#purecamp

Death by a thousand cuts lingers on A’Whora’s mind. There seems to be a million ways to express how she’s feeling; the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final tipping point. The way that little things just build and build and build until their crushing weight is suddenly made noticeable to the poor fool trapped beneath them, already without any hope of survival.

Maybe she’s being dramatic, maybe poetic. Maybe that’s why she’s good at writing lyrics, why she scribbles them down in glittery notebooks that Lawrence makes fun of her for buying. They can hardly use what she writes in her free time, the need for fun, relatable and light-hearted lyrics far outweighing the demand for her emotional ramblings, but nevertheless she’s still alright at it.

More than anything, it’s the numbness that bothers her. This pain isn’t jarring, soul destroying, artistically tragic like she wishes it was. She mostly feels an ever-present nothing, with the occasional empty hole like a vacuum in her stomach that weighs on her late at night, alone in bed. The feeling is heavy and cold, but she can’t describe it any better than that. She’s tried, and the scrunched up paper and furiously crossed out words provide more than enough explanation as to how that endeavour went.

Is she ridiculous to be angry over wanting a little communication, knowing she herself hasn’t done it either? Is she hypocritical for internally begging Tayce to explain when she knows full well she’s not explained her side?

Whatever the answer, she’s an idiot for hooking up with her bandmate.

Sighing frustratedly, she throws her pencil across the room, likely to never be seen again, and shuts her notebook. The pencil flies through the air and hits the wall just as Lawrence enters, missing her head by mere centimetres. She reels backwards out of shock and then clings onto the doorframe, one hand on her heaving chest.

“Fuck me! You trying to kill me or something?” Lawrence demands, her expressions every bit as big and blown up as they are on stage.

A’Whora flops onto her bed as Lawrence sits on hers - they’re sharing the hotel room, Tayce and Bimini paired up across the hall.

“Not you, babes.” She rolls her eyes at herself, stretching her legs out as her head crashes into the pillow.

Lawrence snorts. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s far from fucking paradise and you know it, you nasty bitch.” A’Whora shoots back, relieved that neither of them are stupid enough to interpret any malice in the harsh way they speak to one another.

Truth be told, A’Whora and Tayce’s hooking up is probably the worst kept secret in all their band management. Tayce seems to think nobody knows, and she’s all the happier for it, but A’Whora knows for a fact that Lawrence, the entire style team and their management all know what’s going on - it’s really only Bimini, bless her, who’s in the dark about it. The second worst kept secret is Lawrence and their makeup artist, Ellie, but that’s the farthest from A’Whora’s mind currently.

“It used to be fun, you know what I mean, like? Like it’s just me and Tayce and we’re having a good time and everything, there’s no pressure for dating or nothing like that, ‘cause she weren’t ready for it.”

Lawrence blinks. “Am I supposed to be sensing a problem here, or?”

A’Whora groans. “Shut up, bitch, I’m trying to do a fucking monologue for you! Anyway, it’s just weird because I swear like I haven’t done anything and nothing’s changed at all but her texts are really friendly rather than like flirty now?”

“And you haven’t sent me off to Ellie’s room in a while so the two of you can fuck like rabbits.” Lawrence finishes, a sly grin on her face knowing that she’s just pissed A’Whora right off by interrupting the aforementioned monologue.

Crude as she is, she’s right - and A’Whora probably would’ve worded it in a way more disgusting manner herself. It’s a decent system that they’ve rigged up, honestly. Whenever Tayce texts, or A’Whora texts her, she sends Lawrence off to go find Ellie, makes up some lie about why their bandmate isn’t sleeping in their room tonight, and then they can spend some quality time together. It’s simple but efficient, hence its brilliance.

“Sorry babes. You know you can still go see her even if I’m not seeing Tayce?”

Lawrence snorts. “Nah, you’re fine. To be honest she’s fucked me right off recently so I’m not in the mood to see her.”

It’s horrible, but A’Whora’s secretly glad that she’s not the only one entangled in some kind of romantic or sexual turmoil. “Aw, what did she do?”

“None of your business, you nosy bitch!” Lawrence half-yells, but bizarrely, she’s still not mad. “You were ranting about your secret lover?”

“Fuck off,” She shoots back, “I was done, anyway. She’s just, like, reset. I don’t get it.”

She’s not strong enough to confide what she really thinks. It clouds her mind constantly, a small part of her brain daring her to just come out and say it in the malicious hope that she’ll find out how it feels to broadcast. Her stupid, selfish brain is worried that Tayce has met someone, someone she likes, someone she’d be willing to, or interested in, pursuing a romantic relationship with. Because romance has never been part of their deal, something they’d agreed on. Romance was off the table for Tayce because she wasn’t ready, and A’Whora was fine with that.

Maybe she was in the wrong for going along with the hook ups and flirting under false pretences. A’Whora had hoped, secretly, that over time, Tayce’s aversion to love and commitment might begin to soften, and surely the most natural, safe way to ease into it would be with someone who she already knew could have a fun flirty rapport with her, not to mention a metric fuckton of sexual chemistry?

Behind every flirty text held the secret hope that Tayce’s feelings would one day find the strength to break out. A’Whora hadn’t meant to get attached to her bandmate like she had, but there seemed to be fuck all she could do about it now.

“Well,” Lawrence announces, rolling onto her back and gesturing up in the air with her arms, “You’re fucked off, I’m fucked off, I say we go and get absolutely steamin’ and forget that we’ve ever felt a positive emotion towards someone who doesn’t give a fuck.”

A’Whora closes her eyes, heart sinking. “I’d actually love to, but we can’t just go the two of us, because then we’re leaving out the others. Bims’ll wanna come, and if Bims comes we have to invite Tayce and I literally don’t wanna see her because it’s so weird that I’ve been like, demoted to friend.”

“She removed the benefits,” Lawrence nods understandingly, “In many ways, we could compare her to the Tory government.”

“Could we fuck,” A’Whora laughs in spite of her own heavy misery. “You’re literally insane. Loz, what the fuck do I do about this?”

Lawrence shrugs. “I told you, my best solution is to go and get smashed! If we just drink here then we didn’t go out without anyone so we didn’t break any friend rules and they’re none the fucking wiser to our collective romance issues.”

The word romance makes A’Whora tense - it’s uncomfortable to think about it like that, almost embarrassing to dwell on her own feelings as having a romantic nature about them from a purely sexual relationship. Luckily for her, a sneaky or perhaps Freudian slip catches her attention and drags it away from her own issue, A’Whora bolting upright to stare at her friend.

“Lawrence Chaney. Did you just say collective romance issues? I thought you and Ellie were just fanny friends!”

Understandably, Lawrence is horrified at her turn of phrase, but A’Whora doesn’t miss the telltale reddening of her ears that suggests she’s said something she shouldn’t have. An eye-roll powerful enough to induce a tsunami follows Lawrence shifting herself up, glaring at A’Whora, and then scowling.

“First,” She replies, one finger wagging in front of her, “Never fucking say fanny friends ever again. Second…”

A’Whora gasps, already anticipating some gossip.

“You’re gonna get me a fucking gin if you’re gonna make me talk about this.”

-

More intelligent girls, or perhaps just less heartache-y ones, would know better than to get wasted in their hotel room the night before a show, but A’Whora and Lawrenced have never been the best at smart decisions. Ironically, it’s the deceptively smart bimbo Bimini who usually is able to reign them in, though she often chooses not to. Left to their own devices, there’s a lot of gin and a little bit of lemonade that seems to mysteriously disappear as tongues get looser and inhibitions get lowered. Before they even know what’s happening, both girls are sitting on the floor between their beds, legs stretched out before them, bemoaning their woeful, humiliating love lives.

It’s almost as if they think that if they don’t get it right now, they never will. To some extent, in A’Whora’s mind, that’s true, even when she knows, realistically, that she’s only in her mid-twenties and life goes on. But really, what is love if not an agony freezing you in time, a force that makes the past a mere blur and the future non-existent? Love is present and now, and if she misses her chance, who says there’ll be another?

(Almost everyone says there will. But A’Whora is drunk and her words are happy and her mind is sad.)

Luckily, Lawrence has been talking for long enough that A’Whora doesn’t have to spill all her thoughts into a drunken spiel that she knows wouldn’t make a lick of sense. She keeps swearing and avoiding the point, but somewhere in her long-winded ramble confessions start to unravel themselves, and a good scandal is enough to distract her for the time being.

“So I fuckin’ - aw fuck, hen, do me a favour and refill me?” Lawrence asks, A’Whora just passing her the bottle and gesturing for her to continue. “I fuckin’ asked her, y’know, are we just doing this or are we something more, like, fuckin’ stupid thing to ask honestly and I regretted it as soon as I did but then she answered and fuck me.”

She makes an effort to impersonate Ellie - a slightly higher pitched, slightly less intensely Scottish accent with something of a mockingly nervous whine to it as she repeats, “I’m keeping my options open. Fuckin’ options! I’ve no’ had anyone since her and I wouldny’ fuckin’ want to either and she’s fuckin’ got A, B, C or D all the fuckin’ above! It’s fucked.”

A’Whora gasps. “Bitch, you proper like her! You like Ellie!”

“Say that any louder and I’ll box your fuckin’ ears,” Lawrence threatens, only half kidding judging by the glare in her eyes. “Am I wrong to feel fuckin’ betrayed that I didn’t know she was seeing others as well as me?”

She snorts. “Loz, babes, I’m losing my mind at the very idea that Tayce has found someone, look who you’re talking to.”

Lawrence shrugs in agreement. “Makes me feel sick.”

There’s a pause. “Actually, that might be the gin.”

Another pause. “Oh, it’s the gin.”

She all but launches herself up and towards the bathroom, A’Whora instantly going into a flap. If Lawrence is sick on the carpet she’ll literally never forgive her, but she needs to help her friend, but fuck if she’s gonna stand there in the bathroom gagging at her. She decides, vaguely last minute, to run out into the corridor and grab some cold water from the machine, panicking and shouting her plan in the general direction of the bathroom before dashing outside. Embarrassing, but at twenty five years old A’Whora still can’t handle someone being sick.

A brief but unwelcome thought flits into her head - I’d help Tayce. She shakes it away, tells herself she wouldn’t, but a sad stupid part of her knows she could sit there and painfully gag her way through helping Tayce if she needed to, because she’s a spineless idiot who fell for her bandmate. There’s a flash of guilt for the fact that she wouldn’t do the same for Bims or Lawrence, but reasons that she has to draw the line somewhere.

The hotel has this awful chintzy carpet, a weird swirly print on a red base that reminds A’Whora of weird-smelling care homes and outdated grandma’s houses. Just looking at it makes her head spin uncomfortably - maybe she’s a little drunker than she thought. Perhaps she’ll get two cups of ice water instead, sober herself up a bit and all.

Then Tayce is standing in front of her all of a sudden and A’Whora has no idea how she’s got there.

(Did she… summon Tayce? Manifest her presence?)

“Girl, you alright? You look a state,” She greets, her accent charming enough to rid the words of their potential offense.

A’Whora vaguely points ahead of her, aware of how dumb she probably looks. “Goin… getting water for Loz. She’s absolutely pissed.”

Tayce laughs, baffled. “Babes, what are you playing at getting drunk the night before a show? Gotta make sure you shake off the hangovers before or else you’re done for!”

“Water fixes all.” A’Whora has no idea what to say. Why would she? She’s been lamenting this girl’s very existence for the past…. God knows how many hours, and now she’s here and she has to slip the besties facade back on except she’s a bit too drunk to remember how to do it properly. Sober A’Whora is going to cringe for days over this, she already knows.

Unsurprisingly, Tayce starts to follow her to grab the water, declaring “Well I’m coming with you, sounds like you’re gonna need someone sober to put you both in bed, you absolute lunatics.”

They’re just walking next to each other and yet A’Whora has never analysed her own way of walking so much in her life before this moment. Are her steps too large? Her arms swinging too much, or too little? Which foot comes next? Is Tayce thinking about how weirdly she’s moving? Should she be trying to keep pace with her or will that be even weirder and she’ll realise what a creep she’s been hooking up with all this time and fully decide against any possibility of something more between them?

They’re just walking. Just one foot and then the next.

Ahead of them, the water cooler glistens like a mirage in a desert, a tantalising goal signalling the end of their journey. A’Whora almost feels like she’s been trekking for hours next to Tayce, unsure of what to say, unsure of what her own act to keep up with is.

Naturally, she fumbles in her attempt to get a flimsy plastic cup from the stack, and then all come crashing down before she can even realise what’s happening. She turns to look at Tayce, the both of them momentarily stunned.

“Oh my god, you absolute beast!” Tayce screeches, her voice hushed for the sake of the late night but laughing all the same, clutching the cooler for balance. “We gotta pick all these up now!”

They do; A’Whora thinks about accidentally brushing her fingers over Tayce’s as they scramble to get everything, and then doesn’t. She thinks about abandoning the water and fumbling keys into locks until they fall into one another and forget everything else. She thinks about just blurting out the truth.

By the time all of the potential scenarios have flown dizzyingly through A’Whora’s drunk mind, she finds herself with two cups of water in her hands, Tayce with the same, leading her back to the hotel room and giggling as she instructs her not to spill a drop. A’Whora laughs, pretending like she’s not struggling to figure out how tightly she should be holding them.

Pretend is easy and she’s always been good at it. Pretending she’s a real rockstar with her Sing Star microphone and Playstation 2 in the living room. Pretending she’s not nervous the day before the biggest audition of her life. Pretending she’s a real musician in a band and not one of four girls shitting themselves backstage at the biggest arenas in the city. Pretending like Tayce might fall for her one day.

Once they get inside - it takes four swipes of A’Whora’s key and brief panic that she’s somehow got the wrong one - it’s clear that Lawrence is done with throwing her guts up and has settled herself in a chair, furiously typing on her phone.

“This room smells like a minibar, you hounds!” Tayce half admonishes, her grin entirely downplaying her words and making A’Whora’s heartbeat jump into overdrive. “Lawrence, what are you doing?”

“Communicating-my-feelings,” She answers through gritted teeth, each word punctuated with a particularly aggressive stab at her screen.

Out of curiosity, A’Whora peeks at the screen, and upon seeing a horrifically large wall of text typed out in the chat box with no end in sight, snatches the phone immediately. “Tayce! Hide it! She’s writing a fucking essay!”

Whether A’Whora’s drunk coordination is better than when she’s sober - hopefully not - or Tayce is just talented, she deftly catches the device and locks it.

Lawrence all but springs up, incensed. “Fuck off with that! Ellie needs to know- I’m fucking pissed!”

“Ellie?” Tayce pauses, looking down as if she’ll still see the message. “As in, makeup artist Ellie?”

“Who fuckin’ else?!” Lawrence lunges and misses.

“Knew it.” She’s adorably smug, so much so that A’Whora decides against telling her that literally everyone knows. Her perceived victory makes her face light up and she’s already so beautiful that ruining childlike glee like that should be considered blasphemous. It would be a sin to wipe that smile from her face using anything other than her lips.

She holds the phone up in the air above her head, unreachable. “Right. Well, Lawrence, you can have this back after you’ve drank this water here, brushed your teeth and got into bed, okay? I think that’s a fair deal.”

“Get fucked,” Lawrence responds, totally deadpan as she snatches the plastic cup, spilling half of it down her front and not noticing. “I will drink your magic water and then you will fuck off and I will tell Ellie that she’s a slimey wee bitch.”

Tayce laughs, unfazed. “On second thoughts, darling…” She tucks the phone into her bra and gives a little flourish. “Sort yourself out and I’ll get it back to you in the morning. I’m not having you abusing our lovely Ellie ‘cause you’ve had a lover’s tiff.”

Lawrence squints. “Fuckin’… A’Whora will get it for me. I’m sure you won’t mind feeling her up, eh hen? Though I bet your girlfriend might have something to say about it. OOP!”

A’Whora feels her face flushing, and the panic slams into her like a wave hitting the beach full force, washing over everything. At first she was glad Lawrence was drunker than her, hoping to make less of a fool of herself in front of Tayce and direct the attention onto their favourite Scottish menace, but Lawrence being drunker means Lawrence with an even looser tongue, and for someone who loves to crack a joke and make a cheeky observation at the most inopportune moment, A’Whora finds herself wishing she’s passed out snoring instead. Tayce just laughs and manages to mother hen her into the bathroom, where A’Whora spots her in the mirror, grumpily brushing her teeth like a petulant toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

“Tell you what, I could never have kids, this is bloody exhausting!” Tayce explains, her big bright smile distracting A’Whora, thankfully, from the bulge of Lawrence’s phone. At least, it’s easier to pretend, even mentally, that that’s why she keeps looking at her chest.

“God, I know!” She laughs back, faking it harder than ever and sipping her cup of water. She feels sobered up already, though she’s sure she’s probably not, all too aware of her red cheeks and Lawrence’s loose tongue and terrified something else will be said.

“I mean, what on earth was that? I don’t have a girlfriend, I can tell you that.” She chuckles as if the idea’s ridiculous. A’Whora wonders if she genuinely thinks that, if she doesn’t realise just how many beautiful men and women would fall down at her feet if she so much as paid them a glance.

Lawrence stumbles out; in the two minutes she’s been gone, she seems to have forgotten entirely about her phone, and she looks at the pair with lidded eyes. “Fuckin’ shattered, girls.”

Tayce beams at her. “Get your arse in bed, then!”

A’Whora finishes her water, and Lawrence is asleep in seconds. For good measure, they poke her a couple of times, but since she’s very clearly breathing and seems fine, they decide to stop tormenting her and to just let the poor girl sleep. Tayce sets down Lawrence’s phone on the nightstand next to her, making sure to plug in her charger so it won’t be dead when she wakes up, and the tiny act of thoughtfulness makes A’Whora’s heart swell in a manner she’s wholly embarrassed of.

As if she’s swooning at a girl charging her friend’s phone? It’s ridiculous and she knows it.

“Shall I walk you to your door?” She offers, holding her arm out. Tayce laughs and takes hold of her elbow, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ooh, promenade!”

“You’ve been watching far too much Bridgerton, you have,” A’Whora teases her, jabbing her side as they make their way back down the empty corridor. “Do I have to start calling you My Lady or something, babes?”

Tayce swats her away. “In bed, maybe. Oh, I’ll happily be a Duke or a Duchess, I mean have you seen the pair of them? Bloody gorgeous!”

A’Whora’s chest seizes up at the casual mention of being in bed together. Is the stalemate over? Is Tayce about to explain why she’s suddenly frozen on her and decided she no longer wants to hook up? What the hell even is the reason if there’s no girlfriend? She’s just gone off A’Whora now?

“Oh my God. Tayce, I can’t do this.”

It’s out there. She can’t go back now, can’t reel it back in. She’s fucked.

Tayce stops mid-hallway and frowns, worried. “You alright? If you don’t feel well you can go back, you don’t have to walk me to my room.”

“No, not that,” A’Whora massages her temples, trying to encourage some kind of eloquent thought to help her out, trying to stimulate the part of her brain that writes lyrics, to no avail. “This, us, the weirdness, I can’t do it. I have to know what’s going on, I’m literally going spare over it.”

“I don’t- I don’t get what you mean.”

“Us!” A’Whora cries, then shushes herself, acutely aware of her volume and the people sleeping adjacent to their conversation. “You- you don’t text me the same, and we haven’t- in ages, and I just… Tayce, do you like me?”

