#sol.doc

Across the beach, Ingrid stands; tall and radiant like a beacon of beauty. An angel come to Earth- not fallen, simply there. Sunlight glistens off her tan skin, dampened by the ocean water that licks reverently at her ankles. Her bottle-blonde hair is bedraggled and somehow looks perfect, her pastel pink bikini not quite hiding the pale tan lines on her shoulders and hips.

She looks up. Ellie looks away quickly, so she doesn’t have to see the way Ingrid’s perfect lips curl up into a perfect smirk on her perfect face. Mona quirks a brow at her, taking advantage of Toby’s lowered guard to snatch the paper bag from his hands and turn her back to him.

“That’s the girl who beat you out for valedictorian?”

“Half a mark on the final exam!” Ellie protests on reflex. Mona’s lips curve up into her devastating grin. Toby leans around Mona, hand clamped on her shoulder, to try and reach his back.

“Nerd,” says Mona.

“You could just talk to her,” Toby suggests, shoving Mona hard as she steps away from him with a lilting laugh.

“She doesn’t want to talk to someone like me,” Ellie says miserably, picking at the frayed edges of her jean shorts, “that’s why I want to hate her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty, and she’s just... perfect. It’s not fair to hate her, but it’s easier than liking her and knowing I don’t have a chance.”

“El,” Logan’s voice sends all three of them standing to attention. He stands, hip cocked, a few feet away with his hand in the back pocket of Colt’s jeans. “Can I give you some advice?”

“I get the impression that you’re going to regardless of what I say.”

“Yep,” Logan says with a grin, “this isn’t a telenovela. Stranger things have happened than a pretty girl hanging out with someone who can match her level of intellect.”

“Such as me dating someone with half a brain cell,” Colt jerks a thumb in Logan’s direction, “what odds. Confidence is everything. Don’t bother shooting your shot if you can’t follow through.”

“Extremely bold words coming from someone who literally ran away after I kissed him for the first time.” Colt flushes furious red and Mona cackles while Toby does his best to hide his grin. Chest shaking with laughter, Ellie turns her head to gaze at Ingrid again. Ingrid is still watching, but she starts suddenly, and turns her face away. Ellie’s face goes as red as Colt’s.

“Ellie,” Mona says, “I can’t take a Colt and Logan repeat. Please woman up and take one for my delicate constitution. Longing stares make me nauseous.”

“Okay! Okay,” Ellie stands quickly, pushing off the hood of Mona’s car, “I’m going. But only because I hate the fallout of Logan and Colt’s lovers quarrels.” Logan grins, presses a pointed kiss to the corner of Colt’s mouth. Ellie gestures, brow quirked in a ‘see’ gesture, before she turns, and makes her way toward the beach.

The sand is hot between her toes, flip-flops dangling from her fingers as she carefully trudges toward the ocean. Ingrid breaches the surf a few feet away, hands scooping her hair back from her face. Her eyes fall upon Ellie’s approaching figure, and she blinks, before taking a few unsure steps toward the shore.

“Hey!” Ellie calls over the sound of the breakers and shrieking gulls. Ingrid’s lips curl into a smile, and it’s all Ellie can do to keep from stumbling at the sheer force of the desire to kiss her.

“Wheeler,” says Ingrid, her voice smooth and silken, “can I help you?” Ellie falters.

“Well- no, I mean-- yes? I mean, I just,” a deep breath, “I just wanted to talk. I haven’t seen you since graduation.”

“Well, we weren’t exactly friends,” that stings a little, and Ellie pushes her tongue against her teeth, forcing herself to draw up straighter and lift her chin, though the effort seems fruitless when Ingrid’s head seems haloed by the sun.

“No, we weren’t,” she says, “but we should change that. I don’t know why we ever harboured any animosity toward each other in the first place.” Ingrid’s face falls in bewilderment.

