He felt her pull away and Vinny didn’t know how much he wanted to fight. There was an ache in his chest, something that told him he was once again being pushed away from what he wanted. It was a strange combination of feelings; Arista was her own woman, making her own choices, who was he to question her decisions? He wanted to, he wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to worry about what other people said, that they were smart enough to manage the media, that the chance of a future together was worth it, but he didn’t know how, and he couldn’t do that here. The atmosphere was romanticized, they were surrounded by people that needn’t get involved, and as seemingly magical as the kiss had been (no, honestly, there had been something shot through his veins), he wasn’t naive enough to think that it would be enough to rid Arista of her doubts.
Vinny didn’t like when people doubted him. In her mind it might not be him specifically, but it was enough. He prided himself on being the best, putting forth all he could. It was in his blood, he never doubted his Sorting, he was a proud Hufflepuff who worked hard for what he wanted. He felt twisted up and bothered, unsure which was the more overwhelming feeling; wanting to make Arista to see that he would be good for her or allowing her to realize that on her own.
He deserved that, didn’t he? To be recognized for the good man he was?
“It’s past midnight,” was all he said, not moving away, but not inching closer. She could take this as her chance to go without him saying another word, or she could make the right decision.
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