Sh¡t Dump

Reaching down to retrieve the pen, which is one he’d stolen from her earlier anyway, the dickhead, she turns back to him and says, “Go home, JC. I’m done for the day.”

“Aw, Ava, c’mon. We just got here.” It’s whiny and Ava’s the smallest bit endeared, as always, because he’s charming and guileless and really actually wants to spend time with her, even after she dumped him pretty unceremoniously when her interest in him flamed out about three weeks into their sort-of relationship. He’s giving her puppy-dog eyes and she rolls her own because he’s absolutely ridiculous. “We’ve been here for two hours, JC. You have study group with Zori soon anyway.”

He looks like he’s going to protest, but Chanel steps in. “Let’s go, doofus.” She wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls and Ava smiles at her gratefully until she says, smirking, “Ava has to go make pathetic heart eyes at the pretty girl over an ice cream cone she doesn’t want.” “Hey, I always want ice cream.” It’s…not a great comeback, and she knows it, sighs when Chanel laughs loudly and turns to walk away with JC, a totally rude, “Yeah right,” serving as her goodbye. Ava’s undoing the strap of her helmet when Chanel nearly yells, still walking toward the bus stop, “Ask her out, you idiot!” Ava flinches and looks toward the entrance of the store, but nobody is there to hear the call-out.

Also, though, she’s totally going to do it. She’s going to ask Beatrice out. Today. Right now. Because she wants to and has wanted to for like six fucking weeks and because on Friday some girl, some stupidly hot girl, had been leaning over the counter and touching her and Beatrice had blushed and Ava had squeezed a ketchup packet so hard she’d ruined JC’s white tee and damaged her own dignity pretty badly in front of Mary and Lilith, who is terrifying and who had looked at her like a fucking Orca who had found a bunch of baby seals to snack on. Literally the only thing that had made the night okay was Camila, an absolute saint, texting Ava later to tell her Beatrice wasn’t going out with the girl even though she’d really tried but “Ava get it together already because she’s not going to wait forever and she shouldn’t! She’s great!” She is. Cam’s right. So. Yeah. It’s time.

Ava runs a hand through her hair and trades her helmet for her favorite cap, putting it on backward and clipping her helmet to her messenger. She takes stock. She’s wearing denim shorts and a black crop-top underneath one of her favorite button-downs, black and covered in colorful shapes. Her right knee is scabbed over from a fall last week and there’s a hole forming at the big toe of one of her black-and-white checked Vans. She wiggles her toe and sees the threads move, the tip of her lime green sock poking through. She looks like herself. She looks good.

She pushes her shoulders back and walks out of the park and into the parking lot, board in hand. It’s a Monday afternoon and school hasn’t let out yet, so when Ava walks in, dropping her board into the little stand by the door, hardly anyone is there. She sees a very stressed woman with three small children by the indoor playground and a dude messing with his phone and eating fries in the corner and that’s it. It’s great, because it means Ava won’t feel bad about trying to keep Beatrice talking to her for as long as possible (she really, really has it bad) but it’s shit because it means she has no buffer time.

And yep, she’s almost immediately greeted with an amused, “Hello, Ava.” Leaning against the drink station and looking like she’s about to have a really good time is Mary. Ava sighs and smiles, waves a little and fortifies herself for the shit she’s about to take. At least Lilith isn’t on today.

For reasons she isn’t totally clear on but thinks boil down to “queer fam helps queer fam get jobs,” this McDonald’s is staffed by like half of her History of Medieval Spain seminar. She’d felt like she was in a very realistic and mundane dream two weeks into the semester when she’d walked in from the new skate park to get an ice cream cone and been served by the hottie with color-coordinated notes who sat next to her on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:30 to 11am while the also hot but absolutely terrifying woman who sat across from her glaring at everyone filled fry containers and the smoke show who sat next to her manned the drive-in. (How her History of Medieval Spain seminar came to be fucking stacked with hot queer women is less of a mystery—Professor Suzanne “step on my throat” Superion draws a very particular kind of student and Ava couldn’t be happier to fall into that category.)

Mary makes a tv-gameshow-style motion at the soda machine behind her, as if offering a prize. “Thirsty?” She’s so fucking smug, and she’s also depressingly right, which makes it way worse. Ava looks at the children now snacking at the table with their keeper and resists the urge to flip Mary off, sticking her tongue out instead because she’s very mature.

