chill the fuck out, you’re so young

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"I guess it doesn't." she said, pursing her lips. Because it didn't, really. It didn't matter how Maggie spelled it out, Amy clearly had no interest in rekindling whatever mutually orgasmic thing they had going on. It didn't matter whether or not Maggie had a boyfriend - or that her tolerance for men came and went with alarming rapidity - what mattered to Amy was that she'd been, well, kind of an asshole.

The beginning prickling of guilt sat heavy on her chest. She was good at hurting people's feelings, less so at owning up to her wrongdoings. Looking at Amy now, with her fluttering, fidgeting hands and her words echoing off the walls of the art-deco bathroom, Maggie was reminded of all the times she'd accidentally upset Sephy. Her face would turn downwards into a little half-pout, like she was trying not to let onto the fact Maggie had been a colossal bitch. Nothing hurt worse than upsetting Sephy, because Sephy was one of her oldest friends, and pretty much the kindest, sweetest person she'd ever met.

It didn't make much sense that seeing Amy uncomfortable would garner that same feeling she got when she made her best friend sad. There were few similarities between them. Except, well, the stirrings of attraction Maggie tried hard to push down when she saw both girls. And the fact that she kind of cared what they both thought of her.

Fuck, she like, cared about what Amy thought of her!

She drummed her fingers against the side of the sink, biting back a sigh as she frowned at the other girl.

"I don't date men." she stated, voice unwavering as she stared at Amy.

Ugh. She so hated grovelling.

"I'm sorry I was mean." she tried, fully aware of how icky and juvenile her words sounded. "And I'm sorry I didn't call. I can't remember if I said I would call, but. Anyway. It would have been like, courteous to call."

Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she gave the other girl a quick once over, trying to judge if her pathetic plea for forgiveness was working to loosen her up at all.

"This whole situation is lowkey super humiliating, so. I would really like if we could just call it even. And part ways as um, unlikely friends?" she rambled, feeling the skin stretch taut across her knuckles as her grip on the sink grew tighter. "That's if, you like, don't want to see me again?"

For a while, Amy had been stupid enough to fall for those games, but now she was just tired. She’d spent her fair share time letting herself be humiliated by others and herself, but she knew it was time to stop. Just from talking to Ty and Teddy – vague as she was about the identity of the other girl – she knew she was accepting a standard that she didn’t deserve. 

“Does Tiny Tim out there know you don’t date men?” Amelia asked, fixing the other girl with a stare. 

It would be just as easy to let her off the hook and avoid any discomfort, but that wasn’t who Amy was anymore. Whatever optimism she’d once carried had long since been stomped out of her through years of trauma and the dull ache of various hangovers. She no longer wanted to give people second, third and fourth chances to disappoint her. It was high time she accepted that once people showed her who they were, she should believe them the first time. 

Amy’s back was pressed against the harsh porcelain of the bathroom sink, her fingers still pinching at her split ends, wispy and broken. She pouted, knowing a girl like Maggie probably didn’t have split ends, not when she had stylists and beauticians on hand to make her look practically perfect in every way. Her hands dropped feebly to her side as she listened to the other girl’s awkward apology. It was clumsy and unrehearsed, as though she’d never envisioned she’d need to face Amy again, never mind say sorry to her. 

“I don’t care that you didn’t call,” Amelia scoffed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing right now. She hadn’t been hanging onto her phone waiting for the other girl to text or call. Her whole life wasn’t tied to knowing whether or not Maggie Chance remembered she existed or not. 

It was about the way she’d treated her when they’d been together far more than it was about forgotten texts or unanswered phone calls. It would be a long time before she forgot the obvious look of repulsion on Maggie’s face when they’d last bumped into each other. Sure, Amelia hadn’t expected her to kiss her there and then with an audience, but she thought she might have at least greeted her as a friend. 

“I’m so sorry that your shitty behaviour has been humiliating for you,” Amelia deadpanned, her tone harsher than she was used to hearing it. She rolled her eyes, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over her in turn. Even at her worst, Amelia wasn't a confrontational person, but she was at the end of her tether. Plus, Maggie was highkey ruining Christmas for her. “But how does this make us even exactly? You’re a dick to me and I save your ass, and that somehow makes us even? Do you think by being pretty and a popstar it makes you untouchable?” 

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