Tayce frowns even deeper. “Of course I like you, Rory.”

“Do you proper like me? Do you like me like I like you?”

She feels like a child, enacting a schoolgirl crush with a scribbled note that asks them to tick a yes or no box drawn in pink felt tip, the kind fuzzy from little fingers pressing too hard. If anything, it’s worse than that; at least some prior planning went into those, and a clear question with a yes or no response indicating some kind of confidence. A’Whora has no idea what she’s doing, where she’s going, anything.

“Rory… do you-”

A’Whora cuts her off. “Lawrence thought you might have a girlfriend because I thought you might have one because I was ranting about us to her and how shit I feel that you’ve lost interest in me. We got drunk to ignore how shit we both feel and it didn’t work because she almost blabbed to Ells and now I’m here blabbing to you but I literally can’t help myself. I never can when I’m with you.”

It’s only when she’s finished that she realises Tayce’s expression is full of fear, and her heart sinks like a lead balloon.

“You told Lawrence about us?”

She swallows, guilt seeping in like cracks in a dam. “Tayce, I… We’re not the big secret you think we are. A lot of people know, or suspect. Is… Is that the issue?”

Tayce chews her lip, eyebrows furrowed. Every millisecond that she doesn’t speak is agony, each second another stab to A’Whora’s heart, tiny needles of time cutting into her as she waits and waits for the ugly truth. This is it, now, the swirling nausea in her stomach tells her, this is when it all ends. This is where you scare off the love of your life.

The… what? The fucking what? The who of her what?

Too late now.

“I haven’t lost interest in you. I don’t think that’s even possible. I’m like, obsessed with you.”

A’Whora freezes, expecting virtually anything but that. “You- what? But- huh?”

“Yeah!” Tayce laughs nervously, unsure of how to react - they have that in common, at least. “I mean, girl, look at you, you’re gorgeous. I was getting freaked out by how much I, like, feel, so I just shut everything down and denied it all. I mean, I figured if I was freaking myself out, you must think I’m a right old weirdo. Have I got this all wrong?”

The ice melts. A’Whora can feel the shards shrinking, the wounds closing up, the warmth returning to her in a blossoming not unlike the flowers of spring, freshening the air and sweeping away her anxieties.

“I’ve never been so happy to call you an idiot in my life,” A’Whora tells her.

Tayce cocks an eyebrow. “You dirty liar, you love calling me an idiot,” She bites back, not leaving room for A’Whora to reply before kissing her right then and there, in the middle of a hotel corridor, leaning up against the wall for support. A million chemical reactions spark off all at once, a frenzy of activity rendering her incapable of doing anything but wrapping her arms around her bandmate, her best friend, her everything, and kissing her until she can’t breathe.

When they have to come up for air they do, all gasping and pink cheeks and dazed eyes. Every cell, every nerve, every neuron in A’Whora’s body is awake and alive, drawn towards Tayce like a magnetic pull. She can’t ignore it, and can’t think why she’d ever want to.

-

“Will you fucking stay still?”

“I haven’t moved an inch, hen, your shaky hands are not my problem.”

Ellie huffs, big pink earrings dangling from her ears swinging as she moves her head. They’re shaped like hearts, the word ‘doll’ in cursive across the middle in sparkling letters, and it’s adorably Ellie Diamond in every way possible. Even irritated, she’s oddly cute.

“Lawrence! I’m not trying to make you look ugly, stay still for me!” She pleads.

A’Whora watches from her chair, face already expertly done. She woke up pleasantly early, nestled happily in Tayce’s arms after everything. They’d decided to go back to A’Whora’s room, just in case Lawrence woke up and tried to send reams of abuse to Ellie, and ended up laying together cuddling until they fell asleep. No matter how sober A’Whora swore she was, Tayce just giggled and told her there was no chance of anything more than a cwtch, at least until the morning.

Thankfully, they’d kept Lawrence’s phone away from her, but there was nothing she could do but watch helplessly as Ellie and Lawrence engaged in a battle of attrition while doing makeup.

Lawrence rolls her eyes so hard A’Whora can practically feel it from across the room. “Not to worry hen, there’s more than one girl in the band, I’m sure you’ve got options on who can look pretty and who can’t.”

A’Whora winces at the low blow, and judging by Ellie’s expression, all pouty lips and big sad eyes, she’s hurt. More than anything, she wants to rush in and fix things for them, help them do the big talk and work it all out, but she knows it’s not really her business. They have to do this for themselves, so she sits quiet and prays that they will.

“Oh my god.” Ellie sets down her brushes and stares Lawrence in the face, awfully bold and completely unexpected. “Are you gonna hang this over me forever? I just - didn’t want you to think I was too forward! I’ve been regretting it all night, I regretted it as soon as I even said it! I can’t stand you being upset with me.”

Lawrence’s expression softens. “What?”

“You’re, like, the best person ever. I look up to you so much, I don’t think I could admire anyone more than I admire you. I really didn’t mean to upset you, I didn’t want to come on too strong.”

There’s a pause - A’Whora holds her breath, and notices that just across from her, Bimini is suddenly paying attention, her phone long since abandoned in her hand as she gapes at the two of them, dumbfounded.

Lawrence throws her arms around Ellie, squeezing her in an embrace that seems too tender to be looking at, the next best thing to a kiss when in the middle of painting someone’s face. Ellie squeezes back, her lips mouthing words that the other girls can neither hear nor try to. This is for them and them alone.

Tayce enters just as they break apart, throwing herself into the seat next to A’Whora and grinning. “Hiya, gorge, what’d I miss?”

She leans over and kisses A’Whora’s cheek.

Bimini’s eyes pop open. “You and- and then her and- what the fuck? Babes, I think we skipped a few chapters!”

“You just haven’t read the book,” A’Whora winks at her.

September tumbles into Tayce’s life like a busy family coming in from a day of errands. It opens the door with its elbows, arms full of change and growth, and wipes away any semblance of calm or fun that the summer had left behind. August had been eating ice cream on Barmouth beach with her family, queueing down the street for the best chips ever at the Mermaid fish bar, dodging seagulls and basking in the rare bits of summer sun.

It had been a buildup to something new, but Tayce is eleven years old and something new is about as far from comfortable as an awkward but well-meaning puberty talk from Grandma. Her parents fawn over the new uniform - a white polo, a black blazer with white piping that’s several sizes too big, a pleated skirt and a red tie to match her new school house. Everyone tells her how grown up she looks now, how smart and sensible, but secretly Tayce misses her comfy green cardie that had linked her to her primary school.

But it seems as though she blinks and Barmouth beach was years ago, and she finds herself in her first ever lesson on her first ever day of high school, sitting on a wobbly stool in Mr Eaton’s science lab.

The room is full of faces just like hers, slightly apprehensive and a little bit intrigued all the same, wondering what this new school will bring. Friends are a must, new knowledge, a world of experiences not yet imagined beyond their old playground.

Tayce’s old school considered science to be making baskets out of paper and seeing whether a penny or a marble will drop faster when placed inside them. This looks like real science, beakers and test tubes and fiddly little bits on the walls that Mr Eaton informs them they are not to touch until they’re third years.

Unfortunately, Tayce has drawn the short straw. As she sits on her stool, wishing she had the confidence to ask for a bit of paper to stop the leg from shifting so much, she realises everyone else is sitting next to someone, and she’s the only one on her own. This is a test of future popularity, and it appears she’s going to fail.

Her chest seizes with panic, her first day already ruined, but she’s determined not to let it show, focusing on the comic sans introductory message adorning the welcome powerpoint. It outlines the class rules, solemn and serious as anything, and there’s a little cartoon cell at the bottom, pasted on from clip-art. If Tayce doesn’t make any friends today, at least she can pretend her intentions were to pay attention and learn everything instead.

Maybe five minutes into the lesson, there’s a knock at the door. An older girl walks in - maybe a fourth year - and she clearly seems to know their teacher, judging by her jovial tone. She’s tall and pretty, and Tayce is just a little bit envious that her bright green bra is slightly visible through her shirt, while she’s still in her white cotton crop top. She wants to be like this cool older girl someday.

The older girl has a younger girl with her, one hand resting on her shoulder as if encouraging her, not that she looks like she needs it. The younger girl is the image of the older one, the two of them clearly sisters, with freckled skin, long eyelashes and dark hair in a ridiculous floppy bun at the top of her head. She wears a grin, as if the first day jitters had simply skipped over her.

“Sorry I’m late!” The younger one calls out, slipping into the closest available seat - next to Tayce. “I got lost.”

Her sister chuckles. “Just dropping her off so I know she’s in the right place. Can you email Mrs White and let her know this is why I’m late, she won’t believe me if I tell her.”

Mr Eaton agrees, and the older girl leaves.

The younger girl turns her grin on Tayce. “Hiya babe, I’m Aurora. We’re science partners!”

“Tayce,” She replies, relief flooding through her that finally, someone is talking to her. “I hope we don’t explode anything.”

“I hope we do,” Aurora grins, mischief gleaming in her eyes. “My sister says that you can make different coloured fire with those bunsen burners, I reckon she’s lying. We’ll have to find out.”

Tayce giggles. “Deal. How are we gonna change the colour?”

Aurora shrugs. “I’ll pester sir, he’ll tell me eventually.”

As it happens, they don’t make magical flames appear or explode anything in their first class of the year. Not a whole lot happens besides examining an onion cell in a crappy microscope, which neither Tayce nor Aurora can figure out how to focus despite multiple explanations from their teacher. They take turns peering through the blurry lens, hardly seeing the defined shapes that Mr Eaton expects them to, and giggle at one another as they lie about completing the task perfectly.

It’s weird how school works like that, Tayce thinks. All her friends from primary school are in other classes, people she’s known since she was four years old, but within an hour she’s bonded to this loud new girl beside her as if they’ve always been friends. When science finishes, Aurora declares that they have English and need to hurry if they want a good table, since they’re sitting in twos - she already knows because of her big sister, who’s told her everything she could possibly need to know about succeeding in this new adventure.

She grabs Tayce’s hand as they leave, ensuring she keeps up. Tayce is just happy to follow her.

-

“How’s Jordan?”

Aurora blinks. “What?”

Tayce prompts her with a rolling hand gesture. “Your boyfriend, you daft cow?”

“Oh!” The penny drops, and then as the insult registers, Aurora whacks Tayce’s arm. “You bitch! Anyway, I’m not with him anymore, keep up. He kissed fucking Louise outside the canteen so I dumped him and I’m seeing Tom now.”

Well, this is news.

“Aw babe, you okay?”

She shrugs. “I don’t give a shit.”

And it’s true. It’s something Tayce admires about Aurora - she genuinely just does not give a shit, at all. Everything seems to glance off her, barely scratching the surface of her perfect skin before she deflects with a bat of her spidery lashes. Tayce thinks she must go through a tube of mascara a week, at least. Somehow, though, it suits her.

Dating isn’t something that’s ever crossed Tayce’s mind. At times, she worries that she’s behind, because crushes are all anyone can talk about, from sleepovers to the Disney channel crap she grew up on. What kind of thirteen year old hasn’t had at least one crush yet? It’s a bit embarrassing, something she keeps to herself. Occasionally she considers just picking someone to like, but she’s heard it’s supposed to be a little more authentic than that.

In any case, Aurora has the exact opposite problem. Tayce makes an effort to be nice to Tom, though she barely knows him, but three weeks pass and all of a sudden he ignores her when she tries to say hello in the dinner queue. Sure, he might just be intent on getting his Pasta King before anyone else, but it’s still rude.

“Bloody well ignored me!” She harrumphs, flopping down next to Aurora on the bench. “I only said hi!”

Aurora’s face twists, her nose screwing up. She’s dusted the tip with highlight, something a lot of the older girls have started doing, and it’s super bright and shiny. Tayce thinks it’s dead cool, but her parents keep saying she’s too young for that kind of makeup. Concealer is their limit.

“Yeah, I bet he did. PRICK!” She shouts, as he walks past them. “What you looking at?!”

Tayce gawks, alarmed. “Rory! What the hell?”

Aurora stands up, huffing as she shrugs her huge handbag onto her shoulder. “We’re not together anymore, Louis asked me out and Tom’s being a dick about it. I don’t wanna sit here anymore, too many arseholes around.”

She flounces off, leaving Tayce to follow. Her barbed words are only to offend Tom, she knows, so Tayce shoots him a cold look before following her best friend, unsure of where they’re actually going now that their usual spot has been officially surrendered. Luckily, being friends with someone like Aurora, she doesn’t have to worry too much.

She has a certain popularity that affords them entry into spaces where otherwise they’d receive dirty looks - her big mouth definitely has something to do with, given that no one wants to be on the receiving end of Aurora’s sharp tongue. Soon enough, they find themselves tucked up in a corner outside with Lawrence, the funny girl who Tayce has English with, and Ellie, her best friend, who sits at the back in Science. Tayce hasn’t really spoken to them before, but she knows they’re nice, and Aurora seems to already be friends with them.

The girls welcome her as if they’ve been sitting with her every day, effectively letting the freak flag fly without any sort of warning. Lawrence is loud and brash, in the best possible way, and wherever her voice travels, Ellie’s laughter follows it. The pair of them are just delightful to be around.

“We ought to start calling you A’Whora, with your track record,” She comments boldly, eyes rolling and arms folding as the story of yet another Aurora boyfriend entertains their lunch hour. It’s genius - Lawrence is genius - and Tayce has a feeling this name is going to stick.

“Oi, fuck off!” Aurora replies, her grin betraying her offended tone.

Lawrence pretends to cower. “Ooh! She’s gonna shank me! She’s gonny get her big sister to call me names!”

Ellie howls with laughter, having to cling onto Tayce, who does the same. Aurora attempts a Scottish accent to bellow, “Shut up, Chaney!” which only makes everything funnier, and all of a sudden the lunch hour is whittled down by their stomach-splitting laughter into nothing. A quick peek at Tayce’s timetable shows that they have Maths last - gross - but nevertheless an opportunity for the four to all sit together.

Mrs Pritchett is less than pleased at the new seating arrangement, but after a symphony of begging, pleading, and swearing up and down they’ll work together and finish all their work and be really quiet (barefaced lies), she relents. The classmates they displaced in order to make these seating arrangements are even less pleased, but Aurora mouths off at them, and they resign to their new seats, disgruntled but accepting.

-

Aurora comes over almost everyday after school. On the days she doesn’t, it’s only because Tayce is at hers instead. Sometimes she thinks their friendship is exactly the kind she dreamed of as a little girl, this unwavering closeness that manifests in practically becoming family, spending every day together, never needing to be alone.

The thing is, Tayce likes being alone. She doesn’t know a fourteen year old that doesn’t want to lock themselves away in their rooms and blast angsty teen anthems or, bizarrely, club remixes to drown everything out. But the best thing about Aurora is that being around her is better than being alone. They don’t even have to do anything.

It’s a scene like that which Tayce’s mum stumbles into, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in that signature way all mums seem to do.

“Really, girls!”

Tayce is lying on the floor, phone in hand, typing away to the group chat at terrifying speeds. It’s an exceedingly rude thing to do when a guest is present - except, of course, Aurora is on her bed, sprawled out like she owns the bloody thing, phone inches from her face as she does the exact same thing.

They can hardly be blamed. Bimini had texted the group chat hiya gals, i got something to tell u and then promptly disappeared, and five minutes had passed.

Aurora looks up. “Hi babe! You alright?” She trills, happy as anything to see her best friend’s mum.

Tayce’s mum does another fond head shake. “You girls, honestly! Always on them phones, you could try talking to each other!”

“We are!” Tayce replies, all while spamming bim what the fuck where did u go without looking at the screen. “Us, Bimini, Lawrence, Ellie…”

Tayce’s mum walks in properly, tutting at the pile of folded laundry still sitting on her spinny desk chair, and pottering around looking for empty glasses to take downstairs. “Teenagers,” She mutters, earning a grin from Aurora that she shares with Tayce, “I forgot. You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Course we do,” Aurora winks, so charming that she manages to crack a smile from the disapproving mother facade. “That’s why you love us.”

Tayce’s mum sighs. “I suppose I do, girls. Although you could just all meet somewhere, plenty of buses about.”

“But mum!” Tayce sits up, agitated that Bimini still hasn’t responded. “Bim said she had something to tell us and now she’s gone offline! We’re going mental trying to work it out!”

She pauses at that, a mug hanging from three fingers and two glasses - Tayce and Aurora’s from earlier - tucked under her arm. “Ooh, blimey. Maybe she’s pregnant, her lot have ‘em young. Have you seen her grandma? Right glamour puss, that one!”

“MUM!” Tayce shrieks, as Aurora bursts into horrified laughter, “We’re a bit young for that!”

“I’m just saying!” Her mum defends herself, a sneaky look on her face. “You never know!”

She leaves with that, planting the seed. But Bimini’s not - is she? She can’t be- could she? Bimini?

Lawrie [5.34pm]: aw christ hen this lot are havin a flap now come back already

Awhora [5.34pm]: EXCUSE ME BIMINI

WHAT THE FUCK

Ellie Bellie [5.34pm]: Are you okay babe ? Xxx

Taycety [5.34pm]: girl im goin spare what is going on

Awhora [5.34pm]: IS GOING ON

Awhora [5.35pm]: ARE U PREGNANT ARE U DYING ARE U DATING SOMEONE

Perhaps they’re a little overdramatic, but Tayce thinks people in general are way harsher on teens than entirely necessary. Everything feels big and important, every fight is a full scale world war and every revelation is life-changing in one way or another. These moments are formative, she knows, though she feels weird for examining them with such an external lens. She will remember this day, in any case, for a whole host of reasons, including Bimini’s response.

Turns out, she’s just typing, but her status said offline when she briefly paused to speak to her mum. The moment is still big, though; monumental, significant enough to cause a shift in their lives as they know it. As far as Tayce is concerned, it’s like the rippling effect.

Bim [5.41pm] SORRY SO SORRY didn’t mean to freak u all out just was doing some thinking about the way i’ve been feeling for a while and since i’m comfortable it feels like a good time? to cut short a long story i just came out to my mum as bisexual, i’ve sort of always known i was a little bit different than everyone else but especially now i can’t really ignore it. that’s also part of the reason i messaged this specific group bc i’m gonna tell her separately but i don’t want to tell her this part. i realised i was crushing on tina and i don’t wanna make her or u uncomfortable it’s nothing nasty it’s just how i feel, i like everyone the same you know xx

Aurora drops her phone. Tayce climbs onto the bed.

“Bloody hell. She’s brave as hell.” Tayce comments, mind busy at work trying to figure out what exactly she should say to this. She settles for an excited congratulations, figuring it’s good news, and a bunch of fluttery, gossipy emojis as she takes in Bim’s crush on Asttina.

It changes nothing, Bimini coming out. At the same time, everything changes.

“Yeah, massively!” Aurora agrees, filling the chat with hearts. “If anyone picks on her they’re dead.”

Lawrie [5.44pm]: glad ya could tell us hen we love u just the same, besides thing 1 and thing 2 over there are already proper lesbo for each other so ur in fine company xo

They both snort at that. That’s truly the mark of being best friends, every teenage girl knows that - really, are you even besties if people don’t think you’re lesbians? Just girly things seems to agree with the sentiment.

It’s a short while later that the catastrophe of Bimini’s bisexuality comes to a head. She’s perfectly happy for them to share the news, and of course Tayce’s mum is secretly interested in the gossip now that she knows there is some, and so as Tayce and Aurora race to the dining table, ready to demolish the pasta bake they’ve been smelling for the past half an hour, it starts to go wrong.