“Because you’re ultra-competitive and you saw me as a challenger for valedictorian.” Ellie pauses.

“Well, yes,” she says, “but I guess that’s out of the way, right? And it doesn’t make sense for two smart, capable women who are both moving away to Langston come fall to keep hating each other after that variable has been removed, right?” Ingrid’s brow quirked, her hand on her hip.

“You’re really hamming up the whole feminist angle.”

“Yes. Yes I am.” Ellie turns, briefly, to glance back at her friends: Mona and Toby leaning against her car and sharing the candy while Colt and Logan bicker playfully, broad smiles on their faces. She smiles too, thinks back on the last few months and what they’ve taught her, what advice they would give her. She makes a decision.

“It seemed like an easier option than admitting I think you’re really pretty, and that your intelligence intimidated me because it made you much more attractive, and I didn’t think I’d ever have a shot.” Ingrid’s eyes widened, and her mouth falls open in a perfect ‘o’. She stares for a few moments... and then she laughs.

Her laugh is like so many things: like honey and bees buzzing in springtime air, tinkling bells in dewy fields, sun brightly beating down on orchards in bloom, of a thunderstorm in the distance when one is warm under the covers. Ellie smiles, wide and genuine, as Ingrid’s eyes meet hers, almost shyly this time.

“That was... straight forward,” she says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear, “I liked it.”

“I’m glad,” Ellie breathes out, not having realized she was even holding a breath to begin with, “saying it was terrifying. I thought for sure I was going to choke.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” Ingrid bites her lower lip, glancing at the sand between them, “and for the record... I’ve always thought you were pretty, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ellie stands, unsure what to say. The air between them is new, and uncharted, but if the past few months have taught her anything, it’s that she is capable of so much more than she ever thought. She is tentative now, but she has proven to be adaptable and brave. She reaches out, touches her fingers to Ingrid’s, pulls her hand toward her.

“I wanted to hate you,” she says, “because it was easier than liking you and thinking I had no chance. But now that I have one... I’d like to take it. Do you want to go out with me? Coffee at Blue Peppermint, Friday at ten if that suits you?”

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Ingrid’s fingers splay, lace with Ellie’s, “that sounds great. We could go to the observatory later? They have an exhibit on the Mars rovers set up at the moment.”

“It’s a date,” Ellie says, her grin so wide her face aches, but she’s never felt happier. Ingrid’s smile is enough to make her hear angels singing as she nods, a lock of sea-dampened blonde falling across her eyes. It’s interesting to see perfect, untouchable Ingrid as shy, vulnerable, and hopeful, all unguarded emotions.

And all because of a date with Ellie. Her grin broadens, and she squeezes Ingrid’s hand.

She and Penelope had been friends for a long time. Kiara wasn’t exactly sure when the crush had started, but it was definitely after the summer camp when they were thirteen where she and Penelope had first kissed. It was an accidental kiss, but Kiara still felt it burn at her lips whenever Penelope laughed so hard she snorted, or whenever Merlin or Morgana did something adorable and her face lit up brighter than the infamous Beaumont chandelier, or when their hands touched at dinnertime and she pulled back quickly, flush rising in her cheeks.

A cabin had flooded at their campground, due to unprecedented rain. The girls had come to stay in Kiara’s cabin, half on the ground. Kiara had let Penelope into her bed, the pair of them giggling secrets under the covers as if it were the best sleepover they’d ever been to. Neither of them had expected to knock noses, for their lips to brush just the slightest bit. They’d both rolled over, and never spoken of it again.

The only thing worse than the entire court knowing about Kiara’s crush would be Penelope knowing. By this point, Kiara had accepted that if Penelope had been interested in her, they would have had their chance. Instead, the court saw them as ‘just good friends’. The mocking way Riley pronounced ‘gal pals’ in her disdainfully nasal tone came to mind, and she wished she could howl with laughter like Riley did, instead of feeling sick to the very tips of her toes.

