#cksapphicsummer

***

“Thanks for coming out with me today.”

Yasmine watches Moon climb in the new Porche. Hair tied back, smile relaxed, patterned orange dress sweeping in a delicate cloud around tanned legs.

So much of her’s just the same. Impressive that a whole summer full of karate drama bullshit didn’t even bruise that carefree, easygoing spirit.

If anything, it strengthened. Perhaps out of spite, whether or not Moon was consciously aware of it.

Some parts have definitely shifted, though. There’s an iron resolve that’s grown under those thin shawls and short skirts. An extra coat of armor she’s sprouted, thanks to Hawk. Thanks to Yasmine.

Her stomach twists guiltily. It’s the kind of protection someone like Moon should never have to develop.

The world is a cruel place. Unfair, cutthroat, brutal to anyone who doesn’t fit the proper “mold.” Yasmine’s always known that.

She just never thought she’d be the one to teach it to Moon, with her friend’s wide-eyed naiveté and innocent hope that no one was that shitty a person—only misguided.

Yasmine knows she’s the exception to that rule.

“Are you okay?”

She blinks. Reclined in the passenger’s seat, Moon’s fixing her with the kind of concerned gaze she almost never deserves.

“Yeah.” It comes out sharper than she means. A habit she should probably work on. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You…were staring at me and idling the car. You’re kind of out of it. Should we stop for iced coffee?”

“Right.” Yasmine forces a smile. “Was just, ah…thinking about how I’m relieved we can hang out again. Don’t make fun of me for being a sappy bitch, but I missed you.”

Moon laughs—and oh god, she missed that too.

Not that she’ll ever admit it aloud, but it was horrendously stupid to think she could cut Moon off. To think she wouldn’t come crawling back, mesmerized like some idiot in a spy movie falling into the world’s most obvious honey trap.

Not that Moon would ever intentionally honeypot anyone. But she has a way of making you care too much, and not realizing it until it’s too late to save yourself.

“Same,” Moon says. “Actually really glad you’re not still mad at me.”

“Oh, no, I am. Incredibly lame of you to ditch me for a guy who looks like the main character of a budget Sonic the Hedgehog live action remake. But I guess I’ll let it slide this once.”

Moon bursts out snickering—the same way she always has when Yasmine’s bluntness catches her off-guard. There’s something comforting about the familiarity.

“Appreciated,” Moon says.

As they weave out of the hilly Encino neighborhood, Yasmine’s grip on the steering wheel loosens. She didn’t even realize she was squeezing.

“Although I’d be an idiot to turn down iced coffee,” she adds. “Maybe if we wait ‘til we get there, we can Instagram it.”

“Damn. If I knew you were in the mood, I would’ve made you some for the cooler.”

Yasmine winces.

It was a habit they’d fallen into their freshman year. Moon fiddled around with her parents’ coffee machine, using Yasmine as her guinea pig to test out various experimental lattes. Yasmine had tried just about every plant-based creamer under the sun now—and shockingly, even found a handful that didn’t taste like shit. It never failed to make her feel pampered and cared for, even if some of Moon’s combinations were a little…unconventional. (She’s pretty sure Moon spiked her oat milk hazelnut latte with hemp once.)

Something about Moon being so ready to pick the kind gesture back up—after everything—makes Yasmine feel like a horrible person all over again.

“It’s fine.” Her voice is tight. “My mom doesn’t give a shit if we get some food on the credit card. And those kinda covert promo posts get more likes, anyway.”

They turn onto the 405 entrance ramp, where 11 a.m. traffic is already moving as if the entire freeway is stuck in a swamp. Apparently they aren’t the only teenagers trying to get in one last beach trip before the school year.

Speaking of. Moon’s end-of-summer party is in a few days. Which Yasmine will have to miss because…reasons.

Or one reason, mainly. One sharp-eyed, curly-haired, leather-jacket-wearing, much-hotter-than-Yasmine reason.

Ugh.

Her concern isn’t her and Piper getting catty with each other—although she certainly wouldn’t rule it out. She’s much more worried about what’ll happen if she actually likes Piper.

Because Moon deserves someone kind and considerate who treats her well. And the past year or so, she’s had pretty shit luck with that.

And yet. Yasmine has a feeling Piper could be the best girlfriend to ever grace the planet, and the sight of her would still feel like a knife to the gut.

I’m sorry, I wish I could. Ros is having this influencer mixer thing in Big Bear and my parents will kill me if I don’t go.

She’s ironed out the excuse a thousand times, and it sounds plausible enough. Moon knows Yasmine’s parents are crazy, and obsessed with everything their precious Rosalie does.

