Emmy
On the way to pick Laura up for dinner, I decide instead to stop at her favorite cafe.
It’s half a bakery, half an outdoor seating area with charging ports for students to get some work done in fresh air, on the corner right before the main road leads into the campus proper. Right beside it is a scenic little patch of greenery bifurcated by a brook that Laura and I have skipped over more than once, trying to determine who can cross the fastest, or in the least number of steps, or without falling in (that one turned ugly very quickly).
Usually, she gets this open-faced sandwich that is a slice of well-buttered and well-toasted ciabatta, smeared liberally with pesto and covered in at least three kinds of cheese and loaded up with black olives and cherry tomatoes, finished off with a broil to let the cheese melt and the tomatoes caramelize. I pick up two for us and resume my journey. On the way out, I quickly check my hair and outfit in the display.
Trying something new today—a skirt, a business-casual pencil skirt, yes, but a skirt all the same, with sheer tights under a button-up blouse and a blazer and the most make-up I’ve put on in a while. I’m wearing foundation
and
blush, for crying out loud, and I’m moderately proud of the fact that I’ve managed to do so without looking like I’m a face-painting jester. The mango-scented cream has worked well on my hair, too, giving my curls a certain
bounce
.
There’s no special occasion. I simply like looking pretty for her.
Laura’s conducting some business in the courtyard, leading a gaggle of theater kids with prop swords in some sort of choreography, I gather, and so I think I’ll suggest to her that we have dinner outside when she’s done. It’s not too sunny, not too cold, and just breezy enough to be pleasant, allowing me to observe her shiny black hair stream behind her like a banner, if we find the perfect spot to sit.
Five minutes away and I can already spot her, sporting a bright red halter top that barely conceals more than her breasts, and tiny little jorts that certainly would not have fit her prior to SRS. She’s swaying and twirling almost acrobatically, a rapier gleaming in her hand, effortlessly play-disarming three women in quick succession before stopping to critique them on their falling technique. When I draw close, she’s clapping them on the shoulder, then turning to address the rest with an easy confidence and grace. She disbands them just as I arrive.
“What department are we preparing to storm?” I ask, hugging Laura from behind.
She giggles, taking a moment to reach back with her free hand and play with my hair.
“They couldn’t liberate an Anglican peasant-woman from her breeches, sadly,” Laura chuckles. “I’m the only one here with any actual fencing experience.”
“Hold on, you have
fencing experience
?”
With a booming laugh, Laura spins around and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Honey, I literally came here for undergrad on a fencing scholarship.”
“Wow, and
I
just had to take like fifteen college-level credits in high school for mine,” I mutter.
Laura’s smirking. “Silly STEMcel. While you were studying physics,
I
was studying—”
“Don’t say it.”
“THE BLADE!”
I turn around. “I’m throwing your sandwich in the trash.”
“My what? No, come back!”
A very blunted sword-tip presses into the back of my jacket, while Laura’s slender, toned arm snakes around my neck and holds me in place.
“Tell you what,” she whispers conspiratorially, her venomous tongue flicking millimeters from my quivering ear, “how about you hand that sandwich over, and later I’ll study
your
sword very diligently.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“Did it work?”
“Of course it did.”
We migrate over to a pair of flat rocks by one of the libraries. The building’s floor-to-ceiling windows allow its gas-yellow lamplight to spill onto us, illuminating us even as the evening fades into twilight. Laura looks like a painting, animated, a swirling pool of oil committed to canvas by a mad artist seeking to capture a beauty that no mortal could ever exhibit. Yet here she is, inches from me, tangible, soft, warm, joyous, and scarfing down her ciabatta too fast for her own good. She smirks at me with stuffed cheeks and I sigh, nibbling on mine.
This is just … perfect.
She’s perfect.
“What’s on your mind, babe?”
“Hm?” I blink, noticing that the perfect pair of lips I’ve been staring at is moving and making sounds.
“You’re uncharacteristically non-verbose today,” Laura points out. “Something on your mind?”
“Oh, I suppose I am.” I take a moment to chew thoughtfully. “Nichole hasn’t been on the server, not even to drop her daily selfies. It’s been two days, since she, you know …”
Laura frowns and asks me a question that completely floors me.
“Who’s Nichole?”
“Who’s
Nichole
?” I sputter. “Katherine’s roommate!”
“And Katherine is …?”
My sputtering continues as Laura pops the hunk of sandwich into her mouth. She ferociously struggles to chew, all the while regarding me with a sidelong glance and a cocked eyebrow.
