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writethehousedown · 4 years

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Things Are Really Cool (In Nazareth) (Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: wow hi, welcome to whatever the hell this is? this is a sort of a kind of a n19f verse/masp verse crossover set some years after the originals take place (but you don’t need to have read either to read this), borne out of the semi-autobiographical experience of my last few weeks at work trying to teach five year olds mid-pandemic. basically Nina’s a stressed primary teacher and Monet is her primary teacher girlfriend. this is fulfilling the prompt “Nice” only ten days late and also probably has one million and one typos in my haste to get it out in time for at least Christmas xo regardless, i hope u all enjoy and in the words of boyband JLS, “mewwy cwistmas”.

disclaimer: there are a couple of lines i’ve yoinked out of tv shows here- “lesbian having a panic attack” is adapted from Kimmy Schmidt and the “what are you, forty?” ones are from Always Sunny. leave me alone i’m too tired to be funny at this time of year xo

fic summary: When Nina’s headteacher asks her to pull a Nativity play out of thin air with only a week to organise it, Nina is simply too nice to say no. As a consequence, she is blindly oblivious to what her girlfriend Monet is planning, with useless lesbian results.

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She’d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

And Nina had never been one to say no to anything.

#rpdr fanfiction #ninex #background witney #monet x change #nina west #willam belli #courtney act #things are really cool in nazareth #ortega #fluff #kidfic #proposal fic #ficmas 2020 #day 14: nice #tw: coronavirus reference #submission

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 7 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: ayo folks! ur all getting a slightly earlier chapter from me this week because i happened to write it very quickly! i had so much fun writing this one, it’s a bit eventful so hang onto your hats!! hope u all love it, feel free to give it a little like or a reblog or send some love!! love u all xo

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

18th October 2020

Vanessa sits on the floor opposite Crystal, both of their knees tucked in under their chins, both of them glugging from their water bottles. It’s Sunday and Vanessa’s wasted no time in choreographing, having roped Crystal in to help her after their pro dance rehearsal. Crystal is doing a Waltz this week, which Vanessa could only be of minimal help with, but her friend didn’t really mind all that much.

“Ten of us left,” Crystal comments in the silence, and Vanessa nods with her. The dance off last night consisted of Scarlet and Plastique again and, to the shock of no-one, Farrah and Aja. The judges elected to save Farrah and Aja, and so poor Scarlet’s Strictly journey came to an end. Vanessa feels sorry for her but secretly she’s happy Plastique’s been knocked down a peg or two and has bowed out early this year. She doesn’t dislike the girl, but she’s too confident for her taste. Nothing wrong with being humble every now and again.

“Hard to believe this is dance number four.”

Crystal hums quietly in response. She’s got a sort of look on her face that prompts Vanessa to narrow her eyes at her.

“What’s the drama, mama?”

Crystal lets out a sigh, stretches herself out so she’s lying on her stomach and props her head up with her elbows. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Depends what it is, boo, I’m not tryin’ to be in no courtroom.”

Crystal laughs in her own, airy-fairy way. Then she sighs. “I think I like Gigi as more than my dance partner.”

“Oh, Lord above,” Vanessa mutters without thinking, the amount of schoolgirl crushes flying around Elstree studios becoming suddenly overwhelming. Crystal gives her a funny look and Vanessa waves her away. “Sorry, Crys. Ignore me, I’m just bein’ cynical.”

Crystal winces as if she’s put her foot in it. “Right. Yeah, God, sorry, Vanj.”

Vanessa thinks for a moment back to what Crystal’s told her. She cracks a smile. “You got feelings for a model, that’s when you know you’re fucked.”

“There’s a moment you know…you’re fucked,” Crystal sings quietly. It makes Vanessa snort. Crystal pouts, lets out a whine. “It was all the Rhumba’s fault. Stupid sexy Rhumba.”

“Don’t blame it on the sunshine, don’t blame it on the moonlight, don’t blame it on the good times…” Vanessa deadpans, and Crystal is already giggling as they finish the joke together.

“…blame it on the Rhumba.”

“It was a hot Rhumba, though. Nobody could blame you,” she shrugs. Vanessa is still riding the high of briefly topping the leaderboard last night, even if she was toppled off by Jan and Jackie, Akeria and Asia, and Crystal and Gigi themselves. But still…fourth is the best they’ve ever done, and she’s proud of them both.

“You’ve got a bit of a hot one this week, you know,” Crystal cocks an eyebrow at her. “Anything you want to tell me?”

Vanessa shoves her on the shoulder and sends Crystal rolling over the dusty floor. “Behave.”

Crystal shrugs in spite of the brief attack from her friend. “All I’m saying is I’ve seen the way Brooke Lynn looks at you.”

Vanessa’s brain hotwires and she says about twenty sentences at once. “Shut up! No, she doesn’t. That’s not…that’s not a thing, Crystal, you…how does she look at me?”

Crystal blurts out a laugh and Vanessa supposes she has to join in. As their laughter dies down, Crystal thinks for a moment. “It’s like she’s the moon and you’re-”

“The sun? Jesus, Crystal, how predictable can you be?”

“Will you let me finish my damn sentence! Hostia…” Crystal exhales in irritation, and Vanessa has to stifle a laugh at her swearing. Her face softens and she gazes at Vanessa with intrigue. “She’s the moon and you’re the stars. She’s happy to coexist with you, she’s happy to just be beside you and admire you for as long as you’ll let her.”

Vanessa feels as if her insides are glowing. She smiles at Crystal. “So you think she likes me back?”

“A-ha! I knewit! Back! You said back!” Crystal screeches, and Vanessa only has the willpower to roll her eyes, because Brooke looks at her like that. Crystal calms down, and then shrugs. “Well if she doesn’t want you now, she will after this Salsa. Fuck knows how the BBC allowed that song, but they did.”

“Is it too sexy?” Vanessa frowns, suddenly doubtful.

“Yes,” Crystal says instantly and seriously. She pauses before she allows a smile to spread across her face. “It’s perfect.”

The next morning, Vanessa has carefully strategised to ensure she looks the best she can in her rehearsal gear. She’s got her black exercise leggings on- the ones with the high waist that make her bum look good- and she’s gone for a red oversized jumper that’ll inevitably need peeled off when they start warming up. Underneath she’s picked a strappy sports bra that somehow doesn’t completely flatten her chest, and there’s a strip of toned skin between where it stops and her leggings begin. She’s pulled her waves of hair into a messy ponytail and she’s done an ever-so-tiny amount of makeup too- mascara, eyeliner, the tiniest bit of concealer, a little bit of liquid highlighter to make things pop. She’s standing looking at herself in the mirror when Brooke arrives, and she chooses to ignore the way her eyebrows raise involuntarily when she sees her.

“Hey, boo,” Vanessa greets her lightly, giving her a wave. “How you feelin’? Still ridin’ the high of Saturday night?”

“God, yeah. That was incredible, we smashed it!” Brooke gushes, throwing her gym bag to the floor. “Fourth is good. We just need to stay there.”

“Or move up,” Vanessa shrugs. Brooke points and nods at her in agreement as she throws her hair into a ponytail. She looks good herself- she’s in an oversized t-shirt which she’s tied at a knot at her stomach and a pair of loose-fitting black shorts. Fuck, why hadn’t she thought of shorts?

“What’ve we got this week?” Brooke asks, hair finally fixed. Vanessa feels like taking a deep breath before answering.

“We’re doin’…a Salsa,” she reveals. Brooke claps her hands together, excited. Vanessa smiles. “Do you know much about what a Salsa involves?”

“Uh, I know it’s a Latin one,” Brooke shrugs, leaning against the barre so she’s opposite Vanessa.

“Cuban.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“Sure. Okay, well…the judges last week said they wanted to see some more chemistry,” Vanessa prefaces her explanation. “So a Salsa’s a bit of a hot one. We’ve done a couple’a fun dances, we did the angry Paso, and now we gotta sexy Salsa.”

“Okay,” Brooke nods, a little hint of a smile on her face. Vanessa had been waiting to see her reaction and it’s not what she’d expected- she thought Brooke would maybe get a little bit bashful about it, but Vanessa supposes the woman’s a professional. “I can do sexy, that’s fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” Vanessa finds herself saying before she can think, and as soon as the sentence is out of her mouth she turns away from Brooke, slaps a hand over her mouth and fiddles with her phone so that Brooke doesn’t see her blush. “Uh…you warmed up?”

“Yeah. Ready to get even more warmed up,” she replies, and when Vanessa turns around she sees that Brooke’s wiggling her eyebrows at her. It makes her laugh.

“Okay, sweet. I’m gonna show you what me an’ Crystal choreographed yesterday for it,” she says casually, despite the fact that her heart is beating out of her chest, so anxious is she to see Brooke’s reaction. Vanessa motions for Brooke to come close to her so she can see her phone and as soon as Brooke can see, Vanessa hits play.

The dance starts.

“Oh,” Brooke comments quietly. It’s only about ten seconds in and Vanessa’s already whining against Crystal who’s got her hands behind her head. “Oh, wow.”

The appreciative noise makes a proud smile spring to Vanessa’s lips. There’s a lot of very intricate arm movements to a salsa, and she explains this to Brooke as she and Crystal twist and twirl each other around the dancefloor, their arms moving and intertwining like clockwork. The song reaches the part where they both stop, press close together, and Crystal runs her hands up Vanessa’s thighs, her waist and her sides. The lyrics are loud through the speakers.

“And baby I know what you’re after…it’s all in the details, and every inch of me matters…”

“Oh wow,” Brooke comments again, her voice little above a whisper. It makes a little thrill of electricity shoot down Vanessa’s spine. “Oh shit!”

“Oh yeah, we’re gonna do a bit of a lift,” Vanessa explains a little late, as the video has just shown Crystal swinging Vanessa up and holding one of her legs tight so she can kick her other leg in the air while upside down.

“Christ,” Brooke laughs. The music is still blaring from the speakers. They’re both silent as the lyrics ring out, but there’s a certain atmosphere in the air and it’s making Vanessa anticipate the moment they start dancing.

“I know you love it when you go down under, I’ll be moving for you like no other, so much body for your lips to discover…”

Vanessa sneaks a look in the studio mirrors at Brooke’s expression. She’s got an impassive facade as she watches but Vanessa can see the pink blush on her cheeks, her face betraying her. She bites her lip in a smile as she looks back down at her phone. Vanessa’s hooked her leg over Crystal’s thigh as Crystal dips her and brings her up, her hands supportive on her back and Vanessa’s hair skimming the floor. They spin each other round again and then Vanessa stops, her leg positioned out. Crystal is down on one knee, runs a hand up her leg from her calf to her thigh. Brooke is silent as she watches.

“Me an’ Crys got the giggles so many times doin’ this,” Vanessa attempts to lighten the mood. Brooke gives a small laugh.

“I bet,” she murmurs. There’s something in her tone that makes Vanessa squeeze her thighs together.

“Mmm, go back, go back…I think you missed a spot…”

The dance finishes with Vanessa on one knee and her hands on Crystal’s popped thigh. She puts her phone back into her gym bag and fixes Brooke with a smile that she makes deliberately cheerful and light. “So! Thoughts?”

Brooke blinks about six times in quick succession. She runs a hand through the ends of her ponytail and looks to the floor. “God, um. Yeah. It’s definitely, uh…God. I’m flustered!”

Vanessa’s heart feels like singing. Her plan’s working and they’ve not even started dancing yet. “Good, it’s meant to make you flustered when you watch it! As long as you don’t get flustered dancin’ it.”

“That’s um…that is just a song about oral sex, right?”

Vanessa lets out a hoot of a laugh. “Oh, baby, it gets way worse.”

“Worse! How can it get worse?” Brooke laughs. Vanessa decides to wind her up a bit, starts swinging her hips as she sings the second verse that the BBC has insisted they can’t air before 9pm.

“You wanna hit it, wanna hear me hit a high note, I let you rub it, touch it, lick up on this, I know-”

“Aah!” Brooke cries comedically, planting her hands over her ears. Vanessa giggles, decides to stop teasing her.

Well. They’re about to start the routine, so she supposes she’s just going to start teasing her in other ways.

“We don’t really have a story to tell this week. We’re gonna be the story,” Vanessa explains, and Brooke nods, taking a deep breath at the same time.

“Right. Let’s get started.”

So Vanessa starts teaching Brooke. And it’s more fun than she’d ever imagined. She peels her jumper off too early just so she can feel Brooke’s hands on her bare skin a little more than usual. When they practise the part where Brooke runs her hands up Vanessa’s thigh she almost goes into cardiac arrest at the thought of doing it in costume, where both of them are going to be in tiny dresses and bare legs. But just because there’s lots of fun, sexy moments doesn’t mean the dance isn’t tricky, and a lot of their first rehearsal is spent getting the arm movements right.

“I think it’s going okay,” Brooke comments during their first break, after taking a long drink from her water bottle. “There’s this one bit though I think I need help with.”

“Okay, shoot,” Vanessa shrugs. Suddenly, she swears she can see a little glint in Brooke’s eye as she starts talking again.

“Uhh, the bit where you like…grind against me. What am I doing there again?”

Vanessa pauses for a moment before she speaks. She swears Brooke’s playing a game, but she doesn’t mind playing along. She shows her what she’s meant to be doing, says the counts at the same time. Brooke nods like she understands. “Let’s see you do it first?”

Brooke does it perfectly. Then, she speaks again. “Can we just run that section a couple more times?”

Vanessa narrows her eyes and quirks her a smile. Brooke laughs. “What? What is it?”

Some things are better left unsaid, so Vanessa bites the smile away. “Nothin’, nothin’. Okay, we can run it a couple times.”

They run it again three times and Vanessa makes sure to whine incredibly slowly and deliberately against Brooke each time. She certainly doesn’t mind, and from the looks of it neither does Brooke. Brooke then asks if they can run the bit where they’re pressed up against each other again, because apparently she’s forgotten what to do with her hands. Vanessa realises that she’s being well and truly played at her own game, but if she gets to have Brooke’s hands all over her again she’s not going to mind. She stands in position with her arms looped over Brooke’s shoulders and around her neck, and Brooke’s hands are on her thighs. They’re so close together that it’s almost painful.

“Okay so on the counts, you’re going-” Vanessa takes Brooke’s hands in her own and moves them confidently where they’re meant to be going. She instantly notices the way Brooke’s eyes fly open ever so slightly. “- thighs, ass, waist, ribs, like one, two, three, four. But obviously it’s gonna be a lot more fluid than that.”

Brooke looks like a deer in the headlights, so Vanessa smiles as she follows it up with, “An’ remember eye contact. Don’t be afraid to look at me, baby, ‘cuz your hands are already all over me.”

Brooke gives a sort of choked laugh. Vanessa counts her in. “Five, six, seven, eight-”

As Vanessa sways her hips she feels Brooke’s hands glide up her body, and it’s almost entirely too much. Brooke’s obediently taken direction about eye contact and her gaze is dark as she looks into Vanessa’s eyes. When she stops, neither of them move. Vanessa’s still got her arms looped around Brooke’s neck, and her face is so close. Brooke’s got both her hands positioned on either side of Vanessa’s back and her palms are touching the bare strip of skin Vanessa’s got on show. The skin-on-skin contact is almost burning.

They’ve still not looked away from each other, and Vanessa sees Brooke’s bottom lip drop over a little bit. She wets her own, bites it. Vanessa can feel her eyes fluttering closed-

“Morning!” there’s a loud, cheerful voice, and Vanessa almost leaps out of Brooke’s hold as the door to their studio is almost booted off its hinges by the film crew. “Just here for the first day rehearsal shots!”

Right. Of course. Because they’re filming a TV show.

Vanessa greets the crew politely and then looks at Brooke. She’s rubbing the back of her neck and looking to the floor, and when she looks up at Vanessa they share a guilty smile. Vanessa punctuates it with a wink before clapping her hands together and striding over to the film crew and asking them what they need from them both.

Because Vanessa hadn’t imagined it- they’d shared a moment, and they definitely, 100% had been about to kiss before the fucking film crew had strode in. The thought buoys the rehearsal process for the rest of the week, and the atmosphere between them, whatever it is, doesn’t dissipate. It takes Vanessa until Tuesday afternoon to realise that the “it” is sexual tension. The lingering looks between them during breaks have turned longer, the dance seems to flow way easier. Brooke’s paying attention to detail and getting things right every time, and it’s fast becoming their best dance, but the lift is still a bit of an issue. Every time they attempt it Brooke freaks out, doesn’t follow through because she’s scared of dropping Vanessa. Vanessa doesn’t mind, she doesn’t care, but she just wishes Brooke would at least attempt it.

And then it gets to Wednesday, the 21st of October.

The earth has turned on its axis 365 times since the event, and Vanessa wishes she didn’t remember the whole thing as clear as day but it’s hard not to when it’s exactly a year to the day since it all happened. She tortures herself that morning before Brooke arrives, looks up the articles written by tabloid newspapers, looks at the photos again even though they still embarrass her. Akeria and Monique send her supportive texts and Vanessa is appreciative of them but they don’t help. She blocks it all out of her mind and when Brooke arrives Vanessa is positive that they’re going to tackle that lift today. Brooke knows there’s something up, Vanessa can tell, but she doesn’t let on. She pushes and pushes her, makes Brooke practise it more than she knows she should, but when she’s rehearsing and dancing she’s not thinking about what happened a year ago so they do it again, twice, three times. Vanessa knows that Brooke’s also fallen silent, isn’t enjoying the repetitiveness.

“One more time. You need to get me higher off the ground so I can extend my leg,” she tells her. Brooke simply nods once.

It’s Vanessa’s fault when it happens. She starts counting Brooke in when she’s not ready, so Brooke is fumbling to support her and get her arm locked in place at her knee, but she doesn’t manage in time. She drops her, Vanessa’s head hits the floor, and Brooke recoils in shock.

“Fuck,” they both say at the same time, but for two very different reasons. Brooke then follows it up with two more while Vanessa rubs the back of her head. She didn’t fall that far but she did land on her head, so she can’t be too careful.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Brooke panics. Vanessa feels guilty, waves her away.

“No, I’m sorry. It was my fault, I was pushin’ you too hard.”

Brooke kneels down beside her, helps her up with gentle hands and strong arms. She puts one hand to her cheek and another to the back of her head, feeling for a lump. “Fuck, Vanessa…”

“Brooke, please, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, you weren’t ready,” Vanessa sighs. She can feel a lump starting to form at the back of her throat. Why the hell is she so upset?

“I’m going to get you an ice pack. Stay there,” Brooke babbles, dashing out of the room. Vanessa’s head is sore but her heart is warmed by Brooke’s caring nature. She sits up. She’s not dizzy or sick which is a good sign but she shuffles over to lean against the mirror, puts her head in her hands and exhales in a bid to calm herself down. Brooke returns quickly carrying a bag of frozen chips wrapped in a blue paper towel. Vanessa can’t help but laugh.

“Jesus Christ, I know the NHS is underfunded these days, but is this what it’s come to?” she quips. Brooke smiles at her, glad to have got a laugh.

“It’s all the canteen had. Here, put it on the sore bit,” she says soothingly, sitting down close beside her and positioning the bag of chips against her skull. Vanessa thanks her, leans back against the mirrors and sighs. She can feel Brooke’s eyes on her.

“Anything you want to talk about?” she asks her quietly. When Vanessa turns to meet Brooke’s gaze she snaps her eyes away and down to her lap. She finds it endearing. Brooke’s voice is hesitant as she continues. “You don’t seem your happy self today.”

Her words are heartwarming, and God knows she needs them. She supposes it wouldn’t do any harm to talk everything through with someone other than a therapist, Akeria or Monique.

“Uh, today’s a year since…everything happened last year. With, y’know. Kameron. And her dance partner,” Vanessa explains. Brooke screws her face up, winces.

“I’m sorry.”

Vanessa snorts a sardonic laugh. “You don’t need to be sorry, you didn’t fuckin’…do anything.”

Brooke sighs beside her. Vanessa knows that Brooke knows what happened. She will have seen the photographs the paps took of the pair of them in the street, pressed up against each other in a drunk kiss. She’ll have seen the papers with said photos splashed on the front cover. She’ll have seen the interview with the two of them where they both grovelled and sent their futile apologies to the viewers. For a moment, Vanessa is embarrassed. She voices this to Brooke.

“What do you have to be embarrassed about?” Brooke frowns at her. Vanessa shrugs helplessly.

“Just…I don’t know. I know you know what happened, everyone knows what happened. That’s the worst bit. That was the worst part about the whole thing. Everyone’s fuckin’…pity.”

Brooke cocks her head, thinks. “Yeah, but what would you rather have? Pity or the whole nation wanting your head on a stick?”

Vanessa laughs a little more genuinely this time. She sighs. “I know Kam didn’t do it to hurt me. These situations…I mean, fuckin’ look at our dance. You get close with people…I get that. Just…”

“She didn’t trip and fall on his mouth, Vanessa,” Brooke says sharply. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, and Brooke shrinks back a little. “Sorry. That was out of turn. Just…in public too. Paps fucking everywhere. It wasn’t even like it was the one kiss and then she pushed him away, it was-”

“Yeah, I know what it was, thanks, Brooke,” Vanessa snaps at her. She instantly regrets it. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair of me to take my problems out on you.”

Brooke smiles sadly at her, reaches a hand out to lace in hers. Vanessa accepts gladly. Brooke mumbles as she speaks again. “I remember feeling so sorry for you at that time. Even though I didn’t know you then. To be cheated on is bad enough, but in the public eye like that…and with her partner too. I’m sorry it happened.”

“I feel more sorry for her,” Vanessa shrugs. “I mean she left the show…we tried to make it work but it just wasn’t there any more…and there’s no damage to his fuckin’ career. Because…of course there ain’t. You know apparently his new standup tour is actually about the whole damn fiasco?”

“Fuck, I hate men so much,” Brooke sighs. Her gaze turns steely again. “But you don’t have to feel sorry for Kameron, V. She still kissed him when she was with you and working with you on the show. That’s bad. That’s low.”

“It was so shit. She came home and she told me the next morning. I can still remember the whole conversation…” Vanessa says, her voice quiet. It’s not a lie. The memory sometimes jumps out and scares her just before she goes to sleep. The hurt, the betrayal. Trust cracking and breaking, a foot on a thin sheet of ice.

She feels Brooke tug gently on her hand, a soft c’mere with it. Vanessa doesn’t resist and before she knows it she’s discarded the bag of frozen chips and Brooke’s holding her against her chest, the pair of them curled up on the floor. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t hurt. Brooke is holding her, and it feels correct. She feels safe and protected, like her feelings will never be hurt again (she knows this isn’t true, but she goes with the feeling like a leaf floating on water).

“Just for the record, and I know you’ve probably heard this about a thousand times over the course of the last year,” Brooke mutters against her hair. “You deserve way more than that. I can’t imagine anyone being lucky enough to have you and then idiotic enough to cheat on you.”

Brooke’s right- Vanessa has heard it all before, but it means something different coming from Brooke. She feels her heart speed up as Brooke continues. “I would never do that to you.”

Vanessa feels as if her heart is a grenade and the pin’s just been pulled out. She must have stiffened in Brooke’s arms, because Brooke tenses up and relaxes her hug. “I mean, to anyone. I would never.”

Vanessa doesn’t follow it up because she can tell Brooke’s backtracking, but it’s already out- she would never do that to Vanessa, Brooke’s promising her her trust and they’re not even…anything at all. She doesn’t know why she finds that so comforting. Maybe because there’s an unspoken element of yet to it all.

“How’s the head?” Brooke asks swiftly. Vanessa cracks a smile, gives Brooke a wink.

“Ain’t had any complaints.”

Brooke grins back at her, softly pulls her up from their position on the floor. “Let’s try that lift again, then.”

They try it again. Then again, and again, until Brooke finally nails it and Vanessa can get her leg extended the whole way. The speedbump they hit in the rehearsal process has been steamrollered, and the rest of the days pass easily.

Until it gets to Saturday, the rehearsal before the performance later that evening, and Vanessa can’t really remember how she arrived at rehearsals or what they were doing before now- it’s odd. For some reason they’re also dressed in full costume even though they’re just rehearsing at their usual studios.

There must be a reason for it.

Vanessa can’t really concentrate though, as she and Brooke are rehearsing that part of the dance again, the one where Brooke’s got her hands all over her and their faces are close together and Brooke’s eye contact is dark and sultry. Brooke’s hands are on her thighs and Vanessa bucks her hips a little, all part of the dance, but then suddenly out of nowhere Brooke’s pulling her close and their lips meet, she’s kissing her and it’s deep and urgent and Vanessa’s moaning a little against her mouth and fuck, this feels so right. She pushes a hand into Brooke’s hair- it’s loose and down her back. She wonders why it’s like that in rehearsal (Brooke always wears it in a ponytail) but there must be a reason for it. Brooke’s hands are on her waist now, and Vanessa is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that her legs are still spread and Brooke’s are straight in between them. Brooke’s lips drop down to her neck.

“Fuck, wanted this since I met you,” she whispers against her skin, and Vanessa lets out a whine.