Hopefully it’ll suffice to not further strain an already-frayed thread. A thread Yasmine’s trying to duct tape back together.

“It’s a shame Sam couldn’t make it,” Moon pipes up suddenly.

Yasmine freezes.

She’s not sure where she and Sam stand. If Yasmine had her way, they’d be done. She seriously doubts there wasn’t any truth to what Kyler told her and Moon.

Besides, Yasmine would bet good money Sam’ll throw her lot in with Aisha next year, now that Aisha’s everyone’s favorite fucking wedgie-giving bitch, apparently.

But Moon’s fond of Sam. Apparently, they rekindled their friendship while she was in France.

While Moon still didn’t know if she and Yasmine were going to patch things up. While she believed it was best to let Yasmine go and make things right with all the people her ex best friend hurt.

And Yasmine doesn’t think trying to get her way in the Sam matter will do much to help her hold onto the friend that, against all odds, she managed to get back.

“Yeah,” Yasmine lies. “A shame.”

“Guess she’s too busy with her new dojo boyfriend.”

Moon snickers again. Yasmine glances over, eyebrows raised.

“Her what now?”

“Didn’t you see her Instagram story? She and this guy she met through karate, they’re totally—wait.” Moon’s eyes widen as Yasmine frowns in confusion. “Did you unfollow her?!”

Yasmine’s eyes flick back to the road, chest turning in embarrassment. Before she can think of an excuse, Moon gasps in smug delight.

“Oh, you petty bitch.”

Yasmine huffs. “Look, her stupid ex-bestie embarrassed me in front of the entire school! Forgive me for thinking we weren’t really on following terms.”

Her friend only laughs, seemingly content not to rib any further. Another thing Yasmine’ll have to add to the list of neverending things she’s grateful to Moon for.

How annoying. She already owes Moon so much, and it’s only getting worse.

“Then I guess I’ll have to catch you up myself,” Moon says. “So when Sam started doing karate again, her dad was training this other guy, too. They hit it off, apparently. But she hasn’t told her dad they’re together yet because this kid’s also living with them because his home life is really bad so the LaRussos invited him to stay in their spare room so he could actually get regular meals—”

“Wait, wait.” Despite herself, Yasmine’s overcome with morbid curiosity. “Miyagi Do or whatever, right? Please tell me Sam’s new boytoy isn’t the same freakshow who tried to hit on me on my birthday. Donatello, or whatever the fuck you said his name was.”

Moon chuckles. “What, Demetri?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Yasmine makes a face. “The I-promise-I’m-not-a-stalker-I-just-watch-you-across-the-cafeteria guy. I’d honestly be shocked if he ever landed a girl.”

“Well, he does karate, too. Not like Miguel and Robby, though.” She lets out a dreamy sigh, gazing out the window. “I’ve gotta take you to the next AVT. So many hotties there.”

Yasmine might be sick.

“Right, yeah. Totally my dream to land some shrieking, possessive, testosterone-loaded freak who tattoos my name on him without me asking and then tries to use it to guilt me to stay with him after he beats people up over Yelp reviews. Husband material right there.”

Moon winces. Yasmine doesn’t hold back a smug grin.

The hopeful naiveté can be endearing, but Moon really should have known better than that one.

“They’re not all like that,” she mumbles.

“Come on.” Yasmine scoffs. “In what world would I want some gross, sweaty braindead maniac rubbing himself all over me and acting like I’m his pretty little bitch on a leash? Hard fucking pass.”

She’s thrown off by Moon’s dubious look.

“Didn’t you used to get Kyler to beat up anyone who got in your way?”

“Well, yeah, but that was different. It was a convenience thing—I didn’t get some disgusting girl hard-on because of it.”

The very thought makes her shudder. Boys are good for intimidation purposes, but their uses end there.

Yasmine shuffles her legs, stomach tightening. If…well, that was the rent she might have to eventually pay for guys like Kyler to do her bidding, then to hell with it—she’d do her dirty work herself.

***

“So Rosalie really got lost at the Cannes film festival.”

Moon’s body bends gracefully as she flaps the beach towel out behind her. The wind catches it perfectly, straightening it as she guides it to the ground.

Yasmine tracks her movements, insides aching. Gleaming, sun-kissed skin, perfectly curved body, silky chestnut hair…

She’s such a fucking tease. And from the way she’s deliberately taking her time squatting to put down the towel and stretching up again…

She damn well knows it.

Well, two can play at this game.

“Oh, yeah.” Yasmine sets their cooler down and strides over to her friend. “She knows some actor who was supposed to get us into this premier, but he got sidetracked schmoozing on the main walkway. Apparently Christopher Nolan was there, and—”

Moon begins to open their umbrella. Yasmine gently but firmly takes it away. “Here, let me.”