“
Katherine
. Whom Nichole utterly
humiliated
on the server?” I elaborate, flabbergasted. “Did you miss the entire kerfuffle between the Tricksters and the girls who support you? Did you miss how it was temporarily quelled
entirely
to collectively roast this poor lass?”
“Emmy, I haven’t really had much cause to check in on the server.”
Maddeningly, Laura
shrugs nonchalantly at me
.
“We’ve talked about Katherine before!”
When Laura persists in looking befuddled, I sigh and relent.
“Boymoder Sephiroth.”
“OH. Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Because we shouldn’t be making fun of the poor girl!”
Maybe this shouldn’t be bothering me, but it is. I put the rest of my sandwich aside, finding my appetite somewhat curbed.
“Okay, sorry, I see that this is important to you.” Laura turns towards me fully. “Aren’t you getting a little over-invested in server drama, though?”
“Laura, I
know
these people. I’ve met them several times.” I stop just short of saying ‘They are my friends’, because that’s not something we’ve really established, and they treat me more like a mother they resent in any case.
“When did you
meet
them?” Laura exclaims, dumbfounded. “I guess you’ve been busy while I was away.”
“Yeah.”
Why do I feel so anxious, suddenly?
“I guess we don’t know as much about each other as we’d like to think,” I mutter.
“Sweetie, don’t give me that. Couples don’t instantly merge into a mental dyad, no matter how much we’d like to,” Laura sighs. “You didn’t know I fenced. I bet you don’t know why I have family in Southeast Asia. This is stuff we learn
over time
.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Laura pats my knee in a manner I interpret as apologetic. “I’m sorry about your friends.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure they’re fine,” I lie.
An uneasy silence falls over us, which I avoid confronting by picking my sandwich back up. My pocket buzzes right before I can take a bite though, with the distinctive pattern I’ve programmed for a server-wide ping.
“Finally!” I cry out, hastily fishing my phone out.
“Big news?”
“Yeah, it’s the updated NTBV rankings!”
“Oh, sure.”
Once again, I find myself chafing at the dismissive tone Laura assumes, the
casualness
with which she waves off this competitive milestone.
“Nichole and I have engineered a new strat,” I shoot at her, almost without thinking. “I’m eager to see how well it pays off.”
“I hope it works out, honey.”
She’s leaning back languidly, exposing the expanses of her nearly-bare torso in a manner that would be enticing in any other context, but only heightens my ire right now. I turn my attention to the server to avoid getting snippy.
Just as I predicted, Nichole has
rocketed
up the rankings. She is threatening to break into the top 25, within spitting distance of global championship rankings. While her body has certainly taken to the estrogen dosage we have fine-tuned for it, dimensional mastery alone would not have put her anywhere near here: she’s above the median, but not by very much. No, the behavioral components of the accursed NTBV formula have resulted in a formulaic breast inflation far beyond what her real jugularity would dictate.
So then …
With a lurch in my guts, I note that
my
score, too, has seen a corresponding rise, less meteoric than Nichole’s, but significant all the same. There used to be a healthy gap between my own score and Laura’s for as long as we’ve been locked in this deathmatch of first and second place, of leader and runner-up lagging at her svelte heels. Now, however, my score has jumped up more than my actual tittage, and it
has
to be because I have altered how I
present
.
Interestingly, Laura’s score is …
“What the fuck?”
“Hm?” Laura, who’d been gazing into the distance, looks back at me. “Something wrong, my pet?”
“Your score’s completely flatlined!” I turn my phone around to show her. “Our NTBVs have always steadily climbed in accordance with our ballooning boobaciousness, but despite your gains your score hasn’t budged from the last rankings!”
“Oh, wild.” Laura takes this news with all the urgency and shock of being informed that her firmware needs updating. “So I guess I’ve hit the max. Neat.”
“I don’t think the formula
has
a ceiling,” I insist. “Frankly, with my newly-plotted trajectory, I could exceed your score by the next rankings if you remain stagnant!”
“Cool! Well done, sweetheart.”
‘
Well done, sweetheart
’?!
“Do you seriously not care
at all
?” I demand. “I’m telling you that I could
very well beat you
, Laura. Overtake you right before the finish line.”
“Guess you better start planning where you’re going to take me to celebrate, then.” Laura leans forward and takes my hands with a smile. “I've been thinking about showing you my parents’ hometown, you know.”
Heartwarming as that was, I can’t fully grasp it because my head is spinning. Where is my Laura, and who is this imposter who has taken her place? There’s resting on your laurels and there’s the complete indifference the supposed champion is showing to the sport she’s utterly dominated for the past two and something years!