“Well?” An expectant look crosses her face, as well as some intrigue from her dad. Clearly she’s filled him in on the drama, too. So much for teenagers making a big deal out of nothing all the time.

Tayce takes her time, savouring the delicious moment. There’s a beautiful anticipation in the air as she luxuriantly serves herself her meal, taking extra pains to wrap the glorious strings of melted cheese around her fork before putting it on her plate. Everyone looks at her, waiting for her to deliver the gossip she’s so clearly in the know about - even Aurora, big mouthed Aurora, grins and watches, enjoying the tease as much as Tayce.

It’s sadly ironic how this small piece of superiority is the last time Tayce feels good about this conversation, but in the moment, blissfully unaware of the next few minutes, she feels mischievous and excited.

“Hm?” She feigns innocence, looking up once her plate is filled. “Oh, it was nothing. Just Bim telling us she’s bisexual, that’s all.”

Her heart clenches when there’s a scoff from across the dinner table.

“Come on.” Tayce’s dad looks unimpressed. “You mean she’s gay.”

“No, bi means both. She fancies either.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes, like he’s never heard anything more ludicrous in his life. “They always say that, it never actually meansthat. She’s just gay.”

Tayce frowns. “Dad-”

But he interrupts, holding up a hand with a fork in between, a piece of pasta with a precarious drop of tomato sauce hovering over the tablecloth. He seems angry all of a sudden, which makes no sense. “No, Tayce, don’t try and insinuate that I’m being a bigot or I don’t get it. It’s just a cop out way of saying you’re gay without fully accepting the prejudice you’re gonna face from it. Pisses me off more than anything. If you’re gonna do it, just do it.”

The tomato sauce falls off the pasta, staining the tablecloth. Usually, Tayce would point it out and laugh at her silly old dad for making a mess. But he doesn’t feel like such a silly old dad anymore, and laughing at him seems like the last thing she should do.

“David…” Her mum warns, clearly picking up on the crestfallen looks that Tayce and Aurora share with one another. “Well, you know. As long as she’s happy with that, I suppose. Is her mum alright with it?”

She sounds as if she expects her mum not to be. Is that the expectation? Is this something Tayce should have thought about before? That parents don’t like this sort of thing?

Aurora steps in, eager to defend her friend in her absence. “Yeah, she’s fine with it.”

“Tamara would be,” Tayce’s dad mutters, and although her mum whacks his arm, she looks amused by his little comment, a playful look glinting in her eyes. Have her parents always been like this?

Her mum shrugs. “Well, good for her. I don’t think I’d want you going round calling yourself bi-sexual though, not at your age.”

She says bisexual strangely - separating it into two words, as though the concept is so foreign and alien it can barely rest on her tongue properly. All at once, Tayce is seized with two competing sensations; a burning indignity in defense of her friend, and a strange hopelessness that this conversation is never going to turn back in her favour. Why do they make such a big deal out of this, what does it even matter?

At your age feels like an afterthought. The singe of ever underlying her words still burns, though she’s not sure why. It’s just a punch in the gut to imagine her parents as anything other than what she had always thought them to be.

Looking over, Aurora’s face is pinched. She looks as though she wants to argue - scratch that, Tayce knows her, she knows she wants to argue - but can’t, aware that getting into a row with your friend’s parents is a quick way to never be invited or welcomed ever again. She’s clearly perturbed at having to let this sort of conversation slide, the moral side of her unable to hide the frown of her drawn-on eyebrows. She’s so pretty, even when she’s upset.

Tayce is sure her own face is a picture like Aurora’s, and tries to steel it into something a little more unbothered. For some reason, letting them know that this is upsetting to her feels like an overstep.

“Well, whatever,” She tries, too flustered to come up with anything better to say. “Uh, mum, did you sign my form for the fashion club yet? Aurora’s got a place already and I don’t want it to fill up before I get one.”

“Yeah!” Aurora chimes in, cottoning on to the tone switch. “We’ll be making you custom couture in no time!”

Her mum signs the form. They don’t talk about dinner.

-

A domino effect soon dominates Tayce’s life.

She remembers Bimini’s hot tub garden party for her sixteenth, although not in great detail thanks to all the rosé that Tamara sweetly provided. They joke about her being the ultimate cool mom, a real life version of Regina George’s mom, but either way most of the night is a drunken haze that she can’t really recall.

There was warm water, lights and bubbles around them. Bikinis of all different shapes, styles and colours, flattering their different builds. Bim has this gorgeous athletic body, all toned and lithe and slim, muscular thighs and lined abs. Tia is long and skinny all over, bemoaning her little boobs and shooting jokey barbs in Aurora’s direction, who undoubtedly has the best set of tits in the whole group. Asttina looks like a goddess, and Tayce was blessed to be in such company.

It’s a shame that Ellie and Lawrence refused to join them in the water, as crowded as it was becoming. She hopes neither of them felt bad about themselves - they’re both stunning.

For some reason, she remembers the bikinis mostly. The dresses, the skirts, the long tan legs, the push-up bras. The great thing about being a girl and being friends with girls is that there’s just so much pretty stuff to look at. Girls put in so much effort, their different makeup styles and clothing choices and shapes and sizes. Lads are hardly as interesting, visually.

But following that party, the dominoes start to topple. Lawrence comes out as a lesbian six months later, then Aurora as bisexual, and Tayce remembers that awkward dinner two years ago with a sick, guilty feeling in her stomach. She’s taken care not to mention anything even remotely related to sexuality in front of her parents anymore, closing off before it can even start. Tia then introduces them to the concept of asexuality, explaining in the meantime that she likes some nerdy goth girl that always helps her with her triple science homework.

She supposes they suit each other.

It doesn’t end there. Ellie’s next, a new recruit for the growing collection of bisexuals hanging out together in sixth form. They’re barely even started sixth form and virtually everyone’s already come out.

Tayce feels a little left out. Apparently, so does Asttina.

“I think it’s brave of them all to be so open. I don’t know how they do it.”

She blows out a puff of air through her lips, leaning her head all the way back. They’re sprawled out on the floor of the common room, too tired for tables and chairs, and though the scratchy carpet irritates Tayce’s skin, enough that she knows she’ll have some stupid rash to deal with later, they’re at such an angle that a beam of bright, golden sunlight is shining directly onto the side of Asttina’s face. Her head is turned away to avoid blinding her, but the light adds a beautiful glow to her skin, the perfect portrait lighting for someone so beautiful.

It’s worth a bit of an itch on the arm to get to look at her like this. Better still, the common room is empty, everyone else on different option blocks already in lessons.

Tayce is the only one that knows Asttina’s gay. It’s a weird thing to wrestle with - on one hand, everyone in their group is as loving and accepting as they possibly can be, the entire lot of them queer as anything, but it’s also not something Tayce could comfortably share, not until Asttina’s ready.

She’s not sure why she pretends that empathy is the only reason she understands this unique struggle.

“Yeah,” Is all she manages, wondering if she has it in her to say anything more. “It’s not an easy thing.”

Asttina’s face creases; she frowns, dark eyes glowing like amber in the light. “It’s not even that I’m scared of how they’ll react, of course not. I just… don’t think I’m ready to take part in their jokes? But then if I say that, then it feels like everyone’s walking on eggshells around me because of this accommodation that I need to feel comfortable. So I’d rather wait until I’m fine with all the ribbing before doing it. Does that make sense?”

Too much sense. It could have been plucked directly from Tayce’s late night brain, over-tired and sleep-averse, dwelling too much on everything. Her chest feels tight and anxious as she considers her next step.

“I’m- the same.”

It’s a little too much, right now, to go with gay or lesbian. It’s easier to say it without saying it.

Asttina smiles. She’s radiant, a soft palatable sort of beauty that seems to please everyone. Tayce has been telling her for years she should go on Love Island, get a partnership with ASOS since she loves them so much. It was friendly teasing, at first, but she genuinely thinks it’s possible for her.

“Yeah?” She stretches out, long and luxurious in the sunlight. “No one else knows? Well, except A’Whora, obviously.”

There’s a pause. An all-too familiar rush of guilt churns in Tayce’s stomach, desperately trying and yet still unable to find a justification for not coming out to her best friend, who’d already trusted her with her big secret, back when it still was.

Asttina cottons on quickly. “You haven’t told her? She’s your favourite!”

“Tina! We’re a group, we don’t have favourites!” Tayce replies, half deflecting, half trying to pretend all of their friendships are equally balanced. It’s true, but the last thing she wants is for someone to feel like they’re not valued.

An eyeroll of epic proportions responds to her statement. “Sure, chick,” Asttina drawls, a knowing smirk across her face. “Lawrence totally doesn’t prefer Ellie above anyone else. Ellie totally doesn’t prefer Lawrence over everyone else. Tayce and Aurora…”

She trails off, which is lucky, because Tayce interrupts, lazily reaching out to thwack her. “Alright, you hound! Honestly, the cheek, the nerve, the gall, the audacity and the gumption of you to imply that we’re besties! Even if it’s true!”

Somewhere above them - the common room has two floors, with classrooms above for some stupid reason - the students start making a racket, chatting and laughing and generally creating school-typical mayhem. Perhaps the teacher left the room. In any case, it’s the perfect backdrop for their conversation, just distracting enough that it feels like maybe, just this once, the universe isn’t listening to them. The world has looked away, momentarily, and this moment will forever only exist between the two of them, no other evidence of it ever existing.

“Well, you learn something new everyday,” Asttina comments, casual as anything. “And here was me thinking you two were shagging on the down-low.”

Tayce splutters, expecting just about anything but that. “What?!”

She bursts into laughter. “Hey! I’m not the only one, alright! Lawrence talks about it all the time, you’ve heard her!”

As if she’s supposed to take something that Lawrence says seriously?! Tayce loves the girl to death, she truly does, but she’s not sure she’s ever been serious a day in her life. Even with Ellie, her best friend in the world, she’s constantly ripping the piss out of her.

“Well, we’re not.” She confirms, laughing a little. The idea of it doesn’t make her as panicked as she thought it would - maybe she’s closer to being ready than she thought. That’s a reassuring notion to take home tonight.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. That’s good.”

The bell rings. Tayce sits up - she has Fashion and Textiles next (a bloody miracle of a coincidence that her sixth form offered it), and Asttina has Business. The classroom above them erupts into a clamour of scraping chairs and tables, the voices growing louder as they begin to exit.

Neither of them really say anything beyond that, but they don’t have to. There’s a look they share, a sort of acceptance between them both. Nothing has happened, but they both seem to be in agreement that when the opportunity arises, something will.

It’s a much more fun secret to hold onto than anything else.

-

Though her breath starts to fog up in front of her, the ground growing hard and icy beneath her definitely unseasonal platform Mary-Janes, there’s a spark of excitement and warmth that keeps Tayce from going numb as winter rolls in. Having a secret is thrilling, and sometimes she feels like she’s nurturing a little flame inside her chest, cupping it with her hands to keep it from the harsh winter winds of gossip and speculation, coveting all of its heat for herself.

All she needs now is a little kindling, and her small flame will be a crackling fire.

Ellie’s birthday falls in the run-up to Christmas, a fact she laments loudly and often. Lawrence tells her again and again that she’s only getting coal, but kindly adds that she’ll get coal for both occasions, not a joint present. Their weird flirty friendship is interesting to behold.

Not that Tayce really cares. She’s got her own weird flirty friendship going on, and she gets to keep it for herself.

Of course, Ellie’s birthday party is Christmas themed, because while she complains non-stop about her birthday being ruined by it, she wants everyone to dress up in something festive. Or, as Lawrence put it:

“She just doesny’ want to look like a prat when she puts on her fuckin’ Sugar Bum Fairy outfit.”

Tayce and Aurora giggle and grin the entire ride to Ellie’s. They’re in Aurora’s mum’s car, in matching dresses they made themselves, although her mum argues that they can hardly be counted as dresses. She’s right, of course - they’re glorified t-shirts, if anything, minidresses of sparkly red fabric, cuffed with a white fur trim across the bottom and the edge of the half-sleeves, cinched in with a thick black belt and golden buckle. It’s sexy Santa to an obscene degree, and they both think it’s pissing hilarious.

“You can be Santa, I’ll be Mrs Claus,” Tayce remarks, elbowing her bestie with a shit-eating grin.

Aurora gasps in offense. “Bitch! Why do I have to be the man?”

“Because Santa’s the one everyone knows about and you’ve got the biggest gob so it makes sense.”

“Fuck off.”

But Aurora’s smile says that she agrees with Tayce’s assessment. Of course she does.

“And you’re sure you’re not gonna be cold in… those?” Her mum double checks, frown set in place across her forehead.

Aurora rolls her eyes. “We’ve got tights on!”

They’re not warm, but they are tights - nude, and rhinestoned for a bit of extra flair. It had been the result of a sleepover that distinctly lacked any sleep, their efforts keeping them up all through the night and well into the morning. Still, it looked good.

“Alright,” She acquiesces, “Go on, have fun. What time do you want me to come get you tomorrow? Nine?”

A look of horror flashes across Aurora’s face. “Not that early. Give us at least a bit of time to… settle.”

She tries to avoid mentioning anything about the hangover, even though her mum is fully aware, but the clinking of bottles in her bag as she moves to open the car door gives her away. Her mum just laughs, waving at them as she drives off.

They barely even get a chance to knock on the door before it swings open, wrenched with all the force of a very drunk Scottish girl.

“WAHEYYYY! MORE LESBIANS!”

To no one’s surprise, Lawrence is absolutely plastered. She’s mostly dressed in black, dark makeup and a lacy top and boots, black flared trousers with dark purple glitter to match her hair. At some point, she explains to them that she’s dressed as a lump of coal - because of course, it’s an elaborate joke on Ellie, for Ellie, because of Ellie.

Tayce sometimes thinks Lawrence and Ellie must be intrinsically linked. Then again, they’re physically linked and all, Lawrence nearly crushing the poor birthday girl in a heavy-handed drunk embrace, her arm hanging over Ellie’s shoulders.

Ellie looks pretty too, iridescent glitter across her cheeks and eyelids, a pretty pink dress and the most adorable sugarplum earrings Tayce has ever seen. Her flushed cheeks and the inescapable wine scent radiating from them both tells her exactly how much Ellie has had, too. She bets that the two of them started the party hours before anyone else was told to arrive.

“Fucking hell, pisshead,” Aurora scoffs, sauntering inside with that earth-shaking confidence, “Save some for the rest of us!”

“Like your bag isn’t full of drinks, Santa Whores.” Lawrence replies, earning a screech laugh from Ellie and a chuckle from Tayce. “Fuckin’ hurry up then, let us close the door before we freeze our tits off.”

Once they’re with the rest of the party, Tayce feels the dangerous urge to catch up to everyone else’s drunkenness. Stupid, perhaps. But she’s seventeen and it’s Ellie’s birthday and why the fuck not, so she drinks one after another after another until the head rush finally kicks in and she feels woozy and happy and warm.

So warm.

Like always, she clings to Aurora, and Aurora clings to her. To be honest, she pulls off the dress way better than Tayce does, her craftsmanship just that little bit more finessed, her figure just that little bit more hourglass to fill it out properly. Tayce thinks she looks nice, but Aurora looks incredible - smooth, plump thighs, her ridiculous waist, those faux-mink lashes and her sultry pout. As much as she lives up to her nickname, it seems like a travesty, a waste of such beauty that she’s single right now.

Someone should treat Aurora right, Tayce decides. She deserves the man or woman of her dreams to sweep her off her feet.

Jesus Christ, she’s drunk.

It registers somewhere in her mind that she needs to pee, and luckily she remembers where the bathroom is from a random study session in like fourth year. Shouting it over the music, she pushes her Echo Falls into Aurora’s hand, makes her swear not to drink it, and totters away in her heels to the bathroom.

Tayce can neither confirm nor deny whether or not she nearly fell off the toilet seat as she tried to sit down.

When she emerges a couple of minutes later, the speaker’s blasting Becky Hill I Could Get Used To This and she can hear everyone singing along, Ellie and Aurora’s voices standing out as the loudest. Except not everyone’s singing along in the living room, because Asttina’s stood by the stairs, leaning on the banister, eyeing her with a tipsy, hungry gaze.

Tayce returns it.

“Party in there, you know.” She gestures towards the living room, off down the hallway.

Predictably, Asttina shrugs. “Meh. I prefer it out here, bit more private. Better view.”

Her eyes roam over Tayce’s body, and she feels the flame start to rise and burn, filling her chest. She feels beautiful, and wanted, and thrilled by the strange secrecy of it all. It doesn’t matter if anyone finds out, but the faux-danger of being caught only exacerbates the feeling. Not to mention Asttina is stunning tonight, a red and white striped dress clinging to her every curve. She looks like a candy cane, and Tayce wants to remove the wrapper with her teeth.

These kinds of thoughts are very new, very ridiculous, and very fun to indulge.

“I have to agree,” Tayce shrugs, playing it as cool as she can as she burns up inside, “Not so crowded.”

She approaches, feeling bold. In mere seconds, they’re almost nose to nose, Asttina against the banister, one hand on the small of Tayce’s back. The fire roars.

Kissing her feels like so many things all at once - confirming what she’s known for a while now, assuaging her fears that it won’t be good, indulging in her desires. It’s just right, having Asttina against her, their lips entwined, bodies pressed flush together. They keep going until there’s no air left, pausing only to catch their breath before their lidded eyes meet and it happens again, over and over until they’re panting, breathless, high on the reward of finally letting it happen.

“I really fucking like you,” Asttina explains between breaths, swiping at the smeared gloss underneath her lips. She looks messy, taken apart, and there’s a rush that comes with knowing she caused that.

Her chest heaves in a way that Tayce can’t tear her eyes away from. The rhythmic rising and falling of her breasts, the graceful movements of her neck, the way everything so seamlessly works together to create unimaginable beauty in something as simple as breathing. This is a taste of heaven, kissing girls is a taste of heaven.

“I really fucking like you too,” She responds.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

Their lips crash again. This is every parent’s nightmare, exactly what they spend hours convincing themselves their children aren’t doing at drunk house parties. It’s thrilling, living a lie, keeping a secret. It’s even more thrilling when Asttina’s confidence spikes, and her kiss becomes hungrier, her hands wandering to her breasts, pushing Tayce down and climbing on top of her, the two of them making out on the stairs. God, it’s everything she’s ever wanted and more.

In the other room, the party is continuing. It’s probably not going to be much longer before something thinks hang on, where did Asttina get to? Is Tayce still in the bathroom? But neither of them care. This feels so good, Tayce’s hands on Asttina’s waist, one daring to find the curve of her ass, Asttina’s weight above her as they lean onto the stairs together, hands on her tits and lips against hers. She tastes like homemade Woo Woos and the world is going to be crazy jealous that they’ve missed this.

Tayce loses herself in the sensation of it, heart thudding. If she’d have known it was so good, she’d have been doing this years ago. Is kissing always this good, this intense? She has nothing to compare it to, but she closes her eyes and lets the good feelings wash over her.

The music gets louder. Asttina breaks the kiss, panting, pulling Tayce towards her to press her lips into her neck, sucking the sweet spot. She gasps involuntarily, overtaken again by just how good it feels. Her eyes fly open.

Aurora stares blankly, one hand still on the doorknob. She has no expression on her face, Tayce’s Echo Falls tucked under her arm. The door shuts and she disappears, leaving them alone again.