“Are you sure?” Moon looks worried. Cute. “It’s big, Yas. It’ll crush you.”

“Oh, please. I’m taller than you! Besides.” She fixes Moon with a conniving smirk. “You and Sam aren’t the only ones who get to feel up long, hard rods.”

As she slides her fingers across the umbrella handle, Moon giggles, scandalized. “I…didn’t know you liked that sort of thing.”

“See, umbrellas aren’t whiny, boring little shits who never shut up about how great their handle is, or cry when you tell them a different umbrella has a better handle.”

“Anyhow.” Yasmine slung the umbrella over one shoulder. “Ros’s actor friend vanishes, so she runs off to find him, right? In, y’know, that one slutty green gala gown she wears in all the party makeup tutorial livestreams. She got yanked into some side tent because they actually thought she was co-starring in the new JLo movie! Was like an hour before we found her.”

She saunters across the towel and plants the umbrella in the sand as she recounts the story. Moon’s eyes wander across her, as palpable a sensation as heat rays tracing her back in a tanning salon.

Yasmine smirks. Moon likes strong people? Girls in leather jackets and boys who dive into punching showdowns?

Hell, she can be strong, too. Just because she prefers others to do the work for her doesn’t mean she’s not capable.

She stands on her toes as she cranks the umbrella open, making a point to flex long, thin legs as she does it. She takes her time adjusting the thing, letting the sun catch a blinding gleam in her summery cyan manicure.

A breeze ruffles the skirt of Yasmine’s sundress, cool air brushing against her back legs. She makes no effort to stop this.

Maybe Moon will enjoy the view. Would do her some good to remember what she’s missing.

“You, um…you doing okay with that?”

Moon’s completely flustered. Yasmine’s so self-satisfied it could eat her up.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” she says airily. “Just a bit awkward. But if Kyler’s not gonna be around to lift shit for me, then I’m not about to wait around for someone else who will.”

“I mean, I could go bat my eyelashes at one of those surfer guys and get them to help us. Not like it would be hard.”

Yasmine shudders.

“What, and have to deal with him trying to menage-a-trois us all day? It’d cause more problems than it’d solve.”

She loosens her fingers—strategically enough that the umbrella tie toppling to the sand looks like an accident. As it hits the beach, she groans.

“Ugh. Damn thing.”

Yasmine slowly inches her feet apart, bending at the waist and making sure her…well, her back end is as noticeable as it will go without looking ridiculous.

Maybe it’s her imagination, but she swears Moon sucks in her breath.

Yasmine spends several seconds plodding through the sand, umbrella tie in full sight the entire time. When the search is convincing enough, she grabs the tie and quickly stands back up.

“Did you just use the Legally Blonde Bend-and-Snap on me?”

It’s Yasmine’s turn to blush.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. The thing where you pretend to drop something so you can lean down and get it and show off your ass. I know you’re not that openly slutty unless you want someone to see.”

Yasmine stares at the umbrella, face probably making her look like she ditched the sunscreen today. She’s not about to let Moon see.

“Oh, don’t be so enamored with yourself! Not everything is about you.”

Moon snickers. “Yeah, but that sure was.”

“Ugh. You can’t prove that.”

“I may as well be able to. Your aura’s all full of it.”

Yasmine fingers the hem of her dress, growing more and more flustered.

Moon didn’t used to be this cheeky. Or this…bold. Learning to stand up for herself sure gave the girl a self-made remodel.

And it’s driving Yasmine absolutely insane.

She wants to scream. Wail. Pull her hair. Beat her fists in the sand.

Anything to fight off the effect this New Moon is having on her.

But to hell with it. She hasn’t pulled her last ace yet.

“So are we ready to hit the waves or what?” She takes a deep breath, finally turning back to Moon and gesturing toward the lapping ocean. “It’s hot as shit out, and I didn’t come here just to tan.”

“Sure. But let me grab a drink first.”

As Moon reaches into the cooler, Yasmine starts to peel off her hot pink sundress. She makes a point not to rush, wanting to savor her friend’s reaction.

Oh, she’ll love this.

When Moon turns around, she nearly chokes on her Arizona iced tea.

“You didn’t.”

Yasmine smirks. “I did.”

The other girl shakes her head, mouth tightening. “You really just—ugh.”

“What?” Yasmine bats her lashes, feigning innocence. “It’s a perfectly good bathing suit! What’s the problem?”

Moon groans, yanking off her own sundress in one frustrated motion. “Well, one of us is going to have to change!”

