Beatty & The Beast

NINETEEN: Where the Beauty and the Beast Feel the Heat

The same day

Keefe closed his eyes against the afternoon sun, reveling in the breeze and the soft grass beneath him. As long as he didn't move, it almost felt like normal Villeneuve weather, a perfect 73 degrees.

The shade helped cool things down, blocking out a considerable amount of sun without making the place dark and dreary. The foliage atop the trees splashed glittering patterns on the grassy floor, patterns that moved and danced with the breeze.

Andie had led him to what she called a "quasi-Fairy Tale Moment." She didn't feel it constituted a complete FTM because she hadn't created it or altered it or done anything to it other than find it. It was a bit of a cop-out, she told him, so in essence she still owed him a real Fairy Tale Moment.

He wasn't about to argue against getting two FTMs in a row.

She thought this "quasi moment" would be helpful in his distress, perhaps calm him down and clear his head for a few frozen moments. He had to admit it was working. Serenity was all but massaging him to sleep.

All it was was a little meadow; a simple, unoffending little clearing in the forest behind Whistlebeck's mansion. It was near the line between the forest and Whistlebeck's backyard, so they didn't have to go far to reach it, and yet it seemed as if it was its own little world.

Semi-circular and probably only twelve feet in diameter, it was lined with thick healthy trees. The vibrant grass carpeting the meadow was the ideal kind for dozing: long and soft, cushy and sweet-smelling and a few degrees cooler than the air. It was like nature's mattress, ready and waiting for whoever found it.

The bushy green tree tops allowed a significant patch of the sky to peek through, so cloud-watching and star-gazing were almost required.

As if it couldn't get any better, it was also deliciously quiet, peaceful.

Andie had said that all they needed to add were a few friendly forest animals or giggling fairies and they'd be set. Keefe knew exactly what she meant. The place was oddly fantastical, magical.

It had been several minutes since they had arrived and they had been spent in silence. He and Andie lay on their backs in the more shaded area, watching lazy clouds shuffle by or frequently closing their eyes and just listening to the soothing sounds of nature.

"Okay, I've allowed a good amount of peace and quiet to go by," her voice was a little huskier than normal, probably from lack of use over the last half an hour or so. "Are you at peace yet?"

Keefe opened one eye and looked to his left, where she lay with her eyes still closed and her scarred face turned toward the sky.

"Not quite," he said.

"Good, then I won't totally ruin the moment," she said without apology. "I know that I should just leave you be since you had a super-sucky afternoon–"

"Uber-super-sucky," he added, still watching her out of one eye.

"Uber-super-sucky," she corrected, her eyes still closed. "But I can't let this go. What was that malnutrition thing Declan mentioned?"

Keefe groaned, making it a little whinier than he needed to just to show how much he didn't want to talk about this. "I'm going to throw my shoe at him when I see him again. Of all the things he had to bring up."

Finally, she opened her eyes and turned her head toward him. Her expression was strong, unbreakable. He knew she would not back down easily.

He was quiet.