“Will you come back to me any time soon?” Kiara blinked, smiling down at Penelope’s head, where she had leant it back against her shin.

“Sorry,” Kiara said with a lilting laugh, drawing Penelope’s hairbrush in another stroke through her hair. Penelope closed her eyes, with a content sigh, and Kiara’s heart leapt into her throat.

“I always wonder what you’re thinking about,” Penelope said, turning a ring her mother had gifted her over and over around her finger, “whenever you go away like that. I’ve never been able to, it always leaves me to think of what could be so wonderful that people can leave this world behind to be wholly devoted to it.”

You. Kiara ached to say it. Ached to thread her fingers through Penelope’s hair, tilt her head back and brush reverent kisses to her forehead, her nose, her lips. Instead, she just smiled, and shrugged lamely.

“I was thinking about Lady Riley,” she said, because it was at least half true, “I’ve not managed to wrangle a single detail of her honeymoon from her, and on top of being busy with all that, she still found the time to plan room arrangements for Liam. I’m afraid that the woman never sleeps.”

“She and Hana gave me such a fright just the other night, Kiara, you won’t believe,” Penelope’s fingers delicately brushed her knee, and Kiara felt her pace jump a few beats, “Merlin’s been a little anxious with all the travel lately and he was having a hard time sleeping lately, so I went to the kitchen to fix him a soothing brew that Ezekiel recommended me-” Kiara’s heart twisted.

Another knife straight to the chest: the unfortunate reminder that out of everyone in the world Penelope could have fallen in love with, it had to have been her very own big brother.

“- and I get to the kitchen, mind you this is two or three in the morning, and I hear a rattling and it gave me a scare! I must have jumped a mile, but it was just Lady Hana and Lady Riley, making hot chocolate!” Penelope laughed, her airy and tinkling laugh, and whatever sadness Kiara had felt melted away into familiar warmth as her expression creased into a smile.

“Perhaps I should talk to Lady Olivia about an intervention,” she mused, “now I’m really concerned for Lady Riley’s sleep schedule.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Penelope waved a hand, sitting up on the floor, and then pushing to her feet, “she has survived worse- we all have.” She fidgeted with the hem of her silken nightgown, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Kiara, but how have you been sleeping?”

Kiara’s pulse jack-hammered. Between ongoing nightmares from the Cordonian assassination attempt, and unhappy dreams of Penelope eloping with her brother that left her feeling drained and miserable, the definitive answer was ‘not well’. Nonetheless she smiled, easily.

“I’m fine, Penelope,” she said, reaching for her friend’s wrist, “come, sit, we still have so many episodes of that show Riley recommended us to finish!”

“I guess so,” Penelope eyed her warily, before she shook her head as if to clear some fog from her mind, and settled onto the bed beside Kiara, dragging her laptop closer. Kiara stretched her legs out, picking idly at the in-seam of her pyjama pants.

Really, she should have been happy. Her best friend and her brother had found happiness. Her father had offered her the family’s Duchy, when he chose to step down. She had a seat on a council handling foreign affairs, which took her training to the highest level. She would be challenged every day, and she would love every second of it.

“Kiara,” Penelope’s voice was quiet, “please look at me.” Kiara turned her eyes away, pushing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Kiara didn’t like to portray her emotions outwardly, it was dangerous with the company she kept, but Penelope had always been able to see right through her, like she was made of glass.

“It upsets me when you lie to me, because I’m your friend and I care about you, and I want you to be okay. We don’t have to talk about what is upsetting you if you don’t want to, I just... hope you know you can trust me with your emotions.”

“I do,” Kiara looked up then, meeting Penelope’s gaze, lips curling in a shy but genuine smile, “I know. Thank you, for being my friend. And I’m sorry- sorry that I lied to you just then. You’ve always been good to me.”