“I refuse to believe you’d settle for second place,” I assert firmly. “What is going on with you?”
“Sweetie, just—does it matter?” Laura clutches my hands even harder. “Sweetheart, we’re going to make off with the first and second-place cash prizes for our quarter, and will definitely lead in the global rankings at the six-year mark, too. We’re set, we’re made, we’re done. What difference does it make whether you’re the one on top, or I am? We did it, honey, we beat them, we got what we wanted, and most of all,
we got each other
. Don’t you get it, Emmy?”
The kiss catches me off-guard, and my eyes remain open in sheer disbelief throughout.
“I already got my prize, Emmy. I got you.”
Unacceptable
.
Furious, I tear myself free from Laura’s grasp. “I’m not your
prize
. I’m your
fucking rival
.”
Do it fast. Get up and turn around and walk away before you can see the hurt register on her face. Forgot the sandwich—it doesn’t matter. You can’t go back. You can’t look at her right now.
The sun’s set. I make my way home in the dark.
Kyle
Jeff’s stepped out on an errand, and I’m genuinely alone for the first time since we …
Well, I guess we got together. Jeff decided to make that official to Kathy. The coffin keeps getting nails hammered into it, and I’m now officially involved with Jeff, of all people, a reality that I have still not quite managed to come to terms with over the past two days.
No, in defense of my … boyfriend … he has a lot of positive traits. He’s nice, for one, which counts for a lot. I try to think of his other positive attributes, such as …
Wow, this place is
filthy
. I grab the vacuum and start taking care of the floors. They might honestly need a good mopping afterwards, and then maybe I can do some dusting of the furniture before Jeff is back.
Jeff, whose many qualities I definitely appreciate. He’s … involved in local activism, and does a lot there with Rupali—the girl whose heart I ripped straight out of her chest, if her texts are anything to go by. My own heart sinks, and I really … should turn up the suction on the vacuum, get this over with faster. Good thing it’s loud enough to drown out my thoughts.
When I’m done cleaning the floor I’ll take care of the dishes—again—given that they’re really piling up. Maybe I should do some meal prep too, cook up a big batch of daal. Enough for both me and—
The guy who thinks oregano is an exotic spice, whom I am dating, for some reason. I mean, everyone has their flaws I guess.
Wow, I’m going to be a
shit
boyfriend to Jeff, just like how I was a shit fiancée for Rupali. At least here I can feel guilty about a relationship I chose to get into, rather than having it foisted on me by my parents.
No, Kyle,
really
try to think of the positives. I suppose I can certainly appreciate that Jeff is proficient at sucking dick. He does a very competent job of it, and certainly seems to enjoy himself during, which is … a start. Everything else can be … an acquired taste, let’s call it! I can work on getting to actually
know
him, and maybe help him get over his—
Shit, Katherine is out of her room.
She’s been completely absent from the common area since the incident with Nichole two days ago, and the whole place has felt eerily quiet without her anime on the TV or her ramblings filling out the air. She looks a complete mess, her pink hoodie absolutely rumpled, its cat ears so wilted and flat that Katherine looks very much like an abused shelter kitten.
“Good afternoon, Kaalappan.”
“Hey, Kathy.” I should lay off on making her do chores for today, she looks exhausted. “Don’t worry about the dishes, I’ll take care of them when I’m done with this.”
Kathy gives me a shocked look, almost muttering to herself for a few seconds before actually responding.
“Ah, but you see, it was my design that I
would
do the dishes today, on my own initiative, before you even reminded me of them just now!”
Wow, she really can’t just take help when it’s offered, huh.
“It’s fine, I do them all the time.”
Just take the favour, idiot, you’re swaying a little just standing up.
“And that is precisely the issue, I intend to contribute a fairer share of the labour in our dwelling, as I have forsaken far too many of my responsibilities.”
Is she trying some server mindgame here? I’m really not in the mood for that nonsense.
“I’m not trying to guilt you into doing the dishes, Katherine. You’ve been through a shit time with your–”
“You underestimate my power! I have dealt with the recent incident flawlessly and stand unperturbed, ready to resume my duties by defeating the filth that has claimed our crockery. If you would simply allow me passage, I shall wield the brush and slay our great foe, by which I mean the bits of dried food stuck to the plates.”
“When was the last time you ate something?”
I have to distract her from this fixation on the dishes, and she’s got to get her basic needs met.
“It is of no relevance to you.”
Right, so she hasn’t eaten since the incident.
“Sit down, Kathy. I’ll make some lunch for both of us.”
I start cleaning the pan. It’ll have to be a big batch of eggs quickly scrambled so I can actually get the food in her before she decides to run off and do whatever it is she’s wasting away doing.