Before Mary can respond, they’re interrupted. “Hello, Ava.” Ava smiles automatically, turns in the direction of the voice so fast she’s at risk of whiplash and blurts, loudly, “Hi Bea!” She bounds over to the counter and leans against it, palms pressed flat and body tilting forward. It’s a genuinely innocent act; she just wants to be closer to Beatrice, who’s standing behind the register. But she watches Bea’s eyes drift down and then guiltily snap back up and she knows that the position combined with her top also does great things for her tits. She preens a little, self-confidence growing, and says, “How’s my favorite ice-cream-magician-slash-Religious Studies-major today?”

It’s a lot, but whatever—she’s way past pretending she’s anything other than a lot and anyone who has an issue can go find less. And anyway, it gets exactly the reaction she wants: Beatrice’s cheeks tinge pink at her enthusiasm, a small, pleased smile appearing on her face like it does nearly every time Ava says something even remotely complimentary. It’s a little weird, because in class Beatrice is like, model student who knows it. She always pays attention and makes points so good that Superion writes them on the board and operates with a general level of confidence that does embarrassing things to Ava. Outside of class, though, Beatrice kind of folds into herself. It seems almost like she isn’t used to people seeing her, remembering her, being glad she’s there, and Ava thinks that’s fucking wild and absolutely wrong.

Beatrice deserves someone who will be loud about her. She thinks of the girl from Friday, with her beautiful cheekbones and her wandering hands, and of Beatrice’s blush, the one Ava did not appreciate seeing directed at someone else even if she was, in the better parts of herself, very glad to see Beatrice getting the attention she deserves. And, yes, totally, Beatrice deserves all of the attention but she wants to be the one who gets Beatrice’s attention. And she wants to be the one who gets to be loud about Beatrice in a respectfully possessive way. If Beatrice is down, of course. The girl in question is still smiling at her, and Ava’s body leans even further forward on instinct, drawn to the stupidly perfect human in front of her. Her palms catch her weight, her feet lifting slightly from the ground. Beatrice’s eyes don’t wander again, sadly, but her head tilts in this way that Ava thinks indicates affection, and she’ll take that, for sure.

Bea’s voice is teasing as she asks, “Do you know a lot of Religious Studies majors?”

Ava grins at her, grins bigger when Beatrice angles just slightly closer, which Ava might think was an unconscious move if Beatrice weren’t maybe the most intentional person on the planet (there are at least four colors in her highlighter system and Ava’s 95% sure she irons her t-shirts). “Nope. But I don’t need to to know that you’re my favorite and the best.”

Mary says, loudly, “I’m going on break.” She passes by them and adds, enjoying herself way too much, “Beatrice, I was just asking Ava here about a drink. I’m sure you can also see she’s incredibly thirsty. Must be the skateboarding.”

Ava glances at the kids, still working through a pile of french fries, and puts her feet back on the ground, angling her body against the register so that she can flip Mary off and keep it shielded from tiny human eyes and from Beatrice. She wants to tell her to lick rust. She says, instead, “Thanks so much for your concern.” Mary keeps her shit-eating grin and saunters outside.

When she turns back to the counter, Beatrice is looking over the register at Ava’s hand in amusement and okay so Ava apparently hadn’t hidden her finger as well as she’d thought but at least Bea seems to think it’s funny instead of off-putting. She had once admonished Ava, totally unironically, when Ava had let fly an admittedly impressive string of curses after realizing she left her coffee sitting on a table in the student union. The tone of that ”Language, Ava” had made Ava’s stomach drop in a very unexpected and pleasant way.

“The usual?” Her eyes are really fucking pretty.

“Yep. Yeah. Please.” As Beatrice turns to grab a cone Ava gets her shit together. Right. Yes. Go. “Actually, Bea.” She turns back holding a cone and smiles, eyebrow raised in question as she waits, and Ava wants to kiss her. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? In, like, a date way?”

Her smile is gone then and she’s blinking slowly and oh shit, did Ava mess up? Was Bea not interested? Was Bea not gay? There’s no way Beatrice hadn’t noticed her flirting because she had literally never been subtle and also Bea had just been staring at her boobs and talked to Ava and smiled at Ava and blushed at Ava more than anyone else? Or anyone else Ava had ever seen. And Cam said! And Mary wasn’t mean enough to let her make an ass of herself, right? Not like this. Lilith, maybe, but…

Ava has become distracted, staring at the kid’s meal toy display to Bea’s right as she spirals, and when she looks back, Beatrice’s mouth is twitching and her eyes are bright with amusement, and oh, shit. “Um,” she tries to run a hand through her hair and hits her hat. Smooth. “So, exactly how much of that did I say out loud?”