“Touch me.”

Brooke’s hands slide back down to her thighs, lips back against Vanessa’s as she keeps one hand steady against her leg and brings the other up to rub against the silk of her underwear, and fuck, it already feels so good and Brooke’s barely even touched her at all.

“Fuck, so good…”

“I bet you taste fucking amazing,” Brooke murmurs against her lips, and Vanessa lets out a gasp, brings her hand round to tug at Brooke’s ponytail-

Wait.

How come her hair’s in a ponytail?

But Vanessa doesn’t have time to question it because she can feel her orgasm building quickly with every little movement of Brooke’s fingers and she can hear herself telling her, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she starts to throb and when she opens her eyes-

She’s in her room. In her bed. She’s just woken up from a sex dream about her dance partner.

And she just came from it.

Vanessa is disorientated, confused, and wet. She feels on her bedside table for her phone. It’s Saturday morning.

“What the fuck?” she questions out loud. Then she gives a tired giggle. She rubs her eyes, still a little sleepy, and then scrolls to Whatsapp. Akeria and Monique are going to die when she tells them.

V: guys i just woke up from a sex dream about her

V: like i literally just orgasmed myself awake

She locks her phone after she’s sent the messages, sighing and shaking her head. Fuck her fucking brain. Vanessa lies in bed and stretches a little, a few minutes ticking by. She’s surprised that the girls haven’t immediately pounced on the message. She knows they’ll be awake- after all, they’ve got rehearsals to go to as well. Frowning, she unlocks her phone again to see if the message has sent.

It has sent.

But not to the girls.

The realisation dawns slowly and ice cold over Vanessa as she realises that, in her half-asleep state, she’s not sent the revelation to her group chat with the girls. She’s sent it to Brooke Lynn.

She shoots up in bed, at once entirely wide awake with horror and adrenaline. She could always un-send the messages and she contemplates doing so, but the two blue ticks beside each one and the “Online” under Brooke’s name glare back at her mockingly. So Vanessa’s heart sinks and she swallows her pride with a crimson face, typing frantically before Brooke can get there first.

V: oh my god. Oh my fucking god. PLEASE ignore that it wasn’t meant for you

She’s already cringing so much she thinks she might die, but Brooke’s reply makes it worse.

B: Well good morning to you too x

Vanessa wonders what she could even type to get herself out of the situation. At least she’s still leaving a kiss at the end of her texts.

V: i’m cringing so much i’m SO sorry x

B: Who’s the lucky girl x

Christ it just gets worse. But then as Vanessa’s head clears a little, she wonders if this is Brooke’s way of flirting with her. She plays it safe, decides not to risk things especially since she’s already embarrassed herself and it’s only eight in the morning.

V: god can we please pretend this never happened x

B: Whoever she was she clearly did a good job x

Vanessa’s heart thuds and she can feel the heat building between her legs again. She throws caution to the wind and decides to fuck the element of risk as she types her next message.

V: Yeah she did x

B: She the same person you’ve got a crush on? x

Vanessa’s heart is beating much the same as if she’s drunk three red bulls back to back (she knows because she’s done this before during a particularly stressful pro rehearsal day). She thinks about admitting, her body ruling her head, because the thought of some early morning dirty texts followed by sex in Brooke’s dressing room is entirely too tempting right now, but ultimately her head decides to make a sensible decision because being woken up via literal orgasm is probably the best she’s going to get today.

V: Might be x

V: A lady never tells x

B: You’re no fun. See ya at dress run x

Vanessa locks her phone and hops out of bed to take a freezing cold shower that she hopes will eliminate every iota of sexual thought out of her brain.

It works, until she gets to costume that night and sees Brooke in her outfit and her jaw almost hits the floor. She’s in red, a short dress with a plunging neck which stops midway at her chest and is strung together with glittering silver thread. It’s tight with a little skirt that flares out, and Vanessa knows it’ll look good during the dance. It’s also backless, and the sight of Brooke in it makes Vanessa instantly reach for her water bottle.

“Shit,” she says, and Brooke turns around in surprise. She can’t find any more words. “You look insane.”

Brooke smiles bashfully, motions to the hanger. “Thanks, baby. Yours is the same, it’s just black.”

Vanessa is suddenly gripped by nerves. She wonders if she’ll even be able to do this dance at all. But then Brooke’s smile grows on her face and she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m really looking forward to tonight. I think we’re going to do great.”

And if Brooke is so confident, who is Vanessa to let her down?

They’re up last tonight, so they get to watch most of the dances from the Divinatorium. Monet and Monique do a showstopping Jive to Dance Apocalyptic and Vanessa thinks the applause they get might rip the roof off of the studios. Willam and Phi Phi Charleston to a version of Fancy, but she struggles manfully and her scores plummet again. Vanessa can tell she’s disappointed but she doesn’t miss the hug she gets from Courtney once it’s over. Maybe that makes up for it, Vanessa doesn’t know.

Shea and Peppermint Viennese Waltz to If I Ain’t Got You, and it’s lovely even if Peppermint does mess up the footwork a little. Akeria and Asia Quickstep to Yeah (it shouldn’t work but it does), and Jan and Jackie are also doing a Salsa to Wrapped Up. Their performance is more fun and flirty than fiery and hot, and it worries Vanessa a little that she’s perhaps taken things too far. They also complete a lift, Jackie hoisting Jan in the air and holding her there at the end of their dance and making it look easy. They score 30 altogether, the same as Vanessa and Brooke last week. Vanessa’s stomach churns.

Eventually their time rolls around, and they’re standing in the darkness watching Gigi and Crystal Waltz to a version of Perfect with no pronoun changes through gaps in the curtains. Vanessa can feel her pulse surging through her like the bassline of a dance track, her nerves only building with every passing moment. Brooke’s standing behind her to watch, and when she wraps her arms around her waist in a hug from behind it does absolutely nothing to calm her down. Brooke’s swaying softly as she watches Crystal and Gigi together, the two girls holding each other steadily and their gaze tender as they look at each other. The sight makes Vanessa’s heart melt. She lets herself be swayed in Brooke’s arms, and Brooke drops her head to rest in the crook of Vanessa’s neck, her lips moving against her skin as she softly sings along to the song.

“I have met an angel in person, and she looks perfect…”

Vanessa feels like telling Brooke everything. How much she likes her, how calming a presence she’s been in Vanessa’s life even though she’s only been in it for six weeks. How beautiful she thinks she is. But Gigi and Crystal’s dance comes to an end. They’re holding each other tightly on the dancefloor as the audience claps. Vanessa wonders if maybe Brooke’s holding her just as tight. She feels Brooke’s arms drop to her sides as she straightens up, takes her hand.

“Fuck. It’s us. You ready?” she whispers to her. Vanessa looks into her eyes. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more or perhaps less ready to dance with a gorgeous woman she’s partnered with and finds entirely too attractive, but she cracks a smile anyway.

“So ready. Let’s crush it.”

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theirishaesthete · 3 years

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Silent Witness

Considering the impact he had on this country, it is surprising that the name of architect George Wilkinson is not better known here. Born in Witney, Oxfordshire in 1814, and the eldest of six children, Wilkinson’s background was modest: his father was a carpenter and builder. There is little known of his education or training but he soon began to win contracts for work and in 1839 – when still…

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aqmarion · 4 years

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Tell me more about this redaction...🐒😇

“I’m just saying, one night off won’t kill you. And sex might pull you out of this bullshit mood you’ve been in.”

“Let me guess, sex is what cured your shitty mood this morning?” she half-joked.

Willam smirked. “What, was I not supposed to thank her for bringing me lunch?”

Pairing: It was originally Shalaska but uh... ya know. I’m thinking of rewriting what I’ve got as Scyvie, but I refuse to give up the background Witney and the journalist/journalist exes conversation so uh, welcome to the world Scarlet/Willam?

Plot: It’s an AU of a book about an assassin but the character that isn’t an assassin is a journalist instead of a cop because fuck that. No one believes Scarlet that the assassin she's attempting to track down actually exists, but she's sure that this story is her key to actually being taken seriously. As long as she doesn't die in the process of writing it.

#thank you I love attention if anyone is in the mood to give me more please do lmao #asks #veronicasanders

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Babyface

Kenneth Brian Edmonds (born April 10, 1959), known professionally as Babyface, is an American singer, songwriter and record producer. He has written and produced over 26 number-one R&B hits throughout his career, and has won 11 Grammy Awards. He was ranked number 20 on NME's 50 of The Greatest Producers Ever list.

Early life

Edmonds was born on April 10, 1958, in Indianapolis, Indiana, to Marvin and Barbara Edmonds. Barbara was a production operator at a pharmaceutical plant. Edmonds, who is the fifth of six brothers (including future After 7 band members Melvin and Kevon Edmonds, the latter of whom went on to have a modestly successful solo career), attended North Central High School in Indianapolis, and as a shy youth, wrote songs to express his emotions. When he was in eighth grade, Edmonds' father died of lung cancer, leaving his mother to raise her sons alone. At this stage, Edmonds became determined to have a career in music.

Music career

Edmonds later played with funk performer Bootsy Collins, who tagged him "Babyface" because of his youthful look. He also performed in the group Manchild (which had a 1977 hit "Especially for You" with band member Daryl Simmons) as a guitarist. In 1982 Edmonds played with funk band Redd Hott produced by Geoge Kerr. He played keyboards in the light-funk and R&B group the Deele (which also included drummer Antonio "L.A." Reid, with whom he would later form a successful writing and producing partnership). One of his first major credits as a songwriter for outside artists came when he wrote the tune "Slow Jam" for the R&B band Midnight Star in 1983. The tune was on Midnight Star's 1983 double-platinum No Parking on the Dance Floor album. Babyface remained in the Deele until 1988, when both he and Reid left the group.

His album Playlist consists of eight cover songs and two original works. It was released on September 18, 2007. It was the first album on the newly re-launched Mercury Records label.

On February 4, 2014, he released a Grammy Award-winning duet album with Toni Braxton titled Love, Marriage & Divorce on Motown Records.

Other ventures

Writing and producing

From the late 1980s to the early 90s, he wrote R&B and dance songs, writing and producing music for Bobby Brown ("Roni"), Karyn White ("Love Saw It"), Pebbles ("Girlfriend", "Mercedes Boy"), The Whispers ("Rock Steady", "In the Mood"), The Deele ("Two Occasions"), Johnny Gill ("My My My"), After 7 ("Ready or Not"), The Boys ("Dial My Heart"), Damian Dame ("Right Down to It") and Sheena Easton.

In 1989, Edmonds co-founded LaFace Records with Reid. Three of the label's early artists, TLC, Usher, and Toni Braxton, were very successful. TLC's second album CrazySexyCool, for which he wrote and produced some of the hits, became the best-selling album of all time by an American girl group. Under his direction, TLC sold more than 60 million albums worldwide, and a combined total of 75 million records. Toni Braxton's first two albums, Toni Braxton (1993) and Secrets (1996), for which he wrote the majority of the songs, went on to sell a combined total of over 10 million copies in America alone.

Babyface helped form the popular late-1990s R&B group Az Yet. Edmonds also helped to mold and work with some of his then-wife Tracey Edmonds' acts, such as Jon B and producer Jon-John Robinson.

Edmonds has worked with many successful performers in contemporary music. “I’m Your Baby Tonight” (1990), produced for Whitney Houston, was Houston's introduction to R&B music and Edmonds' first No. 1 Top 40 hit in the US. He also wrote and produced Boyz II Men's 1992 "End of the Road" and 1994 "I'll Make Love to You", both of which established records for the longest stay at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. He co-wrote, co-produced, and provided backing vocals on Madonna's 1994 Bedtime Stories, which featured the seven-week No. 1 hit "Take a Bow", and shared billing with Eric Clapton on the chart-topping Grammy winner "Change the World" from the Phenomenon soundtrack. He also wrote and produced the No. 1 hit "Exhale (Shoop Shoop)" for Houston as well as the rest of the critically acclaimed 10 million-selling Waiting to Exhale soundtrack in 1995, which spawned additional hits for Houston, Brandy and Mary J. Blige.

Additionally, Edmonds has produced and written music for many artists including Bobby Brown, The Whispers, Pebbles, After 7, Johnny Gill, Deele, Karyn White, The Boys, Damian Dame, Tevin Campbell, Patti LaBelle, Chaka Khan, Aretha Franklin, Madonna, Janet Jackson, Faith Evans, Beyoncé, Diana Ross, Sheena Easton, Toni Braxton, Michael Jackson, Michael Bolton, Paula Abdul, Eric Clapton ("Change the World"), Whitney Houston, Brandy, Mary J. Blige, Tamia, Shola Ama, 3T, Sisqó, Dru Hill, Fall Out Boy, Céline Dion, Samantha Jade, Backstreet Boys, Honeyz, Katharine McPhee, Mariah Carey, Vanessa L. Williams, Bruno Mars, Kelly Clarkson, Chanté Moore, En Vogue, Zendaya, Kenny G, Kristinia DeBarge, Lil Wayne, Kevin Abstract, P!nk, Marc Nelson, TLC, Ariana Grande, Jessica Mauboy, Xscape, K-Ci & JoJo, NSYNC, Jordin Sparks and Phil Collins, among others. He received three consecutive Grammy Awards for Producer of the Year from 1995 to 1997.

Babyface was in the studio for about two years with Ashanti to produce her album The Declaration (2008).

He worked on the Lil Wayne album Tha Carter III (2008), on the Kanye West-produced "Comfortable". He also worked with R&B singer Monica for her sixth studio album Still Standing (2010).

In 2013, Babyface served as producer for Ariana Grande's debut album Yours Truly, producing the majority of her songs, including her second single, "Baby I".

In September 2014, Babyface collaborated with Barbra Streisand on her album Partners, performing a duet on the track "Evergreen" and background vocals for other album tracks.

Babyface also collaborated with Foxes on her second album, All I Need (2016), producing and co-writing "Scar".

In July 2016, Babyface along with Bruce Roberts and Carole Bayer Sager helped write the song "Stronger Together" sung by Jessica Sanchez. The song was played after Hillary Clinton's speech at the 2016 Democratic National Convention. The song's title is named after the slogan that the Clinton campaign used as a show of uniting behind the Democratic nominee. The song was one of the top trending songs on Shazam that week. The song was widely perceived as positive by the listeners, and received praise by celebrities like Jennifer Lopez and Kim Kardashian.

Acting career and film producing

In 1994, he appeared and performed on an episode of Beverly Hills, 90210 entitled "Mr. Walsh Goes to Washington (Part 2)".

In the mid-1990s, Edmonds and his then-wife Tracey Edmonds expanded into the business of motion pictures. Upon setting up Edmonds Entertainment Group, the company producing films such as Soul Food (1997), Josie and the Pussycats (2001), and also the soundtrack for the film The Prince of Egypt (1998), which included contributions from numerous artists, including Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston. They also executive produced the BET reality series College Hill (2004-2009). Edmonds also worked with David Foster to compose "The Power of the Dream", the official song of the 1996 Summer Olympics, performed by superstar Céline Dion. Linda Thompson provided the lyrics.

Babyface also participated as a duet partner on the Fox reality show Celebrity Duets (2006).

He was portrayed by Wesley Jonathan in the 2015 Lifetime biopic Whitney and is portrayed by actor Gavin Houston in the Lifetime biopic based on Toni Braxton entitled Un-Break My Heart, which premiered on the network in early 2016.

On August 30, 2016, Babyface was revealed as one of the celebrities who will compete on season 23 of Dancing with the Stars. He was partnered with professional dancer Allison Holker. He and Holker were eliminated on the fourth week of competition and finished in 11th place along with Vanilla Ice and Witney Carson.

Soda Pop Records

Edmonds founded his record label Soda Pop Records in 2009. Since founding the label he has signed R&B icons K-Ci & JoJo, releasing their first album for the label entitled My Brother's Keeper. In 2013 Babyface secured a distribution deal with E1 Music for the label.

Personal life

Babyface married his first wife, Denise during his young adult years. In 1990, Babyface met Tracey Edmonds when she auditioned for the music video for his song "Whip Appeal". They married on September 5, 1992, and have two sons, Brandon and Dylan. On January 7, 2005, Tracey filed for divorce in Los Angeles County Superior Court, citing irreconcilable differences. In October 2005, Babyface and Tracey announced that they were ending their marriage of thirteen years.

In 2007, Babyface began dating his backup dancer Nicole "Niko" Pantenburg (former backup dancer for and personal friend of Janet Jackson). Babyface and Pantenburg have a daughter born in 2008. The pair married on May 17, 2014.

In 2015, Babyface donated money to the presidential campaign of Republican Senator Marco Rubio.

Impact

In 1999, a 25-mile (40 km) stretch of Interstate 65 that runs through Indianapolis was renamed the Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds Highway.

Babyface was placed at number 20 on NME's "50 of the Greatest Producers Ever" list. NME wrote of his impact:

"One of the founding fathers of all the best bits of modern US R&B. And so you can't hate him if some of the schlock can be traced back to him also. Babyface was a pioneer of New Jack Swing in the 80s, before setting up LaFace with old mucker Antonio 'LA' Reid to give the world TLC, Usher and Toni Braxton under their guiding hand. There's barely a prominent artist in the genre he hasn't worked with, and as a result he's clocked up a mammoth 26 R&B number ones."

Discography

Studio albums

Lovers (1986)

Tender Lover (1989)

For the Cool in You (1993)

The Day (1996)

Face2Face (2001)

Grown & Sexy (2005)

Playlist (2007)

Return of the Tender Lover (2015)

Collaboration albums

Power and Love with Manchild (1977)

Feel the Phuff with Manchild (1978)

Street Beat with The Deele (1983)

Material Thangz with The Deele (1985)

Eyes of a Stranger with The Deele (1987)

Love, Marriage & Divorce with Toni Braxton (2014)

Accolades

On August 30, 2006, Babyface was honored as a BMI Icon at the 6th annual BMI Urban Awards. Throughout his career, Babyface has won the BMI Pop Songwriter of the Year trophy seven times and a total of 51 BMI Awards, which includes Song of the Year for his Toni Braxton hit, "Breathe Again", in 1994.

Babyface was honored with the 2,508th star of the Hollywood Walk of Fame on October 10, 2013. The star is located at 6270 Hollywood Boulevard.

On October 18, 2018, he was conferred with an honorary doctorate degree from Indiana University Bloomington in recognition of his illustrious career in music.

#04/10

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narcoleptic-drag-queen · 4 years

Note

Hi if you're down to write more Witney might I request Witney and either 50 or 63?

I’m ALWAYS down to write more - I love these two. Also, this prompt (63) reminded me of this scene from “About Time”, and it was practically begging to be made into a witney drabble. Hope you like!

“Fuck,” Courtney mutters under her breath, dumping the pile of dirty dishes they’ve got stacked in the sink into the dishwasher. She doesn’t even cringe at the loud clatter it makes, one mission on her mind and one mission only: clean the house in under fifteen minutes. “Fuck me dead!”

She slams the dishwasher closed and runs into the living room, making to fold the blankets she knows are strewn across the furniture and nearly screaming with frustration when she spots the plates from last night’s dinner still on the coffee table. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

She hastily stacks the plates and grabs them with one hand, the glasses going to the other, and she races into the kitchen. She stops dead at the sight of Willam sitting on the counter, nearly dropping the dishes as she squeaks with surprise and horror.

Willam is completely nude.

She looks great, her tanned skin on full display and the thin white robe (it had come with the lingerie set she’d bought for Courtney last night) does nothing to hide the way her muscles shift under her skin. Normally, Courtney wouldn’t hesitate to plant herself between her girlfriends legs and draw her into a kiss. Today, unfortunately for the both of them, is not very normal.

“Babe,” Courtney says, voice high and breathy. “What are you doing?”

Willam shrugs, nonchalant, but Courtney recognizes the intent burning behind her eyes. “Gettin’ some coffee,” she says. “You?”

She’s trying to be cute. Courtney stares at her, disbelieving. “I’m cleaning the flat,” she says, still shellshocked. “For my parents.”

Willam straightens, her face flattening. “What?” she asks.

“My parents are going to be here in fifteen minutes,” Courtney says, and real fear is beginning to make her heart race, her voice growing shrill. “What are you doing?”

“Fifteen minutes?” Willam repeats, and it’s like she’s announcing Courtney’s execution date. Courtney springs into action, dumping the dishes into the dishwasher and slamming it shut. Willam hops off the counter, pulling the robe tightly around herself and staring, frowning. “Courtney, what the fuck?”

“Get dressed!” Courtney cries, shoving her girlfriend out of the kitchen and into their bedroom. “No time to explain!”

“No time to--?”

Courtney slams the door shut on her before she can finish, running her hands through her hair. Jesus shit fuck cunt shit motherf--

“I really would have liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town!” Willam calls through the door, and Courtney can hear the sound of the dresser drawers being opened and shut with panic.

“I really would have liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen!” Courtney shoots back, and she runs back into the living room to start on the blankets. She hasn’t sweat like this since college volleyball.

“You love it when I do that!” Willam’s muffled voice shouts. “Don’t pin this on me!”

Courtney ignores her, flinging the newly folded blanket onto the back of the couch and picking up the next.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Willam says, opening the door. Courtney finishes the blanket and sets it next to the last one before she turns to get a look at her newly dressed girlfriend, who’s even managed to put on a little mascara and lipgloss. She’s almost proud.

“I thought they’d cancel last minute,” Courtney says, grimacing. She glances at Willam’s legs. “And - maybe not the miniskirt. My parents aren’t quite up to snuff on feminism.”

“Then what?” Willam asks, aghast. “A minidress?”

“You don’t have jeans?”

“Hot pink ones!”

“Oh my god,” Courtney says. “I’m dating a slut.” She feels a bit faint.

Willam snorts. “That’s funny, considering I still have pictures of that dress you wore at Sharon’s bachelorette--”

“That’s it!” Courtney gasps, realization clicking into her mind so nicely that she thinks there might be an actual lightbulb on top of her head. “The hen party - your pantsuit!”

Willam frowns. “Isn’t that a little too--”

The door buzzes, and they both fall into a deadly silence.

Courtney meets Willam’s wide eyes, her heart somewhere below the floor.

“Put it on,” she says quietly, and Willam obeys, the bedroom door slamming shut again.

A second buzz echoes through the flat.

“Don’t let them in!” Willam hollers from the bedroom, and Courtney makes a face, feeling like she’s glued to the spot.

“What do I do?” she yells over a third buzz.

“Stall!”

Courtney nods to herself, hastening over to the buzzer and pressing the button, leaning in to speak into the little microphone. She can do this. She can stall. “Hi, guys!” she says, and then panic makes her brain go blank. “Um. Er - come on up!”

Willam’s shouted “I’ll kill you for real!” is background to her parents’ excited greetings.

“Are you close to being done?” Courtney shouts, racing to the bedroom and throwing the door open. By some miracle, Willam is fully dressed in her navy pantsuit, tugging on a nude heel and looking murderous. She looks gorgeous, but--

“Oh,” Courtney says, drawing out the word weakly. “You’re overdressed.”

“Yeah.”

“Like, way overdressed.”

“I know,” Willam says, and Courtney rolls her lips between her teeth as she watches Willam tug on the other heel. “I’ll just say I have a business meeting. Good first impression, right?”

“Only if you leave out the part where you work for a gossip magazine,” Courtney says, and Willam’s jaw drops.

“Bitch!”

“Thank you,” Courtney says quickly, ignoring Willam’s faux anger and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I promise I’ll-”

There’s a knock on the door, and they both freeze. Courtney looks at Willam, taking in a deep breath.

“Ready?” she asks, and Willam shrugs.

“I kind of have to be.”

“Alright,” Courtney says, and they start towards the door, Courtney’s heart still in her throat. She hopes they like Willam. She hopes they like her new flat. She hopes they like New York. She hopes they like Willam.

Later, as her parents sit across from them at the table and bicker about whether the wife of one of her father’s coworkers is too “whorish” or not, Willam leans in to whisper into Courtney’s ear.

“Thank god I didn’t wear the miniskirt,” she says, and Courtney stifles a laugh.

“Maybe I’m not dating such a slut after all,” she whispers back, teasing. Willam raises an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Oh?” Courtney asks, and Willam leans in even closer, despite how oblivious her parents are. Her smirk does things to Courtney’s belly, and her breath catches as Willam murmurs in her ear, her lips brushing Courtney’s skin.

“I’m still not wearing any underwear.”

send me a pairing and a number!

#i hope you like it ahh #this was fun to write tho #witney #prompts #ask game #writing #fab-wolf-in-the-gloom #sweetie

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jana-kramer · 4 years

Photo

What is their lockscreen?

A photo of the her and her boyfriend, Gleb.

What is their background?

A photo of her and her daughter, Jolie.

What is their main ringtone?

Tip of my Tounge - Kenny Chesney.

Top 3 most used apps?

Spotify, YouTube & Duolingo.

Last 5 text messages sent?

[text to Gleb]: You are amazing. [text to Witney]: Please, get in touch. [text to James]: Miss you, bud! [text to Alex]: If you need anything, let me know. [text to Mom]: Love you.