She laid her hand on Penelope’s, and the stiffness of her fingers made Kiara realize with a start that she was staring. Penelope’s blue eyes were watching her, mouth pulled in a taut line, brows knitting as if she were deep in thought. Kiara’s brows furrowed in worry. Perhaps she had said too much, pushed her luck too far. She began to pull her hand away.

“Pen-”

“Can I kiss you?” Kiara froze.

“Wh-”

“Can I kiss you,” Penelope asked again, gaze steady. Penelope had never had the strongest of wills, but Kiara had loved her regardless of it. And now here she was, looking her dead in the eye and asking her a question Kiara had known the answer to for a very long time, and yet she was speechless. She drew her tongue over her lower lip, and sucked in a breath as her face crumbled into an expression that betrayed the years of longing, and everything left unsaid.

“Yes.”

Penelope leaned forward without hesitation, and pressed her lips to Kiara’s. They were soft, and when she tilted her head they slid perfectly against her own. Kiara’s eyes fluttered closed, and she lifted her hand to cup Penelope’s face, fingers pushing her loose hair back from her face. Penelope leaned into her, hand curling against Kiara’s thighs. She pulled back abruptly.

“Wait, but my brother-”

“Ezekiel?” Penelope’s eyes widened, lips kiss-swollen and cheeks rosy with blush, “no! No, Kiara, God no! Oh, we’re friends, very good friends- but we mostly got close because I... was asking him for advice about you.” Kiara stared, eyes wide and unblinking. She let out an abrupt bark of laughter, falling back into the bed. Penelope crawled after her, long hair framing her face like a curtain, concern swirling behind her eyes.

“I’m a fool,” she said, threading her hand through Penelope’s hair and pulling her in again. Penelope laughed, bright and airy, gently pressing their lips together again.

“I cannot defend you from this accusation,” Penelope whispered against her mouth, “I thought that surely you would pick up on my hints. It only took you fifteen years.” Kiara drew back, frowning.

“You never gave me any hints?” Penelope blinked at her.

“Kiara,” she said, with the same patient tone Kiara took when trying to explain languages to children, “there are only so many times I can ask you to pretty-please put sunscreen on my back when it will be completely covered by a kaftan anyway.” Kiara’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh.” She laughed, covering her face with both hands as Penelope beamed down at her, blue eyes twinkling like the ocean under summer sun. “Oh, I- all this time? Since that camp? You really meant to kiss me, then?”

“Yes,” Penelope brushed aside Kiara’s hair from her face, leaning down to kiss her again. “I was so afraid that you hated me for it,” she said, forehead resting on Kiara’s. Kiara brought her hands up to cradle Penelope’s face, thumbs tracing the shape of her cheekbones, pulling her in for another kiss.

It was gentle and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Everything else melted away, only Penelope’s lips against hers seemed to matter. Penelope sighed, parted her lips, let Kiara slot their lips together better, more intimately. When she pulled back, it felt like an eternity had passed, just the two of them entwined in their own private little paradise.

“I could never hate you, Penelope,” she whispered, words just for her. Penelope’s eyes crinkled in the corner as she smiled, settling down into the covers next to Kiara.

“I think I answered my own question,” she said, eyes still firmly locked on Kiara’s face, “from earlier? When I asked you what could be so wonderful that people slip away from the real world?”

“What is it?” Kiara asked, smile so wide her cheeks ached. Penelope’s smile was fond, was years of love poured into one singular word as she lifted her hand and tangled their fingers together.

“You’re dropping your right,” she said idly as Taylor blocked another punch from Jake, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead. Jake’s eyes flicked south, and he aimed a jab at her ribs, which she narrowly managed to redirect. She lifted a leg and aimed a sharp kick to his solar-plex, forcing him to stumble back out of range, dropping into a crouch to steady himself.

