#tojos

There’s a particular kind of energy radiating from school on Friday afternoons.

Chiara Vargas was never one to dream in class, but recently she’s had trouble keeping her focus centred on the teacher. The midday glow baskets the classroom, and soft streaks of light stretched lazily across the room. Dust lingered among the beams of light, fluttering flamboyantly. The muted cheers and laughter from the playground below drowned the teacher’s droning. Someone yawned. Someone blinked sleepily, and thoughts wander.

Now, if only that scene was relevant enough, Chiara might not have been so fucking distracted by the sex-on-legs and maybe for once, she’d pay attention to the drab-in-shags in front of the class. However, should she be blamed for the summer tan that hitches her breath and the tousled dark hair with a boyish charm? If anything, it was Carmen’s fault for being so fucking princely.

It was unfair. The way she doubled over as she laughed, messing up her chocolate curls. She must have been doing it on purpose, looking so good in that loose shirt (she probably borrowed it, her usual one was significantly tighter) that covered most of her P.E. shorts, her legs looking so long and shapely. Dammit.

Chiara scoffed from her seat when a couple of girls came over to chat with Carmen on the field. It might have gone unnoticed if you were down there, but it was obvious that one of them were trying to put her wretched claws on Carmen with subtle hand gestures.

So desperate, she mused. It wasn’t like Carmen would notice anyway.

She watched on as Gillian tripped on a cone and fell on her face in an attempt to impress the crowd.

Chiara snorted.

At that, Carmen turned to the building and looked up. Their eyes met and Chiara’s heart plummeted in guilt. For a moment, Chiara was absolutely convinced that Carmen had heard her.

A momentary glance fleeting a second later, Carmen turned away, helping Gillian up with a laugh.

Chiara looked around the classroom guiltily. No one had noticed. Not her classmates. Not her seatmate. Not the dead boring teacher. Not even Alice Kirkland, the teacher’s primary hawk for misbehaving students, holy shit.

… “Hey,” drawled Gillian, settling down on the bench, leaning in too damn close for Chiara’s comfort.

Chiara was alone at the cafeteria. Alice had prefect duties and Madeline called in sick.

“Uh.” She furrowed her brows in visible discomfort, shifting a bit. Just a bit.

The girl next to her did a great job of making her feel conscious about her plain jane appearance. Gillian had strikingly bright eyes and the fairest (borderline palest at this point), smoothest skin ever.

Chiara’s long hair felt even more of a mess, her uniform baggier. How the fuck did anyone manage to fit in this uniform so well and act like they own it? It wasn’t fair. Gillian had long hair and Chiara had long hair. So why did Gillian look so much cooler, and Chiara so…NPC?

Gillian Beilschmidt in all had a very vibrant and demanding existence. She was unusually…radiant, to say the least, but that was probably because she was pale all over. Even her platinum blonde hair seemed to catch all light and throw it wildly at everyone around her in an attempt to blind them. There was also her boisterous personality, which drew even further attention.

Like how everyone was staring at them right now.

There was no way on Earth to have not heard of Gillian Beilschmidt and her merry band of friends (which was really just three people). She knew about Gillian well, especially when she was Carmen’s best friend. Along with, though, Chiara noted with disdain, Francine Bonnefoy. How the sweet Carmen managed to put up with the two of them was a mystery to her.

The three of them were also notoriously attractive, known for stealing hearts here and there (two parts unconsciously and one part fully aware and opportunistic), especially when it applied to a certain female race.

It is said that humans cannot survive without putting faith into something, so it felt natural that they became the beacon of light in a girl’s school like this with their charisma and optimistic confidence.

Which was why it came as such a shock when Gillian asked this: “So uh, you alone?”

Chiara paused, a strip of beef falling off her spoon. It landed in the mashed potatoes, drowning in the gravy, and somehow, she felt a strong connection with the dry, wrinkly meat, “Excuse me?”

A critical side of her was sure that this was a prank of some sort, but truth be told, she was just really fucking confused.

“I mean, of course, you are,” Gil laughed nervously, sensing her discomfort. “But yeah. I came here to…to talk,” she glanced over her shoulder discreetly, trying to elongate her speech.

Except that she wasn’t discreet at all.

Chiara turned to stare at the same area, concerned.

“…to talk about…uh. Do you have a brother?”

There was nothing but a vending machine.

“Right,” She breathed, sceptical. But found herself replying anyway. “I do?”

“Great! Since you have a brother and I have a brother, we should like, get to know each other better…And uh, be friends?”