Last 3 phone calls? (incoming or outgoing)

Gleb, Mom & Alex.

#hwoodalttask #hwoodalttask10

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opalescent-cheetah · 5 years

Text

Christmas Sweater (Witney)

For @artificialperidot for the @rpdrficexchange. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this fic <33

Two prompts inspired this story: “Character A loses a bet and has to wear a different ugly Christmas sweater every day till Christmas. Character B works at a clothes store” and “Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud”.

Huge thanks to @veronicasanders for betaing - you’re amazing!

Willam can still hear Alaska’s gleeful laugh in her mind.

She can’t believe she’s doing this, but she’s not the type to back down. Not even after losing a bet she was at least ninety percent sure she was going to win. No, wait – especially not after losing a bet like that. Willam’s going to wear these god-awful sweaters every day until Christmas and look so good Alaska’s going to wonder what she got herself into.

Well, that’s not exactly true, Willam thinks as she grimaces down at her basket of ugly Christmas sweaters. They’re misshapen and baggy, and far too colourful, even for her. The collection is nothing short of an eyesore. Five days shouldn’t feel like a long time, but when Willam has to picture herself walking around looking like a sentient Christmas tree, it might as well be an eternity. She’s never liked Christmas much to begin with, and these ridiculous sweaters are only going to make the holiday season that much more dreadful.

She rifles through the rack of garish designs to pick out another of the slightly more bearable sweaters. It’s red and white, patterned with snowflakes and stripes and little reindeer standing so close together they look like they’re about to kiss. It’s the fifth and final one; she shoves it into her basket and turns to walk towards the cash register. The cashier looks away quickly, hiding an amused smile behind her hand, and red-hot embarrassment floods through Willam when she realises that she had been watching the entire time.

She marches resolutely up to the counter, trying not to look as disgruntled as she feels. The cashier – Courtney, according to her nametag – offers her a dazzling smile as Willam places the basket between them. Willam refuses to look her in the eye, partly because she doesn’t want to see the quietly amused gleam she knows she’ll find there, and partly because Courtney is fucking gorgeous and, in a situation like this, Willam doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. If they were at a club, she would be boundlessly more confident, but here – when Courtney is struggling to stifle a smile as she scans the tags of each sweater – she feels a little bit like a baby animal, wobbly and unsure.

“Oh, this is one of my favourites,” Courtney says, holding up the red-and-white reindeer sweater and jolting Willam out of her reverie. “You’re really getting into the Christmas spirit, hmm?”

“I, uh… no,” Willam manages. “They’re for my family.” The lie comes quickly enough, and Willam is thankful for it.

Courtney just smiles sweetly, knowingly, and something shifts deep in Willam’s chest. She leans on the counter, forces it back down, as Courtney nods and scans the tag. “That’s very nice of you,” she comments, folding up the sweater with dextrous familiarity before gently placing it in a brown paper bag.

Willam pays quickly, itching to get out of the store as soon as possible. This experience is twisting her up in knots – she just wants to get home and verbally slap Alaska through the phone. She can feel Courtney’s eyes on her as she leaves, and, against the more rational side of her mind screaming at her to just go, she looks over her shoulder just in time to catch Courtney waving. She simply inclines her head in acknowledgement, the image of Courtney’s gentle, cheerful smile burned into the back of her mind.

Everything on the television is boring.

Willam’s skin is prickling with restlessness as she sits sideways in her armchair, limbs spilling out over its edges. The distant click, click as she scrolls through shows blends into background noise, merging with the quiet humming of the heater. She’s curled up in one of the sweaters – the red-and-white reindeer one, which she has to admit is probably her favourite of the whole tasteless lot – and it’s surprisingly warm and cosy, wrapping around her like a warm hug.

And then the singing starts again.

Willam’s been hearing it on and off all night, through the roof from the apartment upstairs. Her skin crawls with irritation; sure, it’s Christmas Eve, but would a quiet evening be too much to ask? The person singing may have an incredible voice, but they’re still being so loud.

After a moment of stewing in her own exasperation, Willam realises the song she’s hearing through the roof is unfamiliar. At first, she’d thought it must’ve been one of those overplayed Christmas songs (especially considering the time of year) but the tune isn’t something she recognises.

She stills, quieting the shuffling of the cushions beneath her restless body, and lets herself listen. As soon as she catches the words mistletoe and Santa, she realises the song is, in fact, in theme with the season, and her irritation floods right back.

Willam has never been a Christmas person. It’s never been much more than another day of dealing with drunk extended family and being forced to help fish the Christmas tree out of the swimming pool. She likes buying gifts for people – the pile of neatly wrapped presents under the miniature tree Alaska gave her will attest to that – but the rest of the holiday has always seemed like a lot of wasted effort.

Whoever’s singing still hasn’t shut up, and Willam has decided that she has had enough. Flinging the remote onto the cushions, she marches out of her apartment and up the stairs, shivering at the cold touch of tile beneath her bare feet.

It isn’t difficult to locate the singer’s apartment. Willam knocks loudly, crossing her arms as she waits. The singing is abruptly cut off before it is replaced by the shuffling of footsteps.

When the door opens, Willam isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry: standing before her is none other than Courtney, the cashier from the clothing store. She’s even more startlingly beautiful than Willam remembers – perhaps it’s the surprised glint in her green eyes, or the slight quirk at the corner of her lips. Willam wants to sink into the ground at the sight of her.

“Hey, I know you. You bought all those sweaters last week,” Courtney says by way of a greeting, her eyes sweeping over Willam’s body before she raises a hand to her face, hiding her smile. “Decided not to give that one to your family, I see.”

Willam feels immediately too big for her skin, her embarrassment running red-hot through her veins. She swallows, forcing her expression to remain neutral and unbothered.

“You were singing very loudly,” she says simply, feeling her confidence trickle back in when Courtney visibly flushes.

“I’m so sorry! I had no idea the walls were so thin.” Courtney looks abashed – and rightfully so, Willam thinks, but that doesn’t stop her heart from thrumming just that little bit faster when Courtney offers her a nervous smile, peering at her from under her lashes.

The silence that follows is awkward. After shuffling her feet for a moment, Willam makes to leave, but Courtney jumps in before she gets a chance to speak.

“Well, uh… since we’re neighbours, I suppose I should formally introduce myself,” she says. “I’m Courtney.”

“Willam.”

“Willam…” Courtney rolls the word around on her tongue, trying it out, and Willam likes how her name sounds in her lilting accent. “Anyways, Willam… now that you’re here, would you like to stay for dinner?” Courtney offers before she pauses suddenly, looking flustered. “O-Only if you’re free, of course! I made myself Christmas dinner but I think I made too much.”

Courtney looks adorable when she’s blushing.

“I’m free,” Willam tells her, failing to bite back a grin.

“You look really cute in that sweater, by the way.” There’s a cheeky glint in Courtney’s eyes, and Willam’s insides melt under her gaze, unsure whether she should take it as a compliment or a friendly jab.

“I know. I look good in everything,” she manages to reply breezily, stepping over the threshold.

“I won’t argue with that.” Courtney winks, playful, before turning to lead the way into the kitchen, where she pulls out a seat at the dining table and gestures for Willam to sit.

“You learning to be a waitress?” Willam teases when Courtney pushes the chair in under her. “Do I have to give you a tip for helping me into my seat?”

“Wow, who knew I could be rewarded for good manners?” Courtney replies, and Willam grins. She’s liking Courtney more and more with every second she spends in her apartment.

Courtney then disappears behind the kitchen counter, and Willam hears the clatter of plates and cutlery. She fiddles with the edge of her sweater, twisting it up in her fingers, before she asks, “so what were you singing, anyways?”

Courtney’s head bobs back up and she slides dinnerware onto the countertop. “Nothing, really,” she says, and Willam likes the rosy tint of her cheeks. “Just a song I’m writing.”

“You write songs?” Willam can’t help but be impressed. “Sing me a line or two.”

“Are you sure? Couldn’t you hear it the entire time anyways?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure it’ll be nicer when I’m not hearing it through the roof.”

Courtney murmurs her agreement, and part of Willam regrets berating her for the noise. The other part doesn’t – otherwise she wouldn’t be here, sitting in Courtney’s kitchen waiting to share dinner with her.

She watches as Courtney taps the countertop with her fingertips, hears her gently clear her throat before she starts to sing.

“From head to mistletoe

I’ll never let you go

You’re what I’m wishing for

Santa keep me warm tonight…”

She sounds even better in person. Courtney trails off shyly, and Willam starts to clap, a smile tugging at the corners of her face.

“How was that?” Courtney asks, voice soft.

“Bitch, that was fucking amazing. I regret telling you to shut up.”

Courtney giggles. “Probably better that it was you and not the guy that lives upstairs. He scares me.”

Willam has no idea who she’s talking about, but she nods anyways. She watches quietly as Courtney sets the table before bringing out dishes of food, delicious but unfamiliar smells wafting to Willam’s nose.

“Holy shit. You really did overcook,” she mutters, peering at the dishes lined up on the table. There’s mashed potato, a variety of vegetables ranging from cauliflower through to carrots, and something that looks like dry scrambled eggs but smells like curry. “What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the mystery dish.

“Curried tofu scramble,” Courtney replies. “I’m vegan, so… sorry if you were expecting a turkey.”

“Nah. Turkeys are overrated. I’m lactose, anyways, so at least this means I can eat your mashed potatoes.”

Courtney smiles. “That works out then. Do you drink?”

“’Course. What’ve you got?”

“I’m making my friend Vanity’s Christmas cocktail. If you could call it that, anyways – it’s really just champagne and orange juice, but it’s nice.” Courtney swirls the bottle of juice around for emphasis. “Do you want some?”

“‘Christmas cocktail?’ Just sounds to me like your friend thinks she invented mimosas,” Willam tells her wryly.

Courtney’s standing in the open door of the freezer now, surrounded by icy smoke like dragon’s breath. “Technically, you’re right, but” – she digs around, pulling out a plastic container – “we put sorbet in ours.”

“Sorbet?” Willam asks, startled. “It’s fucking freezing and you’re eating sorbet?”

“Trust me, I know,” Courtney laughs. “But it’s the middle of summer in Australia right now.”

So that’s where her accent is from. The foreign lilt to her words only makes her more endearing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” she tells Courtney, who puts a generous scoop of sorbet in two glasses.

They make small talk during dinner, and more often than not, Willam catches herself staring: she likes the way Courtney smiles when she speaks, her eyes alight with a wistful joy. Her gaze keeps drifting back to Courtney’s glossy lips, and every time, she has to force herself to look away. She feels tender and relaxed – perhaps it’s the champagne in her drink, but Willam’s pretty sure it’s Courtney.

They discuss their family Christmas traditions; Willam learns that this is Courtney’s first December away from home, that Courtney had called her parents earlier that evening because it’s already Christmas Day in Australia. She listens as Courtney recalls fond memories of summer days on the beach, tanning in the hot December sun and sharing Christmas cocktails with her best friend, Vanity. Willam can’t get the image of Courtney in a bikini, skin glowing gold against the sand, out of her head, and she fights the blush that threatens to creep up her neck.

Courtney asks about Christmas in Pennsylvania, and Willam tells her about the year the Christmas tree ended up bobbing in the pool, about sneaking liquor while her family was cooking, and about sledding down hills thick with snow. Courtney listens with wide-eyed intrigue, and it makes Willam feel important – like what she’s saying really means something.

“That sounds like so much fun,” Courtney says. “Did you really get that much snow every year?”

Willam shrugs. “Most years, I guess.” Her chest warms at the glow in Courtney’s eyes, and she wonders suddenly if she should invite her to Alaska’s Christmas party tomorrow. Courtney’s presence alone would make the small talk and the boring holiday traditions that much more tolerable, but above all, Willam would love to see her again. She can feel the doubtful part of her stirring in the back of her mind, whispering that it’s too forward, that Courtney will say no.

And then Willam remembers that she’s the kind of person who usually doesn’t have doubts – or, if she does, she ignores them – but as she turns back to Courtney, she realises her gaze is now somewhere else, her focus abruptly torn from Willam.

“Willam,” she whispers, sounding awestruck, “it’s snowing!”

“No way. This is LA – it never snows,” Willam says dubiously, but when she spins in her seat to face the window, she sees hundreds of tiny white flakes drifting, as light as bubbles, through the air.

Courtney has already jumped up from her seat, her face pressed against the windowpane as it fogs up with her breath. “It’s a Christmas miracle,” she gasps, clearly enthralled. Willam joins her at the window, standing just close enough for their elbows to brush, and peers outside.

“Nope. Just a snow machine.” She points upwards, where the edge of the machine is just visible. “People like to make things look more festive than they really are.”

“You’re such a party pooper,” Courtney pouts, but Willam can see in her eyes that she isn’t really serious.

“Yeah, and you’re gullible,” Willam replies, deadpan. Courtney giggles, shoving her away playfully, and Willam feels her face break out into a smile. She isn’t sure whether to love or hate what Courtney’s doing to her; it’s like snow is falling softly in her chest, feather-light flakes brushing her ribs, but when they touch her they melt into warmth.

They move to the couch after that, and Courtney pulls a blanket over their legs. They sit and talk whilst Courtney absentmindedly traces the shapes of the reindeer on Willam’s sleeve. Willam’s arms tingle at every touch, goosebumps shivering up her skin despite the comfort of her sweater.

Willam loses track of time, huddled beside Courtney; all she’s aware of is Courtney’s presence, the excitement in her voice as she rambles. She has never been so enamoured by someone before, and she wants to treasure this entire evening. She’s going to wrap it up like a Christmas gift, preserve it, so that she can open it later and feel this delicate warmth all over again. This isn’t like her, and she knows it – but something about Courtney has drawn her in, made her soft.

And then Willam catches sight of the clock, ticking quietly on Courtney’s wall. It’s nearly eleven – for a dinner with someone she’s just met, she’s long overstayed her welcome.

“It’s getting late,” she says abruptly, pushing the blanket aside and getting to her feet. “I – I should probably go.”

Courtney’s eyes dart towards the clock, and she lets out a quiet gasp. “Wow, I had no idea we were talking for that long.” She stands beside Willam, wraps her in a careful hug. “Thanks for spending Christmas Eve with me, Willam,” she says, breath hot against Willam’s cheek. “Will I see you again sometime?”

Courtney’s cheeks are rosy with hopeful sincerity, and Willam starts talking before she can second-guess herself again. “Actually… my friend Alaska is hosting a Christmas party tomorrow, from three till ten pm. Do you wanna be my plus-one?”

She is rewarded with the immediate brightening of Courtney’s eyes. “I’d love to! Here I was expecting that this Christmas was going to be boring… thank goodness you showed up when you did.” She giggles, and Willam smiles.

“I’m a miracle-worker, I know.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, feigning arrogance. “No need to tell me twice.”

Courtney snickers. “You certainly don’t need to hear it twice, you dog!”

“I prefer ‘classy and elegant goddess’, thank you very much.”

“Oh my god, you are too much!” Courtney laughs as she follows Willam to the door. “I can’t believe I agreed to spending an entire afternoon with you tomorrow.”

“Girl, you know you love me,” Willam winks.

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing me agree to that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Willam sings as she steps over the threshold, back into the cold of the hallway. When she arrived here hours ago, she was restless and irritated; now, she’s leaving with a new number in her phone and a smile on her face.

She turns to wave, and Courtney grins, pointing at her chest. “You should wear that more often, by the way. It suits you.”

Warmth blooms behind Willam’s ribs. Maybe she can pull off ugly Christmas sweaters after all.

Courtney’s already waiting downstairs.

Willam sees her through the elevator glass as it descends. She’s leaning back into the leather upholstery of the couch, legs crossed at the knee, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers as she watches the passers-by. She looks lovely in her rose-grey coat, blonde hair spilling out beneath a pink beanie. There’s a white scarf wound around her neck and Willam imagines tugging it gently to pull her closer, close enough to kiss.

She shakes the thought from her mind immediately.

Courtney glances over, suddenly alert, when the elevator pings. Her eyes light up when she sees Willam before she abruptly bursts into laughter.

“What are you laughing at, ma’am?” Willam asks wryly as she strides across the tiled floor, stopping mere inches from the couch, where Courtney stands to greet her.

“Lovely choice of outfit today,” Courtney snickers in response. “I see you’re going to have to rethink some of those family gifts.”

Shit. Willam had forgotten she was wearing the final ugly sweater under her unbuttoned coat – after close to a week it had almost become monotonous. This one is far less preferable to yesterday’s reindeer, and Willam marvels at her own stupidity for leaving it for Christmas Day. It looks like a patchwork quilt in the shape of a sweater: pieces of red, white and green are held together by white borders like frosting. Miscellaneous images decorate the garment, and Willam isn’t even sure if half of them are relevant: there’s a bag of flour and an eye surrounded by rainbow sequins, among other odd things. The sweater is an ugly amalgamation of neon-bright colours and bold shapes; in short, it is an eyesore.

“Oh, shut up,” she tells Courtney.

Courtney straightens the collar of Willam’s jacket, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m intrigued,” she says. “If you’re so embarrassed, why are you wearing it?”

“I was cold! You want me to freeze to death, bitch?”

The corner of Courtney’s mouth quirks upwards in amusement. “So, of all the things you could’ve chosen, you decided to wear this?”

“I can’t believe I’ve only known you a day and you’re already bullying me,” Willam deadpans, avoiding the question.

“Two days!”

“Okay. So we’re counting that time you laughed at me while I was shopping.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I was–”

“Bitch, you so were! I have eyes, you know!” Willam shrieks in laughter, pushing playfully at Courtney’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, so maybe I thought you were kinda funny,” Courtney admits. “But you still haven’t answered my question!”

Willam sighs, defeated – Courtney clearly is not going to let the matter drop. “Fine. I lost a bet to Alaska, and she made me wear a different sweater every day until Christmas. You happy now?”

Courtney lets out a laugh. “I knew it was something like that! What did you bet on?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Willam tells Courtney sagely, turning on her heel and striding towards the door to wait for their Uber. Courtney giggles, heels clicking as she follows.

They don’t have to wait long. Willam slides into the backseat beside Courtney, who primly folds her hands in her lap. She remains silent, distracted, even after Willam speaks to the driver and the car departs. It takes Willam a moment to realise she’s humming under her breath, forehead creased in concentration.

“Hey, is that your song?” Willam asks. The tune is quiet but familiar, taking her back to her evening in Courtney’s kitchen.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Courtney’s cheeks are pink. “I’m just a bit stuck on a lyric.”

“Sing it for me,” Willam prompts her.

“Okay. It’s the first verse that I can’t figure out, but this is what I have so far,” Courtney says, before launching into song.

“I never thought that I would be

Your gift under the Christmas tree

Unwrap me ’cause it’s Christmas Eve…”

She trails off into a hum after that, quietly tapping her fingers to the beat of the song.

“I’ll do you one better,” Willam says when Courtney goes quiet. She clears her throat, singing, “Come eat me out, it’s Christmas Eve…”

“Willam! You filthy dog!” Courtney shrieks, mouth agape, and Willam dissolves into hearty, seal-like laughter. It’s the perfect way for her to drop hints that she’s a lesbian, and be funny at the same time – although Courtney isn’t laughing, not yet.

“What is it with you and calling people dogs?” Willam retorts, still gasping in amusement.

“Well, it’s better than ‘drongo’, isn’t it? I’m trying to be polite!” Courtney looks like she’s trying very hard – and failing miserably – to hold back a smile, and it only makes Willam laugh harder. She doesn’t even know what a drongo is, but Courtney’s Australian accent was so raw when she said it that Willam can’t help herself.

“Either way,” she tells Courtney when she’s calmed down, “if there’s any filthy dog in this car, it’s definitely you.”

Courtney swats her over the arm for that, but she’s smiling now, green eyes glittering with repressed amusement. Willam feels a spark of triumph, blazing bright behind her ribcage.

“That was lovely, but do you have any serious ideas?” Courtney asks her, leaning back into her seat.

Willam grins at her, not quite apologetically. “Mind singing the tune for me again?”

She listens quietly as Courtney hums. Thinking for a moment, she blurts out the first thing to come to mind. “Everyone’s sleeping, but… uh…”

“But we’re far from dreaming!” Courtney exclaims, as if she’s won a jackpot. “You genius!”

“I am, thank you for noticing,” Willam replies, pleased. She watches as Courtney types it into her phone and adds, “well, that’s one line down, and however many left to go.”

“Yeah. I’m thinking, for the rest of it, that the other person is dressed up as Santa,” Courtney says, pocketing her phone, “so I want there to be some… Santa-themed lines, if that makes sense.”

Willam nods distantly. Person. She can’t help but pay close attention to Courtney’s word choices.

“Willam?” Courtney snaps her fingers in Willam’s face, jolting her back to reality. “Did you hear me?”

“I – yes. Yeah, I was just thinking.” A pause. “Reindeer.”

Like yesterday’s sweater. The one Courtney said she liked the best when she was at the checkout.

Oh, how Willam wishes she’d worn it today instead of this ugly thing. At least it had been bearable. In fact, now that she’s come to associate it with Courtney, she’s even started to like it. Just a little.

“Reindeer,” Courtney murmurs thoughtfully. “Rudolph. Sleigh… sleigh bells?”

“That’s all great, but it’s not a coherent sentence,” Willam reminds her.

“Shush. This stuff takes time, you know,” she retorts, but her lips are quirked in the beginnings of a smile, and Willam can tell that Courtney enjoys this playful banter just as much as she does. She watches as Courtney thinks, mumbling soft phrases under her breath, and wonders how someone can manage to be so adorable.

“Give me more,” Courtney suddenly says, and Willam wrinkles her nose in distracted confusion.

“More what? Reindeer?”

This time she gets a laugh. “No, you idiot, Christmas words. I need more to work with.”

“Bitch, you know I’m not a Christmassy person,” Willam huffs. “Fine. Uh. Snow. Snowmen? Fuck, um, carrots. Cookies… cookies and milk.” She pauses, looking around for ideas, inspiration, anything. But what would she find in an Uber?

Her gaze drifts to her hands, clasped together in her lap, and it hits her. Her sweater!

She rolls up the sleeves of her coat to reveal more of the colourful patterns, and begins listing the things she sees. “The Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus. Uh, a glittery eyeball? Flour. And… cocaine.”

Courtney sputters out a laugh. “Cocaine? Where did you get cocaine from? That list was a train wreck and a half!”

Willam points to the lines of white wool bordering each patch. “Cocaine. Snort snort, bitch.”

Courtney shrieks with gleeful amusement. “Oh my god. I am not putting cocaine in my Christmas song.”

“Okay. How about weed?” Willam offers, feigning complete seriousness, and Courtney’s laughter starts up all over again.

“We’re here.” The driver interrupts them before Willam can think of more ways to make Courtney smile.

“Thank you kindly, and have a lovely day!” Courtney says as she steps out of the car.

“Ew. You are disgustingly polite,” Willam tells her.

“Well, you offered to tip me for it yesterday, so I’m not complaining.” Courtney bats her eyelashes, and Willam has to look away – she’s so cute it’s making her heart hurt.

Suddenly, there’s the clicking of heels on tarmac, and an excited voice calls out Willam’s name. She turns just in time to see Alaska’s arms fly around her shoulders, crushing her in a tight hug.

“Girl, you look fucking ridiculous,” Alaska tells Willam as she inspects her outfit. “And I love it.”

“Well, you better, because you’re the reason I look this stupid.”

Alaska chuckles, her gaze flicking briefly to Courtney. “Wow, and who’s this lovely woman? You could get some fashion tips from her, Willam.”

Courtney giggles, extending her hand to Alaska to shake. “I’m Courtney. Willam and I live in the same apartment block.”

“Lovely,” Alaska drawls, smiling jovially. “I’m Alaska, and that’s my girlfriend, Katya.” She waves at a blonde woman standing by the door, dressed from head to toe in bright red. Instead of waving back, Katya pulls out a rubber chicken and begins sucking loudly on it. Willam can hear the grotesque squelching noises from where she’s standing.

“Where the fuck was she even keeping that?” she asks, although she knows she shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. It’s Katya, after all.

“Probably up her ass,” Alaska jokes, hiding a smile behind her hand before she calls out to Katya. “I can’t believe that chicken is getting more action than I am!”

Katya grins around the chicken, sensually pulling it out of her mouth. “Mama, when you’re busy, I have to find other ways to satisfy myself, you know!”

Alaska opens her mouth to respond, but Willam nudges her before she can say a word.

“Let’s go in already,” she butts in. “It’s fucking freezing.”

Alaska murmurs her agreement, turning to lead them both inside. Courtney shoots Willam an excited grin as they follow, and Willam’s heart somersaults in her chest.

A small crowd of people has already arrived, and they mill about, swirling drinks in their hands as they chat. Alaska guides Willam, Courtney and Katya – who joined them at the door – through to the bar, where she pours them all drinks before taking a seat on a nearby couch.

“So tell me,” Alaska drawls, leaning back against the cushions with one arm around Katya’s shoulders. “Did you two meet recently? I’m surprised I haven’t heard about you yet,” she adds to Courtney.