“And let you secretly spike my portion with testosterone, undermining my progress in the competition? I think not! Your schemes are all too easy for me to expose, for the engineering major trembles in the presence of the superior intellect of the quantum computing major.”
She’s slumping into the chair as she speaks, and how she’s able to keep up the Sephirothing even now is a complete mystery to me.
“I’ll make scrambled eggs, and you portion it out. That way, if I’m poisoning you I’ll be poisoning myself too.” I’ll humor her nonsense a little bit, at least. “Besides, you’re undermining yourself enough already by not taking care of yourself. If we’re going to compete, I’m beating you on my
own
merits, not because you’re fucking up.”
Katherine nods—no, wait, she’s just nodding off in her chair, head drooping towards the table.
“And besides, the Heir of Breast stands between us and any shot at the prize,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, that too.” I get to working on the eggs so they’ll be done before she actually falls asleep.
“I don’t get it,” Kathy mumbles, halfway there already. “Nichole hates me enough to do
that
, but
you’re
being nice to me? Why?”
I don’t answer right away, letting her fade out of consciousness a bit more. As quickly as I can manage, I toss up the eggs with some of my diced veggies and spices, then put a plate in front of her.
“Eat.”
Waking with a start, Kathy blearily obeys. Looks like she’s forgotten that she was supposed to do the portioning herself, slowly picking at the food.
“Jeffrey too. Why
him,
of all people? I do not understand you, Kaalappan.”
What do I even say to that?
I
barely understand me here.
“Do you simply have an affinity for horrible people, Kaal? You realize you can do far better than him, do you not?”
“Jeff has—I mean, he’s kind of …”
Gosh, why does
Kathy
of all people have to have a point?
“Look, I’m doing this because I have to do
something
that my parents didn’t fucking tell me to do.”
Whether it’s a good idea or not, I don’t add.
“Just keep in mind that nobody is forcing you to continue it, Kaal. You can break up with him at any time.”
I can’t tell if that look is her being worried, or tired. Why is Katherine so invested in telling me how much she hates Jeff, anyway?
“You seek refuge from suffering in a …” She trails off into mumbling for a moment. “... but it is a deal with demons. Racist demons, Kaal—”
Her face drops onto the table. She’s out. I can’t leave her sleeping like this, can I?
“Kathy? Do you want to go sleep in your room instead?” I prod at her, just a little.
“Mmh.”
She seems to agree, so I help her up.
“Let’s get you to bed, young lady.”
Not that heavy. I slowly help her up. She’s so out of it that she practically needs to be dragged to her room.
“M’not lady. No proof. Don’t tribunal me—”
“I won’t, don’t worry.”
Door was left ajar, thankfully. I shoulder my way in.
Wow
, her room is a worse mess than the rest of the apartment. The bed has a mostly clutter-free landing zone for her, at least, and luckily she doesn’t object to being guided to it. While I’m at it, I go ahead and tuck her in, since she clearly needs it. She’s still mumbling as I’m making my way out, though nothing that makes any kind of sense.
You know, I can’t help but admit that despite all her weird bullshit, Katherine is sort of cute. Especially when she’s fast asleep like that, and not talking.
On the way out of the bedroom, I spot Nichole arriving at the entrance of the common area, bag over her shoulder and
ridiculously skimpy
gym outfit straining to contain her body. It seems like nobody’s told her that it might be time to buy clothes in a different size, and I suspect she’s never going to get around to it on her own initiative.
“Oh, uh, hey Kyle. Were you in Kathy’s room?”
Nichole looks puzzled by this, which, fair enough. I wasn’t expecting to be tucking Katherine into bed either.
“Yeah. She was out of her room just now, but had to go to bed.”
Nichole approaches the door for a bit, then stops herself, choosing instead to redirect to the couch and dropping her bag down on the floor next to her.
“I—Thanks for taking care of her. I don’t think she wants to see me right now—or at any point ever again really—but I’m worried about her, you know?”
Ah. So it’s this situation. I sit down at the opposite corner of the couch, readying myself for another round of work as the world’s least qualified couples’ therapist.
“Did you try talking to her about it since the incident, at all?” I’m hoping to gently suggest basic social skills.
“I figured I’d let her decide when she was comfortable doing so?”
She’s wrapping her arms around her knees and very noticeably avoiding eye contact.
“And you messaged her to make sure she’d know she could approach you when she was comfortable, right?”
Nichole retreats further into her curled-up position at that. “No, I, uh. I didn’t say anything to her."