“Thank you, Estela,” Taylor said, with the tightly patient tone she took after Aleister had made one too many barbed comments in her direction. Estela frowned. She didn’t like it when Taylor took that tone with her. The poor woman already had to put up with enough, between Sean and Jake’s will-they-won’t-they posturing contests, Craig and Zahra’s unresolved romantic tension and Aleister’s obvious pining for Grace. Keeping the peace between the resort residents wasn’t easy, and Estela was no diplomat. She didn’t like the idea of contributing to Taylor’s stress.

“Jake’s weak on his left side since he leads with it. You can disrupt his balance at the ankle.” Jake sputtered as he struck forward again, Taylor crouching and dodging to the side, teeth gritted.

“Hey, Ellen Ripley! Whose side are you on?” His brows furrowed and his lip stuck out in a childish pout. Estela gave him a sweet smile, watching as he kicked some sand at Taylor and proceeded to launch at her again. Taylor rolled nimbly out of the way and leapt to her feet again, pummeling Jake with a barrage of punches.

“Always come back to a defensive that guards your face,” Taylor’s brows furrowed further, “and make sure you don’t slack on your right, or you’ll give Jake an opening. Alternate your jabs, he’s predicting your pattern.”

“Just call me Mister Miyagi,” Jake smirked, a punch whistling just past Taylor’s ear. She let out a frustrated growl from between clenched teeth, arm striking upward to capture Jake’s elbow between her forearm and her bicep. “Wha-” said Jake.

And then Taylor flipped him. Estela’s heart skipped a beat, furious blush crawling down her neck. Taylor’s arm yanked down and toward the inside of her opposite knee, sending Jake head over heels. He landed hard on his back, a pained wheeze escaping him as sand fluttered in all directions. Taylor stood over him, one foot on his chest, panting hard. She took a moment to compose herself, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and wiping the sweat from her forehead on the back of her arm.

“I believe,” she said, “that makes you Daniel-san.” Jake groaned.

“Wasn’t enough to crush my ego, you had to go and set it on fire too?” Taylor smirked.

“Everything’s better with fire.” She reached a hand out, clapping it into Jake’s and yanking him to his feet. “Thanks for the lesson, Jake… Estela.” Taylor’s tone took on an oddly collected quality that made Estela’s stomach fall. Jake waved her away, stumbling over to his belongings to take a swig from his water bottle. Taylor took a deep breath, lacing her fingers together and cupping the back of her head as she wandered toward the sea.

Estela hauled herself to her feet and stumbled after her, brushing the sand from the backs of her thighs. Behind her, she heard Jake’s voice raise an octave, and a rumbling laugh. Sean had almost definitely been watching, which meant Jake would be preoccupied trying to win back his wounded pride. Which meant Jake would trail Sean like a lost puppy. Which meant Estela would be alone. On the beach. With Taylor. Who was half dressed.

“That was a nice move you pulled,” Estela said shyly, taking a step into the water beside Taylor. The other girl jumped, her face flickering with many emotions, before she shrugged and lifted her arms into the air, enjoying the salty breeze.

“Thanks,” she said dryly, “good to know there’s at least one thing you think I can do right.” Estela flinched.

“What-”

“Look, I get it, okay,” Taylor said, sigh irritable, “you’re hard on me because I’m weak and untrained, and whatever’s coming with the watchers I have to be prepared or else the rest of the community could suffer, and blah and blah and blah. I get it, Estela. They’re my friends too, you don’t think I worry?” Estela suddenly felt very, very cold.

“That’s not-”

“It’s just, it’s really hard to remain optimistic about all this, and especially about my chances when you’re just so… so…” at loss for words, Taylor held her hands out in a mock-strangling position and shook them, “ugh! I’m trying, okay? I really am, but like… a few nights ago I was just a college student slogging through all nighters and shitty mandatory courses and now I’m going to fight a race of potentially alien inhabitants on a tropical island with weird time discrepancies and it would be a lot easier if you could stop hating me for long enough to be constructive!”

