Love scene from Anne of Green Gables, scored for Berklee class Composition for Film and TV. Features my piece, Trillium. Anne Shirley & Gilbert Blythe - Duration: 1:52. Heather Rose Atkinson.
The chapter below contains explicit sexual content that our grandmothers might have described as 'heavy petting' as Anne and Gilbert learn to become lovers.
Again, no quote that leads to this chapter as it follows directly from the previous, but here's another 'killing' quote (as Phil might say) to help set the scene.
Yesterday's Boy
'She was his at last, this evasive, long sought Anne, won after years of patient waiting. It was to him she was coming, in the sweet surrender of the bride. Was he worthy of her? Could he make her as happy as he hoped? If he failed her- if he could not measure up to her standard of manhood...'
from chapter four; the First Bride of Green Gables; Anne's House of Dreams
...
It is unknown how Gilbert Blythe spent those minutes, if they seemed like years to him or passed like the shadow of a branch in the breeze. But whether or not he debated the removal of his remaining articles of clothing or tugged them off with the naturalness he felt at the swimming hole in summer, he arrived at their bedroom shoeless and sockless, and was releasing the buttons on his trousers when he beheld his bride in their bed.
The windows were open and lengths of lace at the window fluttered like a bridal veil. She was lying on her side with her back to him, adorned in a little shift of gauzy fineness that fell softly from her shoulder and lingered round her thighs. She was the Anne that had haunted him achingly, wonderfully, since that night last Easter when she had asked him to lie with her. And he had refused regretfully and with considerable pain.
Wanting and refusing seemed to be Gilbert's lot, seemed to be what his desire was forever bound in. And Anne had understood, had seen it perfectly as only Anne could that finally now he could untie his love for her and show it freely.
His trousers slipped from his hips and he climbed upon the bed. She was here, his sweet girl, his own, and he didn't have to stop anymore. Gilbert pressed his body into her, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, his hand slowing tracing a blissful line along her silhouette.
Anne nestled into him with a thumping heart. She had expected to feel that hardness press against her, and also expected to be thrilled and intimidated by this in equal measure. It was the sound Gilbert made, his shivery breathing and soft murmurs that came straight from his heart that astonished her. She felt melted and powerful at the same time. If this was the mystery spoken about Anne Blythe was living it now.
She turned to face him, his hot, dry lips placing tender kisses by her ear and cheek. Anne having long wanted his touch upon the parts of her body forever denied him reached for his hand as it played with the fabric that stretched over her hip, and brought it to her breast. A shared sigh came from both of them as he slipped his fingers under the chemise and touched her bare skin for the first time.
Anne's breast fell slightly into her other as she lay on her side so that Gilbert could almost take them both in his hand. As he squeezed her gently she couldn't help but wonder if they were as he expected. Anne had noticed -as all girls are apt to, much in the way they compare their sleeves and hats- that her breasts had neither the lovely, soft fullness of Diana or the shapely buxom quality of Phil. Hers seemed to jut out like rose tipped cones, and the way they jiggled -Marilla had insisted upon the very stiffest bones in her corsetry. Altogether Anne wondered if she was too pointed, too small, too unlike the luscious girl in the daguerrotype that she found in Gilbert's dresser when she went to tie her letters up for him, but then thought of a better use for the silk ribbon.
A hot flush fused through her, thinking too much of what he thought and not enough of what she felt, until he touched her in a way that made it very difficult to think of anything at all. Instead of pressing against her urgently, the way he often did when she wore so many layers and they had so little time, he withdrew his hand and swept the flat of his palm over each peak with exquisite, feathery strokes. He seemed to know instinctively how this woman he held, this beloved woman with her darling, small pointed breasts, would sigh and tremble all the more if he touched her this way.
Her nipples were so hard it felt to Gilbert as though the tip of a finger drew hotly across his hand. He brought his fingers to them, pinching them softly while nuzzling her neck and tracing his tongue over her ear. Concentrating everything into his movements so that he might ignore his own response to her, as she arched her back and pushed her bottom and hips into him.
'Oh- oh Gil...' Anne said at last, 'it feels, oh it feels so blissful when you do that- please don't stop.'
Upon which Gilbert could do nothing else but stop. Her words, her sounds, her movement, and knowing that he was the cause of them, turned the ache in his body to an agony.