Everyone sleeps over at Ellie’s after the party, still at that awkward age where the parents have accepted that drinking is an agreed-upon activity at teenage parties, but it still feels wrong to go home drunk. Lawrence and Ellie cram themselves top and tail on the big sofa in the living room, practically on top of each other for all the lack of space. Tayce finds a spot on the floor, the rug beneath her, a random blanket thrown on top of her for warmth. Bimini steals the other sofa, a great injustice given that she’s the tiniest one, resigning a very grumpy Tia to a much too small armchair. Asttina curls up against the coffee table, which can’t be comfortable. Inexplicably, Aurora sleeps underneath the kitchen table, her face resting on a tea towel.

They’re all slow to wake, the alcohol creeping in like Santa Claus and bestowing them with festive hangover gifts in exchange for their hard work getting on the Naughty List. When Tayce stretches, finally stirring enough to open her eyes, she groans at her aching head right as Tia lurches from the armchair and into the bathroom. Lawrence is already awake, sitting on the sofa with her feet firmly planted on the floor and her head between her legs, mouth slightly open, looking rougher than the brick walls of a Thatcher-era state school. Next to her, Ellie’s head rests on her shoulder, her eyes only half-open.

“Bangin’ party, chick,” She offers, willing the thumping in her head to subside as she attempts a smile.

Ellie whines. “I’m actually, genuinely dying.”

“Am hangin’ out me arse.” Lawrence adds, like it’s not obvious. Tayce elects not to respond.

Aurora stumbles into the living room from the kitchen, heels in her hand, dress slipping off of one shoulder. Her hair is matted on one side, the same side of her face that has an interesting pattern imprinted on it from her sleep. Flakes of mascara are collected underneath her eyes, and as she rubs her face, the makeup smears down her cheek.

It’s ridiculous that she can be hungover to fuck and still look so pretty. One day Tayce will learn her secrets, and she won’t have to be jealous anymore. As it stands, Aurora is a hot mess, but an artfully crafted one, a cinematic representation of a hungover woman with all of the ugliness removed. Sometimes Tayce thinks Aurora’s entire purpose when being made was to be looked at. That feels reductive when she considers her talents, her eye for fashion and her burgeoning skill in design, but she’s just breathtaking.

Her phone is clutched in one hand, which she waves weakly. “Mum’s outside. We gotta go.”

“Fuck me,” Tayce wobbles to her feet, a move which the rest of her body does not agree with. Her stomach churns, but she freezes in place momentarily and thankfully, it settles. As soon as her brain and body stop feeling as though there’s a five second delay between them, she’ll be grand. “Phone’s in my bag - didn’t bring anything else, did I?”

Aurora shakes her head and yawns. “Nah. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie makes to stand up from the sofa, but doesn’t succeed the first time. “Aye, give us a sec. I’ll walk you out.”

Aurora stops her. “Stay, babe. Had a good birthday, yeah?”

“Absolutely amazing.”

“Fabulous.” And she smiles, so warm, so genuine. It’s one of the things Tayce loves about her, for all the layers of bitchiness she hides behind, Aurora’s so loving, so sweet. Ellie collapses back into Lawrence, who still seems to be attempting to process the complexities of the universe by staring into the carpet. They make such a good duo.

Aurora’s mum laughs as they make their way outside, clearly looking a state and feeling the same way. She reaches onto the front seat - both girls in the back, relegated for their drunken crimes - and hands them each a McDonald’s hash brown and a bottle of Tropicana orange juice. Tayce could cry.

“Good night, then, girls?” She chuckles, making eye contact with Tayce in the mirror. “I remember that feeling all too well. You learn your lesson, eh?”

Tayce smiles at her. “It was great. Ells is suffering this morning.”

“Aww, poor Ellie-Bellie. Did she have a good birthday?”

“Looks like it.”

Aurora’s mum chuckles again, and it’s clear that this is where her daughter gets all her warmth and charisma from. “I should’ve guessed, silly me.”

They’re somewhere between five and ten minutes into the journey when Tayce notices Aurora finally finish her hash brown, neatly folding and tucking the little paper packet into the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat. She’s a slow eater at the best of times, something everyone loves to gently tease her for, but especially when she’s been drinking. She also realises Aurora has been quiet for that whole time, and seemingly, her mum does too.

“You okay, my lovely? You’ve been quiet.”

Aurora tears her eyes away from the window and offers a smile. “Yeah, fine. Just knackered.”

And that’s it.

She drops them off at home, where they’re mercifully alone - Aurora’s dad is at work, and won’t be back until late evening, her sister’s off doing a cosmetology course, and her mum’s going out with some friends as soon as they’re safely inside. The first thing Tayce does upon getting inside is steals Aurora’s charger to give her phone a boost, making herself comfortable on the end of the bed to scroll through her notifications until her best friend has perked up a bit. There’s a message from Asttina that pops up, sent less than one minute ago.

Asttina [10.08am]: That was fun x

A slight understatement, Tayce thinks. Fun isn’t how she would put it. It had felt… validating, maybe, or gratifying, a beautiful confirmation of a fact she already knew, but had never been able to test. That love and women are synonymous in Tayce’s life, and they always will be. She feels a wave of confidence at her certainty.

Tayce [10.09am]: are we gfs???

Asttina [10.09am]: We can be ;) x

Tayce [10.09am]: is it ok if i don’t wanna tell anyone? like not yet

Asttina [10.10am]: I don’t either. It can just be for us x

Girlfriends. That sounds nice. She sets her phone down, watching the percentage climbing up from its measly 17%. Aurora has gotten changed, unabashedly stripping out of her Christmas dress and slipping into some comfy joggers and a loose black vest. She looks at Tayce for a second too long, and their friendship has spanned enough time that words aren’t fully necessary to communicate. Her eyes have given away a problem long before her tongue would ever dare to verbalise it.

“What?”

Aurora sighs, caught. “How long’s that been going on, then? You and Tina?”

Makes sense. Being the queen of gossip, that one person who knows everything about everyone’s business, it’s probably been killing Aurora all night that she felt as though something juicy had slipped by her. She’s always the one Tayce goes to when she’s mildly curious about the tea on a random fifth year.

“That was the first time,” She answers, truthfully. A lie of omission isn’t really a lie, she thinks - sure, they had that moment in the common room but that wasn’t anything physical, anything that could really be counted as something. It’s not something Aurora needs to know, anyway, because no one knew. She’s not missing out on the knowledge if no one else knows it, she thinks.

“Didn’t look like it,” Aurora snarks.

Tayce puts her bitchy tone of voice down to the hangover and tiredness, and ignores it. “It was, swear to God. Why?”

Aurora sits down on the bed, taking the opposite end and curling her legs beneath her like a cat. She takes a pillow and puts it in her lap, her hands resting over it. Tayce thinks, absent-mindedly, that this would be a beautiful shot for a photographer to capture. A teen girl, comfortable, musing, fresh from a night of fun and partying. It would be some kind of artistic commentary on the mundanity that inevitably follows excitement.

“I just- I just think it’s funny,” Aurora begins, and Tayce’s stomach drops. Nothing good has ever come after those words. “That you never told me you were gay. Or bi, or however you identify. Like I get not wanting everyone to know, babe, but I thought it was different because we’re best friends. You were the first person I told.”

Among the guilt and discomfort stirring in her stomach, a surge of annoyance shoots through Tayce like a lightning bolt. It’s a horrible, jarring feeling, to be annoyed at her. She’s never been genuinely annoyed by her best friend before, the two of them always joking that it was impossible for them to actually fray any nerves, just glancing off one another with a giggle and a wink. But this, for some reason, strikes an angry chord that Tayce didn’t know she’d ever had. In what world does Aurora’s bravery mean that she’s owed Tayce’s?

“I wasn’t ready for anyone to know, chick.” She admits, trying to swallow the anger in favour of bleeding-heart honesty. “If you hadn’t seen us, I wouldn’t have told you today.”

Aurora looks hurt, her pupils big and black, the corners of her mouth ever-so-slightly downturned. Her beauty does not justify her emotion, though it softens the blow.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

She considers lying, but the last thing she wants is Aurora getting more upset. Especially since it has nothing to do with her, and is therefore her favourite subject.

“I think so, alright? But you can’t tell anyone, we’re not doing that. It’s just for us right now.”

Aurora huffs, but holds her hands up in surrender. “I won’t say anything. I’ll take a leaf out of your book.”

Tayce bristles at the dig. She knows Aurora’s sharp tongue and cutting words better than anyone, and as her best friend it’s protected her from many battles, but this is the first time the blade has really been used against her. Perhaps heightened by the hangover irritation, she shoots her a dangerous look.

“Don’t speak to me like that. You do realise I don’t owe you anything?”

Aurora blinks, taken aback. This might be the first time she’s been challenged. Good, Tayce thinks. Humble yourself. “I never said you did! But a bit of transparency would be nice, your whole friend group is a bunch of queers, your best friend included, and you didn’t even think to tell me that you’re gay or you had a crush on Tina?” She stands up, pacing, and then settles in front of the vanity table she’d begged her mum for. “I mean, Christ, babes, crushing on Tina is a rite of passage for us all at this point, whether she knows it or not.”

Tayce feels herself getting heated, and finds herself shifting the blame to Aurora, even though she’s fairly certain it’s her own internalised issues making her so mad. Aurora is easier to blame, in any case, and wears the accusations stunningly, her anger as beautiful as it is devastating. “See, this is why I didn’t fucking tell you, Rory. I know it’s all funny-haha with our lot, but my queerness isn’t a joke! I’m the one who has to lie and say Bim’s the only one who ever came out and the rest of us all date boys if my parents ask. I can’t have people joking about this, and every fucking day it’s something about us shagging or Ellie and Lawrence falling fanny-first into each other!”

“Then say that, and we won’t! We’re not arseholes, babe.” Aurora frowns. Her cheeks are pink, reddening in the mirror’s reflection. “Oh my god. You don’t trust me.”

“I trust you with my life.”

“But not your queerness. Or your little girlfriend.”

“My little girlfriend?” Tayce stands up now too, unsure of how the conversation has gotten itself to this point. “Rory, why are you being like this?”

Aurora shrugs, forced nonchalance written across her pursed lips, cocked eyebrow, steely eyes. “I think you should go. I have coursework to do. Your girlfriend’s probably blowing up your phone.”

Tayce tries to breathe, to calm things. “Rory- it’s just Tina. You don’t have to call her my girlfriend - it’s Tina, our Tina.”

“Your Tina. Congrats. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

It’s weird, because Tayce knows Aurora. She knows the sweet, soft, vulnerable side that hides behind her sharp tongue and perfectly made-up facade, knows what you could call the truth. But she’s starting to see why people outside of the friendship circle think that she’s a bitch.

Because she is one.

Apparently, her need to be the first one on the scene when gossip arises is enough to strain a friendship that Tayce had foolishly assumed was stronger than steel. It doesn’t matter, though, she reminds herself daily. She has a girlfriend, and an entire group full of friends that isn’t just Aurora, no matter how much it had felt like that. Tayce is surrounded by people that love her. It hardly matters if one has decided, however petty, that she doesn’t like her.

Either it’s that or this new boyfriend that she’s become obsessed with over the past couple of months, Marcus. She’s asked around, wondering if maybe Lawrence was privy to the information (although unlikely, since she would definitely have blabbed sooner), but no one has any idea how the pairing came to be. It just sort of feels like Aurora showed up one day on the arm of this lad, happy as anything with the attention it gave her, getting whisked away during free periods and lunch for an impromptu McDonald’s lunch.

They’ve not said more than two words to each other, Tayce and Marcus, since Aurora went cold on her, but she hates him inexplicably. He’s not right for her. Somehow she just knows it.

“Fuckin’ hell. Pedo Pete is back for our Rory,” Lawrence crosses her arms, watching as Aurora giggles and jumps in the front seat of Marcus’ battered 06 reg car. She kicks an old Burger King wrapper out of the way and leans over the mess to kiss him. He has a stupid goatee and Tayce imagines his breath smells like ash and lager. She averts her eyes at their display.

Still, she feels the urge to defend her old friend, slightly. “He’s not a pedo, Loz. And his name’s not Pete.”

Lawrence harrumphs. “He’s twenty one! She’s seventeen. Why’s he sniffing round secondary schools for girlfriends?”

It’s kinda difficult to argue with her. Ellie seems to agree, her nose wrinkled at the unpleasantness of both Lawrence’s wording and the truth behind it. Bimini frowns, as if in thought.

“Here, Tayce, why don’t you talk to her about him? If anyone could make her see sense, it’s you.” They suggest.

Tayce doesn’t have to look to know that Asttina’s reacted, though she covers it well with a sudden but convincing coughing fit. No one else knows that Tayce has been essentially frozen out, that the last time they texted was two days after Ellie’s party. At first it had seemed like Aurora was just pissed off at her, something that usually only lasted a few days at most, but a month went by with very little change, then the return to sixth form with only enough social contact as to not arouse suspicion among their friends, then Marcus appeared, and it was like Aurora was saying yeah, I’m finished with you. I don’t need you anymore.

She shrugs, hoping she seems nonchalant and casual. “I could try. But it’s Rory, she doesn’t listen to anyone.”

The group laughs, then Lawrence whacks Ellie on the back in what Tayce can only assume was intended to be an encouraging pat.

“Right, hen, we have revision booklets and a steaming cuppa calling our names. See you all Monday.”

They begin to walk off together, shoulder-barging the entire way down the street like a pair of bickering children. Bimini shakes their head fondly after them, and then bids Tayce and Asttina a warm goodbye each as their bus pulls up to the front of the school. Left alone, Tayce feels a silly little thrill go through her.

“Back to mine?” Asttina asks, though they both know it’s not even a question. It’s been their routine for the past few months, as winter slipped out and spring burst forth. Her parents thought she was with Aurora, her friends thought she was at home, and Aurora wasn’t around often enough to know or care that anything was going on. Asttina’s home felt safe, a place for Tayce to just let go of everything.

So, naturally, it was within the safe cocoon of Asttina’s home that the cracks started to show. Everything that was finally good, precariously balanced and managed and adapted to, started to crumble right before Tayce’s eyes.

“You know what, I don’t even care!” Tayce rants, her annoyance soothed by the rhythmic stroking of Asttina’s fingers in her hair, but still bubbling beneath the surface. “Like- whatever, she can do what she wants. But would it kill her to text me once in a while or respond if I text her? Seriously?”

Above her, Asttina snorts. Her disdain for Aurora had been becoming more and more apparent as Tayce vented, and it was comforting to know someone else was seeing through the bullshit too. Aurora had been the best friend in the world right up until she hadn’t, and Tayce was sick of feeling lied to, especially when no one else seemed to get it.

“It’s just fucking rude,” She agrees, beginning to idly plait a few strands of Tayce’s hair, her head comfortably wedged in Asttina’s lap. “It’s disrespectful. She’s supposed to be your best friend.”

Tayce sighs. “Exactly! She’s been funny with me since Ellie’s party. Honestly, I just think she misses having all that power over me and she’s pissed off she can’t have it again.”

It’s mean to say, and not entirely truthful, but Tayce is angry and upset at someone she once loved. Asttina leans down and kisses her forehead, relaxing the muscles where she’d lapsed into a frown.

“No, literally though.” Asttina says, her voice judgemental. “I bet she’s jealous. This is the first time since you’ve been friends that she’s not been the centre of your universe.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Tayce dismisses the notion, uncomfortable with the idea that Aurora was ever the centre of her universe. “Because like, her boyfriend. She wants nothing to do with any of us just because she’s got this boyfriend who drives her around everywhere like a bloody princess.”

Asttina nods. “Ah, Nonce Charming. A real catch as far as non-dealers who look like dealers can go.”

Tayce bursts into giggles, smacking her girlfriend’s thigh. “You’re awful! Absolute hound! She’d have your head for that!”

“I’d like to see her try.”

“I would too.”

She shifts, pulling herself up and grabbing Asttina by the back of the neck to kiss her. This is what the safety of Asttina’s home affords, a quiet space where two girls can laugh and kiss and no one cares, no one knows, and it never needs to be a topic of conversation. It’s just easy, comfortable. No unnecessary excitement, no stomach butterflies, just this. Warm lips and designer perfume and a fluffy pillow against her back.

For several moments she’s lost in it, lost in the magic of kissing girls, lost in having a girlfriend, lost in an embrace both familiar and new. It takes a few seconds for her to realise the world isn’t just the two of them in Asttina’s bedroom, her brain suddenly tuning in to a new sound and Asttina gently pulling away from the kiss.

“Babe, your phone,” She breathes, her face millimetres from Tayce’s, her breath hot against her skin. “It’s ringing. Your mum?”

Christ, she hopes not. Reluctantly, Tayce shuffles backwards to grab the interrupting device, ready to roll her eyes and silence it, already arming herself with the sorry we were studying our phones were on silent excuse for when she gets grilled about it later. But the excuse leaves her mind as quickly as it enters once she actually glances at the screen, and sees not her mum but Aurora.

She frowns, showing Asttina. Her girlfriend shrugs.

“Rory?”

There’s a peculiar noise down the phone, a sort of weird crackling sound. She waits for an answer, assuming the connection is just bad. The crackling happens again.

“Hello?”

“Tayce?”

Her stomach drops. The voice is hollow, trembling, fragile - it sounds like it could shatter any minute.

“Rory?” She asks again. “Are you crying?”

No response, other than the sound of a shuddering breath after five seconds of silence. Then, after another ten seconds or so,

“Can you come over?”

Tayce blinks, the words unable to register in her mind before she hears the three beeping tones to indicate the call has ended. She drops the phone onto the bed and stares numbly at Asttina, hoping she’ll have some kind of answer.

“What happened? She alright?”

She shakes her head. “Definitely crying. She asked me to go over.”

Asttina’s eyes go wide. “Jesus, I didn’t even know Rory could produce real tears. She must be really upset. She didn’t say what it was about?”

“Nothing.”

“You should probably go, then. Find out.”

God, Tayce is glad she said it. She was thinking the same thing, but it almost felt disloyal to just run away from her girlfriend after that conversation. She’s so lucky her girlfriend is so understanding, so kind, so nice even to a girl she can barely stand nowadays. Tayce pulls on her shoes, zipping up the boots and gathering her stuff back into her handbag as quickly as she can.

“Yeah, I’m gonna. Sorry to run out like this.”

Asttina silences her with a last-minute kiss, lingering for just a few seconds before pulling away. “Don’t be. You’re an amazing friend, babe. Text me, let me know what’s going on, yeah?”

“Of course.” Tayce promises. “Love you.”

Luckily, Aurora’s house is only a ten minute walk away, but Tayce knows she can do it in seven or even six if she hurries it up, and this feels like the kind of scenario where her urgency is needed. Every ounce of resentment she held towards her best friend melts away in a fraction of a second, her broken voice and desperate call enough to wash anything cruel away. At the end of the day, Aurora is her best friend, she always has been, she always will be. No stupid fight will prevent Tayce from being the one to dry her tears before they fall.

As she arrives, she notices the driveway is empty - her parents must be at work, her sister at college. Tayce reaches into the hanging basket of flowers by the front door, plucking the spare key from it and opening the door as quickly as she can, kicking her shoes off, and running upstairs. She knows exactly what she’ll see, but it hurts to know her so well that she’s right.