“Excuse me?” Chiara repeated, a bit more confused. “Why would my baby brothers have anything to do with this?”

Gillian shifted, obviously uncomfortable and dying on the inside. She probably realised how stupid her excuse was.

“Um, because as the older sibling, we should bond over their welfare and everything? Yeah! That’s it. We should be bonding over the ever growing concerns of surrounding childhood and how children fall victims to everything!”

What the fuck.

“Look,” Chiara found herself fuming. She did always have a short temper after all. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but don’t fuck with me or my underaged brothers, you sick fu—“

“Whoa, dude, chill!” Gillian raised her hands up, an attempt to pacify her. At the doubtful and intensely accusing look Chiara pointed at her, Gillian hurriedly added, “I just wanted—”

“Hey, Gil!” came Carmen’s jovial cry as she lunged for a surprise attack from behind. Chiara’s heart stuttered.

“Holy shit,“ Gillian cursed as she surged towards the table edge, grunting at the impact.

Carmen opted for the seat across Chiara, setting down three boxes of drinks. Holy shit.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She laughed as she inserted the straw. Gillian laughed dryly in response.

Chiara felt nervous, her heart beating faster than a normal human’s. The Italian had never been so close to her crush before. The normal thing to do would try to talk to her, but her cowardly side was screaming at her to run away. What could she have said to her anyway? And she looked so…plain, with her thick frames and awfully long skirt. Jesus, she really needed a haircut, too, with her bangs blocking her sight like that.

She slipped away quietly.

Well, tried to.

“Oh, hey wait! Chi!” Gillian shot Carmen a look. She faltered. “…ara. Chiara. That’s your name, right? Chiara.”

She froze. She knows my name?

“Do you want some juice?” offered Carmen, throwing a smile. Dazzling, dazzling smile. Chiara felt her ears burn. She couldn’t meet any of their eyes. “I couldn’t find Francine anyway, and I didn’t want it to waste.”

Chiara eyed the box, her hands itching for it to later save as some sort of keepsake that yes, she owns what Carmen had previously offered her out of a kind heart, bless her.

FUCK. YOU IDIOT. SAY THANK YOU. JUST SAY THANK YOU AND TAKE THE JUICE—

“No. No, it’s okay. I don’t want it.”

God fucking dammit, Chiara you shit-sucking dumbfuck.

Then she grabbed the juice and ran.

Oh, fuck.

“Wait. So are we friends now?” Gillian asked, confused. Carmen looked equally lost. “You were making friends? But I told you to— Nevermind”

Alice, in the middle of her recess patrol, had the fortunate luck to witness her friend’s fuck up.

“Pathetic.” She snorted.

…

“I heard Carmen likes them cute.” Madeline chipped in casually on a Monday morning at class, tapping away on her calculator.

The brief mention of Carmen got her ears perking and burning up, remembering the odd encounter on Friday. She was still confused about what Gillian wanted.

“Likes what cute?”

“Oh, you know. Girls.” Alice whispered, rolling her eyes. “I swear she’s loads nicer to juniors who act cute. I say it’s a bit of an overkill, but I suppose she’s into that.”

“Oh really.” Chiara bit out, jamming her calculator violently. Maddie nodded, amused.

Dammit, she’d already lost by being the same age as Carmen.

There was a pregnant pause.

“So uh…” Chiara coughed, trying to sound indifferent. “I-I was just wondering. But what did you mean by cute anyway?”

“Maybe someone petite with a sweet at—“

Madeline’s eyes sparkled as she interjected, “Oh! Like pigtails?”

Alice paused. “Oh. Yes, exactly. Pigtails. ”

“Like us! It’s cute.”

“We’re cute. You can be cute, too.”

Chiara narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

The three of them were going to have matching round glasses and pigtails. Ugh.

“I don’t want to look like the two of you.” She grumbled, wrinkling her nose. “It would look so fucking stupid. I’m not tying pigtails.”

Later that day, however, Chiara proceeded to just that.

“Are you sure this looks cute?” She muttered cheeks flushed, smoothing her low pigtails in the hallway.

“Absolutely. And now we look like a proper squad.” Alice sighed contentedly, linking arms with her two best friends.

Chiara thought they looked absolutely stupid.

It was cute in an awkward, nerdy way, with her glasses and oversized sweater. Her hair was too long, though, nearly reaching her waist. She swept her bangs away from her eyes the best she could. God, how she wanted to cut her hair.

Madeline, the sweet angel she is, patted her back (though a bit exasperated) and asked, “How do you feel?”