Anne soon became aware he had stopped moving and that deep, long sighs of air were coming from his nose and throat. It was a hot and heedless girl who reached for his hand and pressed it against her again. Gilbert renewed his touches but a little more roughly, making impatient, fervent strokes upon her breasts and ribs, and then to her belly, where he played upon a girlish softness so unlike his own. His hand travelled further down to where one would discover soft curls that were very much of a woman. Again he stopped his hand, resting it lightly upon her hip as he resumed small pecks upon her neck and ear.
'Gilbert, this is so nice...' Anne said, nuzzling into the muscled cradle of his neck and shoulder. Nice did not begin to say how she felt. For the first time in her life words failed Anne and she didn't mind at all.
But words raced through Gilbert, words that begged him to stay in control. He was so hard, so achingly hard for her now, he felt if she but whispered her hand over him he would not be able to stop himself and would be brought to climax before they'd ever begun. He remembered with a wry regret the words of Charlie and Fred on a night before the wedding. Joking with a knowing air that Gil had better have a stiff drink or two before he took his bride to bed lest her maidenhood was took before her drawers were properly down. Gilbert had laughed with more than a little smugness, feeling those two had no concept of the degree of self control he had. For Anne was no demure maid but a woman of fire and dew, who eagerly placed her hands on him at every opportunity.
He had expected himself to have no other thought than satisfying the desires of his wife. But Gilbert had sorely underestimated the affect Anne's desire would have upon him. The volcanic way she moved and responded -and her sounds, the mysterious sounds that expressed all she felt and needed- made him feel both a god and a fool at her feet. He began to doubt whether any man could be enough for Anne.
'You're quiet again,' Anne said.
'I'm just... happy-'
'Yes, I can definitely feel how happy you are,' she quipped, 'but what is it, Gil?'
She shifted her hips and turned to him. He was as unprepared for the arousal that glowed on her face as he was everything else. Anne's hair was still pinned, but the intricate twists of the virgin bride were sexily mussed about her head, her nipple peeping out from the top of her chemise as her grey eyes peeped out from under her hair. She was shining with excitement and filled with love.
'I know this happiness, Gilbert Blythe, you've spoken of it before,' Anne said, lightly, referring to the night at the bonfire when Gilbert declared his happiness whilst pressed firmly between the legs of his girl. 'It's the happiness that believes that happiness cannot last and is all the more sweeter for it.'
'That by its very definition is happiness,' Gilbert responded.
He traced his fingers over her hip bone and into the hollow that smoothed out to her stomach. Feeling for her bellybutton under the sheer muslin slip, and on finding it beginning a small spiral with a slow and focussed hand.
'Oh, Gil,' she groaned, 'how do you expect me to keep talking when your fingers are driving me to distraction?'
'So, don't talk,' Gilbert replied, kissing her.
Anne fell back and felt his tongue against hers, his hands drawing circles wider and wider over her abdomen until it grazed between her legs, the same soft feathery touch she had felt on her breast, and she shuddered with a similar intensity. Waiting for his hand to lift the hem of her chemise. Waiting, and she shifted her thighs apart in shy, excited increments. Waiting, as she pulsed and swelled with lush anticipation. Waiting, with fear and excitement for Gilbert to discover her. Waiting...
'It's alright, Gil, I want you to.'
'I want to, too, Anne. You don't know- you don't know how much.'
'Are you... afraid?'
'I'm a lot of things right now, Anne, but afraid is definitely not one of them,' he said.
The smile on his lips that was not in his eyes. Anne brought her legs together and looked at her husband.
'I saw that look on your face you know. After we farewelled your Uncle and Aunt, and Captain Jem-'
'That wasn't fear, that was relief-'
'When I picked those flowers,' Anne continued, ignoring his remark, 'those ruby-red poppies and began talking about the spirits of flowers-'
'Souls, you said souls of flowers,' Gilbert said quietly.
'You were thinking about the day I refused you, weren't you? You were remembering that day in the orchard when you wanted to propose to me and I tried to draw your attention to the asters-'
'They were violets. You know, I can't bear them now. I'm glad you never wear Water of Violet,' he said, nuzzling into her neck smell the lily-of-the-valley scent Anne liked to dab behind her ear and the hollow at her throat.
He drew back and she looked into his eyes.