“I think you should consider doing that, then. You can’t just put the responsibility for talking on her.”
I immediately notice that my irritation with her avoidant behavior is influencing my tone, and she’s clearly picking up on it too.
“Says the guy who cheated on his fiancée with
Jeff
?”
Immediately after saying that, she puts her face into her hands. “I’m sorry I don’t—I’m—
fuck
, what is
wrong
with me?”
“You turn into a horrendous bitch when you’re upset, I guess,” I suggest, rolling my eyes. “It’s healthier to just admit when you’ve fucked up, like I do. You can’t take the fuck-up back, but you
can
avoid making it worse for the woman you’ve wronged, especially since she still cares about you and you
fucking owe her that much.
”
Yep, definitely still talking about Katherine. That’s definitely why I’m animated and out of breath.
“Yeah, well, what if I just
make it worse
?” She’s retreating further down.
“Then at least you fucking tried, Nichole. You’re making it worse by not trying, right now.”
I’m trying my best to stay calm, as talking to her right now feels like walking through a minefield.
After nearly a minute of silence, Nichole finally lowers her shoulders a bit, looking directly at me instead of staring off to the side.
“Okay. Okay. Shit. You’re right. I have to apologize to her.”
She motions to stand up, then freezes, settling back down slowly.
“Um. Usually,
she’s
the one who apologizes to
me
."
“Yeah, well, I don’t think you can rely on that pattern anymore.”
Nichole
For the second time in as many days, I find myself staring at Katherine’s door.
It’s not closed this time. I see that she’s basically been living in that hoodie of hers, looking like a piece of unwashed laundry crumpled underneath her blanket. The floor around her bed is littered with empty Beast energy drink cans, and her computer is still humming away, rendering a forgotten game-state while Kathy snores peacefully.
Tiptoeing around the scattered aluminium hazards, I settle down on her bed, contemplating what to do next. Should I wake her? Should I keep sitting here, watching her sleep like the creepy love interest in every trashy romance ever written? Maybe talk to her sleeping form like a cliche from drama instead?
I’m burning up inside. I
need
to tell her that I want to kiss her too, that I’m a complete moron who doesn’t know how to handle being popular and I should have just talked to her instead of bottling everything up and letting it out in public and can I please, please, please kiss you, Katherine?
“Katherine?” I venture.
She stirs. Her eyes open a peep, then more fully when she spots me.
“Nuh? Nichole?”
“Hey.”
My hands are clenched into fists on my thigh. My throat is suddenly very, very dry.
“What do you want?”
Her tone isn’t exactly welcoming, which is fair. Katherine hoists herself up, almost retreating from me slightly, resting her back against the headboard.
“I deserve that,” I admit. “I want to apologize. Properly.”
No response. Katherine grabs one of her shoulders, looks down, looks around, looks anywhere but right at me.
“Kathy,
please
,” I urge. “Don’t be that way.”
“You are not in a position to make demands of me, Nichole.”
“Okay,
that
was uncalled for.”
“Oh, we are condemning acts of disproportionate hostility now, are we?”
“Yeah!” This is not going well, but my mouth is already moving. “I fucked up, girlypop, but I’m not letting you treat me like a doormat!”
That’s right. I say ‘girlypop’ in non-sexual situations now. I’m owning it.
“How very anomalous of you.”
“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”
Why is she taking that tone? She sounds almost
smug
.
“I am saying, Nichole,” Katherine continues, her voice practically a snarl, “that given your predisposition to following my every directive like a well-heeled puppy, up to and including your initial inability to so much as leave the apartment garbed in feminine attire, up to and including your
very enrollment in the competition
and its associated server, whose culture you so blithely dismissed prior to my prompting your increased participation, you’ll have to forgive me if I believed this pattern to continue to hold in every situation, such as the unfortunate one we found ourselves in not too long ago.”
“
Unfortunate
?” I’m snarling now too. “You didn’t think it was ‘unfortunate’ when you BEGGED ME TO LET YOUR DICK INSIDE ME, Kathy!”
Un-fucking believable!
“Yes, I suppose I did yearn to penetrate you.” She’s smirking now, and I
know
I’m going to hate what comes out of her mouth next. “Shame you were such an insufficiently arousing partner.”
Oh that FUCKING DOES IT.
“Insufficiently arousing? Should I have called out positions like anime attacks more, or something? With all the chatter you were getting up to, you’d think we were in that show you insist that we watch where the visuals are so
fucking incomprehensible
they need an entire character just to explain what the fuck is happening!”
“Hey! Leave Bobo’s Absurd Journey out of this!”
That one
definitely
got to her! Better strike at the weak spot.