“Fucking amazing. I feel like a main female lead in some ugly-duckling-turned-boytoy-collector harem.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Chiara shuffled her feet and pouted, feeling embarrassed in her new getup. “Well, everyone’s staring—“

In the midst of the crowded hallway where everyone stopped to see, an audible pleasant gasp made its way to them. “Oh my, what’s this?” Francine questioned dramatically, flipping her luxurious golden locks. They hit Gillian square in the face. “The pigtail trio?”

Alice gasped incredulously. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!” she raised her sleeves, and Madeline held her back.

A few choice words of reciprocation from Francine and the situation got out of hand. Gillian looked lost.

“Aww! Hey, Chiara!” Carmen cooed, rushing over.

Oh fuck. Is she coming over?!

The girl in question grabbed her tails shyly.

“I really like your pigtails!” Carmen gushed. Was it just Chiara or was her face pink? “They’re really cute! And aww, you guys match!”

Chiara spluttered. “We do not! It was just a coincidence!”

“No, it wasn’t.” Alice clicked her tongue, still peeved at Francine. Carmen decided to ignore Alice.

“Whatever you say, Chi.” She laughed, and Chiara felt as if she was hit by a summer breeze. “You should really do this more often, though. It’s adorable!”

Then Carmen (making use of their goddamn height difference, fuck.) reached to ruffle her hair.

The action sent tingles straight from her scalp to spine and oh god, this feels good. What do you even do in a situation like this—

Chiara flinched.

Oh my god. You idiot. Now you’ve done it. What is she gonna fucking think of you now?!

Carmen looked unreadable.

“I…” She couldn’t bear to look at her. “W-We’ll see.”

“Oh yeah! I think we have a joint P.E. class this Thursday since our class had to switch some lessons and — Hold on.”

Some of her classmates yelled, catching Carmen’s attention, and the tall girl turned to greet them.

When she turned back, Chiara had disappeared.

Gillian whistled, emerging behind Carmen. “Dude, did you see her run?”

…

“Huff…hah…” Chiara panted as she ran with the power of a shut-in hermit. Which was actually pretty fast, considering how much she lazed around though factoring in her prized escaping skills.

She checked her short pigtails briefly, making sure her scrunchies were intact. Having cut her hair to shoulder-length recently, it turned out to be quite hard to tie pigtails.

It was a fucking pain, but well at least Carmen liked them. M-Maybe she would praise her today, too. Her heart fluttered at that, and she turned to glance longingly at the stairs, where the trio was suspended for throwing condoms at each other.

Perhaps she could sneak in a word or two to Carmen today as well! She chuckled at the thought.

As Chiara approached the stairwell where the three stood restlessly (seemingly playing a game of rock-paper-scissors), she grew more excited and her heart more pumped. She would’ve been more pleased if it wasn’t for one strikingly obvious issue.

Why the fuck were there so many girls around them?!

Chiara halted abruptly. Madeline crashed right into her back.

“Ouch. Chi…” Madeline whined meekly, her dainty fingers rubbing the spot where she knocked head-to-head with Chiara. But that’s not the point here.

What the fuck? This was supposed to be a punishment. They were supposed to behave and stand there like soldiers in front of their troop leader, accepting that they had been deprived of the right to social interaction for 50 minutes, and should definitely not be chatting up girls like what Carmen Fernandez-Carriedo was doing now.

Fucking Christ. The sight of Carmen flirting with them so easily stung her heart. Damn her to hell, she didn’t even hesitate to play with the blonde girl’s hair, what the fuck?

Did she do that to every other cute girl? Not that she was cute or anything, nooo. Well. Maybe. Okay, she definitely liked to think so but she would like it better if Carmen thought of it, too.

And what the hell, the fuck is she caressing another girl’s cheek for?

Throwing down the scrunchies, she power-walked to the bleachers (opposite to the stairs), chugging down her water aggressively.

Fuck, I knew I wasn’t special. What an idiot.

To the side,Madeline sighed and picked up her accessories; joining Chiara.

“Come on, Chi. She’s always like that.” She comforted, patting her shoulder.

Chiara pouted, glaring at Carmen’s direction. “Like what? Hoeing around?”

Madeline flinched at her choice of words. To be fair, Chiara wasn’t wrong. “Well, something like that.”

“…Whatever.”

“Come on. Cheer up.”

“For what? I’m in love with some dickbag who treats everyone the same,” Chiara’s eyes widened in realisation, “or maybe I’m in love with some dickbag who’ll treat everyone the way she treats her lover and then she’ll lure them to do things I can’t do with her!”

