CHAPTER 164: NELLIE. NELLIE

Nellie, Nellie, sweet little Nellie, shy little Nellie, thicc thighs Nellie, mine-o-mine Nellie.

The tune danced through Lor’s mind, a playful, teasing refrain that had rooted itself somewhere between leaving Ameth’s cottage and now, spilling out in a low hum as he wandered the sun-warmed streets.

Maybe it was the rhythm of the cobblestones under his boots, or the thought of Nellie’s soft, nervous smile—whatever it was, it curled his lips into a grin that felt like mischief and promise all at once.

Today, with her, he knew exactly what he’d ask, and the anticipation thrummed in his chest like a plucked string.

The lane to Nellie’s estate veered off the city’s bustling heart, winding through tall hedges that softened the breeze and filled the air with the delicate scent of blooming jasmine.

The world quieted here, the market’s clamor fading to a distant murmur, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the faint chirp of sparrows.

When the ornate iron gates of her property loomed into view, their filigreed patterns catching the afternoon light, Lor’s grin widened, a spark of excitement igniting in his veins.

The gates swung open with the lightest push—Nellie had probably left them open for him.

He climbed the wide stone steps to her carved wooden door, the polished surface gleaming under the sun’s caress.

His knuckles rapped lightly, the sound swallowed by the quiet opulence of her home.

The door eased open, and Nellie’s face appeared first—just her head, ash-brown braids framing her soft features, her gray eyes wide behind delicate glasses.

Then she stepped forward, revealing a cream blouse with puffed sleeves that hugged her arms, tucked into a knee-length skirt adorned with tiny green leaves.

The fabric clung gently to her curves, accentuating the generous swell of her hips and the soft, inviting thickness of her thighs.

Her freckles stood out against the faint flush on her cheeks, and the way the sunlight caught her glasses made her look like a nervous angel caught off guard.

"Lor," she said, her voice a warm, trembling mix of surprise and delight, as if she’d half-convinced herself he might not show.

"I—I was expecting you. I’ve been going over spell theory and mathematics, like you asked." Her hands twisted together briefly, betraying her nerves, before she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Good," Lor said, his smile softening as he stepped inside.

The entrance hall stretched before him, its polished marble floor reflecting the light pouring through tall, arched windows.

The air carried a faint hint of lavender, mingling with the warmth of polished wood and old money. "Keeping up with your studies. I like that."

She ducked her head, her blush deepening as she moved aside to let him pass.

"Have you... had lunch yet?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the question itself was too bold.

"Nope," he said, letting his eyes linger on her for a moment, catching the way her skirt swayed against her thighs as she shifted. "Starving, actually."

Her lips parted in a soft gasp, her eyes widening.

"Oh! I haven’t eaten either." She hesitated, then gestured toward the corridor on the right, her movements shy but purposeful. "Come on, then. Let’s have lunch first. I... I made plenty."

Lor followed, his boots clicking softly on the marble as they entered the dining room—a grand, almost absurdly spacious chamber that could’ve hosted a royal banquet.

The long mahogany table gleamed under a crystal chandelier, but only two places were set, the intimacy of the setup a stark contrast to the room’s grandeur.

Fine porcelain plates sat beside sparkling crystal glasses, and a silver soup tureen shone in the center like a quiet boast.

Nellie’s hospitality was never subtle, and Lor couldn’t help but admire the effort she poured into even a simple lunch.

She moved with a quiet grace, uncovering dishes with a care that bordered on reverence.

"Roast chicken with herbs," she said, her voice soft but proud as she lifted a lid, revealing golden, glistening meat. "Buttered carrots, mashed potatoes... oh, and fresh bread delivered this morning."

The aromas swirled together—savory, warm, and comforting, with a hint of rosemary that made Lor’s mouth water.

He slid into his seat, the cushioned chair creaking faintly under his weight.

"You’re setting a dangerous standard here, Nellie," he teased, his eyes flicking to hers as she spooned potatoes onto his plate, her movements careful but endearingly clumsy.

"Keep feeding me like this, and I’ll never leave."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and she ducked her head, her braids swaying as she tried to hide a shy smile.

"Well... I do like cooking," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"And you... you always seem to enjoy it." Her eyes darted up to meet his, then away, as if the admission had cost her something.

"Flattering a man’s appetite is a risky move," Lor said, his tone light but laced with a playful edge, watching the way her fingers tightened around the serving spoon.

"You’ll have me knocking on your door every day."

She laughed—a soft, nervous sound that made her freckles seem to dance—and busied herself with serving the carrots.

They settled into the meal, the clink of silverware against porcelain filling the comfortable silence.

They talked about the academy, the recent happenings in the town and anything where their chat lead to.

Her laughter came easier as they ate, each chuckle a small victory that warmed the air between them.

At one point, she reached to pour him more water, her hand brushing his as the glass nudged his fingers.

"Oh!" she gasped, pulling back quickly, her cheeks flaming as she nearly knocked the pitcher over. "I’m so sorry!"

Lor chuckled, low and warm, catching her wrist gently before she could retreat fully.

"Easy, Nellie. It’s just water." He released her, but not before his thumb grazed the soft skin of her inner wrist, a fleeting touch that made her breath hitch.