Aurora is sitting in the middle of her bed, her back against the wall, with her knees hugged to her chest and her hands linked around them. Her face is streaked with tears, not a stitch of makeup on, her skin red and blotchy and irritated from crying. She lets out a loud wail at Tayce’s entrance, her face crumpling. It’s so heartbreaking that Tayce feels tears start to prick at her own eyes as she scrambles to sit next to her.

“Come here for a cwtch. Stop crying before I bloody start, you,” She fans her eyes with one hand, reaching around Aurora with the other to pull her into a hug. “You silly sod. What are you crying for, what’s going on?”

Aurora tries valiantly to speak, but every attempt only brings a fresh wave of tears forth, choking her up and closing her throat. After a few moments with little success, she tosses her phone in Tayce’s direction.

Tayce unlocks it and follows Aurora’s direction, tapping onto Whatsapp and into a conversation with some girl called Poppy. So far, so weird. Tayce is sure she doesn’t know a Poppy.

Poppy [3.23pm]: Is this Aurora ?

Aurora [3.23pm]: yes who’s this xx

Poppy [3.24pm]: So your the little skank messing around with my boyfriend then must be nice having no self respect your a little rat

Aurora [3.24pm]: what? Who are you? xx

Poppy [3.24pm]: Dont play dumb youre little act wont work on me bab I’m not stupid! Your the whore running around wiht my fella little sket fuckin nasty to go for someone elses man like your actully vial for that

Aurora [3.25pm]: are you on about marcus?

Poppy [3.26pm]: fucking hell how thick are you ?! oviously i’m on about marcus you stupid prick and youre skanky arse needs to stay AWAY from him he’s gonna be a dad and we dont need you trying to break up are family

Aurora [3.26pm]: omg I’m so sorry I didn’t know he had a girlfriend xx

Poppy [3.27pm]: yeah right nasty little sket course you didnt, stay away from him or i’ll spark you out gotta get tested now since i bet your riddled

Aurora [3.27pm]: I promise we haven’t done anything just kissed and took me out places xx really sorry I honestly didn’t know xx

Poppy [3.28pm]: just fuck off your a horrible cunt

Well, shit.

Aurora takes the phone from Tayce’s hand and chucks it across the room, where it thankfully lands unscathed in the middle of her beanbag chair. Tayce’s blood feels like it’s about to boil, certain she can feel the blistering heat of her rage beneath her skin. The audacity of this prick to use Aurora, to use her best friend, brilliant and bright and beautiful as she is, all while being in a long-term relationship with someone else - and to then let her take all of this abuse? If it wasn’t for how desperately Aurora needs her comfort, Tayce would be marching down to find the bastard and give him a black eye with a fist full of Zara rings.

“Sounds like they bloody deserve each other,” She hisses, feeling Aurora shake and sob into her shoulder. “Horrible pair of pricks! God help that baby.”

That’s probably not the right thing to say, but what is? How exactly do you comfort someone in this situation, especially your distant best friend?

Deciding not to make matters worse, Tayce just wraps Aurora fully in her arms, resting her chin on top of her head and saying nothing at all. With one hand, she rubs her back until the juddering breaths slow down, letting her ruin the front of her t-shirt with tears and snot without even a flinch. The least she deserves is being able to cry without any further embarrassment, since Tayce can imagine this whole ordeal is humiliating enough.

Somewhere off to the side, her phone buzzes. Probably Asttina checking in to see if Aurora is okay. She’s not sure where, but she feels a weird twist of guilt in her stomach as she switches her phone to silent and swipes the message away.

They stay like that for at least half an hour, arm cramps and uncomfortable positions be damned. Slowly, Tayce’s t-shirt dries, and when Aurora finally lifts her head, she seems much better than she was before. Her eyes are still puffy, lashes full and dark and pointed from her tears, and the blotchiness has faded into an overall pink tinge, her skin raw and fresh underneath. She wriggles slightly, not removing herself from Tayce’s grasp but letting them both get more comfortable, and places her head back down against Tayce’s shoulder rather than at her front. In their new position, Tayce can smell her sweet vanilla perfume.

“Thank you for being here,” She mumbles, her voice still delicate but much clearer than before. “I really needed this.”

Tayce feels like she’s blushing. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me. I barely did anything.”

“You did everything,” Aurora insists. Her eyes are so earnest, so big and shining. “I didn’t know who else to call. I don’t trust anyone else and I knew-” She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat, “I knew even after how much of a bitch I was, you’d answer.”

Asttina’s words echo in her mind: This is the first time since you’ve been friends that she’s not been the centre of your universe.

No, she thinks. I resent that. Aurora’s my best friend.

Once again, she pushes all thoughts of Asttina to the back of her mind.

“I love you, Rory. You’re my best friend, I won’t just stand by and let you get trampled on. Even if you are a mega-bitch.”

Then it happens - Aurora laughs. It’s like the clouds splitting apart mid-storm, the crack of sunshine bursting through and blinding like a ray of hope and warmth. She’s going to be okay. They’re going to be okay.

“Oh god, I am! I didn’t mean to be!” She giggles, cringing at herself. “Stuff got so confusing- boyfriends and girlfriends and feelings and- god. I’m so sorry.”

“Enough of that,” Tayce waves her hand. “No more sorry’s from either of us. We have nothing else to be sorry for.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Aurora smiles. “I fucking love you. You’re the best.”

Tayce grins. “I know.”

Aurora lifts her head up and looks at her, properly. Her eyes are sparkling, her smile genuine and bright. Tayce looks right back. She’s so pretty. She’s always been pretty. Aurora paints her face to perfection every single day and talks wistfully of when she’ll finally be old enough to get lip filler but Tayce thinks they’re the perfect pouty shape, soft and plump and kissable, a pleasing shade of pink. She’s beautiful, and her lips are like the cherry on top of a sundae, the perfect accent to a gorgeous presentation, the finishing touches. She’s so inviting. She’s so wonderful. She smells so nice.

Kissing Aurora is the most natural thing in the world. They have a rhythm, a delicate balance of push-and-pull that they both instinctively know how to manage. It’s just right, Tayce’s hands on her waist and Aurora, desperate, warm, cupping her cheeks and jaw. Nothing will feel as intrinsic and real as this, as kissing Aurora with reckless abandon, communicating things their words can’t, stirring up feelings that not even Asttina-

Oh god. Asttina.

The realisation seems to hit them both at the same time, rapidly breaking apart. Tayce sits back on her heels, reeling. She’s just cheated on her girlfriend.

They’re quiet for a few minutes. It’s awful. She honestly doesn’t know what’s worse - the horrifying, nauseating guilt and shame of cheating in her first ever relationship, or the fact that she wants to kiss Aurora again, to feel that all is right in the world for those brief, blissful moments before they come back up for air.

Aurora breaks the silence. “I’m not saying sorry.”

Tayce looks at her and swallows. “Neither am I.”

It happens again.

-

She should tell Asttina that she kissed Aurora. They hang out the day after, and she should tell her. But she doesn’t.

At school, Aurora gains access to an empty classroom from a former tutor who still trusts her, and begs Tayce to help her revise in there. They cover the door’s window with paper and make out over the back table. She should tell Asttina. But she doesn’t.

As their six month anniversary arrives in June, Tayce and Asttina go out on a date to Nandos. Between flirting and kissing, Aurora texts her pictures of her modelling some of her newest design prototypes, scantily clad and gorgeous. She should tell Asttina. But she doesn’t.

Over the summer holiday before their final year at school, Tayce is invited to join Aurora’s family on their holiday to Santorini. They sneak off together in their bikinis, getting bronze and tan and stealing kisses away from watchful eyes. She should tell Asttina. But she doesn’t.

Valentine’s day approaches. She should tell Asttina. But she doesn’t. She amicably ends things, citing a need to focus on exams and university prep, and that’s that.

-

“‘A fuckin’ love study leave.” Lawrence announces.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “That’s because you do fuck all studying, hen. All you’ve done is make brownies.”

“Bullshit.”

“Is it?”

“I made shortcake too, you fat cunt. Don’t you ever try to sell me short.”

Bimini blows a raspberry. “Do you two ever shut up? Asking for those of us who actually want to pass.”

Lawrence blows an arguably wetter, nastier one back. “Aw, shut it. We all know you’re coming out with four fuckin’ A*’s. If anyone here’s worried it should be Rory.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aurora cries.

“Exactly.” Lawrence shoots them all a look. “Right then, Bims, what you working on?”

“Business,” They respond. Lawrence yawns and wanders off to the kitchen.

Aurora’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, please help me with Business. I’m so shit. I can’t get above a D, and that’s on my best day, usually I’m an E. I just want a C.”

Bimini pulls out their booklet, neatly highlighted and annotated in corresponding colours. Asttina follows suit, sifting through worksheets and hand-outs to find the correct ones for the module they’re going through. Tayce just rereads the same few Textiles pages, determined to get them into her brain one way or another. Ellie slinks off to join Lawrence in the kitchen.

Tayce isn’t really listening, one earphone in on her favourite 00s throwback playlist, but she’s faintly aware of the Business buzzwords flying around, though the only one she really understands is profit. It’s all so dull. She can’t wait for this weird transitional period to just be over, wishing they could be out on the other side or even in the throes of exams just so the wait will be over and all there’ll be left to do is pack up and go off to university.

She pulls out her phone to text Aurora on the sly.

Tayce [2.56pm]: babe can we pls go back to urs after this im dying, you’re too pretty to be studying this hard anyway xx

The textbook screams at her to focus on sewing patterns and sustainability, so she tries and ultimately fails, instead checking to see if she’s gotten a response in the minute her eyes have been away from the screen. Out of habit, her eyes flick up to the contact picture. It’s… not Aurora.

Fuck.

Asttina’s grinning face looks back at her on the phone. Shit, shit, shit shit.

Tayce [2.58pm]: sorry hun wrong person x

Asttina [2.59pm]: Are you kidding?

You’re fucking Aurora now? Is that why you ended things?

Tayce [2.59pm]: i’m not fucking her!

Asttina [3.00pm]: So it is why you ended things. Not for exams after all, since you clearly have time for the girl you swore to me you weren’t into like that.

Tayce feels sick. It’s excruciating, not only to have such a horrible conversation but to have it over text, while the person in question is only a few feet away, acting like nothing’s wrong, pretending to revise her fucking Business modules. The shame and guilt wells up, hot and heavy and prickly in the pit of her stomach. She should tell her.

Tayce [3.00pm]: it’s not like that. i’m sorry tina.

Asttina [3.00pm]: Don’t call me Tina.

I really liked you Tayce. You’re a great friend but we were so good together, I had no idea why you ended it. It was for her, wasn’t it? I bet something happened. I wish you knew how much this hurts.

She should tell her.

Tayce [3.07pm]: it wasn’t meant to happen. we kissed a while back and idk it was different, i can’t explain it. i really like her asttina i’m so so sorry you’re an amazing gorgeous girl really :( i feel like utter shit genuinely i would never want to hurt you, i should never have done it i should’ve told you straight away.

Asttina [3.09pm]: Straight away? Are you seriously saying you were messing around with her while we were dating?

Tayce [3.09pm]: not messing around just

idk

Asttina [3.10pm]: Fucking hell. I’m actually disgusted I never pegged you as the type. Well it sounds like you two deserve each other then.

Tayce [3.10pm]: i’m really really sorry asttina, i mean it. i know that doesn’t fix things but i hope you can forgive me someday. i can leave if that would make you more comfortable

Asttina [3.11pm]: Please. Don’t let me get in the way of you and Awhora pairing off together.

After a few moments, she stands up. “I gotta go, gonna miss my bus otherwise. Good luck girls.”

It’s innocent enough, a believable excuse and some positive energy for their studies, but Tayce can’t help feeling like there’s a double meaning behind her words. She feels awful. Without thinking, she stands up too.

“Here, I’ll walk you out. I need to stretch my legs.”

For the sake of keeping up appearances, Asttina smiles and nods, not protesting. Tayce waits until they’re just out of earshot, the front door closed behind them, and then the apologies start tumbling from her lips. Asttina holds up a hand and silences her.

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you. I’m tired of you lying.” She folds her arms, her beautiful dark eyes dulled with sadness. “You’re a fucking coward is what you are. You lie about everything because you’re too scared to tell the truth. Can’t tell your friends you’re gay. Can’t tell your parents. Can’t tell the people who love you most that you have a girlfriend. Can’t tell the girlfriend that while you’re so scared of coming out you’re quite happy to confirm your sexuality by getting off with another girl.”

The worst part is that Tayce can’t even look her in the eyes.

“I don’t care, okay? We broke up months ago. I care that you lied to me, it hurts that you lied to me, but you’re free to do whatever you want. Just know that if you keep being a lying, cheating coward, you’re not gonna get anywhere in life. You’ll be miserable and afraid like you are now for the rest of your life. And honestly, you kinda deserve it.”

Tayce has no right to cry, so she does everything she can to swallow back her tears, forcing the lump in her throat down and breathing hard. She tears her eyes away from the ground, trying to show a little bit of strength by looking up, but as soon as she manages, the dam breaks. Asttina’s face is a mask, flawless and distinctive but delicate, moments away from shattering, her eyes glistening and her jaw set in place. She’s one of Tayce’s closest friends, her first love, someone she cares endlessly about - and yet even in her mind there’s a twinge of guilt as the little voice corrects her. She was your first relationship, not your first love. Aurora’s your first love.

Oh god, she loves Aurora.

How could she have done this to Asttina?

“I’m sorry.” She calls out, zoning back in and realising that Asttina has begun walking away.

Asttina turns, briefly, her gaze serious. “For what?”

There’s no answer. There’s nothing Tayce can possibly say that makes any sense.

“That’s what I thought.”

She heads back inside.

In the middle of Lawrence’s living room floor, Aurora and Bimini lie on their fronts with a poster between them, annotating diagrams that Tayce neither understands nor attempts to try, the both of them armed with pastel highlighters and glitter gel pens like students on a mission. The room is trashed from their collective efforts, Ellie’s art binder open against the big sofa, Lawrence’s books in disarray with pages folded and crumpled all across the table and the floor. She hears them both in the kitchen still, clattering around and bickering, and decides to rescue Lawrence’s exercise books from their tragic fate while there’s still time, gently smoothing them out. Aurora offers her a smile, none the wiser to the emotional grenade just detonated outside.

She’ll explain everything later. She won’t be a coward this time.

Her thoughts are thankfully interrupted by a loud whoop in the kitchen, followed by, “FUCKING YES!” in the specific intonation of what can only be Lawrence Chaney discovering a cupboard full of alcohol. Sure enough, she bursts back into the living room with two bottles of wine in hand, Ellie hot on her heels with another two, sporting matching, manic grins.

“‘A rather think we’ve studied enough, hens,” She announces, setting the bottles down, “So put that shite away!”

Aurora looks up, then wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Ells, you don’t even like wine!”

Ellie shrugs. “I do if it’s free and I fancy a drink.”

Bimini laughs. “I mean, it is starting to get dark outside…”

The girls all turn to the window, the sky a pale mauve. That’s good enough, right? In any case, Tayce isn’t turning down a chance to wipe away these horrible messy feelings churning her stomach. If anything’s gonna make her feel like shit, it may as well be the inevitable wine hangover of tomorrow.

-

It’s not immediately obvious where Tayce is when she opens her eyes. The first thing to register is the metal clamp around her head, squeezing her temples and radiating all the way around. After a few seconds of intense thinking, which hurts all the more, she comes to the conclusion that she’s crumpled up in Lawrence’s bathtub. Because of course. But what even-

“Mornin’, Karen Bitchell,” Ellie waves. She’s clearly been awake for a while, if her smudged makeup and fierce hugging of the toilet bowl are anything to go off.

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Last ni- ahhh…” She chuckles, mischief in her eyes, “You don’t remember. Not surprising, hen. You went round parodying Eastenders at one point. Gave us all names. You were Karen Bitchell.”

“And you?”

“Thot Bottom.”

Despite her sore head, she laughs. “I’m a bloody genius! Lawrence?”

“Phyllis Bitchell.”

“You ain’t my mother!” Tayce laughs. She feels fucking awful, but it sounds like a great night. “Who else, Aurora?”

Ellie pauses for a moment, pukes into the toilet, flushes, and then wipes her mouth off with toilet paper. “You told her she couldn’t be in Eastenders because she’s already in TOWIE. Then she told you to go back to Barry Island where you belong.”

“The audacity!” She tries to wrack her brain for anything from the night, but nothing emerges. “Uh, Bims?”

“Scat Slater.”

Tayce snorts, then winces. Damn this headache. “That’s actually obscene, oh my word. How come you remember all this and I don’t, then?”

Ellie takes several deep breaths, and once suitably calmed down, offers a cheeky grin. “You were absolutely plastered, hen. I mean, I was bad, but you and wine are a very interesting mix. Went to your head in seconds.”

“I can feel it, babes, it’s still up there,” She half-laughs, half-groans in response, rubbing her forehead and making to clamber awkwardly out of the bath. “No idea how I ended up here.”

Ellie shrugs. “I came in when I started feeling sick half an hour ago and you were dead asleep, I just didn’t question it. The others are downstairs, I think Bims is making breakfast. Vegan pancakes.”

“How the bloody hell do you make a vegan pancake?”

“Go find out, I guess.”

Bimini, of course, is irritatingly normal as Tayce heads downstairs, always fresh as a daisy after a night of drinking no matter how much they consumed. She watches for a moment as they busy around the kitchen, a big mixing bowl in front of them, while Lawrence sits at the table with her head in her hands, occasionally passing utensils or ingredients over without moving beyond that. It’s refreshing to know that Bimini’s the weird one, not the rest of them, all hanging out their arses while they beam sunshine into the room. Tayce decides that if they breathe a word about their veganism being the reason for it, she’ll simply have to smack them.

“Morning, babes!” Bimini calls, taking a whisk from Lawrence’s limp hand and combining everything in the bowl. “How ya feeling?”

She gestures towards Lawrence with her head. “She looks how I feel.”

“Fuck off back to Hell where ya came from.”

“Racist.” Tayce sticks out her tongue, not that Lawrence can see. “I’m from Wales.”

“And do you miss the sheep?”

“You’re the reason they changed the Irn Bru recipe,” Tayce shoots back, laughing at the gasp of outrage. “Right, that’s my cue to leave you to it, babes.”

She finds Aurora in the living room, sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her, quietly scrolling through her Instagram feed. Taking advantage of the situation, she flings herself down into the empty space next to her, her head in Aurora’s lap so she can look up at her. Even hungover - and from such a horrifically unflattering angle - she looks beautiful.

Aurora’s a far cry from the girl Tayce once knew her as, all huge floppy buns and Dream Matte Mousse foundation in shade Tangerine and pearly lipgloss from Boots. Strangely, she’d managed to pull off that awful look back then, somehow, but now she’s nothing short of perfect, the makeup and clothing refined and polished, her personal style both distinctive and glamorous. And - something Tayce appreciates a lot - she always removes her makeup at the end of the day, even drunk, and as she smiles down at the girl in her lap her skin is bare and smooth, her gaze much softer without the striking black lines around them.

“Hiya, gorgeous,” She smiles, her free hand combing through Tayce’s hair. “Feeling alright this morning?”

Tayce groans. “Everyone’s asked me that so far. How bad was I?”

Aurora chuckles. “You were pretty funny. Kept us all entertained.”