The only thing Madeline could process from that was that the brunette was being ridiculously paranoid. “Come again?”

“It’s a possibility.” Chiara murmured as if to reconfirm her newly found suspicion.

“Hey, Maddie, we need help with the cones. Can someone take the shuttlecocks in the storage?” a classmate shouted from across the court.

“Okay!” She yelled, then turned back to Chiara. “You should go to the storage room. Maybe that’ll take your mind off of things. Like Carmen, for example.”

“Hell no. Someone else can do it. Don’t wanna move.” She refused. When she opened her eyes again to check if Madeline went away yet (she hasn’t), she noticed a tragically familiar head of platinum blonde hair. “Fuck. It’s that weirdo.”

“What weirdo?”

“Gillian Beilschmidt. That one that tried to—”

“Maddie! Come on!” Their classmate yelled again, clearly tired of waiting for even a second or two, that impatient ass.

Madeline was about to leave but felt Chiara tugging on her sleeve. Her friend stood up quickly, ducking her head nervously. She said, “Nevermind. I change my mind. I’m going to the storage room.”

Madeline could only smile at Chiara’s fear of Gillian. “Ehe. You go do that.”

In the storage room where the darkness made everything blurry, Chiara flipped the light switch. It flickered, dim light casting over the shelves and racks and baskets. Her nose was itchy from all the dust in the room and the room seemed to block all noise from outside. A few rats scuttled across the room. She sneezed.

She surveyed the room. Mats, ropes, racquets of some sort, volleyballs, basketballs, tennis balls, hula hoops and… Holy shit. That’s too high.

The box of shuttlecocks was placed precariously on top of the rusting iron shelf, inconveniently out of Chiara’s reach.

Chiara tip-toed, and jumped, cursing her height before realising that this wouldn’t work out. There weren’t any stools around, but maybe she could use one of those big plastic containers as a replacement.

Kicking the box in place (no way she was going to touch it. It probably had infinite layers of dust on it), she tested the waters with one foot. The plastic lid was a bit thin and collapsed under the weight, but Chiara figured that she would get the job done quick enough.

Holding onto the rusty pole for support, she stepped on the container. When nothing happened, she breathed a sigh of relief. Reaching for the shuttlecocks she—

“Need any help?” A cheerful voice chirped, breaking the silence and being way too close to Chiara’s ear.

“Holy fuck—” Chiara jolted upright, taking a cautionary yet firm step back. Upon realising that she wasn’t stepping on a box, it was already too late. Chiara squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the blow.

It didn’t come.

Carmen had caught her, arms wrapped around her abdomen. The two then proceeded to stumble backwards and fall. The basket flew across the room, shuttlecocks scattering all over the floor, along with Chiara’s dignity.

Her heart beat erratically. She thought it was Carmen’s heart.

“Oh god, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?” Carmen fussed, brows furrowed in concern.

But that came in through one ear and went straight out the other. The only thing she could hear was her heartbeat and the only thing she felt? Carmen’s warmth wrapped around her.

And of course, her breasts squashed against her back. There was that, too.

“—Hey, Chi, you okay? You looked dazed…” Carmen turned the Italian so they were facing each other, leaving her hands on Chiara’s shoulders. Chiara snapped out of it. “Really warm, too.”

“Huh? No, I’m okay. I…I was thinking about something.” Like your boobs.

“Really? But you’re burning!” She exclaimed, pressing her palm to Chiara’s forehead.

“I-I said it’s okay.” She snapped defensively, slapping away Carmen’s hand in reflex.

Carmen looked undeterred.

The two start picking up the fallen shuttlecocks in awkward silence. Chiara realised that she was probably blushing so hard she looked stupid.

“So hey!” Carmen said spontaneously, leaning forward enthusiastically, changing the topic. “Did you cut your hair?”

“Oh uh, yeah.” The Italian brushed her hair back, sheepish.

Carmen smiled gently, and her eyes were crescents. Her lashes were so thick, so long, so dark.

“It suits you.” She muttered, fingers brushing against Chiara’s cheek as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear.

She didn’t know if it was the spontaneity of the moment, or the atmosphere created by the orange light dripping in from the small window far above them, or Carmen’s unintended tenderness, or…

For all she knew, it could have meant nothing. Carmen was cruel, teasing her, especially when she didn’t mean it.

But, but Chiara wanted to tell her a lot of things.