And for a moment all Yasmine can do is stare, taking in the tie-dyed blue, black, and white bikini identical to the one she’s sporting. Matched not for some giggly best friends stunt, but out of a sort of mutual pettiness that still lingered from that fateful night by the bonfire.

The next moment, she’s howling with laughter.

“Oh, you catty bitch. And here I was thinking you didn’t have a mean bone left in your body.”

Moon crosses her arms, glaring. “It was my bathing suit to begin with,” she says, tone snippy. “You were the one who copied my style!”

“Yeah, because I thought it’d be cute if we matched. And you thought so, too, until you went drooling after Spikehair McRage Issues. And now I’m ripping you off? Convenient.”

Her smirk widens as Moon splutters incoherently, arriving at some kind of logical dead end.

“Come on now.” Yasmine pushes her bottom lip out in a fake pout. “All our drama’s water under the bridge, isn’t it? It can be a quirky bestie thing again, you know.”

She knows damn well Moon’s annoyance goes deeper than having her outfit plagiarized. And she also knows that playing dumb as Moon gets more and more quietly exasperated is one of the funniest things she’s ever seen.

Yasmine’s willing to let bygones be bygones. But the Old Yasmine—the one with her heart still torn out from the only person who mattered to her abandoning her at a moment’s notice—can’t resist a few jabs here and there.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why I’m upset.”

Yasmine blinks, taken aback.

So Moon’s directly voicing gripes regularly now. That wasn’t just a one-time thing.

It’s a little intimidating.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She keeps up the act, wondering how far she can get.

Moon takes a long swig of tea before speaking, as if to gather strength.

“When you posted those social media pics over the summer…you wore it as a dig at me, didn’t you?”

She opens her mouth, trying to think of a justification and coming up short.

“Not about to believe you ‘just felt like it’ or ‘just forgot.’” Moon snorts derisively. “I know blue tie-dye’s not your style. You only ever got one of those because I did, and you thought it’d be funny if we looked the same.”

Yasmine hesitates, a stone forming in her stomach.

Perhaps if Moon’s ditching her filter, then Yasmine doesn’t need one either. Perhaps brazenly voicing the unsaid with 0 reservations is their new normal.

Strange as that would be.

“I wanted to remind you what we were,” Yasmine admits quietly. “What we had, that you…decided you didn’t want anymore. And I guess also remind you that you could like…turn your back on me and do the ‘reform’ thing all you wanted, but that wouldn’t ever change the fact that you were my best friend. That there’s a lot about us that’s exactly the same, and you can’t pretend you didn’t go along with all the shitty stuff I did for a long-ass time.”

“But I stopped. I apologized to people. I tried to change.” Moon frowns. “Isn’t that what matters?”

“I’m not saying you’re not like…a way better person than me.” Yasmine smiles sadly. “I’ll admit that now. But you’re not some flawless saint. And you can’t just erase the person you were when you were with me.”

“I guess not. But I was never that happy when I felt like…like I was your obedient little pet or something.”

The words cut deeper than Yasmine expects.

“Is that—is that really how you think I saw you?”

Moon realizes she’s hit a nerve.

“I—I don’t know.” Some of the steel is gone from her voice, guilt poking through. “It felt like that sometimes. I know you cared about me, and you were working through a bunch of shit and couldn’t be super open about it. But you always made everything about you.”

And fuck—Yasmine can’t argue with that. She stares at the beach towel, shuffling her feet.

“And why did you wear it today?” Moon’s voice hardens. “To needle me again?”

Yasmine crosses her arms, finally looking up. “And why did you wear yours?”

Moon stops, caught at an impasse. Yasmine’s smirk returns.

“See? We’ve still got a thing or two in common.”

She saunters over, swaying her hips and shifting the tie-dye bikini back and forth.

“I knew there was some mean bitch left in you. Otherwise you’d never have agreed to hang out with me again, hmmmm?”

She smiles, and it’s every bit as smug and conniving as the mask Old Yasmine always hid behind. Moon inhales sharply, leaning back as Yasmine sweeps through more and more of her personal space. By the time her friend gets within inches of Moon’s face, she’s a tensed-up, flustered mess.

Interesting how her feet stay planted when it’d be easy to back up. Maybe that new assertiveness of hers is pressuring her to stand her ground. Or maybe…

“I think we’ve both been feeling a little petty about that whole mess on my birthday, haven’t we?” Yasmine murmurs the words against Moon’s lips, tantalizingly close. Their bodies are brushing now, electricity fizzing under Yasmine’s skin at every point of contact.

She’s burning to know if Moon will close the distance. Give into temptation and finish the job, like Yasmine knows she wants to.

