Ина (Ina)

—

“She’s just so pretty to me. You’re so pretty to me, sister.” 

“Why? Is it because I’m wearing black?”

“No, I’m just obsessed with you.”

Jane had said it because she was drunk. Seriously. Just because she was drunk. At this point, weeks into the competition, she had given up on denying her feelings for Nymphia to herself. But that didn’t mean the other girls had to know. Or that Nymphia had to know.

The morning after the goth runway, Jane woke up anxious and hungover. She had overdone it with the cocktails in the lounge and was now paying the price. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, dreading going onto the set, especially when her confession to Nymphia came floating back to her. 

She’d get over the hangover soon enough. She was more nervous about facing the other girls. One girl in particular.

Over the last few weeks, despite Jane’s best efforts, she and Nymphia had gotten close. Very close. 

After the talent show, Jane had promised herself to keep Nymphia at arm's length, knowing she was her biggest competitor, and because, for some unknown and totally unimportant reason, Nymphia made Jane’s heart leap every time she smiled at her. Gross. 

But ignoring Nymphia turned out to be easier said than done. Because even though Jane tried her best to avoid her, it seemed as though Nymphia wasn’t on the same page. 

During the first week that all the girls were together and making their outfits for the ball, Nymphia parked herself right next to Jane’s table. Throughout the day, she constantly peeked over to see what Jane was doing. She shot teasing comments Jane’s way about her garment and oh-so-innocently asked where Jane had ranked her in Rate-a-Queen. 

From the moment Nymphia picked the table next to hers, Jane felt like a deer in headlights. She did her best to volley back with Nymphia, clinging to her front of a cool and unshakable demeanor that she so easily wore in front of everyone else. She managed to make some joke about her immunity potion, but as her eyes flickered to the cameras, she wondered if everyone could tell how shaken she was. It chilled her how Nymphia immediately seemed to see right through her mask. 

Eventually, Nymphia locked into her own garment and left Jane to her work. But Jane could feel Nymphia’s presence next to her, even when they weren’t speaking. 

As they got ready for the runway, Jane tried to place herself as far away from Nymphia as possible, her mind still spinning from their earlier interactions. Nymphia’s garment was impeccable, and a strange mixture of awe, jealousy, and insecurity was running through Jane. Maybe if she could have a second to herself, she could control the wave of feelings coursing through her. 

But she didn’t get a chance. Once again, Nymphia sat down right next to Jane and began bombarding her with questions. How did she feel about the runway? Was she nervous? Where was she from? Nymphia had never been to Boston. What was it like? 

In the mirror, Jane saw the cameras focused on them. Her heart was racing. Her instinct was to throw up her walls and make an incendiary comment to avoid actually being real and talking about herself on camera. She wasn’t ready to be vulnerable in front of everyone; maybe she would never be ready, but especially not so soon.

But Nymphia seemed so honestly curious, and her smile was so sweet and endearing that Jane couldn’t not answer her. As they got to know each other while they got ready, Jane’s awareness of the cameras faded away. She stopped focusing on the role she was supposed to be playing and started actually being herself. She caught herself gazing into Nymphia’s eyes once, maybe twice, four times as Nymphia told her about Taiwan, moving to Brooklyn, and her relationship with drag. Jane almost forgot where they were and that there was a competition going on—she wanted to sit, listen to Nymphia talk all night, and admire the sparkle in Nymphia’s eyes as she talked about her art and her family.

When Nymphia won that night and threw herself into Jane’s arms after they went to the back of the stage, Jane was happier than she had been for her own win.

This was not supposed to happen. Nymphia was not supposed to be giving Jane this much attention. That was not part of the plan. 

And Jane really was not supposed to like it this much. 

—

Slowly but surely, Jane stopped fighting the pull she felt toward Nymphia. 

It wasn’t just that Nymphia was beautiful—and she was. It was that she was someone Jane admired, wanted to learn from, and wanted to learn about. When she wasn’t by Nymphia’s side, Jane missed her. Nymphia wasn’t a meaningless flirtatious ego boost. She was so much more.