“Carmen, I—”

The door slammed open.

“Heeeeey.”

Gillian stopped in her tracks, looking lost. “That fast?” She mouthed to Francine who trudged along behind.

Chiara ducked away from Carmen’s hand.

Francine’s elegant face peeked from behind her.

“Oh,” She sighed disapprovingly, scrutinising the pair. “I wouldn’t if I were you. This place is filthy, I tell you. You can’t imagine what’s been on that floor, cher. I’ve seen things. Anya’s been feeding the raccoon family living behind this wall for years now.”

Chiara shivered, shooting right up. Carmen looked at her blonde friend, betrayed.

As Chiara stomped out of the dusty room in either fear or disgust or perhaps embarrassment, Carmen followed suit, carrying the basket of fallen shuttlecocks.

“Ah, Chi! Wait!” She yelled, dropping some along the way. “Come back!”

Sure that she was out of reach now Chiara covered her smile, walking faster. It felt nice being chased like this.

Soon after Chiara came back to where her classmates were, the trio was pardoned from their punishment in exchange for cleaning up the court after class was over, and Carmen was put in a group with Chiara.

That lesson, Carmen paid attention only to her.

… Chiara stared at the playground during cleaning time after school, watching some shouting seniors toss around a basketball.

Carmen, she mouthed, feeling the way her name rolled off her tongue.

Carmen.

She had gotten to see her up close that day, though she was resentful that she didn’t treasure those moments enough. Regrets distorted her mind, what-ifs, should-haves.

She should have kissed her right there, in that dimly lit room, she thought, cupping her reddened cheeks.

They were so close that day. She didn’t think she could ever forget how her bed hair tousled as she moved. Carmen brought her own P.E. shirt then, too (Fucking finally). Carmen laughing at Chiara when she failed horrendously at a serve left an imprint in her memories (to hopefully be kept forever).

Someone tapped on her shoulder.

Must be Alice, she thought irritably, reluctant to leave her daydream. “The fuck do you want?” She growled, blissfully unaware of who she turned to.

“Hey!” Carmen laughed nervously. Her sleeves were rolled up to her forearms and her cardigan tied around her waist sloppily. She looked really cute.

Oh. Oh shit.

“Uh.” Chiara articulated meekly. What the fuck was Carmen doing in her classroom? “Ciao.”

Her classmates were whispering among each other.

“So.” Carmen smiled brightly, holding a delicately ribboned box. “I heard you liked those chocolates from that shop downtown, right?”

Chocolates?! From Carmen?!

Chiara thought she was going to faint.

“I, uh…T-Thank you.” She took the box, but felt inclined to hide it out of embarrassment. “…I guess.”

Carmen watched contentedly as she stuffed it in her drawer, before turning to leave.

“Hey. Wait.” Chiara cried out, and the other girl turned back expectantly. “How did you know they were my favourite anyway?”

“Oh, that.” She replied smoothly. “Gillian told me, and I happened to have it with me, so…”

“…Okay.” Holy shit. She was right. Gillian is a fucking creep. And who just randomly has a wrapped box of chocolates ready on hand for her anyway? Not Carmen. Ha, ha. Fuck, she was the epitome of pathetic.

She felt a gentle hand patting her head. “Hey, now. What’s the look for? You don’t like it?”

A gentle pink bloomed across her face. The touch probably didn’t have any hidden meaning to it but Chiara liked to think so. But then she remembered the box again. And then her brain started turning its cog wheels and came up with various theories as to why she had one ready.

A: Carmen got it from an admirer but didn’t think much of the chocolates.

B: One of the other two gave them to Carmen, and Carmen was sweet enough to share it with her.

C: It’s infested with poison and Carmen needed to get rid of it quick without eating any of it.

D: Carmen has someone she liked but they didn’t like her back, so now she gave the box to Chiara out of a broken heart.

And Chiara, the little bundle of an intolerably low self-esteem and personification self-depreciation, decided to go along with D.

She took Carmen’s hand away from her hair. She didn’t like the momentary shocked look Carmen had. Maybe it was just a trick on the eye or something. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I just don’t think you should give something like this away so easily.”

Yeah, right. Bitch, you so fucking want one even if it wasn’t meant for you.

A frown did not fit on Carmen’s face. It looked alien on her. She scratched the back of her neck.

God, why did she look so affected? Could it be that the rejection was so bad that she couldn’t stand to look at it any longer? Maybe Carmen didn’t want anyone to know, so she decided to give it away to someone invisible like her.