“I was working the counter when Willam bought her sweaters,” Courtney explains. “Wait, are you the same Alaska she lost her bet to?”

“Girl, how many Alaskas do you think I know?” Willam scoffs. “Of course this is the one.”

“Has Willam told you the story yet?” Alaska asks, an eager gleam in her eye. “Or was she too embarrassed?”

“Too embarrassed,” Courtney laughs, and Willam huffs beside her.

“Would you like to hear it?” Alaska prompts, looking far too excited to share. Courtney nods eagerly, and Alaska launches into the story.

“Ok, so, Willam’s been really into fitness lately, and the other day, she challenged me to, like, a pull-up competition,” Alaska explains, grinning when she sees the miffed look on Willam’s face. “I upped the stakes by saying that whoever did less had to wear five different ugly Christmas sweaters, one for each day until Christmas.”

“I can already guess what happens next,” Courtney giggles.

“Yeah. As you can tell, I obviously won,” Alaska beams, smug. “Willam was fucking pissed. She was so sure she had it in the bag.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, just look at those noodle arms!” Willam exclaims, gesturing wildly to Alaska’s spindly limbs. “You literally have no muscle mass. Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

“I mean, clearly there’s something here, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing that awful repurposed patchwork quilt,” Alaska comments, flexing under her coat. Katya giggles, pulling a comically exaggerated smirk as she squeezes Alaska’s arm, and Alaska licks her cheek in response before they both dissolve into hysterics.

“I have to deal with this all the time,” Willam stage-whispers to Courtney with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I’m the ultimate third-wheeler. The fucking best. I could make a career out of it.”

“Well, there’s a bet you won’t lose, at least,” Courtney snickers back.

“Fucking bitch,” Willam grins.

“Anyways, Willam,” Alaska says suddenly, hand still resting on Katya’s leg, “you should thank me, you know. If it weren’t for my incredible strength, you wouldn’t have met this gorgeous woman right here.” She gestures casually to Courtney.

“Nah, I would’ve. She was singing loud enough to wake the dead last night.”

“Oh, and that’s why you heard,” Alaska quips. Beside her, Katya flails her arms in laughter, wriggling in her seat.

They talk for a little longer before Willam excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and Courtney leaves to pour herself another drink. Alaska and Katya sit in silence for several heartbeats, watching as they leave.

“Romance is afoot, Alaska! I can just smell it!” Katya says emphatically once they’re out of earshot, tugging at Alaska’s arm.

“I think you might be right,” Alaska replies, slow and thoughtful. “Maybe we should give them a little… nudge in the right direction?”

Alaska and Katya have disappeared by the time Willam gets back from the bathroom. She glances around quizzically, but she can’t even spot Katya’s bright scarlet clothing in the crowd of partygoers.

“Did you see where they went?” she asks Courtney. It’s unlike Alaska to up and leave like that, but then again, she’s the host of the party. Willam’s sure she has plenty of other people she needs to talk to.

Courtney shakes her head. “I just went to get a drink. Turned around and they were gone.”

Willam shrugs, secretly pleased she gets to talk to Courtney one-on-one again. “It’s whatever. They’ll come back. In the meantime, we can chill.” She flops back into the couch cushions, and Courtney takes a delicate seat beside her.

Willam doesn’t get a chance to say anything else: something falls just in front of her face, and for the briefest of moments she thinks it’s a spider and nearly jumps out of her skin. Courtney, too, looks alarmed; her drink has sloshed over the rim of her glass and is dripping down its neck. When she looks again, Willam realises that the item is, in fact, a sprig of mistletoe, crudely tied to a string.

“Oh no,” a familiar voice suddenly drawls, and Willam whirls around to find Alaska crouching behind the couch, Katya bubbling with barely-contained laughter just beside her. “Where did this mistletoe come from? Oh my god, now you have to kiss! There’s no way out of it!”

“Alaska,” Willam growls through gritted teeth, “I hate you so fucking much.”

“You’ll thank me later,” she purrs, winking deviously.

“Fuck off,” Willam sighs before turning to Courtney, who is smiling awkwardly.

“This is… quite the interesting situation we’ve found ourselves in,” Courtney mumbles, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “If you don’t want to–”

“Willam never backs down from anything, ever,” Katya whispers to her, just loud enough for Willam to hear. “You know, I would just go with it… I’ve heard she’s pretty good with that mouth of hers.”

Courtney immediately turns beet red, and Willam’s heart beats faster, thudding rhythmically against her chest. She has to force it to slow, force her muscles to relax; she tells herself that this isn’t anything new. She’s kissed plenty of women in her time.

But none of them were Courtney, and that makes all the difference. Willam has never wanted someone like this; this is softer, like the brush of a feather or the first touch of snow. This want is warm and heavy in her chest. It feels more permanent, somehow, and Willam wants to be careful with it.

The sprig of mistletoe trembles before her eyes, bobbing in the air like a dancer. Alaska’s shaking the stick, silently urging Willam on, and it’s like a prod in the side; Willam leans forward, charged with nerves, skin hot and prickly under her sweater. Every touch is like fire.

Her lips meet Courtney’s and they are soft and warm. She can taste the strawberry in her lip gloss, smell the artificial sweetness of her shampoo. Willam feels like she is glowing from the inside out; like someone flipped a switch, and all the Christmas tree lights came on at once.

Then they’re drawing apart, huffing quietly, their cheeks rosy and warm. Willam loses herself in Courtney’s eyes, enveloped in a moment of bliss. But it’s tainted with awkwardness; these are hardly suitable circumstances for a first kiss. Definitely not with Alaska and Katya watching, hissing at each other to shut up and stop giggling.

“We should do that again sometime,” Willam manages with a false air of casualness, shattering the moment. Katya wheezes with glee, and Willam watches Courtney turn an even darker shade of crimson.

“You know where to find me,” she responds, smiling coyly, and something warm and soft stirs deep within Willam’s chest.

#rpdr fanfiction #courtney act #willam belli #alaska thunderfuck #witney #lesbian au #opal writes

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katieamazeballs · 6 years

Text

DWTS Tour recap!

Hey y’all! Here’s my (ever entertaining) tour recap! First of all, we are so grateful to this beautiful lady for giving us tickets for Christmas and coming with us. She was a little reluctant to go considering we told her we’d be leaving the house at 3 and returning God only knows when. But she wanted pics with the pros to brag to her Zumba friends. Imma say our experience delivered. She can’t wait to go next year!

After killing time with endless Jenga battles, we left at 3 to head downtown.

(Y’all should be impressed)

We got downtown, parked, and walked to the bus in hopes we’d see someone. Low and behold......

Abs Boo Thang was exiting the bus at that moment! He was in a rush but came over for a pic and a quick chat. She asked him if he remembered her from last year and he was like “Oh, yeah, of course!” (Bwahahaha). In typical fangirl Katie fashion....I totally forgot to give him his note 🤦🏻‍♀️ or get a pic with him. I’m so bad at this 😂. Abs asked where Wit was right as Carson was getting off the bus. Alan walked over and told him to go get Wit as they were walking into the venue. We stood there and the security lady came over and told us we couldn’t stand there so we left to do a lap of the venue. When we walked to the other side of the bus, we saw a couple way in the distance walking and my mom said “That could be Val and Jenna!” We watched for a second and I saw that mother truckin fanny pack strapped across the man’s chest and I was like “Holy crap it is!!!!” So we walked towards them hoping they’d turn down that sidewalk and not go towards the back of the venue. We leaned against a wall and “got busy on our phones” and put Abs on “see if they come this way” duty. She goes “Um....they are and Val just waved at me!” So we waited till they got closer and turned to wait. They stopped and Val said hello to us and Abs latched herself onto Jenna. My mom told them they were a beautiful couple and asked for a picture

I took one with Val while Abs latched herself back onto Jenna.

I asked him to sign my book and he laughed when I told him I carried that damned thing through MVP and forgot to ask him then

While he was signing, I got a pic with this gorgeous love

Then Abs latched herself onto Val. I went to take a pic and got this absolute gem

Abs is a little salty that she didn’t get one with Val alone but it worked out because somehow the one of her and Jen didn’t take (I think because he asked me a question and I turned to talk to him). We chatted a minute and I completely forgot to ask the questions I had planned (as big of a game as I talk...I’m a total blubbering idiot in front of them). Jen was surprised to see his book without the jacket because she hadn’t seen it naked before. My mom told her it was because I didn’t want it to get messed up in my purse and Val was like “that’s damn smart!” They left and I hollered “Oh my God come back! I have notes for you! I’m such a terrible fangirl in person”. Jenna laughed and Val told me I held it together better than most.

After that encounter we went back to the bus. The security lady chased us off again so we did a lap. My mom was saying she really hoped to meet Sasha and Emma. Abs wanted to meet Ruby. We stopped by the buses again and out walked the Farber family! My mother’s jaw hit the dirt! She went all blubbery fan girl and threw her phone in my direction for a picture

Abs asked if she could pet Ruby and they told her she could, if Ruby let her, because she has some anxiety issues. She was successful and says she is so soft.

Abs wanted a pic with Sasha AND Ruby so....

Abs then started talking to Emma. She asked her if she remembered her from last year. Emma also replied “Oh, sure I do”. Abbie said “I still don’t know why I cried, I think I was overwhelmed”. Emma’s lightbulb turned on and she got all excited “Oh my goodness! I DO remember you! We met over there! Your mum took a video!” This is the moment my love for Emma exploded. She was already a fave, then we met last year and she was so sweet, then she somehow actually remembered us and holy crap y’all!

(Y’all take note of that lady back there in the red jacket. Homegirl was more and more pissed at every pic that we took. Jacksonville security hates me and my fangirl self)

Since Big Bad Security Lady was real deal pissed off after Abs petted Rubes, we decided it was best to take another lap. When we came back, Carson was standing there. He is ADORABLE in person. Like HOLY CRAP! I asked him if I could take a picture. He looked behind him then looked back at me and said “Me?” I said, “Yep!”. He lit up and was like “No one ever wants a picture with me! Heck yeah, I’ll take a picture!” Abs asked him to tell Wit she said hi and I gave him her note (because I finally got my shit together).

(Wit better look out. Imma swoop in on her man)

The world’s friendliest security lady was eyeing us again so another lap was made. When we came back, my mom decided she was “old and needed to check her phone” so we leaned up against a tree in direct defiance of the security nazi. Out popped this beautiful man. Holy Crap, y’all. He is flippin gorgeous in person. I mean like WHOA! He laughed when I tried to take a picture because he’s real deal tall and I’m real deal short. He grabbed my phone and took the pics for us. Ha! Words can not describe the beauty that is Gleb in person. My mom kept saying how handsome he is.

Right when Gleb left, this adorable human came out. My mother’s face says it all. He is just precious! So kind, so baby faced, so very precious.

At this point, Meet and Greet had started so we wandered around to go see if we could tell who was inside because we still hadn’t found Joe, Artem, Hayley, Britt, or Wit. I went around back while my mom and Abs held that tree up, which made the security lady’s day. I saw Wit and Artem inside mingling so I knew we were pretty out of luck and went to collect the lurkers to go grab dinner. My mom wanted to sit and watch M&G for a bit and all of us were in absolute awe of the beauty of Wit while she and Artem were happily selfieing (yeah, I made that a verb, deal with it) with the fans. My mom couldn’t get over how the people in there paid that much money for tickets and we had met more than half the cast on our own terms. We went back out front for one more glance before dinner and somehow Artem was at the bus. I was waving my squad over while I gave him his card and asked for a picture and he was reeeaaaallll skeptical. He said “It depends, how many people are over there”. I said “Just me” as I am frantically waiving. He cut his eyes at me and said “Are you suuuuuuure?” I told him it was just my mom and daughter (as they finally moseyed over there) and he laughed and told me the guard was oddly insistent about them not talking to the fans at the bus for some reason and she was scary.

Y’all….here’s where I show you a zoom in of Attila the Hun (from the background of our Esha encounter)…..who is not even a little impressed with the fact that we were at this show. Artem was scared of her, my mother….not even a little.

We went and had some pizza, got our souveniers (including a mug for Bestie that I SWEAR Imma mail tomorrow), and went to the show. Y’all….the show is AMAZING! I liked it a lot more than last year! The dances were amazing, the dialogue was hysterical. My mom’s favorite part was Emma’s Elvis dance and the couple segment. Abs favorite dance was “The One Where Alan Is Shirtless”….so pretty much all of it. My favorite was the flag dance. I had seen clips of the drool worthy dance and of Sasha running out at the end. What I hadn’t seen was that he runs out and in approx 5 times as the guys look at him like he’s insane. He finally comes out with some tiny yard marking stake flag and starts waving it frantically, whacking Val with it. I about peed myself!

After the show, we went out to the buses and met up with Abs’ friend and her mom. We chit chatted and the actual DWTS Security guy came out. He told us that the curfew was 10 (it was about 9:15) and that when he came and told us no one else was coming, we had to leave because the buses had to roll out right at 10. He told us to respect the “very secure, military grade bike racks that were provided to us and no pushing or shoving. A (very nice) arena security guy lamented the fact that no one ever wants to take a picture of him....then cracked up when I said “Oh, but I do!” and I did.

Joe came out and went directly on the bus, Alan came out and mingled (and cut me out of our selfie….brat),

Sasha came out and mingled for a loooooong time. He made sure everyone got to talk to him and take their pictures. He was great this tour!

Most of the pros came out and went straight to the bus due to time. At one point someone yelled “Hi Carson!” The girl next to her said “That’s his last name, you idiot!” so she then yelled “Well, Hi Mr Witney!” He chuckled and waved and went on the bus. Abbie goes “Their last name is McAllister” and we all died laughing because it was hysterical. Jenna came out and got some stuff out of the bus and that’s when I heard her say to someone on the staff “Actually, Val and I are…..” and now we know they went to Jersey. Witney came out to mingle and Abs lost her collective fan girl shit. She absolutely LOVES Witney. My mom couldn’t get over how stunningly beautiful Wit is in person and without makeup. She is absolutely gorgeous.

When Wit came over to us Abs was in tears and Wit asked her name. She told her Abbie and Wit said “Oh! Carson told me you said hello! I read your note!” Abs’ friend’s mom managed to catch it all in pics and it’s adorable.

After Wit, Britt came out but only got to about half the crowd (not us.....sigh). Emma came out and security told her she couldn’t see anyone so she gave the crowd an air hug and told us she loved us and thanked us all for coming out as security was ushering Britt out and onto the bus. As we were walking to the cars, Abs and her friend were catching up on some middle school gossip and her mom and I were exchanging tour stories. I brought up a picture of Shai’s hat and she was like OMG! You’re on tumblr! I still haven’t decided if I’m embarrassed or flattered, but this is gonna be so much fun! Y’all…..she’s my kindred Valenna believer. @edsy914

All in all it was an amazing night that capped off a pretty damn epic weekend. We got to meet everyone but Joe, Hayley, and Britt. We all can’t wait to go next year!

#dwts live tour #dwts tour recap #rambles

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allinmycorner · 5 years

Photo

Season 28 has had its first elimination! This season, viewers in the Eastern and Central time zones vote during the live show until after the last contestant has danced. All those votes are added to the judges’ scores, which are now given more weight. The bottom two are announced and the judges then get a chance to save one. Carrie Ann and Bruno vote and if they each vote for someone else, Len is the tie-breaker. This is similar to some other reality shows I’ve seen, including the ones from the BBC where Andrew Lloyd Webber would cast roles for musical productions. He always had the final say until the finale.

Let’s review the episode!

Mary and Brandon: Aww, poor Mary. Though she didn’t seem to be too broken to be the one going home. Carrie Ann did vote to save her but Bruno and Len opted to save Ray Lewis instead. I think it was the right vote though I do also agree with Len that it wasn’t the right bottom two.

Hannah and Alan: We have our first eights already! Her Viennese waltz was absolutely gorgeous and I think her dancing background served her well with it. It’ll be interesting to see how she progresses but Alan may have another trip to the finals in his future.

Kate and Pasha: Holy improvement, Batman! Kate looked absolutely amazing in her foxtrot and stunned everyone with how graceful she was. She looked like she was enjoying herself as well and threw herself into the dance. Hopefully she can keep this up!

Ally and Sasha: It seems Ally earned the reputation of being the worst dancer in Fifth Harmony and of course the internet felt compelled to tell her that constantly. However, I think she pushed back against the haters with this beautiful waltz. But haters generally always hate so just do you, Ally.

James and Emma: Everyone said James was off this week but I didn’t think so. I thought his cha-cha was well and wondered if he would’ve been better scored if he went later in the competition rather than first. He pulled off some great moves and he was definitely dancing, not just walking around the floor like some contestants have done. I think he’s doing well but he needs to step up his game, just like everyone else.

Kel and Witney: Kel certainly had a week! His father had brain surgery! But he continued to dance and delivered a pretty good samba. Kel is still hovering in the middle of the pack but I still think he can pull out. He just needs a little extra push.

Karamo and Jenna: Karamo’s future mother-in-law is adorable! As a former dance instructor, she came to give him some tips but they didn’t seem to impress Len. He still criticized Karamo and gave him a lower score than Carrie Ann and Bruno.

Lauren and Gleb: I loved that Lauren brought in a picture of herself at 10 years old and called her the most confident person she knew. She found that confidence again as she handled the paso doble rather well. Even more practice and she’ll just keep getting better.

Sailor and Val: Sailor is still doing well and is improving with more rehearsal. I think she needs to still wow us and she didn’t really do that in her rumba. It was nice but nothing to really rave about. But I think she could pull something off.

Sean and Lindsay: I was a bit surprised Sean survived this week. I think there were probably a number of people who may have voted for him so he didn’t get eliminated on his birthday. And there may either be a “vote for the worse” situation or a bunch of Republicans deciding to show the liberal elites in Hollywood a thing or two. Or morbid curiosity. I don’t know. But I don’t think he’ll be around much longer.

Ray and Cheryl: Cheryl went to some great lengths to help get Ray to be more fluid on the dance floor. It worked a little but she still has some ways to go. His foxtrot wasn’t as smooth as Kate’s but he does show promise, so it was understandable why both Bruno and Len decided to keep him over Mary. But he needs to step it up if he wants to stay.

Lamar and Peta: I think Lamar shows both the pro and con arguments of the new voting system. Lamar had the worst performance last week and there’s a good chance he would’ve been voted off based on that performance. And his performance this week shows he’s probably not going to improve much. But he was very defeatist in his interview with Erin, insisting he had already lost. So I’m sure people felt bad for him and voted for him based on that--which probably saved him. So the new system can prevent one bad dance from sending someone home but it might increase people’s likelihood to vote for someone because they feel sorry for them. I guess we’ll see how his next dance goes.

Tonight, the remaining couples will be dancing songs inspired by the stars’ favorite movies and someone else will be eliminated. I’ll see everyone next time!

#dancing with the stars #season 28 #ABC #mary wilson #brandon armstrong

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winedownwithcoffee · 6 years

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DWTS Season 27 Cast Write Up and Unwanted Thoughts

Okay! So now that everyone is known, let’s do this list so people can have a basic ass write up of who they are. Also, when reading these, please keep in mind WHO the GP is. Mainly, white, middle aged, conservative women from Middle America, OKAY!

Nikki & Gleb: Nikki is a stand-up comedian. She is best known for her now cancelled sex show, stints on Inside Amy Schumer and her sex podcast. She is political and raunchy. She was on the Roast of Rob Lowe and the Roast of Bruce Willis. Otherwise? No clue about her. She is paired with Gleb. Like do we really need to say more about him.

Alexis & Alan: Alexis is a Maxim & Sports Illustrated model and a “social influencer”. She has a huge IG following, but that is what she is known for. She is an Instagram model. That’s it. However, she is paired with Alan. Alan is one of the male pros who has been killing it. On top of that, Alexis does have some redeeming background stories that can really touch people if done correctly.

Evanna & Keo: Evanna is known solely from Harry Potter. She is Looney Luna Lovegood, which I want to applaud the DWTS Social Team. While we all stared at “we’re not gonna lie” the REAL hint was “we LOVE how GOOD”. ANYWAYS. She has the HP Fandom vote, she is a little thing and she is young. That video shows she has some serious potential. IF Keo can actually choreograph the way he should, they have some potential.

Tinashe & Brandon: This is the one pairing I am confused about. I fully expected Val with her. ANYWAY. Tinashe honestly is unknown in most households. Unless you are a 16-21 year old, not many people know her. The only thing you even hear about her recently is shit about Kendall Jenner and her ex. Her most recent album was supposedly canceled by RCA Records. Yet she has some followers. And the newest pro with no real fan-base attached to him yet, which will be a hindrance. But she has some training so that will help. But always remember, being a top dancer does NOT mean you are going to win, especially if you don’t connect with the GP.

Mary Lou & Sasha: an 80’s Icon. The first american gymnast to win an all around gold medal. an 80’s Icon. While I know there are some problematic things, MOST viewers of this show do not. They have no idea she tried to block a bill. And honestly, I don’t know if they will care. She is paired with my least favorite pro, but a lot of people do like him a lot.

Nancy & Val: Another 80’s Icon. Facts of Life star. With the Favorite Male pro. I don’t really need to say a damn thing because she will be there for a couple weeks at least.

Danelle & Artem: The inspiring BLIND Paralympian. She is BLIND. Like holy crap. Granted, she is paired with Artem and we have NO idea how he will do with her. But she could be extremely inspirational.

Milo & Witney: Milo is a Disney actor. In a movie called Zombies? Also he is Camryn Manheim’s son, who I love. But he’s a cute kid, but he is also who the hell is he without a google search? If Wit keeps her choreography he might be decent.

Demarcus & Lindsay: He is a football player, from America’s Team (gah I just gagged typing that. I hate the Cowgirls). Football players have done exceptionally well, however we have had a TON of football players and people on Facebook are still mad because “there weren’t supposed to be any athletes this season!!!” BUT he is paired with Lindsay, and she is by and far one of the best choreographer on this show anymore tbh.

John & Emma: An 80’s fan favorite. Bo Duke from Dukes of Hazard. Also Superman's dad in Smallville. Wouldn’t say he is an Icon but like, 70s & 80’s babies know him well. Had some trouble with the law lately, but the GP still knows him. He has Emma. Emma is compassionate and knows how to work with the older guys. I honestly don’t know HOW he will do.

Juan Pablo & Cheryl: Latin singer and actor on Fuller House. He’s attractive and Latin and can dance. He hasn’t been in anything else that is big but he’s been around for awhile and he is sexy. He’s danced on Fuller House and did real well. He is with the OG pro who people still love. I don’t know much else about him but I bet he has some serious staying power.

Joe & Jenna: Joe is a bachelor contestant. He doesn’t have a wiki page so like….I don’t know. He was a first night elimination on Becca’s season, but is on Bachelor in Paradise with a Kendall chick, who apparently dumped him on the season finale but also they are still together? Idk I don’t watch those shows and it confuses me. I went through 3 pages of Google search for this dude and have only learned he is hot, he is a grocer (or his parents are? Idk) and people are upset about him and Kendall. BUT he is with the reigning champion, so we shall see.

Bobby & Sharna: Bobby has a nationally syndicated radio show on iHeartRadio. He is also now the creative director of iHeartRadio. He is a best selling author, tours with his own sell out stand-up show. Has been on Idol, which is probably where he was approached to do this show tbh. I don’t know how he will dance, I haven’t seen it. But he has a really good story that can connect to people and is a funny dude. He is also paired with Shar who people desperately want to win.

At this point, it can go just about any way. I don’t want to do a prediction but I can if we think I should and then compare how well I did at the end of the season. Or bestie and I both can because let’s be honest, she is really freaking accurate.

#season 27 #dwts27

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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i'm burning for you (shalaska) - freyja

A/N: hello!! I really didn’t mean for this to get up to 8k, but, here we are. I figure we all need a little beach fluff in our lives, right? Also, this is technically spring break, because it worked better for my purposes, but it works for a summer challenge. At least, I hope so.

Summary: Alaska’s crush on Sharon Needles has been manageable only because Sharon Needles does not wear anything remotely sexy. Too bad Raja decides Sharon’s going to be the model for her new swimsuit spread. Or, Sharon wears seven very, very distracting bathing suits, and Alaska’s spring break is completely and utterly fucked. 7.7k.

DAY ONE OF SPRING BREAK

“Spring break is a time to relax, right?”

“Mhm.”

“The idea is to get away from it all, right?”

“Sure.”

“‘It all’ includes hopeless crushes, right?”

“Why not?”

“Then explain to me how this is fair?”

“My eyes are telling me it’s very fair,” Willam says, sliding her sunglasses down her nose to leer over at the ice cream hut. “Maybe even a blessing.”

“I hate you,” Alaska says, but she lets her eyes follow Willam’s gaze. The sight that greets her confirms it: her spring break is completely, utterly, unfairly ruined.

Sharon Needles is standing at the stationary ice cream truck, talking animatedly with Jinkx Monsoon and completely oblivious to her enraptured audience.

“This is homophobic,” Alaska says, her eyes never leaving the other woman.