'When I spoke of flowers tonight you thought I was trying to distract you, to prolong this moment from finally happening.'
Gilbert smiled again and this time Anne could see he meant it.
'You funny girl,' he said, 'I never thought that, Anne, never, I swear. It did make me think of that day... at the orchard, and for a moment I remembered. Then just as quickly I let that memory go. All those boys I used to be they're all in me, but the only one I want to be is the one that's here, now... with you.'
'And you want to touch me?'
'Yes!'
'And you're not afraid?'
'Yes.' Gilbert could see Anne still didn't know if he was or he was not. 'I am afraid. Afraid I won't live up to your idea of manhood.'
In actuality Anne had been quietly impressed with it, but this she could mention another time. Her hands went to his cheek, it felt slightly rough and she found the thought of watching him shave on the morrow somehow thrilling. Her fingers travelled through his short brown curls and the thicker whiskers that grew in little sideburns by his ears. He was not that boy anymore -on the outside at least. But when she looked into his hazel eyes he was; the boy who had riled and challenged her. The same boy who was asking her as he had never let himself before to love him as he was.
'You're afraid to let go,' Anne said.
'How is it you're not?' His tone revealed he had wondered this about her for a long time. 'How is it that you never have been? From the moment I met you... you have always been so determinedly, so infuriatingly trusting of yourself.'
He had that look in his eye, the exasperated spark that she always saw when she bested him at something. On another day Anne might have laughed or warned him to duck for cover. But this was not another day it was their wedding night. She inhaled deeply and brushed her hair from her forehead, casting her eye about the room as though looking for words.
'I suppose,' Anne said at last, 'because no one cared about what I wanted. I was hurt, but even worse I was forgotten. No one was going to rescue me. And I became determined that I should rely upon myself, determined to build my own castles and make my own dreams. Only,' she began to laugh, 'I didn't know how to go about it in the right way... I often forgot what was real and I followed the wrong path sometimes, but then... I found my way to you, Gilbert. From that moment I just knew somehow that whatever I did you would love me-'
'I do love you, Anne, I want you so much, it's just-'
'You're afraid to let go. It's not so easy when you're the one hanging on for dear life, is it?' He smiled at the memory of her soaked to the skin and clinging to the bridge, trying to summon a dignified look as he came to her rescue all those years ago. 'Just let yourself reach for me, Gilbert Blythe.'
Anne brought her hand down to his and squeezed it lovingly. She felt his fingers tremble lightly under hers.
'I want to, Anne, but what if...'
'We have our whole life time to get this right, remember? Tonight, just touch me. Just touch me and let go. I want you to see me let go. I want -I want so very much to see you let go...'
She placed her hand between his legs and he flinched and shivered as her fingers trailed over the hard length that pressed inside his underwear. Anne was as excited as she was fascinated, instinctively grasping him and sliding up and down with slow, deliberate strokes. Gilbert lay back and closed his eyes for a moment, giving into the feel of his wife touching him for the first time.
'Can I, could we... take these off?' Anne asked quietly.
He shifted away.
'Just... soon,' he said, and brought his hand to Anne's hip, then her thigh, and then slowly pulled up the hem of her chemise so it gathered at her waist.
'I'm red there too in case you wondered,' she said. Gilbert grinned at the vexation in her voice. 'I don't know if you can tell in this light.'
'I did wonder, my darling girl...'
He placed a soft lingering kiss upon her lips while his hand slid between her thighs, cupping her gently. She felt hot and swollen, her curls soft and damp. The breathless kisses Gilbert gave her telling Anne how much she was adored. She pressed her hand firmly against his.
'Like this, touch me like this,; Anne whispered into his mouth, and felt a long, deep groan enter hers.
'Anne, Anne. Please don't speak...'
But she didn't have to, the way her body moved and responded to him told him everything. At first she resumed stroking him with a tender concentration but as she felt his fingers explore her more deeply Anne began to shiver, wrapping her leg around his and gripping Gilbert roughly.
'Sweet girl, no...' He removed his hand from between her legs and clamped it hard against her frenzied movements. 'Please, oh Anne, if you do that... I won't be able to stop myself.'
Anne opened her eyes; the smallest circle of grey around a deep shining black, lengths of her hair falling over her shoulders and his. The chemise was hitched up roughly round her armpits, a sheen of sweat between her breasts. She pulled his hand back urgently, she was so wet now his palm felt damp as soon as he touched her.