“Hate you?” Estela was flabbergasted, jaw hanging open. She shook herself suddenly, violently. “No! No, I don’t hate you. I like you! More than like you! Like, like-like you! I’m flirting with you!”

“Flirting with me?!”

“Yes!” Estela’s eyes were wide. Taylor had thought she hated her? The thought made Estela want to crawl into bed and bawl her eyes out, and then get impossibly drunk off of one of Raj’s genius cocktail concoctions. “I’ve been giving you advice! To make sure you can beat Jake, because if you can beat Jake, you can stand against the Watchers, and that’s… that’s important to me because- because, well… I would hate if anything… happened to you.”

“Oh my god,” Taylor was wide-eyed now too, shocked, “you were flirting. Oh my god.” She burst into laughter, howling laughter as merriment took over her face. She doubled over, hands on her knees as her shoulders shook hard. “Estela,” she said, sounding short of breath, “I appreciate it, I really do, but most people’s idea of flirting is telling someone they have a nice ass. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh,” Estela blinked, and then leaned back for a second, “you have a nice ass.” Taylor laughed harder, her body heaving with almost violent shakes now. Estela couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her throat. She tipped her head back, putting both hands over her face as she descended into a fit of hiccuping laughter to match Taylor’s.

“You thought I hated you,” she groaned, pulling her hands away to glance sideways at the other girl. Taylor was smiling at her now, shoulders still jumping with silent chuckles. Grinning, she reached out for Estela.

“I don’t anymore,” she said, hands pressing against Estela’s cheeks. With a surprising amount of strength, she pulled Estela forward, pressing their lips together. Estela laughed, letting Taylor’s lips swallow the sound. Both of them were smiling too broadly for their lips to even fit together, teeth clacking more than anything, but Estela couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her hands settled on Taylor’s hips, tugging her closer as the other girl’s arms draped around her neck, fiddling idly with loose strands of hair at the base of her bun. Taylor’s grin subsided to something more manageable, and Estela leaned into her, pressing slow, easy kisses to her lips.

Her eyes flick over the woman accompanying Miranda; she is tall, taller even than Marguerite in the stupid, pinchy heels that go with her horrid, stifling wedding gown. Her hair is short and choppy, eyes dark and cold. When Marguerite’s eyes meet hers, she doesn’t look away. She blinks, rids herself of the vague melancholy resting there.

“Miranda,” says the woman, voice low and warning.

“Please,” Miranda says again, fingers starting to curl back to her palm  as if wounded, her eyes still open and raw; begging, “I can’t leave without you, Rita. I won’t do it.”

“And you can’t stay,” Marguerite says, with as much dignity as she can muster, but her voice cracks, lets the bitter mourning for all they have lost, the could-have-beens and the what-ifs that haunt her. That haunt them, for this is a burden they carry both alone and together. “Where would we go, Miranda?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda says, but she doesn’t seem defeated- she seems stronger, even, “wherever. Home is only where you are, Rita. What’s the point in being anywhere else.”

“We’d be in trouble,” Marguerite says, but her fingers finally settle against Miranda’s palm, coaxing her hand closer to her mouth to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles. Miranda makes a sound as if she’s been wounded.

“I don’t care,” she says, “it’s worth it. For you, anything is.”

“You can’t promise that, can’t be sure of that- not after all this time.”

“But I can,” Miranda squeezes her hand, smile turning wry, “it’s always been you, Marguerite. Can’t you see that?” She laughs, high-pitched and desperate. It all seems so crazy. So beyond impossible. And yet it seems right.

“Oh Miranda,” she says, and Miranda steps forward, presses a kiss to her lips. It’s soft, almost chaste, but lingering, as if it pains her to pull away. Like all of Miranda’s kisses, it leaves her breathless, fingers lightly entwined with the other’s.

“Tell me to go, and I will, but you have to know that I love you, and I don’t think I can ever stop. So come home with me, please. Monaco will forgive you, Rita. Choose your happiness this time, just this once. Come home with me.”