“I was just about to say gay rights,” Willam says, and Alaska takes a deep breath.

Alaska has had a crush on Sharon ever since she cracked a joke the first day of their shared government class last semester, so, naturally, Alaska has learned a few things about her: Sharon is a poli-sci major in her junior year. Sharon is at the top of her class. Sharon throws the best Halloween parties on campus. Sharon fights with the pastors that come to yell at passers-by on the quad. Sharon exclusively wears ratty t-shirts and ripped jeans. Sharon sneers at the word ‘sexy’ like it spit on her mother.

Sharon Needles is currently getting ice cream dressed in the sexiest bikini Alaska has ever laid eyes on.

It’s black, with a simple bra and a high waisted black bottom. Netting covers the top and ties around the neck, standing out against Sharon’s pale skin. Gold caps off the end of each string, catching the light attractively when Sharon shifts, laughing. It hugs Sharon’s figure tightly (of fucking course, it’s a bathing suit), showing off… everything.

“Staring is rude,” Willam says, and Alaska tears her eyes away from Sharon’s ass, cheeks burning.

“I wasn’t staring,” she says automatically. “Let’s go lay down with Courtney.”

“No ice cream?” Willam asks, voice verging on a whine, and Alaska ignores her, marching back down the beach towards Courtney, who is lazing in the sun and has been since three hours before, despite her skin already being perfectly bronzed.

“Oh, hello!” Courntey says, pleasantly surprised as Alaska flops down next to her. Willam daintily lies down on her other side. “How was the ice cream?”

“Apparently Sharon’s too sexy to be getting any ice cream,” Willam says simply.

“Willam!”

“Ah,” Courtney says sagely, looking at Alaska with sympathy. “She does look good today. I just saw her with Jinkx Monsoon.”

Alaska groans, giving into temptation and looking back at the ice cream truck just in time to see Sharon catch a drip of melted ice cream and lick it off of her finger. She does it exaggeratedly slowly, clearly in an effort to make Jinkx laugh, but all Alaska can focus on is the way her red lips split into a slow smile around her tongue.

“Fuck my life,” Alaska says, watching as Sharon cackles at the face Jinkx is making. A little bubble of jealousy springs up in her belly - she should be the one making Sharon laugh.

“Calm down,” Willam says flatly, and Alaska glares at her.

“I’ll calm down when she stops wearing that swimsuit and goes back to baggy t-shirts. Where the fuck did this even come from?”

“I think Raja Gemini got her hands on her,” Willam says.

“So Raja Gemini is to blame for ruining my life,” Alaska groans, laying down in defeat. Or maybe she owes Raja her life. Either one.

“She’s doing a swimsuit project for the school magazine,” Courtney says excitedly. “She’s done at least seven different designs, and they’re all supposed to be crazy unique. It was actually supposed to be last year’s spread, but they couldn’t find the right model.”

“She rejected Naomi Smalls, Violet Chachki, and fuckin’ Courtney,” Willam says, and then she pauses as if in thought. “I guess I would want someone with boobs, too.”

“Hey!” Courtney shrieks, laughing. Alaska shrugs.

“Makes sense,” she says. “Those girls are too skinny, anyway.”

Willam snorts. “You’re one to talk. Sharon could break you in half.”

“Yes, please,” Alaska says.

“Why don’t you go over and ask her, then?”

Alaska looks at her. “You have to know that’s not an option.”

Willam shrugs. “Your fingers, I guess.”

Alaska hits her with Courtney’s rolled up towel.

DAY TWO OF SPRING BREAK

“Tell me again why we chose to come to the most popular beach?”

“Because going with my parents to their new lakehouse would have sucked harder.”

“I don’t know,” Alaska says, her book forgotten on her stomach as she stares twenty feet to her left. “At least there would be a chance of me finishing Macbeth.”

“You don’t go to the beach to catch up in your English classes, whore,” Willam says. “You go to ogle at everyone.”

“Well,” Alaska says grimly. “I’m certainly ogling.”

Courtney had been right - Raja Gemini is doing a photoshoot, it is based on swimsuits, and Sharon is her model. They’ve decided to do the shoot on the beach itself, and currently, they are too close for Alaska’s sanity.

She watches as Raja jams the feet of her tripod into the sand, laughing at something Sharon has just said and tossing her long, straight black hair behind her back as she fiddles with her equipment. Her swimsuit is fun, made up of a strappy pink top and bottoms with a gigantic eye on the ass, but Alaska’s eyes gravitate towards Sharon no matter what she tries to focus on.

Sharon stands just off to the side, patiently waiting with her hands on her hips, completely oblivious to the way Alaska’s mouth goes dry just looking at her.

She’s in a one piece today, made up of a dangerously see through lace that shines when the sun hits it. It’s certainly unique - it covers her chest in a turtleneck and has sleeves that go down to her wrists. Her legs are bared normally, her pale skin offset brilliantly by the olive green of the fabric, and her lips are painted a dark eggplant.

If this carries on for the rest of the week, Alaska is completely screwed.

“We have to change spots,” she says, as Sharon walks over to help Raja with her camera. God, she’s so helpful. And considerate. And hot. “Like, immediately.”

“I fought a ten year old kid for this spot,” Willam says. “That’s not happening.”

“Willam,” Alaska whines, flipping over to glare at her friend. Willam is unmoved, expression blank behind her mirrored sunglasses. “If I have to suffer like this for much longer, I’ll die.”

“I’ll make sure to say nice things at your funeral,” Willam tells her. “Courtney yelled at me about the kid. I didn’t sit through that just to leave two days in.”

“Courtney’s getting you a margarita right now,” Alaska says drily. “I think she’s over it.”

“Yeah,” Willam says. “Having a girlfriend sure is nice.”

“Don’t act like she wasn’t the one to ask you,” Alaska snaps back, and Willam raises an eyebrow.

“So you’re never going to make a move?” she asks, and Alaska turns to look at Sharon again, forlorn and resigned to her fate of forever looking from afar.

“That’s exactly what I– what the fuck is she doing?”

Courtney is currently traipsing towards Raja and Sharon, two margaritas in her hands and a huge grin on her face. As she nears them, she turns her head to meet Alaska’s glare. She winks.

“I’m going to kill her,” Alaska says lowly, horror creeping under her skin, and Willam laughs.

“I guess Courtney’s going to make a move for you,” she says, and dread suddenly breaks over Alaska in a cold sweat.

“She’d better fucking not be,” she says, watching Courtney finish talking to the other two. “I swear–”

“Courtney!” Sharon hollers, and Courtney stops making her way back towards Alaska and Willam to turn around.

“Yeah?”

“We’re having a party tomorrow night! You and Willam should come! Alaska too!”

Alaska’s breath catches at the sound of her name.

“Yeah!” Courtney calls back, but not before she flashes Alaska a cheeky grin. Alaska hates her. “Totally!”

“I’ll text Willam the details!” Sharon shouts, and Alaska turns to stare at Willam.

“You have her number?” she asks incredulously.

“I have everyone’s number,” Willam says, shrugging. “Plus, we smoke sometimes.”

“You smoke sometimes?!” Alaska cries. “Why haven’t I heard about this?!”

“It’s not important!” Willam says, widening her eyes with annoyance “I smoke with everyone!”

“Smoke?” Courtney asks before Alaska can fire back an response, flopping onto the gigantic beach blanket Willam had procured at the beginning of the trip. “I would kill for a joint right now.”

“You made me leave the weed behind, remember?”

“Right.”

Alaska turns her attention back to Macbeth, over the conversation, her face burning and more absurd jealousy making it hard to focus on the words. If she can just get this act finished –

“Awww!” Courtney squeals, sounding excited. “They’ve started the shoot! Sharon looks amazing!”

Alaska is required by law to look, and when she does, her heartbeat goes straight to her underwear. She can’t tear her eyes away from Sharon, lounging on the sand with her blonde curls strewn beneath her, giving the camera the bedroomiest bedroom eyes Alaska has ever seen.

This isn’t fair.

“Damn,” Willam notes from behind her. “I thought she was going to be awkward.”

“I’m entranced,” Alaska says, watching Sharon shift positions. She’s only half joking. “I’m bewitched.”

“I’m bored,” Willam says. “Let’s go swimming.”

“I swear, you have the attention span of a goldfish,” Courtney says, looking reluctant to stop watching the shoot, but standing up anyway. Willam shrugs.

“Sorry,” she says, clearly not. She looks at Alaska. “You coming?”

Alaska grimaces. “I need to finish this,” she says, looking at Willam apologetically. She lifts up Macbeth. “Sorry.”

“I would have just taken ‘I’m too horny’,” Willam says drily, and Alaska’s jaw drops.

“Bitch!”

“Have fun!” Willam says, grabbing Courtney’s wrist and tugging her towards the water. Alaska waves them goodbye until they’re too wrapped up in each other to even think about her, and then she forces herself to look back at her book. She hadn’t been lying - she needs to read. She will finish Act One by the end of the day, god help her.

She gets two lines in before Sharon’s laughter floats by, and suddenly, Lady Macbeth’s speech is completely lacking in engagement. Before she can help it, Alaska’s eyes trail up towards the photoshoot, and a jolt runs through her at the sight of Sharon straddling a chair, her legs spread and on full display.

Alaska doesn’t look at Macbeth again until Sharon is off of the beach and out of her sight.

DAY THREE OF SPRING BREAK

Raja’s parties have always been loud, drunk, and glittery, and this one is no exception.

It’s a beach party, so Alaska, Willam, and Courtney all show up in their swimwear. Except - they have absolutely no intention of swimming.

They all have makeup on - Willam’s bright and sparkly, Courtney’s subtle, and Alaska’s the best that she could manage. Willam has body glitter spread down her arms and legs, which has spread to Alaska and Courtney by mere association, and Alaska can only hope that the chunky blue sparkles go well with her bubblegum pink bikini.

“Now this is a party!” Willam shouts over the music, and Courntey nods, grinning.

“You know what it’s missing?” she shouts back.

“Us!” Willam yells, and then they’re making their way through the crowd to the makeshift bar, which is a fold out table littered with red solo cups and booze. Alaska’s heart stops with every platinum blonde girl that they bump into on the way, and she’s relieved when they make it to their destination seeing neither hide nor hair of Sharon.

Willam fills one of the cups with beer out of the keg and thrusts it at Alaska. Alaska shakes her head at it, too nervous to drink and not the biggest fan of beer, anyway.

“Not tonight!” she says loudly, and a sudden voice from behind her makes her jump five feet into the air.

“Wow, didn’t have you pegged for a stick in the mud!”

She whirls around to find Sharon standing just beside her, a red solo cup in her hand and her cheeks flushed with excitement and alcohol. As if her sudden appearance wasn’t enough to kill Alaska on sight, she’s in another exquisitely fitting bathing suit, black and glittery and with a deep, deep V.

“Um,” Alaska says intelligently, her eyes glued to the pale expanse of Sharon’s chest, and Sharon grins.

“You like it?” she asks, glancing down at herself. “Raja made it by hand - I’m not allowed to go swimming with it, because the glitter will wash off. I’m not entirely sure she’s suited for swimwear.”

Alaska laughs, regaining her footing, a little. She will not make a fool out of herself right now. She’s sober, and Sharon knows it - she won’t have an excuse for being an idiot in the morning. “I’m not sure you should really be swimming in October, anyway,” Alaska drawls, referring to the spider web shape of the strapless bra cups, and Sharon cackles.

“It’s not her fault,” she says, grinning. “I requested something a little spookier.”

“Well, I like it,” Alaska says, openly admiring it now that she has permission. “It’s my favorite so far.”

“So far?” Sharon asks, raising an amused eyebrow. “Have you been sneaking peeks?”

Alaska feels like her face is on fire. “Uh–”

“Alaska,” Sharon admonishes, but there’s a smile threatening to break through her scandalized frown. “Raja doesn’t want anyone to see until the spread is finished.”

“Then don’t do it on a public beach!” Alaska cries. “You’re distracting!”

“Am I?”

Alaska hadn’t thought blushing harder was possible, but the heat creeping up her neck says otherwise. “I mean - with the cameras, and everything - it’s a whole production, you know.”

Sharon laughs at her stammering, and Alaska can’t help the affection that warms in her chest at how loud it is. “You can say it’s my bad modeling,” she says, and she touches Alaska’s arm like she’s sharing a secret. Alaska freezes, afraid of somehow scaring her away. “I have no idea why Raja chose me, but I’m milking it for as long as she thinks I’m worth it.”

“You are,” Alaska says without thinking, and then she sucks in a breath, watching Sharon’s face for confusion - or something worse.

Instead, Sharon leans forwards a little, frowning. “What?” she says, louder than before, and Alaska can’t help but sag with relief.

“I said ‘good idea’!” she shouts, and Sharon’s face splits into another smile.

“Let’s go outside!” she says. “I can’t hear a goddamned thing!”

And before Alaska can respond either way (yes - of course she’d say yes), Sharon’s grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd, towards a pair of sliding glass doors near the back. Her ears ring as they exit the house, the sudden silence more of a relief than she’d expected, and Sharon slides the door shut behind them, muffling the music even further.

“Thank god,” Sharon moans. “I thought my head was going to burst in there.”

“Really?” Alaska teases. “That seems kind of lame for someone who throws the best parties on campus to say.”

“Halloween parties,” Sharon corrects, like Alaska doesn’t already know. “And I’m usually already drunk by the time those start. Whatever’s in those kegs doesn’t seem to be doing the trick, tonight.”

“You mean I’m talking to a sober Sharon Needles right now?” Alaska cries, pulling her face in exaggerated shock. “No.”

“Yes,” Sharon says, nodding gravely. “It’s horrible.”

“I don’t think you were even sober for Dujour’s class,” Alaska says, shaking her head. “Can I take a picture with you? This needs to be documented.”

“Well, I can’t believe you were sober for Dujour’s class,” Sharon says, her tooth gap on full display. “It was a nightmare even when I was drunk out of my mind.”

“That was a government class!” Alaska laughs, staring at Sharon in amused disbelief. “You needed that class more than I did!”

“I had your notes!” Sharon says. “I’m sure I got more out of those than I would have out of Dujour’s mouth.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Alaska drawls. “I’m pretty sure my notes are the reason you don’t have to retake that class.”

“I said thank you!” Sharon says, her defensive tone undercut by the huge smile on her face. Alaska finds herself mirroring it, Sharon’s grin infectious.

“You were drunk!” Alaska tells her. “That hardly counts!”

“Then allow me to say it again: thank you, my hero,” Sharon says, and then, before Alaska can tell her that sarcasm doesn’t count either, she grabs her hand and bows over it, kissing her knuckles.

Alaska is certain that her face goes at least five shades of red, Sharon’s lips soft and burning against her fingers. “You’re welcome,” she says weakly, as lightly as she can with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. Suddenly, she is very, very aware that she and Sharon might as well be alone together, the sliding glass door practically a chasm between the quiet beach and the roaring party.

Sharon lets go of her hand as soon as she’s done, giving Alaska another gap-toothed grin. Her lips are black to match her bathing suit, her blue eyes done up in shades of grey, and Alaska’s breath catches in her throat as she watches the party lights dance across her face.

“Now,” Sharon says, like nothing remotely romantic or intimate has just occurred. Alaska thinks she might have whiplash. “Do you like swimming?”

“What?” Alaska asks, her face still burning from earlier and her brain struggling to catch up.

“This suit may not be functional, but tomorrow’s is,” Sharon explains, “I want someone to swim with me tomorrow. Sun tanning isn’t exactly my thing.”

Alaska laughs at her. “No, I wouldn’t expect it to be,” she says dryly, and Sharon shrugs, grinning.

“Well? What do you say?”

Alaska’s heart starts to quicken, her palms sweaty. She bites back the ‘Of course!’ she wants to say, instead sticking to her teasing. The last thing she wants Sharon to think is that she’s overeager - she does not, under any circumstances, want to fuck this up.

“What happened to Raja?” she asks. “Or are you only using her to get fame and fortune?”

Sharon snorts. “I wish,” she says, rolling her eyes up in a playful expression. Alaska is entranced. “But I don’t expect Raja’s graduation project to make me anything but masturbation material.”

“Sharon!” Alaska cries, unable to help the laugh that escapes her. A pleased smile curves across Sharon’s face.

“I only speak the truth,” she says. “And Raja doesn’t like to swim - she’s afraid of the water.”

“She is?”

“More specifically the undertow,” Sharon says. “I don’t like thinking about it much either.”

Alaska twists her lips in acknowledgement. “I guess, but–”

The sliding glass door suddenly opens with a sharp bang, making both women jump and Alaska cut her sentence short with a small yelp. She whips her head around to look at the door, already upset at being interrupted. Dammit.

Willam stands in the doorway, looking somewhere between her fourth or fifth drink, grinning like a loon. “‘Laska!” she shouts, much too loudly. “Courtney’s chugging the keg! Courtney!”

“Courtney?” Alaska repeats, disbelieving. As a rule, Courtney only drinks things served with at least one toothpicked fruit - Alaska doesn’t think she even knows what cheap college beer tastes like.

“It’s crazy!” Willam yells, eyes wide, and she walks over to grab Alaska’s wrist, tugging her inside. “Come quick, or you’ll miss it!”

“Wait!” Sharon says, and Alaska stops, resisting Willam’s drunken attempts to keep pulling her with a strength that only comes with the will to please Sharon Needles. “Tomorrow?”

“I’m there,” Alaska manages to say without stuttering, and her heart flutters as she says it, the glitter on Sharon’s bathing suit sparkling attractively in the moonlight. “When?”

“7 pm, by the lighthouse?”

Alaska has plans to go to some bonfire with Willam and Courtney at seven, but it takes her all of two seconds to decide that it’s not at all important. “Perfect.”

Sharon smiles, and it’s sweeter than the grins she’s been shooting Alaska all night. Alaska could look at her forever. “It’s a date,” she says.

Alaska is pretty sure her heart actually stops.

All she can do is stare, her jaw slackened and her cheeks burning, for a too-long moment. Sharon gives her a strange look, laughing a little.

“Are you alright?”

“Um,” Alaska says, because she’s stupid and her brain stopped functioning the moment Sharon arrived on the beach in that fucking bikini. “I’m, uh–”

Willam, always helpful only on accident, suddenly gives a particularly hard tug against her arm, and Alaska is jerked back into the thumping music of the party, bodies pressing against her as Willam leads her straight into the middle of a crowd. Courtney is in the middle, upside down and downing beer from the keg, but Alaska can hardly bring herself to care. Instead, her mind keeps wandering towards Sharon, her blonde hair nearly white in the moonlight and her eyes glittering with amusement.

It’s a date.

She doesn’t know if the way her stomach flips is out of nerves or excitement.

DAY FOUR OF SPRING BREAK

The sunset is gorgeous.

It’s pink and yellow and orange, glittering across the water with blinding light, the clouds streaks of bright coral against the sun’s burning yellow. Alaska glances at its arresting beauty, sighing appreciatively, and then she goes back to staring at the woman next to her.

Sharon’s swimsuit is a bright red one piece, with cute white pinstripes that nod to the forties, the sharp angles of her waist adding to the post-war feeling. The plunging neckline, however, is very much reminiscent of the modern era, and is very much what Alaska’s eyes keep getting stuck on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sharon says, her eyes still on the horizon. “It’s like looking at sherbet ice cream.”

“Mhm,” Alaska says, raising her gaze a little to rest on Sharon’s face. Her makeup is lighter, today, with only a bold red lip and winged black eyeliner, and Alaska finds the painted on beauty mark charming. “Love it.”

Sharon turns to look at her, and she wrenches her gaze quickly to look out at the sunset, her face burning. “Something tells me you’re not looking at the sunset,” she says, her voice teasing, and Alaska blushes so hard she can feel her ears burning. She looks at Sharon apologetically, unable to meet her eyes.

“I - uh - I’m–”

“I’ll make sure to let Raja know,” Sharon continues, giving Alaska a fond smile. Alaska immediately stops attempting to say anything, her heart bouncing around her ribcage. “She wasn’t so sure about this one, so it’ll be good to hear.”

“What?” Alaska asks, completely lost, her ears still warm. “I don’t - what?”

Sharon frowns, glancing down at herself. “The swimsuit? You want it, don’t you?”

Realization clicks in Alaska’s end, and suddenly, relief along with a strange hint of disappointment has her nearly falling over. Sharon’s completely oblivious - thank god. “Yes. Yes, the swimsuit. That’s what I was looking at.”

Sharon doesn’t look convinced, her eyes lingering on Alaska’s face. Alaska feels like a butterfly pinned to styrofoam. “You do like it, right? I’m not just assuming?”

“No,” Alaska says hurriedly, surprised. Sharon sounds almost insecure, unsure of herself, and it’s something Alaska never wants to hear in her voice again. She keeps forgetting that Sharon isn’t used to dressing like this, no matter how much it seems like she’s doing it to torture Alaska specifically. “I love it. It’s very forties.” She stumbles over the ‘f’, meaning to say flattering and chickening out at the last second.

Sharon grins. “Thanks,” she says. “You can relax, I’ll stop fishing for compliments.”

Alaska doesn’t know whether to feel relieved at the unintentional save, or to try and defend Sharon from herself - she doesn’t know which way is up most of the time, around this woman, so this is completely hopeless. She finally speaks after a too-long pause. “You weren’t–”

“Let’s go! I’ve been dying to get in the water all day!”

Sharon grabs Alaska’s hand, and Alaska doesn’t breathe the entire time Sharon drags her towards the water, Sharon’s fingers curled around hers the only thing on her mind. She finally sucks in a breath as they hit the water, the cold making goosebumps blossom across her skin.

“Jesus!” Sharon says, stopping as soon as the water reaches her thighs. It takes actual effort for Alaska to keep her eyes from lingering there. “No one told me it was freezing!”

She squeezes Alaska’s hand harder as the waves come up to hit her stomach. Alaska feels too warm to notice the water brushing across her own thighs, her heart in her throat.

“Do you want to get out?” she asks, even as disappointment sinks in her gut. Relief wars with it - she wants to spend more time with Sharon, spend all of her time with Sharon, but her anxiety tells her that if she spends too much time with her, she’ll fuck it up. She doesn’t know if she can handle that.

Sharon shoots her a scandalized look, letting go of her hand to turn towards her. Alaska tries not to mourn the loss. “Of course not!” Sharon says. “We just have to go in all at once.”

Alaska pulls a face at the idea. She’s never liked the ‘bandaid’ approach to things. “Are you sure?”

“What?” Sharon teases. “Are you scared?”

“Yes,” Alaska says plainly, and she smiles at the laugh Sharon lets out.

“Be brave for me?” she asks, and Alaska’s stomach does several somersaults.

“Of course,” she says, and Sharon grins.

Alaska follows Sharon as she wades out further, both girls shrieking as the icy water comes up to hit some new section of skin. Sharon stops as the water comes just below her shoulders, her hair streaming behind her like a mermaid’s. She looks enchanting in the orange of the setting sun, the blue of her eyes almost electric as the sun shines across them.

“Count of three,” Sharon says. “We duck under.”

Alaska nods. Sharon takes a deep breath.

“One,” she says.

“Two,” Alaska counts. Sharon’s smile is blinding.

“Three.”

They duck under, Sharon heedless of her makeup and Alaska steeling herself for the shock of the cold. It’s freezing, but her body soon acclimates to the temperature of the water, and she surfaces feeling refreshed.

She comes up before Sharon, so she watches as the other woman comes up for hair, her hair slicked back from her face and her mascara bleeding a little, a huge grin splitting her face. She looks stunning, and Alaska’s breath gets caught in her throat as she takes her in, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since Raja told me she wanted me to model for her,” Sharon laughs. “After I figured out she wasn’t joking, of course.”

“Of course she wasn’t joking,” Alaska says before she can stop herself. “You’re perfect for this.”

Sharon raises her eyebrows. “Believe me, I’m not. Her suits are doing most of the work. All I have to do is stand the way Raja tells me to stand.”

“Please,” Alaska blurts out. “The suits are hardly the reason I’ve been watching the photoshoots.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Alaska thinks very hard about ducking under the water again and not coming up again.

Sharon is looking at her with a curious expression, and Alaska suddenly needs to get away right now.

“What do you m–”

“I have to go,” Alaska interrupts, panic making everything too much, too fast. “I just remembered, I have - something.” She starts wading towards shore, but Sharon grabs her wrist.

“Alaska, wait,” she says, and Alaska turns to look at her, avoiding her eyes. Her eyes get caught on Sharon’s lips, set in an adorable pout, and she has just enough time to imagine what it’s like to kiss her before she rips her gaze away. “What plans?”

“Um–” Alaska says, completely panicking, Sharon’s fingers too warm around her wrist and her eyes too intense on Alaska’s. The sun is dimming, casting them in purplish grey. She casts about for a good excuse, and she lets out a breath when she finds one. “There’s a bonfire. I’m already late - I promised Willam I would go with her.”

“The bonfire?” Sharon asks, letting go of Alaska’s wrist. Alaska turns to go again, cursing when she hears Sharon start to follow her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Alaska says, even though she knows exactly why. They make it onto the beach, and Alaska grabs her towel, drying off hurriedly. “I - I don’t know.”