“…Whatever.” Chiara huffed, feigning indifference. “I’ll take them off your hands if you really don’t want them so much.”

“Oh, thank god! I was worried you didn’t want them.” Carmen brightens up, turning to leave. “I hope you like them!” she yells once she’s outside the classroom door. When the rhythmic slapping of shoes against floor deafened until it was entirely non-existent, Chiara slipped down onto her seat in embarrassment.

“Whoa.” Alice whistled, behind her.

“…What do you think this means?” Chiara gestured to the box on her desk, eyes completely trained onto the packaging.

“She’s into you?” Alice suggested.

Chiara rolled her eyes. “Eh, come on. Be realistic,” she says, gesturing to the box.

“I think she’s into you, too,” Madeline said, butting in the conversation.

The Italian examined the box. It was white, and the paper felt a little rough. The red ribbon was tied a little sloppily by obviously clumsy hands, but Chiara could still see the effort put in it. A rather fancy tag was attached to the ribbon.

It a shaker tag, filled with sequins of a champagne pink scheme. The background was just normal crafting paper, but the gold embossed heart made up for it’s simplicity. She flipped it over.

Then Chiara looked closely.

Chiara, it said in a messy cursive. Her heart stopped for a moment, before it started beating erratically.

“Look! It’s meant for you, isn’t it?” Madeline pointed, excited.

The corners of lips fought against turning up, but the heart never lies. Chiara knew so. “Yeah, it is.”

And for once throughout her years of self-perceived unrequited crush in high school, Chiara was confident in how she felt.

…

“Do you think these are nice?” Alice asked, placing a green paper bag on the table.

Chiara and Madeline eyed it suspiciously. Alice was and will be forever notorious for her easter egg surprises that may or may not have caused several cases of accidental food poisoning.

Alice scowled.”Don’t look at it like that!”

Madeline raised her eyebrow. Alice pouted, puffing her cheeks. “It’s not food this time, I swear.”

She reached in the bag to reveal two pairs of heels: one startlingly red, the other cherry pink.

“My mum got me three pairs, and being the good friend I am, I’m sharing them with you,” She huffed, crossing her arms. “Such little faith in me.”

Maddie was ecstatic, lunging for the red mary jane heels without even considering the option that Chiara might have wanted them, too. Alice looked proud of herself.

So only the pink one was left. To be honest, Chiara was a little disappointed. She had liked the red ones, too. Besides, Madeline was too nice for her own good, so Chiara had no choice than to let her get away with it.

But the pink pumps were cute as well, so it wasn’t like she was complaining. Plus, they were mary jane, the strap most resting above the ankle. There was a bow of the same shade on the tips. The glossy surface of the pumps was different from the suede fabric of Madeline’s heels.

Would Carmen like them?

Chiara had spent the whole week with her head filled with Carmen. She didn’t dare unwrap the box. Carmen had wrapped it especially for her, okay. She wasn’t going to touch and defile such a sacred item with her vile hands. The Spaniard hadn’t really properly talked to her ever since, but didn’t completely ignore her, too. She still greeted her when they met in the corridor, and it made Chiara confused as fuck.

“Come on, try them on. See if they fit,” Alice said, snapping her out of her dream.

Chiara took a long time fumbling with the buckle. The pumps felt a little too big for Chiara’s small feet (Barbie feet as Alice would call hers and Maddie’s), and the feeling of having her heels pushed up was foreign to her.

She stood, and wobbled.

Madeline held her by the arm. “You’ll get used to it,” She laughed comfortingly.

Chiara nodded, already attempting to take small steps.

She felt confident and pretty. With her folded short skirt, standard black knee length socks and the newest addition of her heels, her legs looked especially long and slim.

She wondered what Carmen would think.

Taking bigger steps, she could finally feel how loose the pumps were at the front. She would probably trip if she wasn’t careful enough.

Even so, a vain side of her protested to not tell Alice. They were cute, she felt pretty, a little risk was nothing, right?

That was what she thought when her foot slipped, throwing her balance off and sending her crashing face first onto the floor.

Why does this keep happening?

She thought, bracing for the full impact.

This time she fell, and Carmen wasn’t here for her.

But she was here when Chiara’s glasses fell and skidded across the corridor, right in front of Carmen’s feet.

Chiara was hurting all over when she sat back up. Her shoulder hurt when she moved. Her wrist stung badly. The intense pain in her ankle wouldn’t stop throbbing like crazy. She scowled despite her being telling herself to get the fuck to the infirmary quick, holy shit.

