only rolled his eyes, which abruptly left Olive's face and stared across the room. The next thing Olive knew his hand was right off and well away from hers and he was frowning again.

"What?"

"They're staring again. You don't fink that's weird?"

Olive looked over her shoulder to the bench he had been staring at, occupied by two girls who were more likely to be comparing notes on how long Enoch's hand touched Olive's than on the set task, and sighed as she slowly, and very carefully, made the incision, long and straight in the place he'd positioned her hand.

"Ignore them, Enoch. Please. I know you don't have much patience today-"

"I never do....come on then, let's get it done."

"I assume you're talkin' about the heart there, O'Connor? Not to pry or nothin'?"

Olive's eyes shot up. She hadn't even noticed Jack passing by their bench, passing a fresh pair of rubber gloves from hand to hand and sneering at them slyer than a fox in a chicken coop. If it were possible she was quite sure the air immediately around them would have dropped several degrees with the icy look Enoch was shooting him.

"Shut ya dirty mouth, ya b-"

"Jack, move back to your own bench, please. Immediately."

Olive let out a sigh of relief when Mr. Clark appeared suddenly, which was an achievement in itself for his slow moving frame, right on the other side from them. Conflict narrowly averted this time. Neither she nor Enoch, though mainly Enoch, needed more of that right now.