“No! It’s slop! It’s trash that’s over-reliant on padding out its action with reaction shots and absurdly disinterested in examining the implications of its own power system on the characters and world! I should have ‘asserted myself’ way sooner so you didn’t keep roping me into
wasting so many hours of my life
on
unwatchable trash media
!”
The reconciliation I had been picturing when I walked in here seems a tad out of reach, now. I’m yelling, she’s yelling, I’m roasting a show that I honestly kind of like, and none of this is getting me closer to actually holding the hand of the complete idiot I have a massive, massive crush on.
“So, the ‘princess’ is too good for her shonen slop, is that it? I shall make sure to only serve her the
finest
works of the anime medium henceforth! After all, she
cannot pick out shows by herself
.”
Oh
shut up
Kathy, you reject everything I suggest!
“Maybe if you
ever actually took a single damn suggestion
I wouldn’t have felt like I’m just wasting my breath on you!”
“You are overusing the word ‘waste’.”
“You overuse the word ‘behold’!”
“When unveiling a work of majesty, it is only proper that one heralds the revelation, lest any
beholders
be left smitten, dumbstruck, and sexually non-functional! Had I known you were
already sexually non-functional
, I would not have
wasted
the
breath
.”
“I wish you hadn’t!” I’ve somehow found myself on all fours, crawling up to Katherine and shoving my face in hers. “I wish you had just
shut up
so your inane prattling couldn’t have killed the mood! I should have just shoved my dick in your mouth to shut you up from the beginning!”
Is it me, or did Katherine’s eyes actually
flash
when I said that?
"Oh, you wish that you had been
fellated
, 'princess'? Would it please
your majesty
if I were silenced by your phallus? Shall we
test
this theory of yours, Nichole?"
She’s glaring at me with a fury unlike anything I’ve seen from her before. I find myself somewhat cowed, suddenly, and I’m really not sure how to proceed. I hadn’t expected her to say
that
in response to my admittedly sexually-frustrated venting.
"Well—I mean, are you seriously suggesting it, or is this a rhetorical—"
"I am
completely serious.
Do not underestimate my convictions."
Katherine is pressing her forehead against mine now, staring directly into my eyes, just
daring
me to take her up on the challenge.
“So what will it be,
princess
? Dare you put your member where my mouth is, or were you bluffing, expecting me to genuflect and prostrate myself before you?”
Baffled as I am by how she’s able to butcher common phrases into what has to be deliberate sex jokes even now, I can’t back down from this.
“Oh, I’m not bluffing! I’m all in here, Kathy. You really want to do this? I’m
in
. Open wide!”
“Fine!” She shouts.
“Fine!” I yell right back at her.
“Then liberate yourself from your misbegotten breeches, and surrender your loins to me!”
“My misbegotten—”
“Take your shorts off, Nichole.”
She’s tying her hair back into a ponytail as she speaks.
“Yeah, I know what you meant, I’m just
baffled
at your word choices.”
I untie the string tightening my shorts at the waist, but she starts to pull them down faster than I have a chance to do it myself, getting on her knees in one rapid, smooth motion.
Well, if she’s in such a hurry, she can just get started already. I reach behind her head and grab her freshly-bundled hair.
“What are you waiting for, Katherine?” I sneer at her. “Are we doing this, or what?”
“Hm. No, this will not do at all.”
Before I know what’s happening, Katherine is on her feet, hand grasping my shoulder.
“Don’t think I will submit so easily,” she whispers in my ear as she
kicks me
, heel impacting the side of my hip. I’m thrown off balance and sent sprawling.
Having knocked me flat on my ass, Katherine pounces, pinning me underneath her.
“Hey, what are you—”
I’m interrupted by a sound I realize is coming from my own mouth in response to her hand unexpectedly groping my chest.
“You appear to be harboring a misconception that I will simply fall to my knees and do your bidding at the slightest hint of assertiveness, Nichole.”
Her forehead is pressed against mine again, and she’s staring directly into my eyes.
“If you wish to
shut me up with your dick
, as you so eloquently put it, then you will have to
earn it.
”
Oh, she wants me to earn it? I’ll
fucking earn it
.
Placing my hand on her waist, I shove her off towards my left. “Oh, I’m not just shutting you up. If you’re going to play around, I’m using your face as a toy.”
“And how precisely do you intend to do that? I suspect that you,
limp
as you are
, could never even
reach
the back of my throat, let alone
use
it.”
Taunting again, but she looks
excited
. Ravenous. Feral in a way that’s
really doing it for me
.
Holy
fuck
, I want to just
do it
already.