“I doubt that,” Sharon says. “What did you mean, earlier?”

“What?” Alaska asks, playing dumb. She can’t find her phone. Where the fuck is her phone?

“Alaska,” Sharon says, and she sounds frustrated. Alaska winces. “Do you like me?”

Alaska freezes, terror ripping through her as she scrambles for a denial. “No,” she snaps out, panic making her voice hard and sharp. Sharon takes a step back, her eyes widening, and Alaska feels guilt drop into her stomach like a deadweight. She could cry at any moment. “I don’t,” she continues, her voice gentler. She can only pray that Sharon doesn’t hear the way her voice trembles. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I didn’t realize liking me was such a stupid idea,” Sharon says, hurt bleeding through her voice. Alaska wants to sink into the ground and die.

“No, I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Sharon interrupts, her shoulders slumping. She looks put out - Alaska hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to go swimming. “I know what you meant.”

Alaska finally finds her phone underneath Sharon’s towel, and relief courses through her as she shoves her feet into her sandals. “I have to go,” she says, and Sharon snorts, but there’s no laughter in it.

“So you’ve said,” she says. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Alaska says, plastering fake-cheer all over herself, and she practically runs away, the image of Sharon and her closed-lipped smile, bathed in the moonlight and hair still dripping, burned into her mind.

She can’t help but feel like she’s just ruined something, but she has no idea what.

DAY FIVE OF SPRING BREAK

Alaska avoids Sharon to the best of her abilities, life threatening embarrassment making her stomach twist at even the thought of facing her after last night, but of course, she still ends up stumbling across her.

She’s getting margaritas with Willam and Courtney, which is fun only until they both reveal themselves to be wildly unsympathetic to her plight.

“So you spent two nights flirting with her,” Willam says, after giving Alaska a long, unimpressed stare when she’d finally answered Courtney’s incessant questions about her ‘date’, “only to freak out when things started to actually go somewhere.”

“Nothing was going anywhere,” Alaska snaps. “I fucked it up, and she noticed.”

“Didn’t you say you two were on a date?” Courtney asks, frowning. They move up in line. “Sounds to me like that’s what she wanted.”

“She obviously called it a date as a joke,” Alaska tells her. “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Willam says. Alaska could punch her.

“You should at least try to talk to her,” Courtney says. “You can’t just run away from her in the middle of a date and never talk to her again.”

“That shit ain’t right,” Willam agrees, and Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth.

“It wasn’t a date,” she reiterates. “And I can’t talk to her. I have no idea where she’s staying - she could be anywhere right now.”

Courtney frowns at her. “She’s right there,” she says, pointing down the beach. “I thought you’d noticed.”

Alaska follows her gaze to find Sharon and Raja in the middle of another photoshoot, this time close enough for Sharon’s feet to be in the water.

Alaska can’t look away from her.

She’s dressed in a two piece, the bottoms designed to look like high waisted blue shorts and the top a black and white pinstriped bra, cut into a sweetheart neckline that suits her perfectly. Her hair is done up in round, loose curls, spilling over her shoulders and back, and a white sailor hat sits cock-eyed at the top of her head. Her lips are painted a bright red, pulled into a pout as she salutes the camera, her other hand at her hip.

“I can’t go down there,” Alaska says, shaking her head. “I can’t go up to her and try to talk about my predatory behavior when she looks like that.”

“Predatory is one way to say it,” Willam says, and Courtney hits her on the arm. She turns to look at Alaska eagerly.

“You’re not predatory, silly,” she says. “You have a crush, and so does Sharon. Go down there and fix what you’ve broken.”

“Ouch,” Alaska says, and her stomach twists nervously at the thought of doing what Courtney tells her to. “And I can’t - she doesn’t– She doesn’t think of me like that.”

“How are you supposed to know when all you do is stare at her like some stalker?” Willam asks, and Alaska shakes her head. They reach the counter, now at the front of the line.

“I just know,” Alaska says, resisting the urge to stamp her foot with the frustration that’s bubbling up inside her. They just don’t get it. “I have, despite popular belief, actually held a conversation with her. I’m not doing it.”

“But how–”

“Welcome, ladies - how can I help you?” the cashier asks, giving them all a friendly smile. Alaska relaxes as Willam and Courtney start ordering, relieved that their interrogation is temporarily put on hold.

She sneaks a glance back at Sharon, who’s now crowded with Raja around the camera, no doubt looking at the pictures they’ve just taken. She’s sure they’re all wonderful.

Sharon’s ass looks great in those shorts.

Alaska’s never going to be able to look her in the eye again.

DAY SIX OF SPRING BREAK

“This is stupid,” Willam says. “I can’t believe how stupid you’re being right now.”

“It’s called self-preservation,” Alaska says.

They’re sitting on their blanket, sneaking glances at Raja and Sharon, in the same place they’d been for most of the week. Sharon is stunning, in an eggplant bikini that suits her pale skin, made to look like it’s been wrapped and twisted around her body. Her makeup is dark to match the suit, and she’s so hot that Alaska thinks she might die.

“Right,” Willam says drily. “Why won’t you just go talk to her?”

“Because,” Alaska sighs forlornly, her heart fluttering as Sharon’s lips twist up into a smile. “I can’t.”

Sharon’s eyes flick over to her, and her heart skips a beat. She tries not to feel hurt when Sharon immediately looks back at Raja, seemingly without giving Alaska a second thought.

“I don’t think she wants me to, anyway.”

DAY SEVEN OF SPRING BREAK

It’s not the last day of break, but it is the last day they’re on the beach, and Alaska’s plan is simple: avoid Sharon, mope around while Courtney and Willam rub their happiness in her face, and maybe sneak a peek at Sharon’s next bathing suit.

Willam, unfortunately, has never had very much respect for Alaska’s plans.

“I invited some people over,” Willam says from her spot next to Alaska on the couch, her eyes never leaving her phone. Her voice is nonchalant, but Alaska still shoots her a wary look.

“Who?”

Camping out in the Belli family’s beach house had been Alaska’s idea, a stroke of genius she’d had the previous night. She can’t seem to avoid Sharon successfully on the beach, so she’ll leave it entirely. She won’t be able to catch sight of Sharon if she’s sitting on a couch watching The Golden Girls on Willam’s enormous television.

“Raja, Jinkx,” Willam lists. “Sharon.”

Alaska’s heart does a swan dive into her stomach.

“That had better be a joke.”

Willam looks up at her. “It’s not.”

Alaska turns off the tv, turning to face Willam full-on, murder in her heart. “Willam, why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because Raja asked if she could,” Willam says, and then, “and because I thought it might be a nice opportunity for you to make out with her.”

“Willam,” Alaska hisses, panicking. “How could you?”

“You’ll be fine,” Willam says, hopping off the couch. “Though I suggest you get ready - they’ll be here in half an hour, and Sharon and Raja are coming straight from their photoshoot.”

“No,” Alaska breathes, aghast.

“Yes,” Willam says. “At least go put some mascara on. You look like you’re a hospital patient.”

“I hate you,” Alaska says, and she really feels it.

“You’re wearing pajamas,” Willam tells her. “They have ‘cunt’ printed across the ass.”

“Fuck,” Alaska says, and she stands up. “Jesus fuck, Willam!”

“It’ll be good for you,” Willam says, as Alaska races past her towards the stairs. “Courtney agrees!”

Alaska makes sure to slam the door to the bathroom extra hard.

Sharon arrives in a red one piece that practically screams ‘lust’, and it is the most homophobic thing to have ever happened to Alaska.

It’s wine dark and strapless, and the front of it is laced like a corset, allowing Sharon’s pale skin to peek through. The sweetheart neckline perfectly hugs her, emphasizing her full chest and her collarbone. Her lips are painted to match, her eyeshadow dark, and Alaska might go into cardiac arrest just looking at her. It’s like looking at a 15th century bar wench. Alaska wants her to pin her up against the wall and–

“We brought wine?” Raja says, her deep voice startling Alaska back into her body, and she realizes that she’s been making them wait in the doorway for a full minute.

“Great,” Alaska says, her face on fire, and she lets the two of them in, trying not to wince at the cordial smile Sharon gives her. She makes a note to kill Willam later for making her answer the door.

“You can set it on the counter,” she directs, and Sharon follows Raja into the kitchen, where Willam, Jinkx, and Courtney are waiting. Alaska lets out a breath as she closes the door, trying to decide if she’s relieved or hurt that Sharon doesn’t want to be alone with her.

She doesn’t know why Willam’s decided that this is going to be helpful in any way, but she supposes she has to deal with it, now. Deal with being around her crush who’s disgusted that she has a crush on her for who knows how long.

Not the ideal way to spend her last night on vacation.

“‘Laska!” Willam calls. “Come in here! We’re trying to decide what to play!”

Alaska sighs, steeling herself for more of Sharon’s apathy.

Fuck my life.

Willam, Courtney, Raja, and Jinkx all conveniently vote to play Seven Minutes in Heaven, despite Sharon and Alaska’s vehement protests and the fact that none of them have been in high school for at least three years.

They’d found an old wine bottle that Willam’s mother had filled with sand and dried flowers on an end table somewhere, and they’d emptied it, Courtney suggesting that they select the first two participants by spinning it.

Conveniently, and without any sort of finagling of Willam’s, or strategic flicks from Courtney, or purposeful nudges from Raja, the bottle lands first on Alaska, and then on Sharon.

They’ve been standing in Willam’s locked closet together in awkward silence for two minutes.

“Well,” Alaska says, when she can’t stand it anymore. She can just barely see Sharon’s face in the sliver of light coming through the bottom of the door. “This is awkward.”

Sharon shifts, and Alaska blushes as her hand accidentally brushes the side of Sharon’s thigh, snapping her hand back quickly. Sharon sighs, sounding annoyed. Guilt twists into Alaska’s stomach at the sound. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

There’s a pause. “Clearly,” Sharon says, and though her voice is light, there’s an edge of bitterness to it that twists into Alaska like a knife.

“I’m being serious,” she says, desperate to make Sharon at least understand that she’s not trying to force herself on her. “I didn’t ask Courtney to kick the bottle like that.”

“I know, Alaska,” Sharon says, and she only sounds more irritated. Alaska winces.

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance these past few days! They just won’t let it go, even though I–”

“I know,” Sharon snaps, and Alaska slams her jaw shut, jumping a little. “You made that perfectly clear on Thursday. I don’t need to be reminded.”

Alaska scrambles to appease her, guilt making her feel ill. “But I–”

She suddenly stops herself, her brain finally processing Sharon’s words and coming up with only a series of question marks. “What?”

“You’re not interested in me,” Sharon says, and she sounds upset. “I get that. But believe it or not, it hurts when someone tells you they can’t stand to think of you like that repeatedly. Especially when–” she cuts herself off, inhaling quickly. Alaska feels hope flutter through her like a butterfly, though she tries to crush it as soon as it comes. What if-?

“Especially when what?” Alaska probes gently, and she lightly touches Sharon’s arm, trying not to let her heart pound too hard as she does.

“Jesus Christ,” Sharon says, but she sounds defeated. “This is embarrassing.”

Alaska’s hope spikes. “Sharon?”

“Only because I can make sure we never see each other again,” Sharon says, voice threatening. “And only because if I’m going to tell you, it’s going to be while we’re playing a game I didn’t think I’d even hear about ever again.” She pauses, and Alaska waits, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

“I have a crush on you,” Sharon says eventually, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “But, only like, a tiny one - it isn’t a problem, I swear. I won’t make it awkward.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, in which Alaska stares at Sharon, numb with shock.

Then, happiness comes bursting in.

Alaska lunges forwards to kiss Sharon, unable to wait for any longer, pure, disbelieving joy flooding her body with adrenaline. Sharon’s lips are soft and warm, and she makes a muffled noise of surprise against Alaska’s mouth, freezing up underneath her hands.

She lightly pushes Alaska away, and Alaska goes willingly, panic shooting through her like lightning. “Sharon, I’m so sorry, that was unc–”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Sharon says, her eyes wide. “You told me on the beach that the idea was ridiculous.”

Alaska stares at her for a moment, speechless. It’s like Sharon’s just shown her a sports replay where she’d fumbled the ball and then blamed it on the player who’d thrown it to her. “That’s because I was scared,” she says after a moment. “I thought you were disgusted.”

“Disgusted?” Sharon repeats, disbelieving laughter bubbling over her words. “Alaska, that’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Rude,” Alaska says, but she’s too elated to really feel it. She’d been so stupid - Sharon likes her. Sharon has a crush on her. It’s too good to be true.

“So the swimming suits really were working?” Sharon asks, and this time, it’s Alaska’s turn to laugh disbelievingly.

“Were you distracting me on purpose?” she asks, half shrieking, and Sharon grins that bright grin again.

“At first? No. But when I saw how you were looking at me at Raja’s party…”

“Evil!” Alaska cries. “I can’t believe I ever had a crush on someone so cruel! I’m–”

Sharon cuts her off with another kiss, and Alaska melts into it, sighing as Sharon’s fingers come up to thread through her hair, somehow managing to avoid its tangles. She slides her hands around Sharon’s waist, pulling her closer so that they’re pressed up against each other, relishing in the feeling of Sharon’s warmth all along her body.

She moans as Sharon deepens the kiss, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and the ocean. She hums, pleased, and Sharon pushes her forwards so that she’s flat against the narrow wall, sliding her hands down, down, down, over her breasts and her stomach and coming to rest on the waist of her jean shorts.

Alaska breaks off the kiss with a gasp, already squirming with pleasure. “Jesus Christ,” she breathes, and Sharon grins, giving her another quick peck on the lips.

“You want this?” she asks, her voice husky, and it goes straight to Alaska’s panties.

“Yes,” she says. “Plea–”

A loud knock on the closet door has them flying apart, and Alaska tries desperately to will the flush away from her cheeks as they hear the lock being undone.

The door swings open, and Alaska squints her eyes against the sudden brightness and Willam’s smirk.

“Seven minutes are up,” she says, looking them both up and down. “Would you two like to request more time?”

“No,” Alaska snaps, just as Sharon says, “Yes.” She flushes at the contradiction.

Willam eyes them smugly. Alaska wants to kill her. “I’ll let you two figure it out,” she says, taking a step back. “There’s chips downstairs for when you guys want to replenish your energy.”

“Fuck off, Willam,” Sharon says, and Willam smirks.

“Sure,” she says, and then she’s out of the room before Alaska can hit her like she wants to.

“I hate her,” Alaska says, and Sharon grabs her hand, giving her a sweet smile. Alaska’s heart melts.

“I love her,” Sharon says. “She’s the reason I can do this.”

Alaska rolls her eyes, although the smile she can’t help splitting across her face takes away its edge. “Fine,” she says. “But I still hate her. I’ve never been so stressed in my life.”

Sharon’s grin morphs into a sly smile, and she tugs Alaska back towards her, arranging her hand so that it rests on her waist. “I think I know a way to relieve some of that.”

Alaska raises an eyebrow, a thrill running through her as she steps closer. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I think I’d prefer to show you,” Sharon says, and then she pulls Alaska in for another searing kiss, and Alaska melts completely.

Thank god for bathing suits, and thank god for Willam.

#rpdr fanfiction #shalaska #background witney #alaska thunderfuck #sharon needles #willam belli #courtney act #raja gemini #freyja #lesbian au #fluff #humor #teeny tiny angst #summer lovin' 2020 #day 1: bathing suit #submission

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Strawberry Daiquiri (Witney) - Miss Bianca

Summary:

If emotions are for ugly people, then Courtney Act has turned Willam into something hideous.

(She tries to hate her for it, but her heart isn’t in it.)

A/N: It’s me again, with more Witney! This time, a really long ass oneshot. I started this like a month ago, and I’ve been working on it on and off since then. So much thanks to my partner in crime, @artificial-jazz, for being my proofreader and this fic’s #1 fan. Please tell me what you thought! I really appreciate people who do.

Willam is a quick thinker. She’s used to knowing what she likes and dislikes about a person within a few minutes of meeting them, and knowing what she wants from them within ten minutes, max.

(Usually, that’s sex. Sometimes it’s money, but those two often go hand in hand anyway.)

Overall, she thinks she’s a pretty levelheaded girl. She sets herself rules and sticks to them, she doesn’t get confused about what she wants, and she doesn’t do complicated.

At least, she tries not to do complicated.

It’s not always easy, though, as she’s learned. Particularly not when it comes to a certain blonde Aussie who looks, smells, and sings like an angel.

(She hasn’t fucked Courtney, not yet at least, but she’d bet her favorite pair of Loubs that she moans, kisses, and tastes like one, too.)

Willam can’t stand all of the conflicting, confusing things that Courtney makes her feel. Sometimes, when Courtney smiles, the resulting burst of emotion in Willam’s chest feels like a high, and for the first time in her life, she finds herself actively trying not to become an addict.

If emotions are for ugly people, then Courtney Act has turned Willam into something hideous.

(She tries to hate her for it, but her heart isn’t in it.)

Being around Courtney makes her want to drive her precious car off a bridge with the other girl in the passenger seat, hoping they both die on impact, and Willam decides that’s just something she’s going to have to get used to. It’s not like she’s going to cut her best friend out of her life.

(After all, having Courtney continue to tolerate and even like her is probably one of the best things that’s ever happened to Willam. She thinks she’d rather shit out a steak knife than fuck it up.)

Sometimes, Willam manages to convince herself that the feelings are just jealousy. Courtney is way prettier than her, with naturally blonde, wavy hair that doesn’t have to be bleached and dyed and re-bleached and teased into curls to look right.

Hitting high notes is effortless for her, and so is being kind. People like her on sight, and love her after a single conversation. She wants to be a singer, the kind they play on the radio every day, and Willam thinks that if anyone can persuade a dream to come true, it’s Courtney.

She’s slim and gorgeous, but also absolutely ripped - something Willam realized after she was picked up effortlessly by Courtney and carried, kicking and laughing, out of reach of an adorable pet store puppy she was ready to shell out $800 for right then and there.

Courtney had yelled at a giggling Alaska to open the car door, and then she’d manhandled Willam into the driver’s seat and strapped her in with a grin, practically climbing on top of her to do it.

It wasn’t until Willam had righted herself in the car seat and started driving that she realized her panties were sticking to her uncomfortably. And by that time, Courtney was chirping happily about some TV show that Willam had never heard of, and so she’d pressed thighs together and tried to forget all about it.

(It hadn’t worked, and she’d given in and run her vibrator batteries down that night to increasingly kinky fantasies about her sweet-as-vanilla-icing best friend.)

So, most of the time, Willam is forced to admit that it’s not just jealousy.

Particularly at night, when she has the dreams.

Willam dreams about Courtney more than she’d like to admit. It happens during her accidental naps, and when she passes out drunk, and even when she’s asleep in someone else’s bed after a hookup.

They’re innocent sometimes, but mostly they’re dirty, the kind of sex dreams that most single women would probably sell their souls to have on a regular basis.

It’s those dreams that affect her most - or, rather, the part of the dreams that sometimes happen after she’s come all over Courtney’s fingers while the other girl whispers ‘whore’ in her ear. Dream Courtney will pull her into her arms, playing with her hair lazily or just holding her close, and call her an angel or beautiful or something disgustingly sappy like that.

And every time, Willam wakes up with sticky thighs and flushed cheeks and a fluttering pulse, pissed as fuck at herself.

Willam does her damndest to push all the confusion and the desire and the slight aching feeling in her gut to the back of her mind as soon as she wakes up after one of those dreams, praying that it stays there throughout the day.

The last thing she needs is to have the idea of sex with Courtney hovering in her mind if the other girl shows up unexpectedly at her apartment or car, as Courtney tends to do.

(The last thing she needs is to remember how dream Courtney touched her like other people don’t, like she was something precious, when real life Courtney is standing right in front of her.)

She has no idea when it became impossible to keep Courtney in her friendship box, next to Alaska and all of their other friends. But Courtney left that box in her dust long ago, and Willam’s starting to get scared of where she might end up.

——

“I feel cute in it,” Courtney announces, spinning in a circle in the changing room and posing for the mirror.

“Court, you look like a fucking parrot.”

“I dunno, I think she looks pretty.”

“She could wear a potato sack and look pretty, Alaska.”

“That’s true.”

The dress in question is blue and yellow tulle, strapless and big-skirted. It looks ridiculous, like a Quinceanera gone wrong, and Willam can’t stop giggling.

Alaska draws a circle in the air with one long nail, making Courtney spin again.

“Mmmm…” Alaska hums slowly.

Courtney looks at her expectantly, waiting for a verdict. Willam’s eyebrows lift in anticipation.

“It’s fashion,” she drawls in signature Alaska style, and Willam bursts into laughter again. “No, really, I love it.”

“I think I do too,” Courtney chirps.

“Mmhm!” Alaska is pressing her lips together, clearly trying to keep from laughing, and Willam side-eyes her.

The mischief is sparkling in Alaska’s eyes, and Willam suddenly gets it.

“Spin for me one more time, Court,” Willam says.

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Courtney spins once more, her arms flapping back to her sides when she comes to a stop.

“You know what girl? You should totally go for it,” Willam says, trying her hardest to keep a straight face with Alaska grinning next to her.

“Really?” Courtney’s face lights up with surprise, and Willam can’t help smiling back at her.

“Yeah, it’s cute.”

It’s a blatant lie, and Alaska is shaking with silent laughter. Willam elbows her subtly.

Courtney’s got her hands clutched in front of her chest as she looks in the mirror. There’s a curl of blonde hair that’s come loose from her updo, and as ugly as the dress is, the cut makes the lines of her neck and shoulders look even more graceful than usual.

She turns to look back at Willam hopefully, and the blue in her eyes is even brighter than usual as it reflects the dress.

“You think so?”

“Uh-huh.”

A brilliant smile flashes across Courtney’s face, and something flutters in Willam’s stomach as she looks up at her from where she’s sitting on the bench.

(The dress might be ugly, but Courtney is so beautiful that it almost doesn’t matter.)

“Okay, I’ll get it,” Courtney declares.

“Okay, cool,” Alaska says with a tongue pop. “I wanna go back to shopping.”

“Hold on,” Courtney says, holding up a finger.

She unlatches the door to the changing room and slips outside, and Willam glances at Alaska, frowning.

“What is she -”

“Bianca!” Courtney calls.

“Fuck,” Alaska mutters.

“Goddamnit.”

“What’s up, Court?” Adore calls back from somewhere else in the changing rooms.

“Is Bianca in there with you? I wanna show her this dress I’m getting.”

“Duh,” Adore replies. “Hold up.”

“They’re probably fucking in there,” Willam whispers, and Alaska stifles a laugh.

“Absolutely.”

There’s a shuffling sound, and then another door opens.

“What do you think?” Courtney asks.

“Oh my god, she’s gonna hate it,” Alaska whispers, and Willam hushes her, standing up and shuffling forwards to peer out the doorway.

There’s a pause that’s a moment too long, and then the sound of Bianca roaring with laughter.

“Bitch, if you buy that dress, I am no longer your friend,” Bianca announces after she’s done laughing. Alaska gets up and looks out the door too, pushing in next to Willam. “That is so hideous, I’m personally offended, and you’re not even standing close to me. Take it the fuck off!”

“But Willam and Alaska said…”

Bianca spots the two of them, and starts cackling again.

“You cunts!” she shouts.

Alaska is laughing, and Willam is laughing too, clutching her arm to stay standing. Courtney spins around with a horrified expression on her face.

“Bill!” She exclaims, scandalized.

“What? I didn’t do nothing,” Willam grins at her. “It was Alaska’s idea.”

“I hate you both.”

“You know you love me,” Willam laughs as Courtney rounds on her.

“Shut up, you cunt.”

Courtney spends the rest of their shopping trip pretending to be annoyed at Willam, and doing an awful job of it. Willam makes sure to tease her constantly, just to see that adorable offended look on her face, and leans on her at every opportunity to soften her up and win her back over.

After Courtney finally gives up the fight, she winds her arm through Willam’s and leans her head on her shoulder as they walk to the mall food court for lunch. Bianca and Adore are similarly attached to each other, ever the clingy girlfriends, and it occurs to Willam that she and Courtney probably look like a couple too.

(To her alarm, she doesn’t totally hate the thought. She brushes a kiss over Courtney’s forehead without thinking about it, and the other girl looks up at her with a sweet smile on her face.)

——

As Willam finds Courtney occupying more and more of her thoughts, she starts to hook up with men less frequently, and eventually, she stops altogether. She figures it’s a phase, and fucks girls a few nights a week until there’s a satisfying ache in her tongue instead of her throat.

When guys hit on her in clubs, she uses them to get free drinks, and then leans against the counter next to whatever other girls they seem interested in and chats them up instead. Her type is blondes, the kind who wear bright colors and look adorably surprised when she hits on them.

Usually, though, they’re inexperienced, and topping them starts to get tiring really quickly.

Men might be less work, but her type of men are also big and burly and their hands don’t fit with hers and their hair doesn’t fall in her face and they don’t smell like a pastry shop.