It’s almost as if she knows that this is the safest Tayce has ever felt. Here, in Aurora’s lap, being gently fawned over and smiled at, this is where she’s the most comfortable she’s certain she’ll ever be. It’s like she knows that if there’s ever a time to break tense news to someone, this is that time.

“You should know… I don’t know if anyone else has mentioned it. You, uh, came out to us all last night.”

Briefly, a flare goes off in the pit of her stomach, an explosion of anxiety and fear preparing to fight whatever horrible consequences will inevitably follow this drunken moment of vulnerability. But then Aurora’s fingers stop combing, caught in a little knot, and she carefully detangles it without a word, smoothing it down again, and carries on.

“I know you were really worried about that and if people would make jokes and not take you seriously but I promise none of us will. You just kept going on about feeling like you were lying or being a coward, so I just wanna make sure you’re okay because everyone here loves you so much and we’re so, so proud of you. None of us want you to feel like you shouldn’t have come out.

Part of Tayce is mortified. She’s just… come out to her friends, drunk, like it’s nothing, when really it’s everything. She’s just ripped open a piece of herself and held it in her hands, glistening and bleeding and dripping, for everyone she loves to see and observe, and she doesn’t even remember it. She can feel the wound, though, the pit of regret and dread, still raw and red and aching. Tayce has lost a piece of herself and she doesn’t even have the consolation prize of remembering how she gave it away.

But part of her battles those feelings. It makes no sense, but at the same time, she’s liberated from this stupid secret, this festering tumour filled with shame and embarrassment and self-loathing. Perhaps her drunken self was right to reach in, dig it out, and free herself from the shackles of it. Her sexuality should never have had such a drastic impact on her the way it has. Maybe now it’s out there, she won’t feel so heavy all the time.

Eventually, she realises Aurora has fallen quiet, waiting worriedly for her response. Tayce reaches up and clasps her other hand.

“I’ll be okay. I’m glad you all know.”

And it isn’t a lie. The more she thinks about it, the more she knows it’s the truth. Especially since she’s spoken to everyone, albeit momentarily, and not a single one of them made a big deal out of it, or even brought it up. They just accepted it, as easily as they would if she had informed them of a change of hairstyle. It’s just part of her, and they chose years ago to love her to completion.

The warmth that fills her is slow but definite. Her friends pour in, Ellie managing to tear herself away from the bathroom long enough to get some breakfast in her, Bimini proudly serving their admittedly not terrible pancakes in motherly abundance, Lawrence emerging from her hungover cocoon with her usual dry wit. It feels natural and nice, just to sit amongst friends like this, to be known but not scrutinised, for the information to be neatly shelved away. Maybe she should thank Asttina - and apologise again - for the push she so clearly needed. It doesn’t feel good, necessarily, but Tayce is sure that’ll come with time. It just feels okay. As though very little has changed.

Their plates cleared and Aurora squeezing her hand, Tayce stretches and looks around. “Right. Where’s my bloody phone, then? God knows I can’t have been in a state to look after it. Better not have smashed it, mum’ll kill me.”

Aurora laughs, agreeing. “Nah, babes. Took it off you after a while. It’s charging over there, by the lamp.”

She frees Tayce’s hand so she can go and grab it. When she sits back down to look at it, her stomach drops.

Mum - Missed call (4)

Dad - Missed call (2)

Mum - Missed call (7)

“I’ve got, like, ten missed calls off my parents,” She hums, confused. “Any idea what I did?”

To her relief, everybody shrugs. It can’t have been bad, then, if nobody saw anything. They’re probably just annoyed that she stayed out without asking, but in her defence, she’s at the age now where it’s mostly acceptable to inform parents of plans rather than asking for permission, right? Tayce thinks so, anyway.

“I’ll text mum, see what’s going on.”

Tayce [9.42am]: What’s up? xx

Lawrence yawns, a veritable foghorn sound disrupting the conversation. “We are fucked for our exams if this happens every time we get bored of revising.”

Ellie throws back her head and whines. “I’m fucked anyway. Do you know how hard it is to do well in Art?”

“You’re fine! Your arty-farty shit is great! You can just finger-paint for two days while us lot get fuckin’ arthritis writing essays.”

“Bitch! It’s far more work than that!”

Bimini shoots Aurora and Tayce an exhausted look. “Girls, they’re off again. What was the protocol from last time?”

“Bucket of cold water?” Aurora suggests.

Lawrence practically erupts into flames at the very idea. “You fuckin’ dare douse me in a bucket of cold water and I’ll-”

“Calm down, Loz, we wouldn’t waste precious water on you!” Tayce adds gleefully, “Wouldn’t even piss on you if you were on fire.”

“Didn’t realise you were into that,” She responds instantly, “But good for you hen! I won’t kinkshame.”

Aurora rolls her eyes. “Can you believe people are actually into-”

Tayce’s phone buzzes. She looks down.

Mum [9.53am]: Your dad’s really not happy with you tayce after that voicemail last night. You need to come home and speak to us asap to clear this mess up. You were clearly in a state and it’s disrespectful, frankly your dad’s fuming and doesn’t want to see you but you should at least come and apologise for saying all that rubbish xx

“So apparently I left mum and dad a voicemail.”

The room falls silent.

Ellie’s the first to break through. “Do you think you-”

“Probably.”

Tayce [9.54am]: what did i say??? xx

Mum [9.55am]: Don’t play games please tayce you know what I’m talking about, all this vulgar rubbish about you being gay. You’ve not even had a boyfriend so how would you know anyway? I know it’s trendy to be gay nowadays but we’re really disappointed in you being so silly xx

“Trendy. She said being gay is trendy. And I’m just being silly.”

Tayce [9.55am]: mum i can’t help what i am

Mum [9.56am]: But you’re not tayce you’re just a kid you don’t know what you’re on about, stop messing around now. This isn’t what we want for you at all it’s making me feel a bit sick. You don’t need to rebel against us tayce we’ll always love you but this is just daft, don’t be telling everyone that xx

Tayce [9.57am]: why can’t i?? it’s my life

Mum [9.58am]: It’s not just your life darling you know your dad’s not been good with his heart recently, he was so upset last night over your message I thought for sure he was going to have another attack. You’re just being selfish and childish now come home so we can talk about this properly. You’re not gay so stop saying it, if not for me then for your poor dad xx

Tayce [10.01am]: u can’t seriously be blaming dad’s heart problems on me

i didn’t plan on telling u like this but i didn’t expect this reaction either

i don’t wanna come home if ur both gonna be like this

Not a word is spoken. Barely anyone even breathes, the tension in the air heavy and suffocating, too thick to cut through even with the burning desire to. Tayce feels her friends rallying around her, both emotionally and literally, Aurora to her left and Bimini to her right, Lawrence and Ellie behind her, all staring at the phone screen with the same reserved fury.

She wishes she could feel angry. Anger would feel powerful, but Tayce feels completely powerless, despairing as she tries to justify her existence to the very people who brought her into being. It was one thing to know how they would react to her coming out, but actually experiencing it is another thing entirely. It’s like her soul is being crushed.

Mum [10.02am]: We’re not having a daughter pretending to be gay under our roof tayce, it’s not happening your dad won’t allow it and I won’t either. People will be nasty and you’re just creating more trouble for yourself here by doubling down on all of this silliness. Pack it in now you’re not a child xx

Tayce [10.03am]: so i’m a kid, then i’m not a kid, which is it?

Mum [10.03am]: Drop the attitude now. We’ve had enough of this. Come home now but you’d best not speak to your dad because he doesn’t want to see you at all xx

Tayce [10.04am]: i’m not coming home.

Mum [10.04am]: Fine, that’s your choice but this isn’t the lifestyle we wanted for you, we always hoped for better but okay you make your bed you lie in it too. You can find your stuff outside whenever you decide to come by, you can either come in and talk to us or take it and go elsewhere to keep up this charade xx

The numbness worries her most. She just feels nothing.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. At some point, she gets dressed. Everyone piles into Lawrence’s car, driven by Ellie, and it feels as though Tayce blinks and then they’re in town, walking towards the local Wetherspoons, chatting aimlessly, close friends offering smiles everywhere she turns. They eat lunch, which Tayce doesn’t remember paying for, and Bimini pays for hers as well as their own. There’s not a pitying stare to be found, only kindness, though it glances right off her. She isn’t even sure she’s in her own body anymore.

As they get back into the car, the camaraderie turns a little more sombre, but the support is still ramped up to 100. Aurora fights for The Spice Girls’ greatest hits to play as they go, and they’re at least three quarters of the way there before Tayce even realises she’s almost to her house. When Ellie parks, the music stops. It’s apt, because the lighthearted chatter does too.

There’s a suitcase and a rucksack on the driveway, as promised, leaning against her dad’s car. A large cardboard box filled with trinkets sits next to them, open, with a roll of packing tape balanced on top of the folds, because of course they couldn’t even go to the effort of sealing it for her. Worse still, scattered all over the driveway and the pavement, school supplies, textbooks, notepads and revision cards litter everything, seemingly dropped at random. Looking up, the open bedroom window confirms her suspicions. It’s all just been dumped out.

She swallows the lump in her throat and makes to get out of the car.

“Wait,” Aurora says, and climbs out first. “Okay.”

Tayce follows her. Ellie, Lawrence and Bimini step out of the car too, all standing at her side, staring together in disbelief at her whole life, tossed to the curb.

“Bastards.” Ellie swears under her breath. Tayce expects Lawrence to elbow her, but she doesn’t. Everyone agrees with the sentiment.

Bimini’s brow creases, their expression pained. “Babe… I could help you talk to them, if you want?”

Words aren’t possible yet. Tayce shakes her head, and Bimini squeezes her arm in support. They make no effort to convince her to go in and talk.

Beside her, she feels Aurora physically shaking with anger, but when she speaks, her voice is strained, deliberately controlled, and level. “You’re staying with me. We’re always happy to have you.”

She just nods. Lawrence is the first to cross from the pavement to the driveway, picking up the suitcase and fitting it carefully into the boot of her car. Everyone else follows suit, Bimini sealing the cardboard box and strapping it in behind the rucksack, Aurora and Ellie working together to gather and reorganise all of the ruined school things. Tayce just stands there, blankly, watching as her friends pack everything away for her, her heart swelling despite the pit she’s sunken into. If not her real family, this family love her more than anything.

“Got anything else of Tayce’s, you sacks of shite?” Lawrence shouts, no doubt disturbing the neighbours with her tone. “If not, you can fuck off and fuck off forever!”

Tayce stares at her home, the family cars, the driveway she’s walked up and down for years on end, and it hits her. It’s just gravel. Her home - her house - is just brick and plaster and paint. It’s all just materials; it’s all just stuff. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t matter.

She expects to do a dramatic one last look, but once she tears her eyes away, looking back is the last thing she wants to do.

“I’m ready to go.”

-

Moving in with Aurora is strange. Her parents are the first people that she properly comes out to, sober, of her own volition, as they explain the madness of the past twenty four hours. If the shock on their faces wasn’t enough, the scandalised hug that her mum wraps her up in is confirmation enough that it’s not normal for parents to be the way Tayce’s are. Good parents are loving and supportive, like Aurora’s, and undoubtedly the reason she’s so wonderful.

At first she stays on the floor in Aurora’s room, like she would during their many sleepovers, made comfortable with blankets, cushions, spare pillows, sleeping bags, and whatever else they can scrape together. It removes any walking room from the space, but neither Tayce nor Aurora mind. Although they shouldn’t, they talk and giggle way into the early hours of the morning, starting with the innocent intentions of testing each other on their upcoming exam material, and ending up silently shaking with laughter over some tidbit of gossip about the fifth years.

And, of course, it’s so easy to slip into their little romance when they’re always in each other’s space. At least half of the nights, Tayce settles down to sleep on her makeshift floor-bed and ends up squished into Aurora’s single bed, almost on top of each other, limbs entangled and pinned down beneath one another, holding tight both out of want and the need to keep the other from falling onto the floor. They share a kiss, or two, or ten, though it never goes further. Tayce is a little bit glad. She’s not sure either of them are quite ready for that conversation.

Then, conveniently, the week before exams properly start, Aurora’s older sister moves in with her boyfriend. He lives a fifteen minute bus ride away, but Aurora still cries saying goodbye to her sister, hugging her fiercely at the front door. Tayce cries too, privately, once in her new room, but only because her sister had given Tayce the same tight hug, the same goodbye cheek kiss, like she’s part of the family for real. Aurora’s parents insist that she is.

She makes the occasional attempt to connect with her family, but nothing seems to stick.

Tayce [8.27am]: my last fashion and textiles exam is today, then i’m done completely

[read by Dad - 8.45am]

Part of her just wants to go back in time, to go back into the closet, to pretend this all never happened.

Tayce [10.34am]: mum?

[message not delivered]

Tayce [10.34am]: dad?

[message not delivered]

It feels as though she never existed.

-

The second worst day of Tayce’s life starts with a fire alarm blaring in her ears at quarter to six in the morning.

Cursing the name of whatever psychopath would allow something like that to happen at such a ridiculous time, or even to be awake at that time, she quickly pulls on a pair of (mismatched) boots and her dressing gown and rushes outside to join everyone else in the block of flats. She would’ve been pleased to see she wasn’t the only disgruntled one, if not for her inability to feel positive emotions so early in the day. As she stands outside, shivering, seething, waiting for her accelerated heartbeat to slow down, she thinks to herself well, at least the day can only get better from here.

How naive.

Once she’s back inside, her dressing gown sleeve gets caught on the door handle, accidentally pulling her back when she tries to shut it. It’s an easy fix, but already Tayce can tell everything’s going to pile up. These are the straws, and apparently today she is the hapless camel.

A run-down of Tayce’s morning: the underwire in her bra snaps, the only milk left in the fridge is off, it takes three attempts to get her eyeliner right which she then proceeds to ruin with clumsy-handed mascara, her hair just won’t lay flat, it turns out her phone wasn’t charging overnight, and she’s missed bin day, so her flat is gonna stink for an extra week. It’s a fantastic start to the day.

When she finally manages to get her shit together, she decides the only thing that can salvage this mess is an overpriced coffee. Of course, nowhere is delivering to her flat today, because why would the universe make things a little easier for her? She attempts to get an Uber into town four times, with four cancellations, before resigning herself to just walking. As she gets to the town centre, a further five minute walk to her beloved, desperately needed Costa, she realises it’s her dad’s birthday, and her heart sinks.

It gets easier to cope with, but the pain of being entirely rejected by the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally never quite goes away. Tayce finds herself seventeen again, wanting to crawl back into the closet, to beg and plead forgiveness, just to hand over a small present and feel not quite comfortable but familiar enough to feel the illusion of comfort. Five years on and she’s had only the briefest of exchanges with them, her number blocked and unblocked and blocked again, the pointed Facebook rants screenshotted and sent over by concerned but ultimately uninterested cousins.

And was it even worth it? There’s only one woman Tayce is actually interested in, and-

She tries not to think about it, smiling politely at the barista who hands her the much-needed drink and tucking herself into a booth off in the far corner, but her mind betrays her. Most of her time nowadays, when not regretting going to university for the world’s most pointless degree, is spent thinking about Aurora.

Maybe her standards are too high, or something equally as prudish serving as an excuse, but the fact of the matter is, Tayce is embarrassed to still be a virgin in her twenties. Everyone else seems to have ticked that one off years ago, or at least fairly recently, and she feels nowhere near even coming close. She knows Aurora was sixteen, with whatever boyfriend it was at the time. She has no idea when it was for Lawrence and Ellie, what with their dating, then not dating, then dating again, but they’re obviously at it now, so they’re ahead of her. Bimini, with their effortless charm, is always off on exciting dates. It’s just Tayce, again, aimless, lost.

Or still on some stupid teenage crush, still stuck on the first love. The furthest she’s ever gone with Aurora is making out and groping at each other, and it still happens regularly, but they’ve never pushed it any further. It’s almost as if it’s wrong, as if they’d be testing the boundaries of being best friends too much with such a big risk. She has no right to feel that way, but it crushes her every time Aurora mentions some kind of dating app.

Thankfully, with the caffeine in her system, she’s able to remind herself that she’s being pathetic and move past it. Today’s shit, it will probably remain shit, but the least she can do is not dwell on being in love with Aurora.

Okay, woah. Maybe in love is a little bit far. But then, is it?

The caffeine once again reminds her to shut up. She decides to listen.

It’s at that moment, when Tayce is just starting to make peace with her terrible day, that a man approaches her. Men, in general, are a recipe for disaster, but she can’t quite make her mind up about this one. He’s white, ginger, with the beginnings of a beard on his chin and kind eyes, but he’s also wearing a red beanie with an expensive camera slung around his neck and his phone out. Red flags, green flags. She decides to just go along with it, too exhausted from a weird, shitty morning to fight for her life.

“Hi!” He greets her, his voice warm and pleasant. “Sorry to disturb you, I just- I had to tell you, you’re absolutely beautiful. Would it be okay if I got some pictures of you in this gorgeous outfit?” He gestures to his camera, and Tayce realises he’s filming from the phone. “I’m a photographer, I go out and about in the city and photograph interesting people when I find them.”

Interesting is good enough. Any chance at lifting herself out of this moody funk she’s in, she’ll take.

“Uh, okay,” She agrees, trying her best to smile as he grins excitedly, “I haven’t had the best day today, that’s why I look so miserable.”

The man leads her to just outside the café, where the fountain in the middle of the square stands tall. He seems genuinely thrilled that she’s agreed, clearly used to the not-so-polite rejections.

“Well, you wear it beautifully,” He tells her, oddly sincere. “Your face - you could be a model, easily. Have you ever done it before?”

“No, never.”

The camera clicks, quick and satisfying. “You’re a natural. I almost don’t believe you.”

He explains, as she poses, that he has a little video series on his social media pages, Twitter and Instagram and Tiktok, where he finds the aforementioned interesting people around town, films with them a little, and then shares the results of his photography in the videos. Apparently people like it.

They’re not shooting for long, but Tayce’s mood starts to improve dramatically. It does feel pretty natural, to be honest, being in front of a camera. She’s always been long and lean, and all the years of staring at fashion magazines wondering why she was so entranced (turns out: lesbian) seem to have paid off, Tayce finding herself recreating the poses with ease. The photographer, who identifies himself as Dan, looks at her like she’s struck gold every time she changes positions. She dares to hope that maybe today is salvageable after all-

Brrring!

A bell sounds, a wheel skates dangerously close, and as the gang of fourteen year olds laugh on their bikes together, Tayce shrieks and stumbles backwards. Into the fountain.

Not only is she wet, cold and humiliated, she’s in front of a fucking camera. Feeling petulant and childish, Tayce swears she’s one more embarrassing moment away from declaring today worse than the day her parents kicked her out. It’s entirely pathetic.

So pathetic, in fact, that she just starts laughing. She feels deranged. God, she must look deranged, sitting in the middle of a public fountain, hair sticking to her like a drowned rat, laughing like the Joker. This must be rock bottom.

Dan helps her out of the fountain, a smile still on his face, and they exchange socials. He promises the pictures look amazing, and will look even better once he’s finished editing everything. He says he’ll send her a copy, and in the meantime she should keep an eye out for when the video goes up on his pages.

Tayce isn’t exactly hopeful. She Ubers home (after three attempts), heads off to work in the afternoon, and as she processes five full-size bags of Primark returns, she decides that this day will forever comfortably take up the spot of second worst ever. A sad, dripping wet virgin, with a useless degree and a minimum wage job, an unsupportive family, a flat block filled with idiots, and an imminent need to do some actual food shopping.