It gives her pause. Monaco is her home, but it is not her first love. That is Miranda, through and through- how could it have ever been anyone or anything else? It is a scary thought, the idea of taking that step off the cliff, away from everything she knows into anything Miranda could show her. But she is Miranda; and Marguerite is Marguerite. That thought comforts her beyond belief.

The strange woman- the thief Ansel hates so much, if she had to guess- has turned away now, watching the door with all the energy of a caged lion. Their time is running short. Whatever decision she makes, Marguerite knows it must be the final one. Miranda could love her forever- Marguerite doesn’t know how to stop loving her either- but she knows.

This is either the first hello, or the final farewell.

She squeezes Miranda’s hand, tight.

“Okay,” she says, with a resolute nod. Miranda’s eyes widen, brimming with happiness. “Okay. Take me home.”

Miranda raises their clasped hands and presses a reverent kiss to Marguerite’s knuckles; doesn’t protest when she un-laces their fingers and cups her face instead. Their foreheads rest together, and they breathe, for a blissful second, where the universe is suspended between the two of them, and there is nothing else, only love.

Only love, only love, only love.

Craig snatched her ankle up between his hands with a yelp, pouting at her while Sean turned his face skyward in an effort to hide his laughter. Zahra glowered at both of them, jerking her ankle free of Craig’s hands and folding it under her, criss-cross.

“Okay, yeah, whatever, laugh it up,” she snapped, “it’s easy for you. I don’t have the height and the muscles and the square-cut jaw. I’m just... I’ve been flirting as obviously as I could ever since we got here and like... Jake got the message, even though Taylor’s even worse than freshman Craig-” Craig made a noise of protest- “but Estela. I don’t know how to flirt with her.”

“I’m sorry, Zahra,” Sean said, tracking her gaze down the beach. Taylor was standing with Diego and Varryn, chatting to them amicably with his hand jammed into the back pocket of Jake’s jeans. Estela stood on the other side of Taylor, arms folded across her chest and head cocked in the way that meant she was listening.

“Yeah,” she said, a tad miserably, “me too.”

“It’s not over yet,” he said gently, “I’m sure there’s still plenty of things you could try.”

“No, I think I’ve exhausted every avenue,” Zahra huffed out a sigh, rubbing her fingers against the shaved side of her head, “I’ve asked her to hang out one on one, but getting conversation out of her is like pulling teeth. I’ve told her she’s hot and she just shrugged. I did the whole damsel-in-distress thing which was super demeaning by the way, and she just seemed irritated. I even fell into taking Diego’s advice and did the fucking bend and snap and she wasn’t even looking.”

“Huh,” said Sean, struggling not to wince. Craig groaned, grabbing his boyfriend’s wrists and maneuvering them to clap his hands together to punctuate his words.

“Just. Tell. Her.” He squinted at Zahra. “That’s how I got you. I just walked up to you and was like, yo, Namazi, you’re cute and I wanna date.”

“I don’t think that’s how it went.”

“That’s pretty much how it went.”

“No, I pretty clearly remember you stumbled over all of your words and went so red that I took pity on you and kissed you.” Craig squinted. Sean tilted his head down to press a kiss to his lips.

“You’re hot and I wanna date was what you said to me,” he reminded him, “but Craig does have a point. You could just tell her you like her.”

“You want me to show an emotion?”

“Kind of an important part of a relationship.” Zahra paused.

“Okay, fair point, you got me.” Her eyes tracked back to Estela as she touched Taylor’s shoulder briefly, and then turned to wander toward the forest. Zahra shot Craig and Sean a sideways look. The pair seemed preoccupied, Craig’s beefy hands cupping Sean’s cheeks to pull him down toward his lips again. She stood. “No time like the present, right?”