(And when she closes her eyes right before she comes, she can’t pretend that they’re the woman she was secretly fantasizing about the whole time.)

Alaska asks her about it casually one day, when the three of them are together in Willam’s car.

“You haven’t brought any boys home in a while, Will,” she drawls from where she’s lounging over most of the backseat, behind Willam. “Are you going fully sapphic? Should we expect a pet cat and a bulldagger haircut soon?”

Courtney giggles from the passenger seat.

“Stereotyping? Really?” Willam rolls her eyes, dodging the question nervously. “What happened to being progressive and shit?”

“It has just been girls recently, hasn’t it?” Courtney notes, ignoring her. There’s a pause, and then, cheeky as ever: “Hey, Bill, I’ve got some Ikea furniture I need assembled -”

“Shut up!” Willam exclaims over Alaska’s burst of laughter, grinning despite herself. “I hate you both.”

“No, really, though,” Alaska insists after her giggles have died down. “It’s totally cool, I’m just curious. Do you not like dick anymore?”

“I like dick fine!”

“Then what is it?”

“I dunno, just a phase or something,” Willam shrugs, her eyes shifting towards Courtney momentarily on instinct.

“I mean, can you really blame her?” That’s Courtney. “Sometimes girls are just…better.”

Alaska makes a careless noise from the backseat, and Willam figures she’s probably distracted by something on her phone.

She glances over at Courtney again, this time intentionally, and finds the other blonde looking back at her. Courtney’s smiling and her eyes are bright, and then she’s tugging the edge of her lip between her teeth lightly. It’s not enough to mess up her velvety red lipstick, but it is enough to make Willam speed straight through a red light, jolting Alaska back into the moment.

“What the fuck was that?” Alaska asks, sounding unfazed as ever, and the moment is over.

(When she thinks about it later, Willam is pretty sure that Courtney hadn’t noticed her run the red light at all.)

Alaska and Courtney don’t mention her current sexual preference again, seeming to just accept it as a fact of life, and Willam is relieved.

However, Alaska’s silence on the subject doesn’t stop her from wondering about the real reason behind the sudden change herself.

——

After admitting to herself that she’s fucking girls because she’s hung up on Courtney, Willam decides that the next logical step is to catalog her confusing feelings towards Courtney under pure sexual attraction. She figures that if she focuses on the question of what her pussy tastes like hovering at the back of her mind, she’ll be able to keep it simple - keep emotion out of it.

If the most she wants is to shut Courtney up by pushing her against a wall and kissing her roughly, well, that’s on brand for Willam, and completely manageable.

But then Courtney shows up on her doorstep on Warner’s birthday, with a meticulously organized gift basket of toys and high end dog treats. Or she teases Courtney about her accent, and Courtney purses her lips in that adorable way that makes Willam want to kiss her real soft, like touching silky rose petals that are too pretty to risk bruising.

Or they stay up after everyone else is asleep on a girls’ movie night, and Courtney drags her outside onto Bianca’s penthouse balcony at 6:30 in the morning to watch the sunrise over West Hollywood. And they’re curled up in a single chair with Willam wrapped easily around Courtney like a blanket, and for once, neither one of them has anything to say.

And Courtney is warm in her arms and the base of her neck smells like sugary perfume, and Willam’s smiling and her ribs feel tighter over her heart with every passing minute, and all the reasons why she maintains a wall around her feelings start to seem really fucking dumb.

(Bianca finds them on the balcony an hour or so later, asleep in that same position, and wakes Willam up with a touch to the shoulder. Bianca doesn’t say a word, but her responding smile is strangely sad when Willam mouths a ‘thank you’ and starts to untangle herself from Courtney before anyone else notices they’re gone.)

——

The first time it happens it’s Willam’s doing, but if anyone asked, she’d blame Courtney anyway.

They’re both a little drunk, sharing an Uber back to Courtney’s apartment from a depressing night at a club where neither of them had found anyone worth picking up.

Well, at least, Courtney hadn’t. Willam had abruptly abandoned the girl she was talking up as soon as Courtney had clutched her arm and pouted at her, asking to turn the girls’ night out into a girls’ night in instead.

Skip forwards 20 minutes, and Willam is cornered against the door in the backseat with Courtney halfway in her lap, closer than anyone has any business being unless there’s sex involved. The tipsiness is making Willam’s head spin a little, or maybe that’s just the sugary scent of strawberries and rum on Courtney’s breath from the cocktail she’d been drinking.

Courtney’s arm is around her shoulders, one leg draped over Willam’s, and she’s talking about something but Willam can’t process the words - some kind of sensory overload from the vibrations of Courtney’s chest against her and the way she smells and feels this close.

Courtney’s always been very touchy with her, particularly when tipsy or drunk, and Willam never has the heart to stop her, even though it’s not her favorite thing in the world. But something about this time feels different, and it’s driving Willam absolutely crazy.

It’s probably the alcohol in her system, she figures, that’s making her let her guard down enough to be more affected than usual.

(Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s lost all ability to screen her thoughts around Courtney, and she’s pretty sure a mind reader could get off on what’s going on in her head right now.)

She swears she’s living in a movie, sometimes, with the situations she manages to end up in.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Willam hears that bit, and she turns to look at Courtney just in time to see the other girl laugh.

“No, I am, I swear,” she replies, and Courtney just shakes her head.

“It’s alright, I know I talk too much,” she shrugs. “But I just felt like something was gonna happen tonight, like I would meet someone that really rocked my world or changed my life or something, you know?”

Willam nods, even though she has no idea what the context is, and then leans her head against the window starts to zone out again, this time watching Courtney as she continues to talk.

The other girl’s face is so expressive, from her bright eyes to her red painted lips that somehow manage to distinctly express each emotion that she might be feeling, and always in a way that makes Willam want to kiss them.

She isn’t sure exactly what it is that makes her finally do it. Probably the alcohol and the way Courtney’s breath flutters over her neck.

Her hand is behind Courtney’s neck, pulling her closer, and Courtney swallows the rest of her words abruptly as their lips crash together.

Willam only regrets her decision for a split second, and then Courtney is eagerly reciprocating, and Willam tastes strawberry daiquiri and lipstick. She’s got a handful of Courtney’s hair, clutched tight as if the other girl might slip away.

The change happens so suddenly that by the time Willam’s brain catches up with her actions, Courtney’s full weight is on her lap. She’s being pinned to the seat with one carefully manicured hand pressing at her shoulder and the other keeping her chin tilted up, and there’s no room to breathe other than quick gasps. Courtney’s waist feels perfect under her hands, and she loves the way that the other girl’s nose tucks against hers as the kisses get longer.

(Courtney is kissing her hot and deep, like she wants to suck the life from her, and Willam is hopelessly wet and weak under her already.)

It takes a beep and a pointed cough from the Uber driver for either of them to realize they’ve arrived, and Willam’s legs are so shaky that she has to take off her heels to climb the stairs to Courtney’s apartment. She thinks she might be in shock.

It’s dark inside except for a lamp that Courtney must’ve left on in her bedroom. The gold light slants through the open doorway, leaving just enough light in the entranceway that Willam can see the smudged lipstick on Courtney’s chin and how dilated her pupils are.

Courtney kicks off her own pumps, breath heavy, and then Willam is being pushed back against the wall, and everything is happening so fast. Courtney’s hands grip at her sides, her body pressing close, lips trailing hot over Willam’s neck.

She’s pushier than Willam expected, more aggressive, and even though it’s turning her on, there’s something almost impersonal about it.

“Court, wait,” Willam pants out, her eyes fluttering shut as teeth scrape over her throat. She’s not used to being hesitant about stuff like this, but then again, this isn’t just anyone. “Are you… are we doing this?”

“You want to, right?” Courtney breathes against her neck, pressing hot kisses down towards her collarbone.

“Courtney,” Willam groans, tugging at her hair. “Look at me.”

There’s a low sound that reminds Willam of a growl, and then Courtney’s head lifts, eyes meeting hers.

“What?” Courtney almost snaps, clearly impatient.

Somehow, it’s not until then, when Courtney’s panting and dark eyed with nails digging hungrily into her shoulders, that Willam processes what all of this means.

And then, the world shifts slightly on its axis, and Willam feels just a little bit less alone.

“You…want me?”

“‘Course I do, cunt,” Courtney bites out. Her accent is stronger than usual, and Willam almost doesn’t recognize her like this. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Willam’s lips part, and Courtney’s eyes immediately flicker down to them, her own lower lip crushed between her teeth. She starts to lean closer, but Willam holds her back for a moment, hand still tangled in her hair.

(She wants Courtney back, of course she does, wants to kiss her until she suffocates. But she wants it to be Courtney who’s pressing her against the wall, her best friend, not just an aggressive hot blonde who looks like her.)

“Will, are you alright?” Courtney asks, her eyebrows furrowing, concern trickling into her voice.

“Yeah,” Willam says, feeling herself relax a little at the familiar expression on Courtney’s face.

“Yeah?”

Courtney looks unsure of herself now, blinking quickly with wide eyes, and it’s so cute and so quintessentially Courtney that Willam can’t help but smile at her.

(And if she wanted her before, it’s nothing compared to how much she wants her now.)

“I didn’t mean to -”

“Courtney,” Willam cuts her off before the nervous rambling can even start. “I’m fucking awesome.”

The corners of Courtney’s eyes crinkle, and Willam swears that the whole room gets a little brighter as Courtney smiles back at her. She almost wants to say something, but she can’t seem to pull her thoughts together.

And then, Courtney’s leaning in to crush their lips together again, her thigh pressing between Willam’s legs as she moves closer.

As her hips roll forwards, Willam moans high into her mouth, knees weakening. The muscles Courtney’s thigh flex, and it’s all Willam can do to cling to her and rock against the hot friction, whatever’s left of her hesitation flying straight out of her head.

The sound of her moans seems to spur Courtney on, hands roaming over her body. Her touch is firm and insistent, enough to make Willam ache and gush against the hard press of her thigh.

Courtney fucks her right there against the wall, hand tucked under her dress, face pressed into her neck. When Willam comes, it’s with Courtney’s mouth attached to her pulse point, teeth digging into her skin, sucking so hard that Willam can’t even see straight.

She eats Courtney out after, kneeling on the floor how she likes to with Courtney perched on the edge of her bed and struggling to stay upright. The insides of Courtney’s thighs are softer than silk, smooth like peaches or coconut milk, and she’s dripping onto Willam’s tongue and chin, and it’s messy and dirty and everything Willam’s been hungry for.

Courtney’s groans are breathier than she expected, sexier. Willam can’t resist sliding her own hand between her legs to get herself off too, whining quietly into Courtney’s heat.

Afterwards, the tension melts out of Courtney’s body, and she tugs Willam up and onto the bed with gentle hands. The lamp in the corner casts soft light over Courtney’s angelic face, smudged makeup and bright eyes and a smile that makes Willam warm all over. Her hair looks like spun gold against her pillow, and she’s so beautiful that Willam’s almost afraid to touch her, like she might ruin her somehow if she did.

(Willam’s a slut and proud of it. But for a second, as she looks down at Courtney, she wishes she was something just a little bit better.)

Courtney’s somehow ended up holding her hand. She’s looking up at her almost expectantly, and Willam feels naked, like she’s walked onto a set without a script or a prompter. She waits, hoping Courtney will tell her where the limits are.

“C’mere, Bill,” Courtney says finally, an affectionate smile tucked into the corner of her mouth.

The nickname breaks the tension somehow, and Willam lets Courtney pull her down and into her arms, tucking her face into her neck. Courtney wraps Willam’s arm around her waist, and Willam exhales, closing her eyes.

It’s a little claustrophobic, and a little too hot. But in this moment, she thinks she’d let Courtney hold her forever, if that was what Courtney wanted from her.

And she’s too tired to really mind, anyway.

Just before she falls asleep, it occurs to Willam that all of this might’ve been a dream. She hopes it wasn’t.

——

When she wakes up in the early morning, she’s already mentally prepared to disentangle herself from a sleepy, clingy Courtney and leave for the familiar walk of shame.

But, to her surprise, Courtney isn’t cuddled up close to her anymore. Instead, she’s lying in front of Willam, facing towards her. Hair is falling over her face, a few strands fluttering as she huffs out little sighs in her sleep. There’s space between them, just enough that Willam is comfortable, instead of feeling trapped like she expected to.

One of Courtney’s hands is clasped softly over Willam’s, where it rests flat against the pillow.

It would be so easy to slide her hand away, breaking the only point of contact between them, and leave without Courtney even waking up.

Willam closes her eyes, the comforting warmth of Courtney’s touch on her hand the last thing she feels as she drifts back to sleep.

——

The second time it happens, it’s definitely Courtney’s fault.

They’re all out to dinner, celebrating Adore’s new record deal. The girl in question even more giddy and gorgeous than usual, and she’s leaning heavily on Bianca, who’s pretending to be annoyed. The softness in her eyes gives her away though, and Willam knows how proud she must be.

When Adore’s manager Sharon gives a sappy and drawn out toast, Bianca kisses Adore’s cheek, and the younger girl blushes and grins like the whole world is opening up in front of her.

(And maybe it is. Willam thinks that if it was Courtney whose dreams were coming true, she might feel a little bit like Bianca does right now.)

Adore is well on her way to having everything the two of them have ever wanted, and Willam thinks that if she were Courtney, she’d probably be jealous. But Courtney isn’t anything like her. And as Courtney laughs and beams at Adore, Willam remembers how lucky she is to be one of the people that Courtney loves. Her heart skips a little.

After a few moments, Courtney glances over, meeting Willam’s eyes with an amused chuckle.

“See something you like, Bill?”

“Huh?” Willam hadn’t even realized she’d been staring.

Things haven’t been weird between them since they slept together, which was a huge relief. But there is another level of tension, particularly because they haven’t talked about it. At all.

“Don’t play dumb, I saw you staring,” Courtney says, scooting even closer on the bench and poking Willam’s nose with her index finger. Just like always, Willam fights back halfheartedly with no intention of winning, laughing and leaning away from the finger that’s now poking at her cheek.

“God, get a room,” Bianca says loudly, eliciting a giggle from Adore. Courtney stops immediately, her cheeks going pink as she rights herself on the bench.

“Well, I -” Courtney stammers. “You go get a room!”

She’s flushing even more now, blinking rapidly, and Willam wants to kiss her cheek like Bianca always does to Adore when she’s embarrassed.

Instead, she settles for resting a comforting hand on Courtney’s thigh. The reaction to her touch is evident in Courtney’s face, her eyebrows lifting slightly and her lips parting, and Willam high fives herself internally.

Suddenly, Willam notices Alaska eyeing them suspiciously, and her heart jolts. She pulls her hand back to her own lap quickly, hoping that Alaska will just forget.

Alaska narrows her eyes, and Willam stares right back at her. Something about the way Alaska’s surveying her feels like a challenge, and Willam was never one to back down.

Then again, Willam’s also never been challenged while sitting next to Courtney Act, who’s never had any real concept of boundaries or inhibitions in her life.

It’s only a matter of seconds before fingers brush lightly over Willam’s clasped hands under the table. The touch is light and innocent, but Willam is affected anyway, her skin tingling under Courtney’s touch. The fingers travel over Willam’s knuckles, brushing spirals against the skin, and then down and across the inside of her thigh. Willam breaks eye contact with Alaska, inhaling sharply.

She glances at Courtney, who’s absentmindedly stirring her drink with her free hand and seems to be engaged in Adore and Bianca’s conversation.

“You bitch!” Willam whispers, quiet enough that only Courtney can hear.

There’s a sudden pinch to the inside of her thigh, and Willam’s breath catches. She looks back up at Alaska, who’s thankfully been distracted by Sharon. Courtney’s fingers move higher, nudging aside Willam’s clasped hands decisively to slide under her definitely-too-short dress.

“Court, you -” Willam starts, cutting herself off with a quiet hiss as Courtney pinches her again, harder this time. Nails dig into her skin, and she can feel herself starting to ache.

The pad of Courtney’s middle finger grazes over Willam’s panties, and she thanks whatever god is listening that Sharon Needles is too caught up staring at Alaska to even remember that there’s someone sitting next to her. She’s losing the willpower to try to stop Courtney, probably because she can feel herself soaking through her thong already.

Courtney still hasn’t looked at her. She’s chatting away casually with Bianca, seemingly without a care in the world, as she rubs feather-light circles on the insubstantial layer of mesh covering Willam’s clit. It would be easy to swat her hand away, in theory, but Willam is too busy digging her nails into her own thighs and trying to catch her breath.

Somehow, with just a few touches and a careless attitude, Courtney’s turned her from a snarky loudmouthed cunt into her own personal playtoy.

It’s probably the hottest thing that Willam has ever seen, much less experienced.

(She’d always fantasized about Courtney being the dominant type, but she hadn’t actually thought it was realistic. She’s never been more thrilled to be proved wrong.)

Courtney’s touches are getting more insistent now, dragging across Willam’s core and making her hips twitch. She’s doing her best to keep her face neutral, but she thinks if she bites her lip any harder she’ll bust it.

There’s a small, mischievous smile on Courtney’s face, and Willam absolutely loathes her with all the brainpower she has left.

Courtney pinches at her clit, and she tastes blood, clenching around nothing.

Willam closes her eyes, one hand gripping the edge of the table. She knows she’ll moan if she comes, but she’s past caring at this point, shamelessly rocking her hips into Courtney’s touch.

And then, Courtney stops.

The fingers slide back up her leg, and Willam chokes on air. Her thighs close tightly.

When she opens her eyes, Courtney is finally looking at her, gaze hungry, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“Please,” Willam mumbles instinctively, hardly processing her own words.

There’s a pause, and then Courtney slides off of the bench.

“Bathroom!” She announces brightly, giving Willam a pointed look before she spins around and heads to the back of the restaurant.

Willam waits ten seconds, then scoots off the bench too, tugging down her dress and wobbling a little in her pumps.

“Hey, where are you going?” Bianca demands.

“Uh, cigarette,” Willam replies, saying the first thing that pops into her head, and then following Courtney towards the back. She can still hear the other girls talking as she makes her way through the tables.

“She smokes?” That’s Adore.

“Not cigarettes,” replies Alaska. “Maybe she meant pot?”

“She left her purse, though,” Sharon points out.

“That’s weird,” Adore comments.

Willam recognizes Alaska’s low voice as the next to speak, but she’s too far out of earshot to hear the words. She figures she’ll probably care about that much more later.

The door of the single stall bathroom is cracked just an inch, and as soon as Willam starts to push it open, Courtney is grabbing her arm and pulling her inside. The door slams shut behind Willam, and suddenly she’s got her arms full of Courtney, one hand tangled messily in her hair and the other pulling her closer by her hips as they kiss.

“Court, please,” she pants when Courtney starts to kiss her neck instead, clenching her thighs together. “I…fuck, please.”

“I didn’t know you were the type to beg,” Courtney says, lips brushing over Willam’s skin. “But I think I like it.”

She runs her hands down Willam’s sides, tugging her dress up. Her palms slide back down slowly, one moving forwards to rub over the front of Willam’s hip, fingers teasing the edge of her folds through her panties.

“Can you just - just touch me already,” Willam groans, realizing how desperate she must sound.

Courtney fucking laughs.

Willam thinks her cheeks must be as pink as Courtney’s had been earlier. She’s soaked and sensitive and hot all over from Courtney’s very public teasing, and her impatience is getting the better of her.

(If she’s going to have to throw out a perfectly good thong, then Courtney better hurry up and make it worth it.)

“C’mon, please,” she nearly whines.

“So polite all of a sudden.” Courtney still sounds amused, and Willam hates that it’s making her even wetter. “Please what?”

“Fuck me,” Willam manages, and Courtney’s hand presses lower, cupping her through her panties. “Oh, fuck, please, Court.”

Courtney leans up to kiss her again, and then two fingers are sliding into place inside her. The fingers push deeper, curling just so, and Willam groans loudly into Courtney’s mouth, her hips rising from the back of the door.

Courtney starts to work her fingers in and out, curling them every time to draw more little moans out of Willam, keeping their faces close so she can cover the sounds up with kisses. As her pace increases, Willam realizes all over again how strong Courtney is, and turns her on even more than the first time.

It doesn’t take long before Willam is cursing and begging again, and this time it’s beyond her control. Courtney pushes in a third finger, and Willam can feel herself dripping down her own thighs, struggling to process anything beyond the ache in her core and Courtney’s biting kisses.

Courtney says something, and Willam nods enthusiastically, not even sure what she’s agreeing to. She can hear the ensuing laugh from the other girl, and she thinks she might be embarrassed if she could think at all. The pressure is building, and Willam hasn’t been fucked like this in ages. She closes her eyes, clutching Courtney’s waist for dear life.

“Come for me, Will,” Courtney pants, only it sounds more like an order, and this time Willam hears her.

Her climax feels like a car going off a bridge, breaks giving out, airbags popping open, freefalling for what feels like an eternity with no sound except the ringing in her ears.

(And when she hits the water, Courtney catches her.)

Willam opens her eyes to a cloud of blonde hair, and realizes that her arms are full of Courtney again, face tucked into her neck and arms winding around her waist.

After a moment, she leans her head back against the door instead. Courtney’s smiling at her, her dilated pupils and heavy breaths contrasting with the adorable tilt of her lips.

“Well, goddamn,” Willam exhales. “She’s a feminine top.”

The corners of Courtney’s eyes crinkle.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, always the flirt.

“Oh, and she’s cocky, too!” Willam continues, grinning back at her. “She thinks she’s somebody, huh?”

“Your cunt thinks I’m somebody,” Courtney retorts sweetly, and Willam laughs.

“Doesn’t your arm hurt? Jesus.”

“I mean, a little,” Courtney says with a shrug. “Totally worth it, though.”

“A little,” Willam mumbles, shaking her head.

Courtney leans back in to peck Willam’s lips briefly, and then steps back out of her arms, heading over to the sink to wash her hands. Willam watches from her spot against the wall, gaze running up Courtney’s legs to her ass.

“You were loud, Will,” Courtney says conversationally. “I bet people heard you.”

“Eh.”

“Some of our friends could’ve heard you,” Courtney adds.

“Girl, I think Alaska already knows,” Willam says, shaking her head. “She’d have to be stupid to not notice, and she’s not stupid.”

“Doesn’t that, I dunno,” Courtney shuts off the water and glances up to meet Willam’s eyes in the mirror. “Bother you?”

Willam looks up at the ceiling, considering. She thinks that should bother her - she knows it did when Courtney was teasing her at the table - but she’s so blissed out right now that she can’t bring herself to care.

“Not really,” she says honestly. “Why, does it bother you?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

“Back to the table?”

Willam almost nods, and then she gives Courtney a once-over and shakes her head instead.

“Girl, c’mere, lemme fix your lipstick,” she says, pushing off from the wall and grabbing paper towels from the dispenser. “Your hair is a mess, too. Dumbass.”

“Hey, that bit is your fault! And you should see your hair, it’s even worse.”

“My hair is always a mess. They’ll just think I sucked dick out back or something.”

“No, they’ll think you sucked my dick out back, because we both disappeared at the same time.”

“You don’t have a dick, Court. If you did, I’d be sucking it right now.”

“It was a figure of speech!”

“Mmhm.” Willam tosses out the paper towel, and runs her fingers through the top of Courtney’s hair.

“Hey, wait a sec, can’t you eat me out then? I -”

“Too messy, too much work. Gotta get back to the group.”

“But, Willam…” Courtney pouts, reaching up to untangle a knot in Willam’s hair.

“I’ll do it later,” Willam shrugs. “We can share a Uber? No one’ll know.”

“My apartment?”

“Unless you want Warner sharing the bed with us.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Cool,” Willam grins, fluffing Courtney’s hair with her fingers one last time. “He’s gay anyways, he’ll stay away from you.”

“He’s a dog, Willam.”

“So what? Dogs can be gay too,” Willam insists, keeping her lips as still as possible so Courtney can fix her lipstick. “You don’t know his life.”

“Will -”

“Have you been a homophobe this whole time, Court? Seriously? I trusted you.”

Courtney giggles, and Willam can’t help the grin that spreads over her face.

“Stop smiling!”

“Are you done yet, ma’am?” Willam demands, rolling her eyes.

“I’m trying to make you presentable!”

“Fuck presentable,” Willam says, pushing Courtney’s hands off. “I need another drink.”

She unlocks the door, pulling it open and stepping outside. After a few moments, Courtney is behind her, hand sliding into hers.

“You shouldn’t drink too much,” Courtney says in her ear.

“Girl, look who’s talking.”

“You said you’d eat me out later, remember?”

“I can do that drunk.”

“But it won’t be as good.”

“You don’t know that! It’ll be good, I promise. I can stay down there longer if I can’t think straight. Just, like, forget to breathe and shit.”

“Well, okay,” Courtney agrees as they near the table. “If you buy me a daiquiri.”

“I’ll always buy you a daiquiri,” Willam grins. “Don’t you know me?”