-

“Well, well, look who’s late again.”

Lawrence folds her arms across her chest like a disappointed school teacher, which might’ve been effective if it wasn’t for Ellie beside her, head to toe in pink, mirroring her pose exactly. Aurora sticks her two fingers up at Lawrence and Tayce blows a raspberry, before pushing all the blame onto Aurora. It was her fault, after all, taking hours to get ready and then, ten minutes before they needed to leave, getting distracted kissing on the sofa and forgetting to call the Uber.

It makes sense for them to arrive everywhere together, both living in London and five minutes away from one another, but she can’t help thinking about how they must look like a couple when they do this, arriving late to the pub and bickering about lateness. Opposite Ellie and Lawrence, all cosied up in their big winter coats, it feels a little bit like a double date.

If only that stupid unspoken line wasn’t there, separating them.

Aurora’s still defending herself, “-time to look this good! And by the looks of things, you two must’ve been early!”

Lawrence howls with laughter, both offended and too impressed by the joke to not react to it. Tayce is glad they’re all still friends, and what’s more, she’s glad nothing’s changed - they’re all still a horrible bunch of gossips. Topics of conversation range from are we paying for a round of drinks each to okay what’s the real reason Bims couldn’t make it to speculation about everyone else from high school, who’s pregnant yet, the relationships that will definitely fail. It’s fun catching up; it feels like going home to her annoying sisters.

“Did you know that you could book the bloody Edinburgh dungeons for a hen party? Because I didn’t until I got Tia’s invitation,” Ellie frowns, her eyes wide. “So instead of getting dressed up and wearing banners and being obnoxious around town, we’re gonna get the shit scared out of us by some fuckin’ actors! Can we at least get drunk before, you reckon?”

Lawrence blinks at her girlfriend, baffled. “The dungeons aren’t scary, hen.”

“Speak for your fuckin’ self. I’ve been before.” Ellie sniffs, haughty.

The girls crack up at her, entirely serious. It is a bizarre choice, but it’s Tia and Veronica, after all. They’re as weird as they come. Tayce supposes you’d have to be to even think about getting engaged at twenty two.

“What’s new with you lot, then?” Aurora sips her rosé, glaring daggers at Lawrence, who’s spent the past five minutes ribbing her for still drinking like a sixteen year old.

Tayce laughs, her bad day last week still fresh in her mind, but distant enough to make a good story. “Oh my god. You need to hear about this bloody cursed day I had the other week. Fucking unreal it was.”

She launches into the story, her friends roaring with laughter at each twist and turn, their sympathy non-existent. The inside of the pub is dark and old, lit with yellowing lights, and with the four of them clustered around their little table, it feels intimate and homely, like a family reunion. In a way, it is one. They don’t do this often enough. Mid-story, Tayce makes a mental note that this has to become a regular thing, one way or another. By the end of her tragic tale, Aurora has fallen limp against Tayce’s shoulder, her laughter so forceful her entire body seems to have lost control of itself. Ellie’s wiping tears from her eyes, so overcome that she can barely produce a wheeze, while Lawrence’s booming scream-laugh seems to do the job perfectly for all of them, attracting looks from others across the pub. Tayce loses it, too, wondering how she could possibly have felt so awful when there’s so much love in her life. There’s so much to be thankful for. A family all around her that chose her above all else. Good food, good drinks, good companionship. There’s not much more she can ask for.

“What’s his name?” Ellie demands, typing in her phone at furious speeds, “I need to see this. I need to see a picture of you in a fountain, hen, it’s nothing personal but if it’s funny enough I’m putting it on every birthday, Christmas, Easter and fucking… Hanukkah card that I send this year.”

Tayce rolls her eyes, but the smile betrays her. “It was Dan… Dan something. I forget, check my following list. He’ll be in there.”

After a few moments, she gasps. “FOUND HIM! Okay, let me scroll. I’m gonna find you. Where’s our Taycety treat… where is sh- fucking hell look at the views on this one! There’s like 2.8 million!” She looks over at Tayce and shrugs. “Sorry, hen, not interested in you anymore, I’m watching the popular one.”

She turns her phone sideways so everyone can get a glimpse of the screen, showing off his Tiktok reposted to Instagram with some stupid sentimental music layered over it. There’s a few seconds of Dan in front of the camera, explaining what he does in the series, then a shot of an oddly familiar looking coffee shop.

The penny drops at the same time as everyone else’s. Aurora clutches her arm so tight she thinks it might burst. Ellie’s jaw drops. Lawrence all but bellows “TAYCE!” at the top of her lungs, reaching new heights of loudness previously undiscovered but certainly not unwarranted. Almost three million people have viewed a video in which Tayce is the model, and the final shot - in the fountain, head tipped back in laughter, water cascading down around her - is breathtaking.

She might actually faint. Tayce grips Aurora back with the same intensity, grounding herself. Three million people. Thousands of comments.

Ellie skim-reads through them, her voice quivering with excitement. “Everyone says you’re gorgeous, true… Oh my god that one says you’re like Naomi Campbell… everyone’s demanding you get signed to Pretty Little Thing or something like that. Fucking hell, Tayce!”

Thankfully, the pub is dimly-lit just enough to hide the blush starting to form on Tayce’s cheeks, the heat rushing to her head. This is insane. It doesn’t feel real.

Aurora finally releases her from the iron grip, but only to crush her in the fiercest hug she’s ever had. “Get your phone out right now, check your DMs. I bet they’re flooded with offers you’ve not noticed since you’ve been working! I bet you could snag a brand deal from this! And get me a discount, of course.”

She pulls away and flutters her eyelashes. She’s so beautiful it hurts.

Her phone isn’t exactly flooded, as Aurora jokingly predicts, but there is a pending message request that Tayce has obviously missed, not notified by the app and too busy traipsing backwards and forwards from Primark, desperately attempting to repair clothing displays that look as though a bomb has hit. At her silence, Lawrence’s eyes bug open.

“Fuck off, you actually have, haven’t you? Go on, how many?”

Tayce can’t breathe. “Just one.”

She hasn’t even opened the message yet, her stomach filled with butterflies and feeling as though said butterflies were at a rave, off their faces on ket and ricocheting from one side to the other with reckless abandon.

The account is verified. The rational part of Tayce’s mind, growing smaller by the second, tells her this is a good thing, it’s not a scam, she’s not likely to be duped into anything here. The remaining part, for all intents and purposes a screaming banshee of pure excitement, roams over the shiny blue tick, the millions of followers, the bio detailing information about the modelling agency.

International modelling agency with bases in London, Edinburgh, Paris, Milan and New York. Always welcoming new and diverse talent.

Ellie leans halfways across the table, tipsy and pleased as anything. “What does it say?! Come on, I’m about to pass out here! Read it!”

“It’s nothing too exciting!” Tayce rushes to quell the rising excitement, hoping it’ll curb her own too. She can’t get too invested, things might not work out. “It says Hi Tayce, we saw this video and we’re interested in getting in touch. Is there an email address at which we can contact you? Thanks.”

Aurora plants a kiss to her cheek, squealing. “Babe! Oh my god! Tell them yes, send them your email. You’ve already got your own designer, yours truly, and a makeup artist in little old Ells, and Lawrence can tell jokes and keep us all calm when you do your first Victoria Secret runway!”

It’s hard not to get worked up when everyone around her is so certain she’ll succeed. Tayce feels unstoppable, the grin on her face unable to settle, just beaming gratitude into the world at a wattage that would burst every light bulb in the country. Aurora’s kissing her in front of friends. She has a chance to pursue modelling as a career. Her brain lists them in order of importance, and it feels like she’s floating.

-

The in-between part involves a lot of emailing back and forth, phone calls, and meetings. Sometimes, leaving the offices with a giddy feeling in her stomach, Tayce feels as though every moment of suffering was worth it for this, a building block along the way helping her climb to the top without even realising. Here she is, out and still learning to be proud, in negotiations to sign a contract with a modelling agency, her life seemingly beginning out of nowhere.

It’ll only be small things at first, they tell her, but Tayce doesn’t care. It might just be her face on the side of a pop-up display for makeup in Boots. Hell, that alone would make her feel like a celebrity. It could progress to online shopping sites, social media partnerships, sponsorships - the representatives promise her they’ll take good care of her, help her manage everything, help her rise up as far as she can go.

Tayce imagines herself on a billboard and cries. It’s a pipe dream, but it doesn’t feel as far away as it might have weeks before.

She’s even more excited to discover Aurora’s career taking off, too. Back in sixth form, Tayce had been the very first follower to Aurora’s fashion blog, liking and commenting on every post as she showcased the design process, from sketching to sewing to revealing the finishing touches of every beautiful garment. Their silly Christmas dresses seem so juvenile in comparison to the art pieces she creates now, fashion school in London clearly having taught her well, aiding her innate creativity. She’s so proud she could burst. Her numbers are huge, now, and she’s been in similar talks with a fashion company over the past few weeks.

Tayce and Aurora are going to dominate the fashion world one day. She just knows it.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Tayce my love. How are you today?”

Tayce smiles, bright and genuine, as she slips into her seat. “I’m great! I’m super excited to finalise things. I can’t believe it’s happening.”

Her representative, a bubbly bombshell called Kitty (Tayce assumes it must be short for something, but Kitty suits her far more than anything else would), is nothing but big grins and bold colours. They’ve been working together ever since the first emails, and Tayce can tell they’re going to be a formidable team once everything gets going. Kitty’s smart and strong-willed, a good head on her shoulders and a great eye for opportunity, and no tolerance for bullshit from or towards her potential clients. She couldn’t be in safer hands, nor could she be fonder of this delightful woman.

“Well, believe it!” Kitty insists as the rest of the team file in, much more dull in their monochrome black and grey in comparison to her hot pink. “A few more faffy things to discuss, a couple of signatures, and we can get the ball rolling. I’m expecting to see your face plastered on every Superdrug window in the country. Then I’m thinking H&M, Victoria Secret, ooh, maybe Moschino? Could get you in Versace?”

One of the managers cuts her off, polite but realistic. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Kitty. That’s the goal, but we haven’t even signed the papers yet.”

Kitty blows a raspberry. “You’re boring, Ella! Look at her! She’s bloody gorgeous! Everyone’ll be fighting over who gets her!”

“Maybe so, but if that’s the case we need to get a move on and sort all the boring stuff as you call it, so we can sign her.”

The meetings are tedious, but Tayce remains as focused as she can, aware of how amazing this opportunity is. One viral video to change her entire life… she has to be smart about this. Everything is finally falling into place, and she can’t let it go wrong now.

Around half an hour in, her phone buzzes. She silences it, letting it sit face-up in case it’s something important, and carries on listening. It keeps going, but she ignores it until curiosity gets the better of her.

Rory <3 [3.35pm]: URGENT. GOOD NEWS. CALL ME ASAP

Rory <3 - Missed call (2)

Good news is a relief - at least Aurora knows Tayce would sit panicking and floundering if she didn’t specify. She knows she should wait until the meeting’s over and then call her, but Tayce has always been horrible at prioritising when it comes to Aurora.

“So sorry,” She interrupts, putting on her best apologetic tone, playing up the Welsh in hopes they’ll find it charming, “This is kinda important, do you mind? I’ll be five minutes, tops.”

Ella nods, always accommodating. “Of course! We were about to take a short break anyway, not to worry.”

“Thank you!”

She all but runs outside, calling Aurora back and pressing the phone to her ear.

“Well?” She demands.

Aurora shrieks down the phone, practically bursting Tayce’s eardrum. “I got the job! They’re giving me the position!”

Tayce cheers her on, thrilled. She’s already planning the congratulations party they’ll have to throw for her, mentally scrolling through the nicest pubs in town and making a note to look up which ones have function rooms available for hire and how nice they are. With some luck, it could even be a joint party too, Tayce and Aurora together again. She can’t wait.

“And get this!” Aurora adds, and Tayce can picture her, in full glamour from the chest up, in pyjamas from the waist down, just coming off another Skype call. “I get to go to Milan! They’ve offered me the temporary position there!”

“Oh my god, Rory!” Tayce squeals, beaming from ear to ear. “That’s huge, congratulations! How long are you there for?”

“A year! I fly out in two days!”

A year without Aurora. A full year with her best friend in an entirely different country. Tayce and Aurora have never not been in the same city, let alone country. It doesn’t make sense. Everything is supposed to be falling into place, not falling apart. It was all going so smoothly, the gears finally greased, all complications fixed, unsupportive families disregarded and loving friends held close and firm.

This is, without a doubt, the best possible outcome for Aurora. The opportunities for success are endless. But Tayce feels like she’s gone from soaring to drowning in a split-second, feeling sick as she imagines the distance.

“You are a star,” She says, as earnest as she is heartbroken. “You’re gonna absolutely slay the fashion game over there, babe. I’m so proud of you.”

And she means every word of it, of course, but there’s so much more unsaid that she has no idea how to even begin saying. A whole year without her. But she can’t be the one to ruin it. She can’t hold Aurora down, not when she’s so close.

The call ends, and Tayce returns to her meeting less sure of herself than ever before.

-

Aurora’s goodbye party is a rushed event, but a happy one for the most part. With the help of Lawrence, who promises free tickets to all the staff involved, they manage to book a function room in one of the nicer pubs in town for a last minute event and a hefty fee, and cram the place full of family and friends until the amount of love in the room is stifling. Most of the decor was snagged from around town, so there’s a bizarre mix of cheap confetti, Ann Summers filth and Ellie Diamond handiwork filling up the space. There’s even an open bar, which Tayce is thankful for, because the buzz of alcohol is the only thing stopping her from crying.

She can’t do this. She can’t say goodbye to Aurora. It’s just not fair.

Aurora’s parents capture her near the edge of the party, hugging her tight and kissing her forehead like she’s their real daughter.

“I’m so proud of all three of our girls,” Aurora’s dad says, and Tayce bits her lip hard. She will not cry tonight.

“Have you heard from your parents, darling?” Her mum asks.

Tayce shakes her head. It seems as though that ship has sailed.

“Hm. I bet they’ll come crawling back when you’re a huge success,” She says, scathing as anything. “Just remember you don’t owe them anything. It’ll be entirely your choice whether you decide to let them back in or not. You’re a brilliant girl, Tayce, don’t let them make you forget.”

Then they’re gone.

From across the room, Ellie catches her eye and approaches. In the nicest way possible, she’s the worst possible person to have caught her - Ellie’s so sweet, so kind, and fucking psychic when it comes to knowing something is up. Tayce isn’t ready to admit there’s an issue, even as the pit of anxiety in her chest rears up like a tsunami wave, increasingly aware of the impending deadline.

Her eyes are gentle. “Alright?”

“Hi, chick.” Tayce smiles. “We did good on the short notice, eh?”

Ellie pulls a face. “I was up ‘till three this morning making little fiddly bits hoping she’d like it. To be fair, she looks happy as a pig in shit.”

Somewhat gross analogy aside, it’s true. In a room full of people, especially a party, Aurora just shines. She’s right in the centre, dancing with a mixture of high school and university friends, perfect teeth glinting as she laughs, cowl neck dress catching the light and sparkling attractively. Everything in the world is made purely for its impact on her, Tayce is sure. Every room is better with her in it.

“I’m going for a sneaky fag, you fancy one?” Ellie offers. Tayce isn’t much of a smoker, but several drinks in and needing an escape, she’s no stranger to taking the occasional social one. She nods and follows her outside, slightly less overwhelmed away from the throng of the party.

Leaning up against the brick outside, Tayce stares at the city around her. The orange street lights make her feel peculiar, a strange sort of nostalgia and bitterness warring in her stomach, neither quite able to win over the other. Nothing feels real out here, in the city at night, just black and orange and glinting from the rain. She exhales the smoke and wonders if this is going to be it forever, these streets, these lights. Aurora will spend a luxuriant year doing what she loves, working hard, and enjoying the beauty of northern Italy. Tayce will be here, smoking outside, her back against wet bricks, her shoes against wet tarmac.

Ellie doesn’t speak for a while, letting them both smoke in peace, but Tayce can sense that she wants to.

“Just spit it out already.”

She blows a puff of smoke up into the night. “What are you doing? Just letting her go?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Tayce demands. “Stop her? This is her dream come true and she deserves it. We could always visit, or I’m sure she’ll visit us. It’s only a year.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at the attempt to downplay it. “It’s a year. And what if she loves it and decides to stay? Then what?”

Tayce hasn’t considered that. Aurora wouldn’t stay, would she? Living in Italy forever?

“Then… Then, as her best friend, it’s my job to support her no matter what she chooses.”

Ellie frowns for a second. “Your best- so you’re not- Oh my god.” She sighs, leaning her head back and staring up at the sky. There’s no stars to look at, just clouds. “It’s even worse than I thought. You’re in love with her and you’re just letting her go.”

Maybe Tayce will cry tonight.

“I- Ells, it’s not that simple.”

“It’s simple enough that you didn’t deny it.” She stubs the cigarette out, crushing it beneath her heel. “Aurora’s about to fly to Milan tomorrow and spend a year working alongside designers and models. Gorgeous Italian men and women everywhere she turns. And they won’t hesitate to tell her how they feel if something comes up between them. Then what? You stay here? Wonder what could’ve been for the rest of your life?”

Tayce turns away, but it’s not like Ellie hasn’t already seen her tears. She envelopes her in a hug, rubbing her back and murmuring into her shoulder as softly as she can.

“You make it sound like I’ll never love anyone else.”

“I don’t mean that,” Ellie promises. “You’re a gorgeous girl, anyone would be lucky to have you. You definitely could fall for someone else. But you and Aurora- god, you’ve been dancing around each other for years and it’s never happened. Even worse than me and Loz. I thought you two were just being coy and eventually you’d admit it, but-”

“So how did you do it?” Tayce butts in, dabbing at her tears with her ring fingers, trying to preserve the makeup so she doesn’t look like a complete idiot when she goes back inside. “How did you and Lawrence get past it?”

Ellie’s smile is a lot of things - wistful, reminiscent, melancholy. She looks as though she’s watching a tragedy play out, already knowing how it’ll end, and still wishing she could change the outcome. Tayce hates it, resents her kindness, but loves her friend too much to ever say it. She’s sure it only hurts because it’s true.

“Because she fought for me, hen. Because I thought she didn’t care, so I ran, and she chased after me before I could get away and told me the truth. She made me miss my train back to Manchester by telling me that she loved me, and everything else was just a stupid mistake.” Ellie squeezes her hand, her eyes doe-like and sad. “Tayce, Aurora’s not going on a train to Manchester. She’s flying out to Milan for a year. I’m not saying you should stop her, but you’ve got to do something.”

Tayce sniffs. If Ellie keeps looking at her like that, she’s going to break in two.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You do. It’s in there.” Ellie swears. “I’m going back inside, come with when you’re ready, okay?”

Time passes differently, standing outside, staring at the sky. She catches a glimpse of the moon, briefly, before it disappears behind another cloud. She feels the wind chill against her exposed skin, and longs for the warmth of another cigarette and Aurora against her lips. Her legs tremble and shake, her stomach churns, her heart aches. She goes back inside. The easiest thing is to not think about it, to drink some more, to dance. She can just enjoy this while it’s happening, and deal with the rest later.

Fucking Lawrence Chaney and her grand declarations of love. Who would’ve pegged her as the type? The standards she sets are unfairly high.