Moon’s eyes start to shut, lips pursing. Yasmine’s smile widens, reaching out manicured cat claws and devouring the metaphorical canary.

In one quick motion she turns, sweeping one arm around Moon and using her other to pull out her phone and snap a selfie. Then she’s gone, stepping away to drop the photo on Instagram and type a caption.

“Twinsiessss!” she hums, reading it aloud. “Missed beach days with this girl. X x x x.”

Moon shakes her head, scoffing. You tease, her glare says.

Well. It’s only payback, isn’t it?

“We’re ridiculous,” she says, sighing. “This is one step away from those annoying ‘his’ and ‘hers’ t-shirts.”

The implication isn’t lost on Yasmine—and it’s all the proof she needs that Moon was one bad decision away from breaking Piper Elswith’s heart.

Is it wrong that she takes a fucked up sort of pride in it?

Shoving the quandary from her mind, Yasmine claps her hands. “Okay, enough of all that. Let’s go for a fucking swim.”

She crams her phone in their swim bag, haphazardly throwing a spare beach blanket over their belongings. Grabbing Moon’s wrist, she tugs them toward the sea.

It’s nice to hold her again. That tanned, lotioned-up skin never fails to feel perfect under Yasmine’s.

Moon laughs, expression coy. “Feels strange to be running around in our bikinis again. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Yasmine’s face grows hot. It’s Moon’s turn to get her blushing, apparently.

“You remember the last time we did that?” Moon prompts. As though one rubbing around the sensitive spots of her memory wasn’t enough to trigger them.

“Oh, yeah.” She chuckles, and it’s a little bittersweet. “How could I forget?”

***

Random author's notes, in no particular order:

I realized that I put not one but two spy movie mentions in my recent YasMoon fics...so now I have a headcanon that her dad is super into James Bond and spy/thriller movies and that's how she's familiar with all the tropes! I like to think it's one of the few things they can still bond over and enjoy together, since I HC that Yasmine's relationship with her dad has gotten more and more strained over the years as she feels like she has to hide the fact she's a lesbian (and he's probably also out of the country a fair bit, if S4 is anything to go off of).

I actually find Yasmine and Sam's relationship so interesting??? Like Yasmine showed 0 guilt when she dropped her in S1 and readily sided with Kyler over her (in contrast to Moon, who looks guilty about cutting Sam off and seems upset by Kyler's public slut-shaming stunts). But then come S3, they're friends again??? I'm left to think they only really made nice because they both care about Moon and want to make her happy, because otherwise I don't think they'd have any reason to forgive each other. (Which kinda further proves my point about Yas being gay for Moon--"ugh I can't stand this shit-talking blowjob-giving bitch, but I'll be nice to her for you and you ONLY, babe!" Like Moon is really the only person who can keep Yasmine's bitchiness at all under control lmao. Even Demetri does a shit job of calling her out XD) And then by the time S5 rolls around, she and Sam seemed to have developed some genuine friendly affection for each other--which I think is kind of neat! The power of Moon's influence, amirite???

Yasmine's hapless lesbian ass really can't think of any better way of flirting than being like "oh nooooo!!! Kyaaaa!!! The wind went under my skirt!!! KYAAAA!!! I bent over to pick something up and you saw under my dress!!!" like a cringey anime girl. I would attest in a court of law that she is just THAT much of a disaster when it comes to openly and publicly flirting with girls. Like she hasn't the faintest idea what she's doing!!! She wants to get the point across but god forbid anyone notice she's gay!!! It needs to look accidental for plausible denial reasons, okay!!! Oh, the joys of writing a deeply closeted sapphic flailing her way through life <3

I just KNOW that Yasmine and Moon know Legally Blonde. Like how could they not??? The main character is a California valley girl XD Yasmine claims she watches it over and over because she loves Elle's aesthetic, but she secretly envies how smart Elle is and kind of wishes she could get a high-end kick-ass businessy job she could show up to in a bright pink suit. She also aspires to have a little purse dog, although she's partial to pomeranians and Japanese spitzes a little more than chihuahuas.

It's our lord's year 2023 and I am still saying the matching bikini bit from S2 was gay as fuck. Like Yasmine definitely knew what she was doing and she definitely wore that shit on purpose. And girl has enough basic fashion sense to not get an identical garment as her bestie unless she wants them to be matchy matchy. Y'know. Like a couples costume. Pretty damn fruity innit

***

“What the fuck.”

Moon yawned in tired confusion, trying to piece together why Yasmine was so distraught.

“Mmmm. What?”

“We stayed up all fucking night.”

Yasmine nodded at the vast panoramic window, her face outlined in a faint orange glow. It took Moon a moment to realize it wasn’t just from the city lights.

