Page 45 of Wonderstruck

Not next to—across from. BecauseI’m a man of restraint.

Starting now.

“Like, imagine a disaster. Then imagineit speaking French. That’s me.”

She let a laugh slip past her lips asshe slid one of the coffee’s over to me.“Ooookay.” she drawled, before taking a sip of hers. “Let’s go right back to basics then." she shuffled her notes until she plucked out a single sheet, wafting it like a fan. "Pronunciation. That’s where people start to flail.”

“Most people flail. I drown,” I said,deadpan.

Those foxy eyes narrowed as sheshook her head. “I won’t let you drown.”

Andfor the first half an hour, shedidn’t. We worked through the basics, her voice patient and steady as she walked me through rules I’d apparently slept through in class. But the real challenge came when she tried to get me to roll my R’s.

“We don’t usually roll them, but it’lljust help get your mouth comfortable for all the weird rules that come with pronunciation, okay?”

I nodded, already feeling windswept.“Okay.”

Leaning forward slightly, her handcupped her jaw. “Say, rouge.”

“Roooge,” I tried, my face creasing,because the R came out like I wasgrowling at her.

“No, roll it more.” She rolled her Reffortlessly, the sound light and perfect.“Like that.”

I tried again. Failed again.

“Just relax your tongue,” she said, herelbows propped up on the table, leaningcloser.

I frowned. “Relax my tongue? Thatdoesn’t even make sense. It’s a tongue. It’s either doing something or it’s not.”

She bit back a laugh. “Okay, trythis—copy me.” She rolled an R effortlessly.

I tried. I failed. Miserably.

“Again,” she said, her voice quieterthis time. I tried again, and our eyes met,and like she could hear me guessing whether this whole thing was pointless, she shook her head, before whispering. “You can do it.”

Without breaking our stare, I triedagain, my tongue fumbling over the sound as I watched her mouth shape the word. Her pink lips curved around each syllable, her tongue briefly peeking between them, and suddenly, I did it.

“That’s it!” she cried, light sparkling inher eyes. “Do it again!”

Her excitement was infectious.

I licked away my smile, straightenedmy spine, and muttered, “Rouge.” The ‘R’ rolled just like hers, smooth and deliberate.

Her grin stretched wider, bright as the sun streaking through the windows. “See? You can do it. Itold you, it’s just baby steps!” she said, her voice warm and giddy, the kind of tone that could make you feel invincible.

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” Iteased, leaning back slightly, though mygaze stayed locked on hers.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Ormaybeyou’re a better student than youthink.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shimmering with a light that wasn’t just pride—it was something deeper, something radiant. And it hit me all at once. The way she came alive, how joy didn’t just sit on her skin but burned from within, turning her into something impossible to look away from. I’d felt it yesterday, too. That pull. That gravity. The quiet kind of magic that makes you forget where you are because all that matters is her.

I didn’t realise I’d gone quiet until herbrow quirked, her lips still curved in thatsoft, knowing smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my voicequiet.

Butit wasn’t nothing. The warmth inmy chest grew, as steady as a log fire burning in the peak of winter.

Her gaze didn’t falter, and neither didmine. The air around us seemed thickernow, heavy with something unspoken. I knew I should look away, say something sarcastic to break the spell, but I couldn’t.

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