“I apologize for so obviously staring at your chest earlier.” Her tone is at least half genuinely apologetic but the rest of it is amused? Delighted? Something in that range and definitely at Ava’s expense and that’s fair given the gay panic monologue she’d apparently just spouted at her crush in her place of work.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles as she tilts her head back and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. After a breath she forces herself to look at Beatrice, who is fully smiling now. She throws the cone away and steps toward Ava again and then her hand is on Ava’s forearm, which she had crossed with the other over her chest in what was a totally ineffective attempt at self-preservation. Hard when the attack is coming from your own fucking mouth. Beatrice’s hand is warm and her fingers are calloused and Ava short circuits (whatever fucking circuits are left) at the contact, staring in disbelief until Beatrice says softly, still amused, “I would love to go out with you sometime.”

“Yeah?” It’s the most she can manage. The fingers over her arm squeeze just slightly and Ava knows if Bea pushed even a little bit she’d fall right fucking over. “Yes.” Warm brown eyes meet hers as she takes her hand back. Ava misses the contact immediately.

“Cool. Um, maybe Thursday? Dinner?” Bea doesn’t usually work Thursdays and Ava’s shift at the gym near campus ends at 3pm so she’ll have time to go home and shower and lose it a bit over what to wear but not so much time that she’ll be able to talk herself into a full panic.

“Thursday works perfectly.” Ava pulls her messenger around and rummages for her phone, pulling it out and handing it to Bea. Based on what she knows from class and a lot of longing stares, Beatrice keeps all her stuff as neat and tidy as she keeps her uniform. So, she’s pretty sure her own phone is something out of Bea’s nightmares. One corner of the screen is shattered and scratches dot the rest while the back, an ice blue color Ava really likes, is covered in spidery lines from way too many drops and impacts suffered in Ava’s pocket at the park. Still, she can’t be fucked to get a case because it’s pretty and sleek and smooth(ish, at this point). Beatrice’s lips purse slightly but she says nothing, taking it, entering her number, and calling herself before handing it back. She removes her own phone, in its pristine black case, and immediately creates a new contact.

A group of teenagers comes through the door, loudly, followed closely by Mary, and Ava watches as Beatrice sets her shoulders. It’s very cute. Ava is going to date her. Incredible. “I’ll text you.”

Her smile breaks and her face is suddenly concerned. Ava’s nervous until: “Your ice cream. I completely forgot.”

Ava grins and waves her phone, nearly drops it and is stupidly charmed by the little flinch from Beatrice at the fumble. “Got something way sweeter.”

Beatrice shakes her head and half hides a smile, cheeks pink. Ava’s feeling very proud when she hears a loud groan from Mary, who’s stepping behind the counter again. “Absolutely not, Silva. Get out of here with that.”

Ava smiles at Beatrice one last time before basically skipping out, grabbing her board. She almost eats it three separate times because she’s so distracted on the way home, but she’s not even a little mad about it.

It’s both awesome and kind of torture to see Bea the next morning in class. They sit next to each other, like always, and Ava manages to keep it mostly together, flirting only slightly more than usual and letting her knee press into Bea’s below the table for most of class, the barely-there red under her freckles the only sign she’s even aware of the contact. She works an extra shift on Wednesday because she wants that date money and JC could give a shit about giving it up, only works because his parents make him even though they give him a shit-ton of spending money anyway.

It’s a bummer not to see Bea but she’s also texting her kind of non-stop. She started Tuesday night when she got home:

What’s Dracula’s favorite ice cream?

She didn’t expect a fast response, imagined Bea was busy with the flood of students and families who came in after work and school, so she was a little surprised to see Bea’s name pop up twenty minutes later: Blood orange?

Have you had blood orange ice cream?

No, but I am sure it exists. Not the answer then?

A good guess but no. It’s…

Vein-illa

Three eye roll emojis. And then a truly terrible joke about snails. It had gone on from there, intermittent jokes and also little snippets of actual conversation. It’s still happening Wednesday night as Ava gets ready for bed. She settles and then nearly hurls herself out of bed in excitement when she reads Bea’s latest text: Goodnight, Ava. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. From most people, it wouldn't be much, might even be discouraging. Ava knows Beatrice well enough at this point to know that from her, it might as well be fifteen firework emojis and twenty-seven exclamation points. She doesn’t bother to play it cool, as fucking if she would do anything other than encourage way more of that, and sends back immediately: Night, Bea. Me too. Really really. Along with three mutlicolored hearts.