'Don't stop. Oh Gil, if -if you don't stop I'm going to have this incandescent feeling in a moment...'
![Anne shirley and gilbert blythe cartoons Anne shirley and gilbert blythe cartoons](/uploads/1/2/5/8/125864800/636199956.jpg)
She spoke of her body as she spoke of the souls of flowers, it melted Gilbert's heart.
'But if we don't stop, Anne, I'm going to have one myself.'
A brilliant gleam cut through the haze in Anne's eyes, she grabbed at his underpants and pulled them down over his waist and bottom. With a little shy manoeuvring Gilbert was naked and there was nothing shy in what Anne saw then.
'You are beautiful, Gilbert.'
Anne leaned over, so that her red hair brushed over his chest and kissed the tip of him.
'Anne-!'
'Now kiss me, here,' she lay back pointing to her love-flushed face. 'And whatever you do... whatever I do... please don't stop.'
'I can only do that if you stop talking...'
And though their bodies then said many things as they shared their secret ecstasies not another word was uttered for the longest time.
...
A/N: This story was written for the group reread of the Anne series I'm moderating on tumblr. I enjoyed writing it immensely! If you would enjoy reading the series with myself and others you are welcome to join us on tumblr:
avonleavignettes . tumblr . (com) /tagged/reread
avonleavignettes . tumblr . (com) /tagged/reread
Anywho, drop me a review and tell me what you think! I'm not sure about the characterization of young!Gilbert and his friends, so let me know how you feel about it.
Take Notice
Gilbert Blythe, not yet fourteen, sauntered down the Sugar Maple-lined pathway that led from the Blythe homestead to the main Avonlea road, where he planned to intercept an unsuspecting Charlie Sloane and Moody Spurgeon MacPherson. The pair hadn't a clue that he'd returned from his voyage in New Brunswick, and he was apt to surprise them with his arrival.
From behind one of the sturdy Sugar Maples that were commonly found on the Island, Gilbert spotted his two friends walking merrily along. Charlie, as bottle-eyed as ever, was chatting animatedly with Moody, using his hands to describe something he was clearly excited about. Neither he nor Moody had spotted their brown-haired comrade by the edge of the road.
At last, his friends had become close enough that Gilbert could begin to hear their conversation. '…I'd told Tommy that mother wanted him to feed the cows, you see,' Charlie told Moody, obviously detailing a prank he pulled on his younger brother. Gilbert shook his head good-naturedly—he'd missed his friends—before jumping up behind them.
'Miss me?' he asked cheekily, grinning from in between the two boys. Both Charlie and Moody jumped back in surprise, the former placing a steadying hand on Gilbert's shoulder to keep from falling.
'Sweet Jehoshaphat,' swore Moody, as he stepped back to fully observe his prodigal friend. 'Is that really you, Gil?'
The grin that had formed upon Gilbert's face since surprising his friends had yet to disappear. He glanced from Moody to Charlie, and shook his curly head. 'My, it's good to see you two. New Brunswick is all very well—and my cousins are very welcoming—but nothing beats good old P.E.I., does it?' Both boys grinned back and shook their heads. 'So, what have I missed?'
Charlie tore his gaze from Gilbert and turned to Moody, a faint blush rising beneath his goggle-eyes. Moody merely shook his and glanced at Gilbert. 'Anne Shirley,' he explained, causing Charlie's cheeks to turn even rosier.
'Anne Shirley?' Gilbert repeated, allowing the name to fall from his lips. He ruminated for a moment, and then—of course! 'I heard mother speaking to Mrs. Lynde about her. She gave Mrs. Lynde what-for, apparently.'
Moody chuckled. 'That's old news now, Gil. Charlie's dead gone on the poor girl. He's been plotting a stealthy way to write her name up with his on the 'Take Notice' wall for weeks.'
Gilbert laughed, marveling over the fact that Charlie had found another girl to fancy after Minnie Andrews' sore rejection a few years prior. To the Sloane boy's credit, she had only been eight and wasn't yet ready for a vigorous romantic suitor.
'Anyhow,' continued Moody, once the chuckles had died down, 'what happened with Tommy?'