Right after a classic dance floor full of Saturday Night, the music fades to nothing and Aurora steps on stage. She’s radiant, the happiness emanating from every tiny piece of her. Tayce’s heart hurts so much.

“Alright, sorry, I won’t take up much time!” She starts, her accent endearingly thick in the microphone’s buzz. “I just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone supporting me tonight, and a big shoutout to my favourite people in the entire world, Tayce, Lawrence, Ellie and Bimini for making this happen! Come up, come up!”

She wobbles her way up the stairs, determined not to cry again, and finds herself immediately squished in the world’s tightest hug, Aurora pressing their cheeks together and screwing up her face. It feels slightly wet - she’s crying, Tayce realises. They’re both crying, clinging onto one another for dear life. The world is both ending and beginning, a separation forming between them like a rift in the earth, crumbling and cracking. They’re moving from Tayce and Aurora to Tayce, and Aurora, individuals instead of a collective.

Tayce feels sick.

“THANK YOU, EVERYONE!” Aurora bellows, laughing at herself for crying. “I have to go, make sure I sleep before my flight tomorrow, but don’t stop on my account! I want you lot dancing all night long! Bye bye, I love you!”

She’s gone so fast. It’s all happening so fast.

Tayce gets another drink and smiles at everyone who looks at her. This is a happy night, she tells herself sternly. She dances with Bimini and catches up with Tia and pushes down the rising anxiety in her chest with more booze, silences the voice in her head reminding her that time is running out. Nothing works. Nothing helps.

She makes a rash decision. She calls Kitty.

“Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.”

Then she calls an Uber. She organised this party, but she’s sure as hell not staying. Not anymore. She’s drunk and everything feels bad and it’s now, literally now, or never. Ellie’s right. It can’t be never. She can’t let it be never.

Her feet carry her the rest of the way, somehow still steady in her heels, and she doesn’t even realise she’s running until the front door is inches from her face. Fucking hell. What is she even going to say? What is she doing? Other than pounding on the door with her fist, probably waking up the neighbours in the other flats, what is she doing?

“Who the pissin’ he- Tayce? What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

From the door, all Tayce can see are her suitcases, already packed up and in the living room, waiting. It’s unbearable.

“No,” She answers honestly, and when the tears come, she lets them. “Aurora…”

“Tayce.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I just- I can’t just stand here and let you go without telling you that.”

Fuck Lawrence Chaney and her romantic gestures. This is it. This will have to be enough.

There’s an agonising silence. She’s only gone and done it. She’s ruined everything. The friendship in tatters, irreparable, a dynamic that’ll never be quite the same. And then-

Aurora’s hands are in her hair, grasping, holding her in place as close as she can possibly be, kissing her ferociously. Tayce responds with equal enthusiasm, managing to steer them both inside and shut the door, their heads pressing together so tightly she imagines their skulls cracking, everything merging into one. Maybe then that’ll be enough, maybe that’ll be close enough to satisfy this burning urge. Miles and miles across the sea is too much, even the mere centimetres of space between their lips as they try to catch their breath is too much. Tayce will only ever be satisfied like this, wrapped up in nothing but Aurora, breathing her, needing her.

“You have the worst fucking timing ever,” Aurora tells her, her voice shaking, their foreheads still close enough they could split in half from the pressure. “I’ve loved you for so long. But the distance-”

“Fuck the distance,” Tayce breathes, adrenaline coursing through her veins at rapid speed. “The agency has a base in Milan. I can switch, spend a year there. The contract is six months, but I’m sure I can renew it, or find other work, or come home and meet you after, we can find a w-”

And they’re kissing again, and it’s so typically Aurora to not let anyone else finish a fucking sentence. But it’s okay. Anything Tayce has to say will never be as urgent as Aurora kissing her. She needs it more than oxygen. Her lips are soft and she tastes like wine and salt from the tears and the odd sweetness of her lipgloss and it’s all perfect, so perfect, so Aurora.

“You’re coming with me? You can come with me?”

“I’ll book the flight right now.”

Aurora looks at her like she’s insane, but she’s grinning, teary-eyed, adoring. “What about your luggage?”

“I’ll buy new stuff when we’re there. All I need is the papers, we can grab them on the way to the airport.”

“I love you. I genuinely just… love you.”

-

Milan is busy, beautiful, breathtaking. Most days Aurora is up at the crack of dawn, rushing out to shadow other designers, presenting sketches in rooms full of people, learning the tricks of the trade, testing the limits of her seemingly unending fashion talent. Tayce is backwards and forwards all day long, from the agency to the fittings to the studio, again and again and again. It feels like a dream, the gorgeous Italian sunshine, the famous city around them, the view from the balcony in their little apartment. It’s not glamorous, but it’s home, and it’s Tayce and Aurora, together, like it was always meant to be.

When Tayce gets home, Aurora’s in the kitchen, attempting to roll out some dough. Since their arrival, she’s been determined to figure out how to make proper pasta, the way the Italians do it, though all of her attempts so far have been inedible, ranging from just slightly off to inexplicably, what looks and smells like a pile of burnt custard.

“Uh oh. What’s that look?” She asks, suspicious immediately.

Tayce shrugs. “What look? I don’t have a look.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Spill.”

“Okay, fine! I have amazing news. Like, the best news ever. They say good things come in threes, and I have three, so-”

“Stop teasing!” Aurora flicks a glob of flour at her, although most of it lands on herself, where she’s already covered. “Tell me already!”

Tayce is practically vibrating. “One: I renewed my contract, I’m here for another six months so you don’t have to spend the other half of the year alone.”

Aurora gasps, moving to clap in excitement, but Tayce stops her.

“Wait! Not done yet. Two: I signed on to a cover shoot with a pretty big magazine that you might have heard of…” She adds slyly, showing Aurora a picture and grinning as her jaw drops, “and three: I recommended this up-and-coming young designer to them and they’re more than happy to see what she’s got.”

The rolling pin clatters to the floor.

“You didn’t.”

“I think you’ll find I did, babes.”

“Absolutely fuck off.”

“Check your emails.”

Aurora does. After a few moments of silence, she looks at the abandoned pile of dough on the kitchen counter.

“Since we’re celebrating, should I sack this off and just cook normal pasta for once?”

Tayce beams, her heart swelling. God, it’s stupid good.

“No. Let’s make it together.”

-

“How did you know she was the one?”

Asking Lawrence feels right, but even as she does, she knows it is. She thinks of Aurora, and everything they’ve been through, and the thought of life without her isn’t even an option. Loving her is the most natural thing in the world.

She thinks of the loud, confident girl who became her best friend on the first day of school. She thinks of the ups and downs, the fights, the sleepovers, the laughs. She thinks of the girl who defended her, who took her in when her family were too disgusted by her sexuality to try loving their daughter unconditionally. She thinks of running off to Milan for a year with the love of her life. She thinks of trying to reconnect with her parents, and the girl who squeezed her hand the entire time, who cursed them out as they left early. She thinks of everything they’ve done, to each other, for each other, with each other.

“Hen, there’s not a moment I could tell you. It’s just a feeling, you’ll know. I think you know, but you wanna know if I knew the same way you know.” Lawrence tells her. It’s sage advice, and she’s right.

She thinks of poor Ellie, sick but doing better, and the stress Lawrence has been through.

“The thought of doing what you’re doing - I feel like I couldn’t, but then I know that if it came to it I absolutely could.”

Lawrence nods. “Right. When you have to, you just do. You don’t think about it. Babes, when you’re ready, just do it. You don’t need me to tell you how you feel. The fact that you’re asking is enough.”

Fucking Lawrence Chaney. She’s right. She’s always right.

The night - er, morning - was a disaster.

To be honest, Tayce had seen it coming from a mile off, and she had warned Lawrence that inviting both A’Whora and Tia was going to be an absolute shitstorm. They just plain didn’t like each other, which was fine, but A’Whora had trouble holding her sharp tongue at the best of times, and mixing in a bucket-load of alcohol and a pretty cramped house, and you had a recipe for chaos.

(And, really? A house party? Were they still seventeen?)

Nevertheless, it was Lawrence’s birthday, and she called the shots, and she drank the shots, and she got to choose who came to her house to get unreasonably pissed into the wee hours of the morning.

Tia was there pretty early - or, at least, she was on time like most of them. She was stood in the kitchen with a Smirnoff Ice in her hand, happily chatting away to Ellie, wearing a dress that Tayce had complimented, if only to make some brief conversation. It was… passable, really, a half-decent outfit if she went that far, but nothing to write home about. Unfortunately, Tayce knew A’Whora was gonna hate it, and A’Whora with a loose tongue was almost certainly gonna make a comment about it.

The girl in question rocked up late and sloppy, as per her usual style. She stumbled through the front door and leant in the frame with a tipsy smile, plush lips painted pink and dabbed with glitter, eyelashes fluttering. Her skin-tight dress was fuchsia, bright, emphasising her soft tan thighs that the fabric rode up against and clinging to every inch of her. Once neat, her dark hair was messily piled on top of her head, falling tantalisingly in front of her face.

Tayce couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d decided to come.

“The party can finally start!” A’Whora exclaimed, raising her drink in the air with a flourish and slamming the door behind her with her heel.

“It already started, ya lazy fuck!” Lawrence yelled from the back of the house. Tayce, standing at the bottom of the stairs and looking onto the front door, made eye contact with A’Whora and giggled at their friend.

“Isn’t she charming?” Tayce gestured towards the general vicinity of Lawrence’s voice.

A’Whora crept closer, her eyes wide and expectant. “Okay, listen. I saw Tia’s snapchat earlier. Tell me she got changed before coming out tonight.”

Here we go. Tayce bit her lip. “Aurora. A’Whora Borealis. You be nice.”

“I’m not trying to be rude or anything but she looks like a fucking Year Nine at her first party wearing a Pretty Little Thing dress that her mum chose for her. I mean, is she serious about it? Is it like a joke?” A’Whora covered her mouth with the side of her hand, her tone conspiratory and judgemental. 

Tayce rolled her eyes, both fond and irritated. “Whory, be nice. She clearly likes it, let her have fun. She’s not hurting anybody.”

“She’s hurting my eyes.” A’Whora rebuffed, pursing her lips. “Not like you, though. You’re a sight for sore eyes tonight.”

Internally she was pleased, but played it off smoothly. It wasn’t like Tayce had cleverly thought out her oversized blazer and thigh-high boots combo with A’Whora in mind, of course not. It wasn’t like she’d tailored her outfit hoping for a good response from her… friend? What even was A’Whora besides a hot girl she’d known forever who she spent 50% of her time blatantly flirting back and forth with and 50% of her time denying that she was doing it?

Lawrence burst through the corridor in a flourish of colour to greet A’Whora and groaned, fanning herself with her hand. “Fuck me, I am sweating.”

Tayce blinked. “It’s October. There’s no way you’re hot, in October, in Scotland.”

“Not from the heat, fuckin’ braindead supermodel. From the weight of the crushing sexual tension in this room.”

She looked pointedly between A’Whora and Tayce, neither of whom were particularly shocked by Lawrence’s openness, having grown used to it. However, in an embarrassingly same wavelength move, both girls cocked an eyebrow.

“Aye, I’m talking about you, pinchin’ your Botox lips at me Miss A’Whora the Explorer.”

A’Whora shook her head. “The cheek! Cheek of you to suggest that something’s going on here.”

“Not sure where you’re getting your sources from, but I’d consider leaving The Sun’s team out of your investigations,” Tayce added, A’Whora trying and failing to conceal her smile as Lawrence playfully whacked her arm.

“Get to fuck with those accusations. You carry on living out your little Gavin and Stacey storyline and I’ll go ask the Pope if he’s still shitting in the woods or if bears are still Catholic. Have fun ya fucking lesbians.”

As she disappeared back into the living room, where Bimini had started blasting something with a heavy, pulsing beat, A’Whora turned back to Tayce with an offended look on her face.

“Did that William Wallace wannabe just imply that I’d be the man in the relationship just because I’m English?” She asked, reeling backwards. “Fucking cheek!”

Tayce laughed. “Well, you don’t have legs like mine…” She trailed off, predicting A’Whora’s outburst.

“Hey! Listen, we’d be a great Naomi and Kim, so shut your beautiful face and stop seducing me with that gorgeous accent.” She paused for a second, thinking, and then blinked. “I mean Naomi Campbell and Kim Kardashian, I realise that sounded like something different…”

Tayce looped her arm through A’Whora’s and started trudging down the hallway, making their way into the living room with most of the others. “I love that you think you’re anything like a Kardashian, babe. The Kylie lips maybe, but you’re no Kim.”

As the music grew louder and louder in their eyes, Bimini wrapping a drunk sweaty arm around them both and bellowing something inaudible, Tayce leaned in close to A’Whora’s ear and added, “I’d much prefer what you’ve got to what Kim’s got.”

That was the game; cat and mouse, a game of chase and coy avoidance. After that, she slipped away to dance with Asttina, sipping on her drink and trying to hide her eagerness. The next move was A’Whora’s, as they both knew, and she could play it whenever she wanted.

It was after maybe another hour of drinking and gushing with her friends about how beautiful everyone looked and how drunk they all felt that Tayce realised the atmosphere in Lawrence’s living room was a little too kind. Nothing wrong with that, of course, and a house full of drunk girls was basically the club bathroom scenario elevated to an extreme level, but a kind atmosphere meant that A’Whora had clearly gone into another room. Not good.

Making to find her, Tayce got all the way to the doorway before Ellie and Lawrence stopped her to chat about whether or not it would be stupid to play spin the bottle (it would) and whether or not they should all do some more shots (they did). Then I Wanna Dance With Somebody started playing, and by the first “Woo!”, she’d totally forgotten about her earlier mission, and ran back inside screaming and grabbing at Asttina to dance with her. 

She had to give Lawrence some credit, because her playlist was incredible. Nothing but banger after banger after banger.

About half way through Good As Hell, Tayce became aware of what sounded like shouting, underwater and garbled and messy. Though she carried on grinding against Asttina and singing along to Lizzo’s affirmations, her head checked out a little as she tried to focus on the background voices over the blaring music. It proved to be quite the struggle, being as drunk as she was, but as it turned out, she didn’t need to pay too much attention, as she wasn’t the only one that had noticed.

By the time Tia was standing outraged in the living room doorway, all eyes were on her. She looked furious, cheeks red and eyes spilling over, her fists clenched and trembling.

Lawrence quietened the music.

“So, were you gonna tell me that you all think I look like shit or did you nominate A’Whora to be the nasty cunt she usually is?” She looked down at her dress, back up, and choked back a sob. “Fuck off, the lot of you.”

Immediately, half the room started to follow her with choruses of love, their words getting tangled in a web of you’re beautiful and she doesn’t speak for us and A’Whora’s just a bitch and I like it! 

The living room felt significantly emptier with just Lawrence, Ellie and Tayce in it, the three of them frozen staring at the doorway like they couldn’t believe it had finally kicked off. After a few moments, The 1975 now playing at an awkwardly low volume, A’Whora passed the living room, peered inside with brimming eyes, and broke into a run. 

Tayce followed her on instinct, leaving Lawrence and Ellie behind. Her heart sank as she rushed through the house; one part of her took in the group of girls gathered in the kitchen, their arms hooked over a crying Tia, their tongues slicing away at A’Whora’s character with every dirty look that they sent in the direction of the now wide-open front door. 

As bad as she felt for Tia, no one was going after A’Whora. And maybe that made sense, but Tayce had never cared too much about making sense - not when it came to her. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to go too far. A little way down Lawrence’s street, a familiar figure was sitting crumpled over on the curb, her face hidden in her hands, head leaning against the lamppost under which she was illuminated. Like an angel, Tayce thought. Like a sad, stupid angel. 

“Whory. What did you do, babe? I wanna hear it from you.”

A’Whora looked up. Flecks of black mascara stained around her eyes, the shadows beginning to smudge into the eyeliner from her tears, and her lip trembled. She lowered her head, prompting Tayce to sit down on the curb next to her, legs stretched out into the empty road. 

“I told her the dress was fucking ugly, because someone’s gotta do it. I was just trying to help but I know that was an asshole thing to say and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” 

Tayce blinked. She hadn’t expected the remorseful part of A’Whora’s answer, if she was being honest. She usually never gave in, never admitted defeat, proudly shrugged off any offence caused while Tayce tried to interject some kindness into her. It never worked, which she’d always found frustrating, but now it was unsettling that it had. 

“I mean, I’m right. She looks like the embodiment of the fucking kid’s section of a TK Maxx.”

Tayce kissed the side of her head, A’Whora responding by resting it on Tayce’s shoulder. “I thought she was the Year Nine girl in her mum’s choice of Pretty Little Thing dresses?” She teased gently. To her relief and simultaneous heartbreak, it received a short, wet laugh. 

“I didn’t expect her to - to rip into me like that. Like she did.” 

“What happened?”

“She stood up for herself. Which is good, right?” A’Whora sniffed. “She told me I’m a vapid self-absorbed little bitch, and that she can change her shitty fashion sense while I’ll be stuck with my fake face and dog shit personality for the rest of my life. And that at least our friends like her, ‘cause they barely tolerate me.”

Tayce squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her tighter. “You gotta understand she’s coming from a place of hurt, darling. I know you know this, but you have been pretty mean to her in the past.”

A’Whora nodded weakly, throwing up a peace sign. “Karma,” She sang, the humour in it betrayed by her wobbly voice. “I deserved it, but… I didn’t realise it would hurt this much. Especially because she’s right.”

“She’s not right,” Tayce cut in immediately, a little surprised by her own fierce defensiveness. “She was just angry and upset.”

A moment of silence fell as A’Whora lapsed into thought, her face still smushed into Tayce’s shoulder. She scuffed her shoes into the stones gathered at the edge of the curb, kicking them into the road and scraping her heels into the gritty dirt. As cold as the night was, Tayce could hardly feel it with A’Whora so close.

She laughed bitterly. “Tay, look at us. Do you see any of our other friends out here? No, they’re all telling Tia how much they love her. Because they do. And I’m the nasty fucking bully that won’t go away so they just put up with me until I give them a reason to talk shit.”

“That’s not true, Whory. Sure, we gotta work on controlling that lip of yours, but the girls still love you.” Tayce paused, and then peppered a few more kisses to the top of her head. “You may be a bitch, but you’re my bitch.”

“Kinky,” A’Whora giggled, softening into her side. “You still like me?”

“I always like you.” Tayce whispered. 

Above them, the orange street lamp flickered and turned off, casting them into darkness. A crescent moon shone just above them, partially covered by clouds, and the night was quiet. Tayce leaned back, pulling A’Whora with her, until both girls were laying down, half on the pavement and half into the road, their arms around one another and heads facing the sky. A lifetime or even a minute could’ve passed as they just watched the stars, endlessly fascinated by the tiny pinpricks of light, but when Tayce turned her head, it struck her that A’Whora’s eyes sparkled better than any night sky she’d ever seen.

“I should apologise to Tia.” A’Whora murmured.

“Tomorrow.” Their voices were barely above a whisper, something unspoken and sacred about maintaining the tranquility of the silent night. “Give her time to cool off.”

“And you promise you still like me?”

Her eyes were wide, hopeful. Their faces were so close it was no effort at all. It never was. 

Not with her.

The night - er, morning -  was a disaster, but A’Whora’s lips tasted like cherry gloss and her touch was soft and gentle, and maybe things didn’t always end badly. Maybe it would be okay as long as Tayce had A’Whora and A’Whora had Tayce.