As the weeks passed, their teasing comments and mirror-side conversations turned into long hugs after a day of filming, saved seats next to each other on the bus to and from set, and light touches of comfort on a shoulder or thigh when they each needed it. One day before walking into the werkroom, Nymphia was visibly exhausted, and Jane, without a second thought, scooped her up and carried her in. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It was only when she put Nymphia down and saw the rest of the girls’ wide eyes staring at her that it seemed like maybe a strange thing to do.

Jane wasn’t usually a touchy person. Nymphia was with everyone, but especially with Jane. Whenever she could, Nymphia always found a way to have a hand on Jane’s, rest her head on Jane’s shoulder, or wrap her arms around Jane from behind, pressing their bodies together. Even when they weren’t speaking, when she was touching Nymphia, Jane seemed to understand her completely. Nymphia seemed to like being close to Jane, too—though, sometimes, Jane couldn’t understand why. They were so different, but when they were together, it felt so right.

With anyone else, Jane would have frozen up at their closeness, probably made some biting remark about personal space, and shut it down. But with Nymphia, she was entirely comfortable. She even found herself reaching for Nymphia, initiating their contact, especially when Nymphia was stressing out about a challenge or crying at an emotional video one of the girls received from home. 

Jane loved how comfortable Nymphia was expressing herself. She felt everything Jane felt inside but wasn’t afraid to let it out. Jane couldn’t help smiling when Nymphia would flail around the werkroom, letting out all her worries and frustrations. The other girls saw it as strategy, but Jane knew better. Nymphia couldn’t help but be herself. It was one of Jane’s favorite things about her.

It was so embarrassing, and she’d never ever admit it, but spending time with Nymphia gave Jane the courage to be herself. As time went on, she (slightly) let down the walls she had spent so much of her life building. She wasn’t as outwardly expressive as Nymphia, but she had more to share than she initially had let on, and she ended up sharing more than she thought she would before going into the show.

Jane could tell the other girls had noticed how Nymphia had affected her. She treated Nymphia so much more delicately than everyone else. Jane had even felt the shift in herself; she was more at ease, more comfortable opening up. She had pulled back on her for-the-plot flirtation and out-of-pocket reads. She didn’t need them as defense mechanisms anymore. She even made a (failed) attempt to be congenial, which shocked them all, Jane included. But spending time with Nymphia had given her faith in being herself, all sides of herself. 

And Jane had noticed a shift in Nymphia, too. She was feistier, more ready to read the girls. Jane thought Nymphia seemed a bit more confident, maybe embodying some of Jane’s delusion. It made Jane’s heart warm to think that with all Nymphia had given to her, she may have given something back in return. 

That didn’t mean Jane was completely off her guard. Her coldness and fear of vulnerability came in waves. Sometimes, she let herself fully bask in Nymphia, thankful to even have met someone like her. And sometimes, she would get in her head and worry that it was all pretend.

Jane was well aware they were filming a show, and this could all be for the cameras. It didn’t seem like Nymphia would play mind games like that—even though the other girls would disagree—but Jane couldn’t be 100% certain. To protect herself from being humiliated, she let herself lean into what she felt for Nymphia but never outwardly questioned what was going on between them. They were two people who enjoyed each other and were having fun. It was causal. Literally not a big deal at all.

But then came Jane’s drunken speech about how pretty she thought Nymphia was. How obsessed she was with Nymphia. That blew the whole “causal” thing out the window. Sure, it was true, but why did Jane have to say it? It was going to be harder to brush off as acting. And what did Nymphia think? At first, she seemed taken aback. But then she smiled at Jane’s compliments, saying, “I liiiiiive.” Jane couldn’t gauge what exactly that meant. They hadn’t talked about it after. 

As she climbed out of bed, Jane winced at the thought of seeing Nymphia today. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain there was no way Nymphia could feel what Jane felt for her. She had fucked everything up, actually putting their whatever-it-was into words. Nymphia was smart; she was probably playing her liking for Jane up for the cameras. And Jane couldn’t blame her—if she weren’t so enamored by Nymphia and could treat their connection as a fun little side plot, she would do the same.