They slide back into their seats on the bench, and fit themselves back into the conversation. Bianca and Adore are still wrapped up in each other, Sharon seems captivated by Alaska. And Alaska, for her part, is still eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

Courtney’s head is resting on Willam’s shoulder, their hands still linked together, and Willam smiles at Alaska pleasantly. She raises an eyebrow in return, taking a sip of her drink, and turns her gaze back to Sharon.

It’s not until later, when the check is on the table and Courtney’s nails are dragging over her thigh again, that Willam realizes she and Courtney have fucked twice, and made plans to do it again.

They still haven’t really talked about it, other than a few words in the bathroom. Willam doesn’t know what to make of it, but she likes where it’s headed.

(Any direction that leads to spending more time in close proximity to Courtney Act, especially if she’s naked, is a direction Willam wants to go.)

——

Later that night, it happens for the third time, with Warner locked out of Willam’s bedroom while she gives Courtney an orgasm for the history books.

The fourth time is the next morning, while Courtney’s magically pulling together a healthy, vegan breakfast from the six items in Willam’s fridge.

Willam thinks Courtney’s cute when she’s focused. Courtney’s also only wearing one of Willam’s big white tank tops, and her nipples are poking through the fabric, and the scoop neck shows off all the soft skin between her small breasts and across the tops.

Food always makes Willam horny anyway, just like virtually everything else. And if Courtney’s determination was cute, her halfhearted, giggling protests that she’s trying to cook as Willam feels her up in front of the sink are even cuter.

The fifth time is in the backseat of Willam’s car that night, in the corner of the supermarket parking lot, after Courtney jumps her in the baking aisle.

After that, Willam stops counting.

——

“So.”

“Hmm?”

“You and Court.”

There’s a pause, and Willam says nothing, inspecting her short clipped nails as Alaska fixes her with a scrutinous stare.

“How long has that been going on?”

“You’re being real vague, girl.”

“You always share Ubers to get home when we go out,” Alaska states.

“We all share Ubers.”

“You always make them drive to my apartment first, even when yours is closer.”

“So?”

Alaska sighs, clearly exasperated.

“I know you two fucked in the bathroom when we went to Adore’s dinner party two weeks ago,” she says finally.

Willam swallows, feeling her heart drop into her stomach.

(She knows the happy, thoughtless bubble she and Courtney have been floating around in has to pop eventually. That doesn’t make it any easier.)

“Fuck, you’re not beating around the bush, huh?” She says after a moment with a nervous chuckle, hoping for Alaska to pull out her Mae West impression and lessen the tension.

“Will…”

“Can’t you just, like…” Willam shakes her head, her hands twisting together in her lap. “I dunno, interrogate Court instead?”

“Why can’t I talk to you?”

“I’m not - I’m not good at this shit.”

“Will,” Alaska says, sighing. “Can you look at me, please?”

After a moment, Willam shakes her head. Her knuckles are turning white, and she’s getting scared of what Alaska might think.

(Even more, though, she’s scared of what might happen if Alaska forces her to admit what’s going on between her and Courtney out loud.)

“Fuck,” Alaska mutters, frustrated, before falling into silence.

Even though Alaska’s clearly trying to stay relaxed, there’s something in her tone that sounds almost desperate, and Willam realizes suddenly that no matter what her relationship with Courtney is, it involves more than just the two of them. After all, Alaska’s been their other half since sophomore year in college.

Willam and Courtney had always been a mess, right from the first week of freshman year till graduation. From Courtney’s double major and constant community involvement giving her stress headaches, to Willam’s perpetual morning hangovers, penchant for potentially dangerous hookups, and chronic bad decision making, they’d been a goddamn disaster waiting to happen.

And then there was Alaska from English class, smarter than Willam and more sensible than Courtney, and twice as mature as both of them put together.

Courtney had decided the three of them were going to do triple room the next year a week after they’d met Alaska, and it had probably saved both of them from self destructing multiple times.

Alaska had held and comforted Courtney during her breakdowns after Willam had called her in a panic, not able to handle seeing her best friend so upset. She’d gotten out of bed at 4 AM most weekends to pick Willam up from strangers’ dorm rooms and apartments when Willam crashed down from her highs and didn’t know how to get home.

It’s been years since college, but despite living in separate apartments now, the three of them haven’t lost any of the closeness they built up as roommates.

And if she and Courtney make a mess of this thing they’ve started, the only thing Willam’s sure of is that Alaska will be stuck cleaning up the aftermath.

Willam can feel tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. She squeezes them shut, kicking herself internally both for her lack of control and for her thoughtlessness.

(She hasn’t hurt a friend in 307 days. She’s been keeping count since Vicky stopped talking to her in 10th grade, and she hates herself a little bit more every time she has to start over again.)

(She hasn’t cried in front of anyone except Warner in five years.)

“I’m sorry, Lasky,” she murmurs into the dead air between them.

“I don’t get it,” Alaska says after a moment. “Why didn’t you… just tell me?”

Willam frowns. Opening her eyes, she glances over at Alaska.

The other girl doesn’t look angry like she expected. Her lips are tilted in a confused little pout, her brow furrowed. And when she meets Willam’s gaze, her eyes are sad.

“Uh…” Willam blinks at her, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I mean obviously you wouldn’t want to tell Adore and Bianca, but…” Alaska pauses, swallowing. “We’ve never kept secrets from each other, at least, I don’t think we have. I thought - I thought we didn’t do that.”

“Wait a sec,” Willam says. “You’re not…you’re not mad that Court and I are fucking?”

“Will, I’ve been waiting for you and Court to fuck since junior year,” Alaska replies after a moment, dryly. “I just - I always thought you’d, like, tell me, when you did.”

“I…”

“Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?”

There’s a vulnerable edge to Alaska’s voice, but it’s something Willam knows how to handle, and her insides are slowly untwisting.

“I thought you’d be, um, angry,” Willam admits finally. “That we might fuck all of this up, or something. Or that you’d, like, feel like a third wheel.”

“Girl, no,” Alaska says, with a soft laugh. “I know you guys have a different thing going on, and I’ve always been your third wheel anyway, it’s cool. But, I dunno, I wanna be in the loop.”

“Oh,” Willam exhales, surprisingly relieved. She wipes at the corners of her eyes carefully with her ring fingers, wanting to make sure all traces of her tears are gone.

She can’t help but wonder what different thing Alaska’s talking about, but now doesn’t seem the time to ask.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” Alaska adds, frowning slightly. “I’m totally fine with you guys fucking, I just wanna know what’s up with my best friends.”

“Okay,” Willam says, crossing her arms and looking up at the ceiling. “Well, we fucked the first time that time we went out without you like a few weeks ago. And then again at Adore’s party, and then…well, a few more times.”

“Are you, like, a thing?”

“Oh, no,” Willam says quickly, shaking her head and laughing. “No. We just keep jumping each other, I guess. We’re, like, super compatible.”

“Okay, girl, I don’t need every detail.” Alaska rolls her eyes. “So you’re like, friends with benefits?”

Willam thinks for a moment. Friends with benefits. The title isn’t nearly as scary as she’d anticipated it being, and Willam thinks she could be okay with it.

“I guess so, yeah,” she agrees. “I hadn’t put a name to it, but.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna hug you now, is that okay?”

Rolling her eyes, Willam opens her arms and beckons Alaska over with a grin.

“So.”

“Huh?”

“You and Sharon Needles.”

“Who’s that?” Alaska deadpans.

“Bitch, please. I see you jump outta your chair whenever your phone buzzes. I know it’s her.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Girl! I’m serious, spill.”

There’s a pause, and Alaska’s lips twitch in a slight grin.

“Text Courtney to get over here, and then I’ll think about it.”

——

Life carries on as usual, but with a new normal that includes Willam making Courtney late for just about everything they go to together and Alaska rolling her eyes at them almost nonstop.

Willam finds, to her surprise, that she doesn’t care that Alaska knows. And when she tells Courtney about their conversation, Courtney seems mostly relieved that it’s not entirely a secret anymore.

If they were inseparable before, it’s nothing compared to how attached at the hip they are now. Nearly every time Willam looks at Courtney, she finds the other girl already looking back, and her heart skips a beat. Willam doesn’t know if that’s a normal ‘friends with benefits’ thing, but she doesn’t question it.

(She suspects that it’s not, which is probably why she tries to avoid thinking about it.)

They spend most nights at each others’ apartments, naked or partially so under the sheets with messy hair and matching smiles. A lot of the time, Willam’s so shaky from how hard Courtney makes her come that she can’t keep her eyes open once they’re done. But she likes it even better when Courtney falls asleep first.

Courtney never pushes Willam to cuddle with her after sex, seeming content to lie next to her, just as long as Willam knows that there’s an open invitation to come as close as she’s comfortable with. And sometimes, she drifts off just like that, with Willam watching sleepily from beside her.

There’s something special about Courtney when she’s asleep. Some magic to the way that her eyelashes flutter slightly, the way that she snores just a little bit when Willam least expects it.

And when Courtney lies on her back and leaves her hand open on the sheet between them, sometimes Willam will take it and link their fingers together. And Courtney will squeeze her hand tight, as if even in her sleep, she doesn’t want Willam to even think about going anywhere.

From time to time, she’ll fall asleep facing Willam, and Willam will wait until her breathing deepens to brush her hair away from her face gently, maybe rest a hand on her waist and watch her face shift just a little bit as she dreams.

And occasionally, she’ll leave her back to Willam. And Willam will scoot closer, closer, until her face is buried in Courtney’s hair and her arm circles loosely around her waist, and she can hold her on her own terms, when it’s dark and quiet and no one can see.

(Those are her favorite nights. Watching Courtney breathe isn’t half as good as feeling it, and her hair always smells like flowers. Willam wants to get lost in her and never find her way back home.)

——

“It’s not too early to get drunk,” Sharon says, closing her menu.

“Babe, it’s eleven in the morning,” Alaska replies with a laugh, all smiles as she leans into her girlfriend, their hands linked together on the table.

“I know that, Lasky.”

“So, definitely too early.”

“No, Needles is right,” Willam puts in with a nod. “Also, the level of PDA right now is making me wanna barf. Get a room.”

The three of them are unexpectedly having brunch, a decision that had been made after Alaska had gotten a text from Sharon while she and Willam were in line at Starbucks. Courtney had been absent since the morning, when Willam had woken up to a note bedside table saying that she had plans, and she’d see her later.

Barely fifteen minutes after Alaska got the text, Willam was pulling into a parking spot nearby a fancy looking cafe. Sharon met them inside, along with a country singer named Brian, who she was managing. They haven’t even ordered food yet, and Willam already regrets agreeing to come along.

“Girl, please, as if you have any right to complain about PDA,” Alaska snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Courtney’s not even here!”

“Then this can be payback for years of dealing with you two.”

“Who’s Courtney?” asks Brian, glancing around the table with a frown.

“Willam’s other best friend,” Alaska replies. “The one she likes better.”

“Hey, wait -” Willam starts.

“I’m just kidding,” Alaska laughs. “She’s actually Willam’s other half, and I’m not -”

“Hold up, let’s not get crazy here,” Willam jumps to interrupt, widening her eyes at Alaska. “We’re just dumb blondes who make fun of each other a lot.”

Brian glances between the two of them, an eyebrow raised.

“She was my first roommate in college,” Willam explains with a sigh. “I haven’t been able to get rid of her, and I’m cool with that.”

“I have a friend like that,” Brian says, nodding. “I get it.”

“Well, I’m getting a cocktail,” Sharon announces. “You all can join me, or you can have fun being children.”

“You know I don’t drink during the day, Shar,” Alaska says.

“One of us has to drive,” Brian shrugs. “I guess I’m drinking water.”

“Same here, and I’m not letting Alaska drive my car,” Willam says, shaking her head. “I guess it’s just you.”

“Oh well,” Sharon sighs, raising her eyebrows. “Your loss.”

The table falls into slightly awkward silence. Alaska’s head falls to rest gently on Sharon’s shoulder, and a small, private smile curls in the corner of Sharon’s mouth. Willam picks at the corner of her menu with her fingernail, and misses Courtney.

After they order their food, Willam excuses herself to use the bathroom, even though she doesn’t need to. There’s something about watching Sharon and Alaska, so obviously smitten with each other, that makes her hands fidget and her palms itch.

And there’s no one to reach for next to her, no bright giggles or smell of sugary perfume. No one to watch when she can’t keep her attention on the conversation.

(She realizes that maybe, she’s so used to being hyper-focused on Courtney that she doesn’t know what to think or how to be without her there.)

Willam stares at herself in the flawlessly polished mirror, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looks so small, she thinks, standing there by herself. So out of place in front of the classy decor, with her bright, tacky makeup and her crop top and short skirt.

There’s a sharp knock on the door, and Willam jumps, glancing around. The bathroom is single stall, and there’s probably a line that’s formed by now. Sighing, she looks herself over one more time, and turns to go.

It’s on the way back to the table that Willam hears it: Courtney’s laugh. The sound she’s been missing all day.

She freezes in her tracks, scanning the tables around her for the source. Courtney laughs again, and Willam finds her - a window table in the corner, with her back to the rest of the cafe.

Her face isn’t visible, but Willam can see blonde hair and her hand resting on the table. There’s a strawberry daiquiri on the table in front of her, and a man sitting across from her.

He’s tall, with friendly, boyish features that seem designed to make hearts melt. Willam can feel her chest tighten as she looks at him, still frozen in place like a rabbit in the headlights.

The floor is suddenly unsteady beneath her, and it’s like everything she was so sure of is rapidly sliding away while she watches, to shocked to chase after it.

Courtney is giggling again, and she reaches across the table, resting her hand on his.

Willam’s stomach drops. No.

The fight or flight response finally kicks in, and Willam starts walking, as fast as she can without bumping into anyone. Alaska calls her name, voice almost drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears, but Willam ignores her.

She has to get out, before Courtney sees her, before Alaska can ask what’s wrong, before she loses her shit and gouges out the eyeballs of the guy Courtney’s with and ruins her brand new manicure.

By the time Willam figures out where her feet are carrying her, she’s nearly to her car, and she realizes that her purse is still in the booth next to Brian. She leans against her car door instead, arms crossed tightly over her chest, unable to stomach the thought of going back in.

(Courtney is in there, laughing at a cute guy and touching his hand. Willam wants to go back to 3 AM last night, and hold Courtney tight enough that she has to stay in bed next to her.)

“Will?” Alaska’s voice pulls Willam out of her distress, and she peers out from between her fingers to see the other girl making her way over quickly, both of their purses clutched in her hands. “Are you okay?”

Silently, Willam reaches for her purse. Alaska hands it to her, and she fumbles inside for her keys before unlocking the door and climbing into the backseat with Alaska right behind her.

The door slams shut, muffling the noises of the street, and then it’s just the sounds of their breathing. Alaska’s seems worried but cautious, making herself as small and unthreatening as she possibly can on the edge of seat.

“Will, what’s going on?” Alaska asks after a moment, her brow furrowed.

“Courtney,” Willam says softly, just an exhale of breath.

“Courtney?”

“She was there,” Willam continues, barely a whisper. “With someone.”

Alaska’s eyes widen momentarily, and then she scoots closer on the seat, holding out her hand. Willam takes it without even thinking.

“It’s - it’s stupid, I don’t -” Willam cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I’m just being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Alaska murmurs, and her gaze is so gentle and understanding that Willam can feel herself getting choked up. “You’re a lot of things, Will, but not that.”

“I just thought…I thought…” Willam swallows, blinking back tears and hurriedly reaching up to rub her eyes with her free hand. “Goddamnit.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t want her to see other people,” Willam finally manages to get out, biting her lip. “I thought she - I thought she knew.”

“Were you supposed to be exclusive?” Alaska asks carefully.

“No,” Willam says, shaking her head. “But I…I haven’t even wanted to, you know, with anyone else, and I thought…”

“You should talk to her about it, Will,” Alaska says, her thumb running softly over Willam’s knuckles.

“I think I love her.”

The words hang in the air, whispered almost too softly to hear.

Willam covers her face with her hand, feeling a fresh wave of helpless tears filling her eyes. Her fingers are digging into Alaska’s hand so hard, she’s sure she’s leaving marks.

“I know,” Alaska says.

“It hurts,” Willam whimpers.

“It’s okay, Will.”

Willam just shakes her head, her breath stuttering as she holds back sobs, and Alaska tugs on her hand.

“Oh, come here, honey.”

She lets Alaska pull her closer, releasing her hand and leaning into her chest as Alaska’s arms wrap around her loosely. And then, Alaska is petting her hair gently, and there’s no point in trying not to cry.

——

Willam lets Alaska drive her car after all. She stays in the backseat, head down, just in case someone sees them.

They go out that night, just the two of them, even though it’s a Sunday. Willam finds the person least like Courtney in the entire club, a big black guy who hits on her at the bar.

She tries to want him. It doesn’t work, so she drinks until she can’t tell the difference.

(She doesn’t understand how Courtney can want someone else so easily. It feels like trying to wear a shoe five sizes too big, and she keeps stumbling.)

Willam’s vision is spinning when Alaska finds her out back with him, and stops her before she can do anything she’ll regret. She grabs an abandoned drink off a table inside, and after that, her memory goes blank.

When she wakes up the next morning, she’s tucked nicely into her bed in a pair of boxers and a bra, face wiped clean, with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the side table. Warner is next to her, but there’s no sign of Alaska.

There is ten texts from Courtney. Willam doesn’t open them.

She calls in sick to work, pulls the covers over her head, and cries into Warner’s fur over her pounding headache and her stupid, stupid heart.

——

She goes to work the next day, and the day after that, going through the motions of life. It would be wasteful and pathetic not to, and Willam’s too proud for that. Alaska calls her frequently, sounding a little more worried every time, and Willam doesn’t bother with trying to reassure her.

(After all, everything’s not fine.)

Courtney calls her even more, and Willam deletes the voicemails without listening to them. Every time, the guilt makes her feel a little bit heavier.

When she texts, Willam doesn’t text back.

She dreams about Courtney one night. The other girl is lying next to her, looking at her with eyes that sparkle in the dim light, and when Willam starts to tell her that she loves her, Courtney kisses her softly before the words can come out.

In the morning, she wakes up with her chest hurting.

(She didn’t realize ‘heartache’ was meant to be taken so literally.)

——

On Friday, Willam comes home from work to find Courtney sitting nervously at her kitchen table.

She’s wearing a fuzzy sweater and jeans since it’s October now, even though LA’s still caught up in the heat of summer, because that’s just the kind of person she is. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her makeup is minimal.

She looks absolutely beautiful, and Willam forgets how to breathe the moment she sees her.

And then, Courtney looks up, and her eyes are so sad and confused that Willam hates herself a lot more than usual, just for hurting her somehow.

It takes Willam a good minute and a half to remember why she hasn’t spoken to Courtney in five days, but once she does, the bitterness settles in her chest again. She locks away her emotions as best she can as she sits down across from Courtney, steeling herself for the confrontation to come.

“Well?” Courtney demands finally, breaking the silence. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I forgot you had a key.”

“Willam,” Courtney bites out.

“We can’t sleep together anymore,” Willam says, her voice cool, not betraying the way her stomach is turning.

“Why?”

“It’s not working for me.”

“Well, fine,” Courtney says, her jaw tight. “But that’s not an explanation as to why you’ve ignored my calls and texts for five days for no good reason.”

Willam shrugs.

“I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out what I did to upset you,” Courtney continues. “And I can’t think of anything, and I’m going to explode if I have to -”

“If you’re really that horny, I’m sure you can find someone else to help you out,” Willam cuts in venomously.

“You’re not just my fuckbuddy!” Courtney exclaims.

“Oh, really?” Willam cocks her head. “Are you sure about that?”

“You’re my best friend, too, and I -”

“Oh, oh, right,” Willam says with a nod. “Your best friend. With benefits.”

“I mean, that’s what we were calling it,” Courtney says, throwing her hands up. “What, you suddenly have a problem with that?”

“If it means I have to share you with whoever else catches your eye, then yeah.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Courtney demands, her voice raising. “Share me? With who?”

“Anyone? Everyone?” Willam shakes her head, unable to believe that Courtney’s actually playing dumb. “Pretty boys who take you out to nice restaurants and make you laugh a lot?”

“Willam, I don’t know what you think you’re accusing me of,” Courtney starts, glaring at Willam. “But I haven’t slept with anyone other than you since Adore’s dinner party months ago. Hell, I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Courtney,” Willam snaps. “I saw you on a date last Sunday.”

Courtney just stares at her confusedly, shaking her head.

“With the tall dude? You were at a table near a window, drinking a strawberry daiquiri and having a fucking awesome time.”

Realization crosses Courtney’s face, quickly replaced by offense.

“That wasn’t a date!” She exclaims. “That was a meeting!”

“A meeting? What the fuck kind of meeting involves flirting and fucking fruity cocktails, Court?” Willam demands.

“A professional one!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“What, do I have to tell you everything now? Is that how this relationship is supposed to work?”

“Yeah, if you’re planning on going on a date, I wanna know about it,” Willam says, keeping her voice as even as she can. “Is saying that crossing some kind of line?”

“It wasn’t a date!” Courtney shrills.

“Then what was it?”

“I told you, it was a meeting!”

“With who?”

“An agent!” Courtney bursts out finally, slamming her palm down on the table.

“An - wait, what?” Willam furrows her brow, the emotionless facade she’d put up collapsing just a little in her confusion.

“It was a meeting with an agent, my agent, who I hired,” Courtney says, deflating slightly.

“What did you…an agent?”

“To negotiate my record deal.”

Willam’s lips part, and Courtney looks up, meeting her gaze. Things are starting to come together, and the guilt is wound tight in Willam’s stomach.

“Oh my god,” Willam murmurs. “Court…”

“It finally happened,” Courtney says. Her voice is heavy, and it’s all wrong, and Willam hates herself. “I’m gonna be a singer, Bill.”

“I - I’m so sorry, I thought…”

“Clearly.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Willam asks quietly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Courtney says, a small, wistful smile on her face. “I recorded a single last month, and…I wanted you to hear it first, before you or anyone else knew about the deal.”

“You mean no one else knows?”

“Nope. Not even Adore, and it’s under the same label as her.”

“But…why?”

Courtney looks down at her hands, and Willam wants to reach across the table and take them.

“Because the single is about you,” Courtney says finally, her voice soft.

“Oh.” It’s all Willam can think to say. Her pulse is beating in her fingertips.

“All of my songs are about you, Will.”

Courtney looks up at her, biting gently on her lower lip. Her forehead is creased with worry, the corners of her eyes shimmering with tears, and Willam reaches across the table, palm facing up.

“Is that - are you okay with that?” Courtney asks, voice unsteady.

Willam nods, and Courtney’s hand slides into hers.

(She’s more than okay with that. Her body feels shaky, her ribs close to breaking from the pressure of her heart against them.)

“I’m really happy for you, Court,” she says, and Courtney smiles weakly. “And I’m so sorry for…”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Courtney replies, squeezing her hand. “I’m not dating, Will. I’m not fucking other people, I’m not going out with them. I’m not looking, either.”

“Neither am I,” Willam says.

“You’re, um,” Courtney swallows, glancing up at the ceiling. “You’re it. For me.”

There’s a tear sliding down Courtney’s cheek, and Willam can’t seem to get enough air to reply. Leaning up in her chair, she reaches across to brush the tear away with her thumb.

“I have something to tell you, too,” Willam says, once her lungs remember how to work.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Willam says. “I only figured it out like a week ago, but I feel like it’s a long time coming.”

Courtney nods, watching her carefully. The sun is setting, and the warm gold light is catching on the wisps of hair that have come loose from Courtney’s ponytail, framing her face.

“I think I love you.”

There’s a quick intake of breath, and Willam’s not sure if the sound came from her or from Courtney. She squeezes her eyes shut, and Courtney’s other palm covers their joined hands on the table.

Then, the warmth of Courtney’s touch disappears, and Willam can hear a chair being pushed back as she stands.

Her heart thuds in her chest, and she keeps her eyes closed, terrified that Courtney’s leaving but not wanting to know if she is.

“Will, stand up.”

Courtney’s voice is warm, and Willam opens her eyes to see the other girl next to her. Relieved, she obeys without even thinking about it, stepping away from the table so they’re facing each other. Courtney just stares at her for a moment, her expression unreadable.

“God,” Courtney murmurs, her hands coming up to frame Willam’s face, eyes searching her features. “Do you even realize how beautiful you are?”

Willam frowns slightly, and opens her mouth to object. But Courtney leans in closer and kisses her before she gets the chance, so sweetly that Willam has to hold onto her waist to keep her balance.

(It’s as if Courtney is putting her back together, piece by piece, with soft presses of her lips, careful hands holding her still in case she tries to run away before Courtney’s finished.)

“What was that for?” she asks breathlessly after Courtney breaks the kiss.

“Nothing in particular,” Courtney replies, her smile bright enough that Willam almost has to squint. “Just, I think I love you, too.”

——

#i read this in work and fucking died because it was so good -vixen #miss bianca #witney #aaa girls #lesbian au #cis girls au #willam belli #courtney act #romance #pining #aka 12k words of willam being in hopelessly in love #(with a touch of background biadore and shalaska)#strawberry daiquiri #rpdr fanfiction

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