The round-faced boy's question was directed at Charlie, whose large eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected inquiry. 'Oh!' he exclaimed suddenly, remembering the story that had long been forgotten with the arrival of their friend. 'Right! Well, Tommy went out to check on the cows, but he hadn't yet spotted the fishing line I'd tied between the two trees…'
Laughter erupted once more between the three young boys as Charlie finished his tale, and they then went on to discuss the inconsequential fancies of thirteen-year-old boys. Time was forgotten between the friends, as they were all overjoyed to be in each other's company once again. In what seemed to be no time at all, the group of comrades arrived in front of the Avonlea schoolhouse to join the throngs of young scholars.
From the corner of his hazel eyes, Gilbert noticed Julia Bell and her two friends glance and giggle at him. Deciding to indulge the young girls for a moment, he winked.
'Careful, Gil,' warned Charlie, 'your name is already up on the porch wall with Julia's.'
Gilbert decided that although Julia's eyes were a wee bit too close to her nose, he didn't quite mind and simply shrugged off his friend's warning.
'That's Anne Shirley over there.' Charlie extended his slender arm to point at a skinny redhead and a plump raven-haired girl whom Gilbert knew to be Diana Barry. 'Her and Diana Barry are practically inseparable.'
Gilbert took note of the eleven-year-old's red braids, drab dress, and shapely nose—he also noticed a dusting of freckles across the aforesaid shapely nose and cheeks—but this Anne Shirley had yet to look at him which quickly caused Gilbert to lose interest.
The schoolmaster rang the bell shortly thereafter, and the pupils lined up in front until roll was called. Upon entering the schoolhouse, Gilbert confidently strode up to Mr. Phillip's desk to be assigned a seat. His eyes gleamed when he noticed that he'd be sitting behind Ruby Gillis and her shiny blonde braid. As he took his seat, he passed Anne Shirley and Diana Barry, who were currently engrossed in a thrilling conversation and did not both to look up Gilbert as he passed. For some reason—some strange, inexplicable reason that Gilbert could not quite put his finger on—this bothered him. However, his spirits brightened considerably after he took his seat and heard Diana whisper his name to her redheaded companion. Now that he knew he had someone's attention—quite an understatement considering that Gilbert Blythe usually always had someone's attention—he decided to pull out the long, silver pin that had been sitting in his pocket all day, pricking away at his thigh.
Ruby's long, yellow braid was currently draped across the back of her seat, just waiting for Gilbert's pin. He smiled slightly as he poked the thin metal pin through her hair and into the hard wood of the seat, pushing it hard enough to stay fastened to the chair when Ruby next decided to stand up.
Presently, Ruby finished the sum she had spent minutes trying to figure out—although nearly half those minutes were spent dreaming of the male population of the Avonlea schoolhouse—and stood up to present her sums to Mr. Phillips. However, the pin—firmly planted to the back of her chair—pulled her shiny braid back, yanking poor Ruby back into her seat, causing her slate to clatter against her desk. Gilbert, to his merit, had already yanked the pin from her seat and began studying the history lesson laid out before him. He didn't notice the disapproving stare Mr. Phillips gave Ruby as she began to cry, but he did notice that a certain redhead was staring at him from across the aisle.
The commotion of his prank died down, and Gilbert allowed himself to glance up and meet Anne Shirley's stare. Her gray eyes were large and expressive—they clearly told Gilbert that she had seen the prank he pulled on Ruby and that he should be ashamed—and an image of those very eyes flashing with anger as she yelled at Mrs. Lynde filled his mind. Those starry, animated eyes told Gilbert that the young girl held a very large temper, although he had yet to discover just how large her temper really was.
But, Gilbert quickly realized, he was staring! To correct this, his lips curled into a droll smile—he noticed Anne's gray eyes narrow slightly at this action—and he winked. The brown-haired thirteen year old did not wait to see Anne's reaction, instead choosing to turn his attention to his history, a smile still playing on his lips. Beside him, he heard Anne turn and whisper something—presumably about him—to Diana.
The rest of the morning passed without incident, as Gilbert had preoccupied himself with his studies. Even though he was a mischievous lad—as most thirteen year olds are—and enjoyed playing the occasional prank, he very much cared about his studies and had high ambitions for his future. His father's illness was a major setback in his education, but he loved the elderly Blythe man dearly and didn't mind spending those three years in Alberta caring for him.
