“Well…sure, Iwin. I’d love to.” Isabelle leaned over and kissed Iwin’s cheek, smiling. “What would you like me to wear?”

Iwin was busy rubbing the spot on his cheek Isabelle had kissed. Was she talking? He hadn’t noticed—her eyes were so pretty—

“Um—whatever you want. It’ll just be…a nice picnic outside before the weather starts getting bad…”

“I’ll be ready,” she took his hand. “Walk me to class, please?”

Iwin could not refuse, and his stomach was doing backflips. Ruffling his hair to look slightly more rugged, he began to pull her along.

Bran would be so proud.