In a second all her friends were here for her, Alice patting on her back albeit biting down a laugh. That bitch.

Chiara reassured them that she was fine, face on fire out of embarrassment. Luckily there wasn’t a lot of people in the corridors.

“Are you okay?” Carmen asked, kneeling. She, too, was trying not to laugh. Jerks. All of them.

Carmen slid her glasses on her ears when she tried to get out of the pumps. She only looked away shyly.

Holding onto her friends for support, she attempted to stand but the weight of her body was too much for her ankle to bear. Alice and Madeline caught her in time but her ankle hurt even more now.

Fuck, was her ankle twisted?

“…I think you need to go to the infirmary.” Madeline said firmly, easing Chiara to sit on the floor.

“Maybe Carmen should take her.” Alice commented, sending a quick look to the Spaniard.

Chiara spluttered.

Carmen perked up, standing so she could scoop the girl up, bridal style.

Chiara kicked and complained, God. This was fucking embarrassing. She didn’t think she could ever live it off. Resigning to her fate and burying her face in her hands, she felt Carmen pick her up.

Carmen buckled when she scooped Chiara up. The latter noted with worry that her arms were shaking.

“Ay. You’re heavy.” Carmen laughed nervously as she wobbled a bit, and Chiara latched desperately onto her shoulders despite the sharp pain on her wrist.

“Fuck you.” Chiara retaliated, offended. “Like most people, I weigh perfectly fine. Thank you very much.” Her lips twisted, arms crossed.

Even with her eyes averted from Carmen’s, she could see her grinning. “Well, then. Maybe I’m just weak this time around.”

Dammit, if it wasn’t for the fact Carmen was the one bridal-carrying her, then it’s definitely her charm working its magic.

The trip to the infirmary was, unfortunately, awkward. Carmen had a one-sided conversation with herself while Chiara’s brain short-circuited each time she felt the former accidentally squeezing her breast.

Upon arriving despite the many distractions such as curious questions and girls squealing over how princely Carmen looked carrying Chiara that way (the latter liked to assume that automatically imaged her as the former’s princess), Carmen had placed her gently on the bed furthest in the infirmary. Chiara shifted, uncomfortable about the idea of how they probably never washed the sheets.

“Oh no,” Carmen gasped lightly when she knelt to examine her ankle. “It’s all swollen. Hold on, I’ll get some ice for you. ”

The school nurse wasn’t in the infirmary, so Carmen made do with a bag of ice she found in the freezer.

“Just hold it against your ankle, sí?” Carmen suggested before leaving to find the nurse.

Chiara tried to press the ice pack against her injury, but gave up after a few minutes or so. It was too cold, and extremely uncomfortable. Plus, her hand was getting tired.

After a few minutes, Carmen returned, announcing that the nurse was nowhere to be found.

“Did you use the ice pack?”

“Uh.” Chiara looked away guiltily.

“It’s okay. I get it. It’s uncomfortable. I’ll do it.” Carmen said, already kneeling and grabbing hold of the ice bag.

Chiara moved her leg when the searing cold came in contact with her ankle.

“Poor girl.” Carmen sighed, grabbing hold of her heel.

Then she kissed her swollen ankle. It felt strangely nice, despite the throbbing pain.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Ha, ha. You still don’t get it, do you?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, cheeks dusted pink. “It’s okay. I’ll spell it out for you.”

The distance between them became shorter until Chiara could feel Carmen’s lips ghosting over hers. Both of their faces were tinted with a heavy blush.

“I like you,” she confessed.

Looking at Chiara’s dumbfounded expression, Carmen continued. “I notice you staring during P.E., you know.”

Chiara would have escaped if not for her immobility.

“Someone like you should be concentrating in class.” She teased, swiping Chiara’s nose playfully. The Italian girl scowled, her blush intensifying. Then Carmen leaned back, pressing the ice pack on her ankle again. Chiara flinched, but Carmen pressed harder.

“But I, uh, I look at you, too.” The tanned girl said, staring intently at the melting ice. “You get angry really easily. And I’ve never seen someone scowl at prettily as you.” She laughed.

“It’s cute.” Carmen said softly, and almost tenderly, the midday glow casting shadows over her shoulder. It was hot out, Chiara can bet. But the air-conditioned infirmary didn’t stop her from feeling the burn rapidly spreading across her face.