Somewhere along the way, among the smoking and the laughing and the making out and the easy conversations, dawn crept up on them. The tree-covered hillside was bathed in rosy light, yellow porch lamps and streetlights mingling with the first rays of sun.

“Oh my god.” Under the haze of drugs and alcohol and sleep deprivation, Moon felt the alarm catch up to her. “Are we gonna die, Yas?”

“No, idiot.” Yasmine jabbed her shoulder—hard, but still affectionate. As was Yasmine’s way. “You’ll just be kind of tired later. And we can use my espresso machine.”

“Because my dad says if you don’t sleep, you’ll start seeing spirits and demons—”

“Your dad also licks LSD tabs enough to show up the damn tootsie pop owl, Moon.”

Moon snorted, lifting a foot from where it rested on Yasmine’s leg and kicking her lightly in the stomach. The other girl only cackled, emanating the same smug victory as always.

And god was it hot.

“I seriously can’t believe we pulled an all-nighter for no reason.” Yasmine laughed, one hand starting to absentmindedly massage Moon’s feet. “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since I was like 12.”

Moon frowned. “What were you staying up all night for in middle school?”

“Oh, you know.” Yasmine clicked her tongue. “My mom wouldn’t let me ditch school on my 13th birthday, so I stayed up as a protest. I really didn’t want to like…cross the threshold of finally becoming a teenager while trapped in the shittiest place on earth. So I tried to put it off as long as I could.”

“Did it work?” Moon gave her a coy look.

“Oh, shut up.” Yasmine snickered, shoving her a little harder than before. Moon fell to the carpet in a giggling heap, feet still leaning against Yasmine’s stomach.

It was a strange sort of comfort, she thought. The effortless ease of being with a best friend.

A best friend.

Something Moon hadn’t had for a long while. Possibly not since early elementary school, where she had a bad habit of befriending girls just as strange as her only for them to move away the next year.

But then Yasmine happened. And it seemed that, unless disaster struck, she was there to stay.

“So be straight with me.” She gave Moon a searching look, drowsiness slowing her movements. “Did you secretly—”

“Be straight with you.” Moon cut her off. “You were Frenching me like your life depended on it 4 hours ago, and you want me to be straight with you.”

Yasmine’s entire face flushed. “You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, and you used the funniest possible wording for it.”

“You’re so annoying.”

You think so? Doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.

Yasmine wasn’t open about fondness. But Moon could always feel it, hovering in the air in a sort of balmy, indescribable energy.

“But real talk.” Yasmine went back to scrutinizing her. “Did you secretly do one of those like…weird Wiccan spells when we burned the incense? To make time speed up or whatever?”

“No.” Moon had to smirk. “You just like hanging out with me. You wasted an entire night on me that you’ll never get back.”

And so Yasmine had. She could tell Moon tomorrow that she never wanted to see her again, and it couldn’t erase the hours they’d spent with their auras interlaced in that beautiful living room. The time their souls spent weaving into one blinding beam, like the first ray of sunrise over the Valley.

Yasmine answered with an eyeroll, but her cheeks were still undeniably red. Moon savored the taste of a rare victory.

“You like hanging out with me, Yasmine Pyne,” she taunted playfully. As though voicing it again would cement it into something more tangible. More permanent.

“Oh, bullshit.” Yasmine scoffed—albeit one devoid of any real disdain. “I invited you over to dance around my house and get crossed with me because I hate you.”

And Moon burst out laughing, because that quick, deadpan wit had to be her favorite thing in the world.

She hoped it would always be a short reach away.

“Speaking of the incense, though!” She sat up, suddenly reaching for a roll of paper towels on the ebony wood coffee table. “We should get back to work.”

They’d made quite a mess earlier, the remains of amber, cedar, jasmine, and copal sprawled across the decorative record shelves that Yasmine’s parents had never stored a single record on. Until about an hour ago, they were diligently cleaning it up.

Or maybe it was 2 hours? Moon wasn’t quite sure when they got sidetracked.

“How’d we even end up down here?” Yasmine glanced at the white carpet below them, which at some point they must have decided was a better seating arrangement than anything else the room had to offer.

“This probably helped.”

Moon plucked the empty rosé bottle from where it had almost rolled under a navy blue couch. The wine really was exceptionally shitty grade, for being from Yasmine’s mother’s padlocked liquor cabinet.

But Yasmine figured out the combination long ago, as well as the fact that the crappier the wine was, the quicker her mother would completely forget it existed.

Yasmine laughed, and Moon didn’t think it would ever stop being addictive. Full, beautiful, showing off dimples that only glowed their brightest when the frosty walls came down.