Now, however, the younger Blythe boy realized just how far behind he was. He glanced around the classroom at Moody and Charlie, who were diligently studying—or pretending to—their Sixth Readers. Dismally, Gilbert directed his hazel gaze downward to the fourth reader that was perched on his desk. Before his father's illness, Gilbert had been at the top of the class, outdoing every pupil in the schoolhouse. Now, he realized that he'd have to fight to catch up with his friends, something he'd never had to do before.
When the other children were released for their snack breaks, Gilbert opted to stay inside and study. By the time the students came filing in after their break, Gilbert was feeling fairly confident that he'd overtake his pupils with ease. The young boy glanced up just as Anne Shirley swept in, her freckled nose held high as she took her seat beside Diana. Gilbert stared at her, trying hard to catch her eye, but she did not once deign him with a glance.
Gilbert returned to his schoolwork shortly thereafter, stealing only a few glances at Anne Shirley. Her chin was rested upon her knuckle, propping her head up as she gazed out through the window. He couldn't blame her; her desk held a wonderful view of Barry's Pond, which reflected merrily through the window.
Still, she should look at him! Julia Bell was happily gazing at him from across the room, and she was older than Anne Shirley. Even Diana Barry took note of him from time to time, so why shouldn't her minx of a friend?
Yet her wonderful gray eyes had yet to move from the window. Without thinking it over, Gilbert quickly reached across the aisle and grabbed ahold of one of the red braids that fell across Anne's shoulder. In a tone that was meant to be teasing, not cruel, Gilbert whispered:
'Carrots! Carrots!
Anne's reaction to his words was instantaneous—he'd finally achieved her attention, but Gilbert didn't garner the reaction he'd anticipated. Immediately, Anne was out of her seat, her face growing in anger—causing her freckled cheeks to turn as red as her hair—taking her slate with her. Before Gilbert could comprehend what happening, Anne yelled:
'You mean, hateful boy! How dare you!'
Gilbert realized what had happened too late. Before he could move, argue, or even make a sound, Anne's slate came crashing down against his head. The wood holding the slate together cracked, half of it falling against his neck while the other half remained firmly in Anne Shirley's head.
Gilbert had predicted that Anne Shirley had a temper, but he had completely underestimated the power of that temper.
![Gilbert Gilbert](/uploads/1/2/5/8/125864800/561069428.jpg)
Gilbert's eyes were focused so steadily on Anne's face that he didn't notice the reactions of his friends and peers. He only noticed the tears that swelled underneath Anne's eyelashes, threatening to spill over as the master marched over.
'Anne Shirley, what does this mean?' the master demanded angrily. Anne, overcome with anger and hurt, could not answer. Guilt flooded Gilbert, beginning in his stomach and rising to his head. He hadn't mean to hurt Anne, or even get her into trouble with Mr. Phillips. He'd only wanted those expressive eyes to gaze at him like they gazed at Barry's Pond.
'It was my fault, Mr. Phillips,' Gilbert offered eagerly. He knew it was futile—the master never listened to reason—but he had to try, anyhow. 'I teased her.'
'I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit,' the master intoned, staring at Anne condescendingly. 'Anne, go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon.'
The life drained out of Anne's face at his words, as though she hadn't realized that such a public display should warrant a punishment. Gilbert watched, his jaw hanging, as Anne marched up to the chalkboard, following the master.
Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper.
This punishment was worse than a public whipping, Gilbert realized, because this one invited humiliation. Anne had to stand in front of the class and rewrite the sentence until the chalkboard was full of her handwriting, and Mr. Phillips had spelled her name wrong.
Yet Gilbert could not help the tiny, good-natured chuckle that escaped his lips when Anne added an 'e' to the end of her name.
Gilbert was one of the first people to leave the schoolhouse when all the pupils were dismissed. He made up his mind to apologize to Anne—he wanted to earn her friendship, and he was afraid that he'd already ruined it. It wasn't long before he spotted Anne's red hair as she exited the schoolhouse.
'I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne,' he told her earnestly. Anne did not look at him, nor did she give any recognition of his presence. So, more desperately: 'Honest I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now.'
Yet Anne swept by disdainfully, acting as though she didn't hear him although Gilbert was sure her ears were in perfect working order. With a sigh, Gilbert turned and headed towards the pathway that lead to the main road, where Charlie and Moody were waiting.