And by ‘it’, I
definitely
mean her
stupid fucking face
.
“See, you remain
passive
, unwilling to act, unwilling to simply
make the move already
, Nichole. Because you do not dare to, no matter how much I provoke you, no matter how much I
invite you to—”
She lets out a surprised yelp as, suffused with months, no,
years
of pent-up frustration towards her shenanigans, I position myself to straddle her head in one fluid leap, practically trying to crush her head between my thighs. I’m
throbbing
against her lips.
“Well? Your move, Katherine.”
I’m finally going to succeed at shutting her up. She has better things to use her mouth for.
“Come on, girlypop,” I croon. “Say ‘Finishing Move: Fellate’! I promise I won’t shove it right in.”
“Yes, you w—!”
Yes, I absolutely will, and as it turns out she’s not that quick to react to it.
“Look who’s struggling to take initiative now,” I gloat at her. “Are you just going to lay there with my dick in your mouth?”
Her reply is felt, rather than heard, as her lips close around me and she starts—carefully at first, then picking up the pace, clutching my thigh with one hand, clawing at it, tightening her grip in tandem with the escalating sensations throughout my body. I almost lose my balance, resorting to leaning forward with both my palms against the wall to keep me upright.
“Oh, yeah, this is
way
better!” I groan. “And we did it without you trying to give me a lecture on penetrability this time! Well fucking done!”
By the way her nails are digging into my ass, I can tell that she’s
loving
being unable to actually respond.
“Honestly, you’re
way
more fun like this!” I’m barely keeping my voice even—Katherine’s started using her tongue, and she’s
good
at it. “Maybe we can finally check out Singular Part with your head between my legs so I can actually listen to the dialogue for once!”
Fuck she’s
really
lapping at my most sensitive spots, slurping loudly, the
sound
alone is driving me wild, leave alone the actual feelings. Kathy’s going at it like she’s starving and I’m her favorite meal, like she’s trying make me lose control over my—
Fucking minx, she IS. She’s trying to win by shutting me up! I have to keep talking!
“Really … I can see … our relationship really improving, if you keep this up,” I pant, “and if you do a good enough job, I may …”
Focus, Nichole,
focus on the words
.
“... actually deign to … again … FUCK!”
Fingers raking down the back of my thighs, her head bobbing up and down—how is she so good at something she’s never done before?!
“... might actually deign to let you suck my dick again!” I finish.
Also, I fucking
finish
.
When I’m alone and engaging in, ahem,
solo amorous activities
, let’s call it, I really don’t
produce
very much anymore, if at all. Much cleaner that way.
Right, I’m
producing
.
My fucking stars am I
producing
.
… And she’s swallowing it all.
Shit, when did Kathy get so
hot
?
“Well,” she says as she gets up, wiping the corners of her mouth just a little. “It certainly appears I do not have an
exclusive
claim to excessively verbose behavior, here.”
“Uh huh?” I need a moment before I can come up with a better retort than that.
“You are certainly far more alluring when you take charge, Nichole …” Kathy continues, musing with a finger on her chin. “Perhaps you could even do it without my prompting, next time.”
Is that so?
“Yeah, I’m shutting you up again,” I announce, seizing her shoulders.
“I’d like to see you tr—”
Rupali
Having this conversation in the middle of a crowded dining hall is probably for the best.
We’re sitting at a little round table on high chairs, right in the midst of the breakfast rush, Kaal glumly plucking at the food I insisted he get. Neither of us has a summer class today, but meeting on-campus like this is familiar, routine, a twisted echo of the way we tend to begin nearly every day together. Kaal looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, poor lad, his hair more of a frazzled mess than usual, and the bags under his eyes distinctively more pronounced. I push his steaming teacup an inch closer to him and he morosely takes a sip.
“You look like shit,” I announce.
“Yeah. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I see.”
“No, wait, not like
that
—”
“It’s not my business,” I interrupt. “It really doesn’t matter anymore.”
Guiltily, I notice that my declaration seems to have hurt. It’s really sinking in now, for both of us.
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t,” Kaal mumbles.
Letting him chew on his toast, I look at the madding throng around us, allowing the incomprehensible cacophony of chair-scrapes and metal on ceramic and conversations bleeding into each other wash over me, wishing I could just dissolve into the faceless crowd and be anywhere else, anything else, besides
here
and
having this conversation
.
“I’m sorry, Rupali.”
“So you’ve said.” I look back at his watery eyes. “More than enough times.”
“Is it enough?”
Something about his tone, his stricken expression, really gets to me.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Huh?”