“Uh-” said Sean, but Zahra was already gone, stumbling through the loose sand to catch up to Estela. She didn’t have to announce her presence as she closed in on her. Estela had an uncanny ability to sense everyone around her, and before Zahra was even halfway across the distance between them, Estela turned to watch her catch up.

“Sup,” Zahra said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Estela’s lips curved upward into a tight smile.

“Hi,” she said.

“Sneaking off?” She asked, taking a step toward the forest. “Without me? I’m wounded, ‘Stel.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” she said, but there was amusement glittering in her dark eyes, “and I’m not sure why I’d be expected to sneak off with you. I’m just done socializing for today, Jake’s started another one of those pissing contests with the Vaanti and I’m not particularly interested in watching him get his ass handed to him.”

“It’s only amusing a handful of times,” Zahra agreed, walking in step with Estela as they ventured further into the underbrush, “but I’m the resident aloof troublemaker, and you’re like, totally cramping my brand.”

“Oh I’m very sorry,” Estela gave a mock bow, eyebrow arched sarcastically, “how can I ever make it up to you, now that I’ve stolen your thunder and wounded your preciously fragile pride.” Zahra struggled to keep the smile off of her face.

Estela was gorgeous. The sun filtered through the canopy, casting rays onto Estela’s dark hair and turning it to liquid mahogany, making her skin glow gold, distinguishing her eyes as swirling pools of chocolate, rather than the abyssal black they looked normally. And she was smiling, lips soft-looking if not a bit chapped, stretched broad enough to reveal teeth.

“What?” Estela said, shock settling into her face. It had been out of Zahra’s mouth before she’d been able to stop herself. Zahra flushed, a hideous, hideous red. But it had been said. It couldn’t be taken back. And now she had to commit to it.

“I said,” she tried to ignore the heat clawing at her neck, “you could kiss me.” Estela’s eyes widened, but she was still smiling.

“Where is this coming from?” Zahra made a frustrated hissing noise at the back of her throat, leaning back and scuffing at the ground with her boot.

“Come on! I’ve been so obvious about it for like, ever now. I’ve been flirting with you ever since we landed on La Huerta and I’m flirting with you now. I mean, I told you that your ass looked nice in a bikini, I don’t know how much more obvious I could have been!” Estela was laughing, Zahra noticed, the amused twinkle in her eyes haven taken on a mischievous glint.

“I know.”

“What do you mean you know?” Zahra sputtered.

“I mean I know,” Estela said with a simple shrug, “I just wanted to hear you say it.” Zahra stared at her, flabbergasted for a moment, before she reached both hands out and shoved Estela, hard enough to make her sway.

“Jerk! Asshole!” Estela let out a sharp bark of laughter, reaching forward to grab Zahra by the lapels of her jacket and step in close. “I can’t believe you made me suffer through that! You’re the worst!”

“It was cute!” Estela protested. Zahra screwed her face up. “Okay, not cute,” Estela quickly corrected, placating, “endearing.”

“That’s worse!” Zahra complained, making Estela laugh.

“Here,” she said, bringing a hand up to slide through Zahra’s shaved hair, cupping the back of her neck, “let me make it better.”

She kissed her then, and Zahra leaned into her willingly, hands settling at Estela’s waist. She was solid and strong under her hands, as Zahra furled her fingers into the pockets of her blue hoodie and tugged her closer. Estela smiled against her lips, tilting her head to press them together more insistently.

The noise of the forest melted away as they kissed, the two of them cocooned in a private paradise, their own little Eden. Estela’s hands were calloused and sturdy where they gripped at Zahra’s lapels and steadied themselves against her neck, and Estela’s lips were wind-worn and rough where she kissed Zahra; clumsy if not enthusiastic. Finally, she pulled back, inhaling deeply, dark eyes wide and full of wonder.

“For the record,” she said, a whisper meant just for Zahra, “I really like it when you flirt with me.” Zahra tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, re-settled her hand against her hip and pulled her in closer again.