Charlie immediately intercepted Gilbert before the older boy could even speak. 'Why'd you have to go and tease Anne about her hair, Gil?' asked Charlie. 'Everyone knows she's awfully touchy about her hair.'
'I didn't,' Gilbert told him. He wasn't in the mood for an argument; the day's events had already taken too much out of him. The rest of the walk home was spent in silence, as Charlie refused to talk to Gilbert until he apologized, and Gilbert felt he had given out all the appropriate apologies to Anne.
Dinner that night was conducted as a normal affair, but Mrs. Blythe broiled a chicken to celebrate Gilbert's first day back at school. Both Mr. and Mrs. Blythe took note of their son's depleted mood, but had yet to comment on it.
'Great chicken, Mother,' Gilbert remarked at last. 'Thank you for dinner.'
His mother nodded in appreciation, swallowing her forkful of chicken. Afterwards, she laid the silverware gently on one of the napkins placed on the table. 'I heard an interesting story to-day, Gilbert,' she told him, trepidation clear in her voice. Gilbert had to resist the temptation to bolt from the table—such manners were not polite. 'Mrs. Lynde told me that Anne Shirley—the orphan girl she told me about this weekend—went off on you in class.'
Gilbert nodded. 'It wasn't her fault,' he added, quick to defend Anne. 'I—I teased her.'
Mrs. Blythe shook her head disapprovingly, but Mr. Blythe chuckled…well, blithely.
'May I be excused, please?' Gilbert asked anxiously. He wasn't wont to discuss his incident with Anne, especially considering he'd been mulling over it since his dismissal from school—and his dismissal from Anne's good graces. His mother nodded and allowed him to leave the table, closely followed by his father.
The two reached the parlor and Gilbert stretched out on one of the sofas, while Mr. Blythe settled into his usual wooden chair. A pile of newspapers lay next to the chair, readily available for whenever Mr. Blythe felt inclined to read one.
'I'm assuming you didn't mean to upset this girl?' asked Mr. Blythe at length. Gilbert felt a warmth spread from his neck to his cheeks at his father's inquiry.
'No-o-o.' Gilbert shifted from his perch to stand up straight. Still, he averted his gaze from his father's face. 'I only wanted her to look at me. Now she won't speak to me.'
Mr. Blythe nodded as he took in the information. 'And this is the orphan girl that Marilla Cuthbert adopted, yes?'
Gilbert nodded his head dismally, causing Mr. Blythe to chuckle once more.
The elderly Blythe grabbed a newspaper from the pile beside him and tore his gaze from his son. 'Good luck with that one, son.'
Gilbert hadn't a clue what his father meant but decided not to dwell on it, because to think of that girl only depressed him.
xxx
The rest of the week passed without incident. Gilbert tried eagerly to be accepted into Anne's good graces, but to no avail. She acted as though he didn't exist and, to add insult upon injury, she bested or tied him in nearly every subject. As each day passed he felt instinctively that Anne Shirley was different from any girl he had previously associated himself with, and the only girl who did not want to associate with him.
The next week, nearly all the scholars of Avonlea were late to school for picking gum in Mr. Bell's spruce grove. Gilbert, not being one of them, did not worry about punishment, for he was nearly always punctual. But the master relayed a warning for the entire class: every pupil must be in their seat on time the next day, or there would be a severe punishment. Gilbert scoffed at the idea, for Mr. Phillips was not known for his harsh punishments.
The next day, however, every student who had been in Mr. Bell's spruce grove were back there again, including Anne but excepting Gilbert. He sat promptly in his seat, going over his geometrical sums because Anne had bested him the day before.
When the master arrived, the students began running into the classroom. First came the girls—Anne was curiously missing, Gilbert noticed—followed by the loud footsteps of the boys. Anne came in a minute later, her hair adorned gloriously with flowers. Gilbert thought the wreath very attractive, and hoped that to-morrow she would wear another one.
'Anne Shirley!'
Inwardly, Gilbert groaned. So engrossed had he been in his observations of Anne's hair ornaments that he'd forgotten she was the latest of all. She certainly had a knack for mishaps, that Shirley girl.
'Since you seem to be so fond of the boys' company we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon,' the master told her sarcastically. Anne gulped noticeably while Gilbert wondered what punishment Mr. Phillips would give out. 'Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe.'