“You’re gonna pull this?” I snap. “‘Woe is me, pity me, comfort me Rupali, because I know just how deeply I have sinned and can never repent!’ If you’re going to apologize to me, do it with some spine. I am not here to absolve you.”
Kaal’s stunned look is more satisfying than it rightly should be.
“Okay. No, you’re right. I’m not going to do that.”
“Good.”
“I … I really am sorry. I know it’s inexcusable, and you’re right to be pissed.”
“Oh, you think I’m
pissed
?” I bark out a short laugh and let Kaal realize we’re doing this in public so
I
don’t make a scene. “I haven’t even
begun
to sort through the fucking messiness of you doing this to me with
Jeffrey
.”
“I’m—”
“No, later.” I hold a hand up, cutting him off. “First, I want to know why you couldn’t have just
talked to me
. You didn’t try to hide this—given what you did, that much at least is commendable. Why didn’t you say anything
sooner
, though? How long were you planning on keeping this up? Did you seriously think keeping this from me until
marriage
would work out
well
?”
The panic on his face and his ineffectual spluttering mollify me somewhat. I decide not to wait for him to collect himself and lay out some baseline reassurances that I should be up-front about.
“I’m not going to tell anyone you’re gay,” I mutter. “Please, relax. I’m not telling your parents. I hope you never seriously considered that I would, but I’ll say it all the same, since we’ve realized leaving things unsaid hasn’t worked out for us: you’re fine. I’m not going to make a fuss. We’re still engaged for all intents and purposes.”
Kaal’s reaction is tough to read, but he at least manages to find his voice. “Thank you.”
“No need. You don’t deserve that.”
“I didn’t think I’d be outed,” Kaal assures me. “Are you sure about the engagement, though?”
“We’ve kept up the charade this long, haven’t we?” I note bitterly.
“... I guess we have.”
There’s hesitation in his voice, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“Tahani’s right about me being a bit of a stereotype, I guess,” I start rambling awkwardly, covering my eyes with one hand. “Straight girl falling in love with her gay best friend.”
“Oh. You … oh.”
“You seriously didn’t realize?” I shake my head unhappily. “Fair’s fair. I probably should have clocked you too, but it was just … very neat and tidy. Until it wasn’t.”
“Yeah.”
Why isn’t he
saying anything
? I don’t even know what I want him to say, but I feel like such a naive, immature girl, building an imaginary life with a sweet, unthreatening man who of course was only unthreatening because he never had the slightest bit of interest in me. I settle on the elephant in the room.
“So. Jeff.”
“Right. Him.”
Is it me, or does Kaal sound as unhappy talking about him as I do?
“Did it have to be Jeff?” I bluntly inquire. “Could you not have at least picked a guy with any redeeming qualities, or like, a
spine
?”
“Really been learning how unpopular my boyfriend is these past few days,” Kaal grumbles.
“Your
boyfriend
?” I’m aghast. “You know you can do
way
better, right?”
“Can I?”
Recalling what Tahani’s told me, maybe not. “Look, my point is—do you even
know
about the stuff with the GSA?”
“I have noted an increase in some overly-catty Chirps, and I’ve dreaded finding out more about it.”
“He didn’t tell you, then?” I’m trying very hard not to sound as outraged as I feel. “I guess you don’t talk very much.”
“I mostly let him talk, yeah.” Kaal has the audacity to roll his eyes. “He’s very, let’s say, fanciful.”
“So you have no idea how he treated Tahani!” Keep your voice down, Ru,
keep your voice down
. “You have no idea how he treated
me
!”
“I … I think I can guess,” Kaal admits.
Amazing.
“Sweetie,” I begin in a voice dripping rage, “are you telling me you’re just going to sit there and shrug about
knowingly
dating a racist asshat?”
“Look, he’s …”
Kaal is struggling to formulate a rationalization, or even a sentence.
“... he’s
there
.” Kaal limply finishes. “He’s my first boyfriend, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Wow
.
“
Wow
.” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Yeah, you know what, you two are more alike than I thought.”
Seeing him wilt at that certainly isn’t satisfying, but it’s very much how I feel.
“Kaal, what’s the
point
?” I make one final, desperate attempt to get him to see sense. “You sound like a hostage. You sound like you’re just going along with it because you think you have to settle for it. Why do you just go along with things? Why don’t you try to go for something you
actually want
?”
After a long, long pause of just staring at his cold tea, Kaal finally responds.
“Because I can’t have what I want, Ru,” he whispers.
I’ve had enough of this.
“Enjoy staying miserable, then.”
Pushing off the table, I make my way to the exit, too disgusted to even look at him.