“We’re ridiculous. Loveseat over there’s worth 4 grand…and yet here we are.” She patted the floor, rolling her eyes.

“Should we move, then?”

“Mmmmm…no. That sounds like a lot of work.”

Yasmine ran thin, delicate fingers down Moon’s leg. Serenity trickled across her body, more cleansing than settling into a warm rose bath.

She leaned back, reclining on the carpet and closing her eyes. For a moment she swore she was floating, suspended in the sunrise with Yasmine backlit by the approaching morning. Both of them one with the sky and the vast infinity beyond.

She had so much to say, but wasn’t sure how to voice any of it without sounding silly.

Does she know she’s my peace? Does she know I never knew what bliss could really be until we entwined ourselves? Does she know I haven’t been this happy in a long time?

Does she know I’m falling in love? Does she know it scares me?

Does she know I still want to hold on as hard as I can?

“God.” She opened her eyes to see Yasmine smiling down at her—the kind of rare, unrestrained affection she could get used to. “You’re the coolest person I know, and I get to see you every day. I’m the luckiest bitch in the world.”

Moon thought she was, too.

***

Their shoes were kicked off at the foyer entrance, forgotten.

Yasmine led Moon around the hall’s velvet centerpiece, twirling with one hand on her friend’s waist and the other on a glass of merlot. The marble floor was cold against Moon’s feet, but her cheeks were burning.

It all felt like an elegant princess ball, straight out of some fairy tale picture book. Well…a princess ball if True Love’s Kiss was completely fucking unattainable, anyways.

She never should’ve agreed to this—“practicing” for the Halloween dance with Yasmine, of all people. Now she was an undignified, blushing, well-on-her-way-to-being-crossed mess.

Not like Yasmine was doing much better for herself.

Already half-drunk, her merlot swayed this way and that as she pulled Moon through the foyer. She giggled and hummed along to the soft pop music drifting from the boombox from the corner, green eyes bloodshot and slowly drifting shut.

Moon knew on some level that disaster was eminent. But the entire scene was so gloriously strange and delightfully ridiculous that all she could do was go along with it.

“We are so dumb.” She sniggered the words in between puffs from a bong, intermittently put down on Yasmine’s rose gold couch.

“Yeah. We’re idiots.” Yasmine erupted into a devilish grin, completely unperturbed. “But you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

Moon playfully blew a puff of smoke into Yasmine’s face. “I guess I am.”

“Tooooold you this was a great idea.”

One more lap around the centerpiece before the night irreversibly shifted.

A tiny misstep, and Yasmine’s leg collided with the velvet arm of the couch. She yelped, toppling forward and sending burgundy sloshing from her wine glass.

Gray-green eyes stretched wide with horror as Moon felt something wet on her. It was as though Yasmine banished her altered state with sheer force of will, now fully cognizant of the unfolding catastrophe.

“Shit. Moon. I’m so sorry.”

Her hand flew from Moon’s waist, covering a pained gasp. Moon surveyed the damage.

It wasn’t that bad. Just a dark red patch on a relatively unimportant floral-printed t-shirt. Nothing a good dry clean couldn’t fix.

But Yasmine was looking at the discolored smudge like Moon had been shot.

“Hey. It’s fine.” Moon rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll come out. Promise.”

Yasmine only whimpered, shaking her head. She nearly slammed her glass on the marble, putting it down in a rush so she could use both hands to inspect Moon’s shirt.

“God.” Her face twisted in disgust. “I’m such a moron. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s okay!”

Moon forced a chuckle. Perhaps if she laughed this all off, so could Yas.

She found herself desperately wanting back the Yasmine of a few minutes ago, all giggles and easy smiles and clumsy movements. Too often she was a hot coil, ready on a moment’s notice to surge into a burst of concentrated, destructive energy. Never allowing herself to loosen or cool down.

It’d been nice to finally see her let all that go.

“It just looks like another rose in the pattern.” Moon shrugged. “Or…a carnation, maybe. Probably too dark to be a rose. But the shirt’s kind of a watercolor design anyways, so. Doesn’t look that out-of-place.”

“But I ruined it!” Yasmine ran the fabric through her fingers, staring at the stain like she was trying to will it away. “Now people are gonna see you and think you’re some kind of…I don’t know, sloppy alcoholic loser. I’ve seen my mom’s maid try to get out stains like this, and they’re a bitch.”

“Hey. Yas.” Moon ruffled her hair affectionately. “It’s just a shirt. I can get another one just like it.”

“Yeah, but…I was a big fucking dumbass, and now you have to go to the trouble.” Yasmine stepped back, looking up to meet Moon’s gaze.