Disappointment filled Gilbert when he realized that Anne would have to release those becoming flowers from her hair, but another emotion entirely seized his body when he realized that she would be sitting next to him. Maybe, at last, he could earn her forgiveness—!
Gilbert, too overjoyed, did not notice the color drain on her face, nor did he notice the absolute dread in her eyes as she eyed the seat beside him. It wasn't until the master asked if Anne had heard him that Gilbert realized Anne's misery.
'Yes, sir,' Anne said, answering the master's inquiry as to whether or not she had heard his order, 'but I didn't suppose you really meant it.'
'I assure you I did,' the master reminded her, intoning that idiosyncratic sarcasm that Gilbert was learning to hate. 'Obey me at once.'
Anne's face grew whiter than the frock she was wearing as she gazed at the seat beside Gilbert. The color continued to drain from her face as she stepped across the classroom to take her seat beside Gilbert, and then promptly buried her head in her arms.
Everyone else whispered and nudged as Anne's head stay buried beneath her elbows. For a girl to sit next to a boy was punishment enough—for every girl except, it seemed, Ruby Gillis—but for Anne Shirley to sit next to Gilbert Blythe was complete torture.
Gilbert turned back to his fractions, his whole body tense, and pretended become absorbed in them. He'd already learned them—that was one of the benefits of spending mornings in the schoolhouse instead of Mr. Bell's grove—but he pretended as though he didn't and put his whole heart into them. Soon, Mr. Phillips relinquished the pair from his gaze and returned his attention to Prissy Andrews. Gilbert was thankful, because it seemed as soon as the master acquitted his attention, so did the rest of the class.
When he felt that no one was paying attention—for Gilbert wasn't sure if he could handle another public rejection, should Anne rejection again—Gilbert found the little candy heart he had been saving if an opportunity presented itself. Now that such an opportunity had presented itself, Gilbert slowly nudged it underneath Anne's elbow. For a moment, Anne did not move, and Gilbert was left to stare at the pink heart's 'You are sweet' logo until she did.
Finally, Gilbert noticed a muscle in Anne's arm twitch as she began to move. Without looking at him, she picked up the candy heart and read what was written upon it. For a moment, Gilbert's spirit soared…only to come crashing down as Anne threw the heart on the floor and crushed it underneath her boot. She then resumed her previous position without deigning to glance at Gilbert's crestfallen face.
When the pupils were released, Gilbert took his time gather his books together. Beside him, Anne hastily gathered all of her worldly possessions from her desk and marched haughtily out of the class, leaving Gilbert to stare after her.
The next morning, Gilbert met a sour-faced Charlie along the main road.
'Anne's not coming back to school,' he muttered, not looking at Gilbert. Had he glanced at Gilbert, he would have noticed a very shocked expression adorning the young, handsome face. 'She told Diana who told Gertie who told Carrie who told me that she wouldn't be returning.'
'Oh.' Gilbert didn't quite know what to say. A sickening feeling grew in his stomach—he knew it was because she would have to sit next to him, and Anne would rather be whipped painfully in front of the entire class than sit next to Gilbert.
School that day was a rather dull affair, for Anne's chatter was sorely missed along the Avonlea scholars. Diana Barry sat next to Gertie Pye, but the glimmer of friendship was gone out of her eyes. Gilbert sat and worked diligently, but not as hard as he usually would had Anne been there to compete with him. He should have been happy that he wasn't cooped up with someone who hated his very existence, yet he found that he missed Anne's presence sorely.
When the students were dismissed, Gilbert once again took his time gathering up his possessions. Charlie and Moody were waiting outside for him as he passed the porch wall, where his name was still written up with Julia Bell's. It was funny, he reflected, how only a fortnight ago he'd been acutely aware of Julia Bell, yet now he barely thought of her.
And poor Gilbert couldn't help but wish that instead of Julia's, his name had been written up beside Anne Shirley's, with a big 'Take Notice' above it.
Reviews are better than sitting next to cute boys in class (unless you're Anne Shirley)!
(Also, should I add on to this story and write more from Gil's point of view? I've been toying with the idea but I want to see if people would actually read it.)
(Also, should I add on to this story and write more from Gil's point of view? I've been toying with the idea but I want to see if people would actually read it.)