She knows something is wrong the next morning when she gets to class because Beatrice is waiting outside of the classroom staring at her shoes and gripping the straps of her backpack (both over her shoulders, tightened evenly) as if they’ve personally offended her. When Ava gets close, Bea looks up and smiles unevenly and says, “I’m so sorry, Ava. I can’t go tonight. Lilith got the flu and I have to cover her shift.”

It sucks, of course, but Bea’s looking at her like she’s done something unforgivable, like she’s waiting for Ava to tell her off. Not for the first time, Ava wonders where exactly Bea comes from and what kind of shitheads she’s used to. She walks closer, slowly, smiles as gently as she can and takes a risk, reaching forward to tuck an escaped strand of Bea’s hair behind her ear and letting her hand skim Bea’s jaw as she pulls back. Bea’s eyes are big and her face is more relaxed, even if she does look a little confused and her hands are still white-knuckling the straps of her bag.

She keeps it simple, pretty sure Beatrice needs it. “Wanna try for this weekend instead?”

A few people file past them into the room and Ava knows they need to go sit or incur the wrath of Superion, whose anger is hotter in theory than in practice. She takes another chance, reaches up to tug at Bea’s left hand and laces their fingers. When Beatrice allows it, flexes her fingers lightly between Ava’s, Ava pulls them into the classroom, smiling a little at Bea’s still-wide eyes. She appears to have come back to herself by the time they reach their seats, squeezing Ava’s hand in an intentional way before taking off her backpack and settling in. As Superion gathers her notes, Beatrice leans closer, pressing her knee into Ava’s as she says quietly, “How does Saturday night work for you?” Ava beams.

Saturday morning she ends up, surprise surprise, at the skate park with JC, riding a little aimlessly and doing some reading for her Russian Lit class while he dicks around in the bowl. When he dips after a few hours, elbowing her just a little too hard as he tells her to have fun with Beatrice that night, Ava smiles like an idiot while he laughs.

Her stomach rumbles around noon and as she eyes the empty drive-thru, she makes a plan. Yeah, okay, so she’s gonna see Beatrice tonight but she wants to see her now and she’s right there and also, Ava’s legit hungry and it’s not even busy. So. She’s gonna get a fucking cheeseburger.

When she pays, Camila grins and Ava shrugs one shoulder as she says, “Cute, Ava.” When she rolls up to the window, Beatrice blinks in surprise and then shakes her head a little and the edges of her mouth tick up. “We’re not supposed to let you order on foot you know.”

Ava takes the burger and pops her board conspicuously. “Four wheels, baby. Totally counts as a vehicle.”

“Pathetic, Silva!” Mary calls over Bea’s shoulder and Ava shrugs again, winking at Bea before she rides off.

It takes her no time to finish the burger, and there are still no cars in the line, so she finds herself ordering fries, smiling at Camila as she laughs and bracing her arms on the window as Beatrice gets her order, her cheeks a shade darker this time around. Ava tips her helmet at Bea and says, as she takes her snack, “I only have fries for you.”

“Get out of here immediately with that.” Mary’s closer this time, swats at Ava from around Bea’s back, but the look on Bea’s face is open and affectionate and she’s so fucking handsome and Ava wants more of it. A lot more of it.

It takes slightly longer to finish the fries but luck is on her side because it’s still slow when she does, so she rolls through yet again. When Beatrice hands her the coffee, both eyebrows raised but still blushing, Ava says, easy, “I got thirsty.”

“You’ve been thirsty, Silva. Go away.” There’s no bite to it, and Mary doesn’t swat at her this time, just turns and walks toward the fryers shaking her head. Turning her attention back to Bea, Ava fidgets a little as she asks, “See you soon?” Bea bites her bottom lip and nods and Ava thanks bisexual Jesus that she only nearly face plants on her way down the drive.

It gets busy, of course, so Ava parks it outside and finishes her coffee and reads. She’s getting ready to go change for her date date date when she hears, “Ma’am. Your ice cream.” Ava’s up in a second, delighted as Beatrice holds the cone out to her and ducks her head. Ava can’t help but stare as she takes it, feels some drip down onto her hand. Beatrice’s hair is down, over one shoulder, and the sun is setting and wow .