Her face was pressed into a deep frown. Moon slid her hand back onto her friend’s shoulder.

“I thought wine would be fun, but it was all so stupid,” Yasmine muttered, eyes darting away.

“It was not!” Moon rolled her eyes. “You’re being overdramatic. What would it take to convince you I’m not mad?”

“Why aren’t you?!” Yasmine practically wailed it. “Like, you’re not showing nearly enough concern over this fashion disaster! Imagine if anyone at school saw you like this. They’d never take you seriously again. Start calling you ‘Moonshine’ or some shit.”

“Yes, but they aren’t here.” Moon shook her head, fond smile tugging at her lips. “You worry too much about things that haven’t even happened yet. Take a deep breath, okay?”

“I still can’t believe I was that stupid.” The other girl’s frown morphed into an embarrassed pout. “Like. Ugh. Practically pouring wine on you like some sort of dumb fuck because I forget where my own fucking couch is. I’m—I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you a new shirt if you want.”

It was strange—this minor thing sending her into near hysterics. She was never one for even small apologies, let alone making a huge, borderline groveling show of them. There was a cognitive dissonance in it—this facet so drastically different from any of the Yasmine Moon had seen.

And yet.

Something about Yasmine’s flustered, self-conscious blubbering, Moon thought, was so beautiful.

And that was about when it hit her.

In a matter of weeks, Yasmine had clawed her way to the top of the school food chain, pulling Moon right along with her. They were practically royalty, hallways clearing out for them to walk through and geeky classmates not even daring to look them in the eye.

Moon could have anyone she wanted now. Half the jocks were constantly ogling her, any one of them more than content to be a trophy on the up-and-coming cheerleader’s arm.

But she wanted Yasmine.

She could have kids from every high school in California vying for her affections—presenting her with gifts and flattery and sensual touches and promises and everything in between—and her choice would be the same every time.

She plucked up her own wine, sitting on a nearby table, and took a long sip. The warmth of the alcohol bubbled through her like a holy elixir—and in a single, elevated moment, she made up her mind.

Yasmine was still mumbling apologies and bemoaning her tiny moment of weakness when Moon cupped her cheeks, pulling them together.

Heat coursed from her purple-painted toenails to her tanned cheeks and everywhere in between. It was like sinking into a hot tub on a cold winter night, jets pressing on her from every direction.

And for what felt like a while, Moon let herself lie suspended in the moment. Not taking in a thing but the dazzling now.

Yasmine tasted like strawberry bubblegum lip gloss, and her mouth was soft and sensual and perfect—like the stars had always aligned for Moon to end up there. Smooth, manicured nails cupped the back of her neck, massaging every runaway hair and every hidden crevice of skin.

The only reason Moon pulled away was to center herself. Make sure she hadn’t done something completely insane.

“Moon.”

Her name was almost inaudible.

Yasmine stared in quiet disbelief, completely motionless. Moon held her breath, waiting for everything to process.

When it did, there was no horror on Yasmine’s face. No disgust. No shame. Not yet, anyways.

She was in awe.

“Why the hell did you stop?”

The sheer aggression of the statement caught Moon off-guard. She scarcely had time to think before Yasmine was holding her chin, yanking her forward and slamming their mouths together.

They pulled apart and crashed together again and again, fire and fervor and sheer, insatiable hunger blazing hotter than every star in the sky. And even tingling with a euphoria that felt eternal, Moon couldn’t help but think this was a long time coming.

She’d always had a feeling her and Yasmine’s auras were destined to interlock—far more than hers had with anyone else’s. And she’d always had a feeling they wanted each other.

It was a tension that hung in the air, coloring the space between them in vivid, pulsating pinks and reds. The ever-present agony of wanting the flavorful candy stored on top shelves, but never sure how to get it. The frustration of entangling themselves when they hugged goodbye and realizing that a brief hold would never be enough.

The way when they touched, they didn’t want to let go.

No, they were always meant to end up that way. And come what may, Moon would not question the wills of fate and the universe.

Especially when it gifted her the most beautiful thing she ever felt.

Sunset light streamed in through elegant bay windows, and the whole foyer glowed like topaz. In between kisses Moon saw it wash over Yasmine, outlining her in peach and orange and finally deep scarlet.

She was brighter than a goddess.

Dusk was pleasantly warm against Moon’s arms. Pure, relieving, freeing. Peaceful as the rhythm of evening crickets and the hum of distant 101 traffic.

The beginning of something beautiful. Not merely the last touch of daylight before the world was taken by darkness.

Then again, for someone named after the brightest thing in a black sky…

It only made sense the most radiant moments of Moon’s life would be on the cusp of nightfall.