The brunette placed Chiara’s foot down gently onto the floor. Chiara winced. Carmen didn’t take notice. Instead, she clasped her hand over Chiara’s own, carefully and gingerly. As if she didn’t want to ruin the moment with any brash actions. “You know, Chi, I-”

“Wait. Who told you you could call me Chi?” Chiara quickly asked, the nickname sounding far too intimate when it’s Carmen saying it.

Carmen looked dumbfounded. “But I started calling you that a while ago. Didn’t you notice?”

Chiara’s tongue fumbled in her mouth. “Y-yeah? Well, you should stop,” she said, giving her companion her signature pout. Chiara looked to the side, suddenly feeling shy from how Carmen had her eyes on her. “Stop looking at me. It’s weird.”

Carmen leaned up, dropping the ice pack, letting it fall onto the tiled floor. Suddenly, she had Chiara’s chin on her hand, and lifted the brunette’s head up. “So sour,” she chuckled, softly rubbing Chiara’s lower lip with a thumb.

She came closer. So close, Chiara could feel her lashes batting against her own. So close, she could feel their breaths mingling. So close, Chiara was confident she felt Carmen’s chest rise and fall against her own.

And she was sure she heard Carmen murmur, “But so cute,” right before they kissed.

Holy shit. Holy fucking SHIT.

Chiara was so stunned, she forgot how Carmen’s lips tasted and felt like. What a shame.

She didn’t realise she wasn’t kissing back. She only did when Carmen’s eyes flew open, leaning back. No, no. Come back.

“Oh. Did I misinterpret something?” Her expression looked concerned before it flickered back to mischevious. “Or were you just shook?”

That snapped her back into her senses. “Never use ‘shook’ in that context around me ever again.”

“Ehe, sure,” Carmen giggled, rubbing the back of her neck. “So? Did I take things the wrong way or did I just take one amazing initiation to a great journey together, hmm?”

The blush bloomed again. This time gentler, and more composed. “I think you should know by now…”

Carmen took it as a chance to tease, that little cazzo. “Really? I’m not sure.” She had her elbows on the bed, her chin on the back of her hands. “Explain it to me? Just once is enough.”

Argh.

Chiara brushed her fingers across her cheeks, just subtly, checking the temperature. She could feel the burning heat, “Something like that … it’s hard to say.”

“You sure?” Carmen hums. Her face turns serious. “I like you, too.”

Then her face swaps expressions again, and she’s back to looking as cheeky as ever. “Seemed pretty easy to me.”

Chiara felt attacked. She couldn’t decide between being furious or embarrassed so she looked furiously embarrassed. Her fingers fumbled in the air even more, grabbing nothing in hopes of grasping everything, or rather, on a hold of exactly what’s going on, “Ahhh,” she wailed.

Carmen pouted. “Come on. It’s not that hard to say it, is it?”

“Maybe for you!” She yelled. “This kind of thing is embarrassing!”

“Like this whole situation?”

“Yes!”

“Me kissing you?”

“Yes!”

“You confessing your love for me?”

“Yes!” It took her a moment to realise what she had just declared. “No! That’s not what I meant, dammi-”

“Awwww! I love you, too!” Carmen instantly leapt, hooking her arms around Chiara’s neck. She nuzzled her nose against Chiara’s then pecked her forehead. “So romantic!” She sighed.

Gesturing to the windows, Carmen dramatically added, “In the infirmary where only two students deeply in love with each other are stuck in their own world. No interruptions from anyone. A bed conveniently around-”

Chiara stopped Carmen’s wandering hands from patting around the bed before she insinuated it even further. “Okay, stop right there.” She huffed. “I never said I accepted it.”

Carmen blinked her eyes. “Soooooo, do you like me?”

Chiara grumbled after a moment or two of contemplation. After all, she could play this whole hard-to-get act since Carmen finally paid attention to her. But then again she was an impatient fuck. She smiled helplessly, shrugging just to show that it was really her choice whether they would date or not, she answered:

“…I guess I do.”

… Extra:

“Oh thank god!” Carmen exclaimed, trapping Chiara in a suffocating hug. “I knew you liked me! I actually got Gillian to befriend you at first, so she could be the one scaring you instead of me and maybe cue me in for an introduction! I’m sorry if she scared you, she tends to do that. And haha, I actually asked for help from your friends! I actually also have your number, too. Weird, huh? But I’m glad we’re together. All my efforts weren’t wasted!”

Chiara wasn’t sure how her new girlfriend (why, yes, she’s dating Carmen Fernandez-Carriedo now, isn’t she a winner?) could last a whole breath with that, but she didn’t question it. She also didn’t seem to question what Carmen said.

Huh.