Runway Rompery

“I don’t get it.” Jinkx glanced at the opening credits on the screen in front of them. After blinking a few times, still perplexed at the voice talent, they took a sip out of a sweating martini glass, hoping it would make more sense of things. Was the animation this grainy or was it just the classic VHS quality? Their other hand propped up her face which felt like melting off at any moment. “Why in the world would Debbie Reynolds and Whoopi Goldberg of all people sign themselves onto this?”

“Maybe they could have gotten a good paycheck out of this.” Dela plopped onto the couch besides her ginger compatriot and dug one hand into a bowl on the coffee table. “Also it’s rude to talk during the movie, Dink!” she spoke through a mouthful of popcorn.

“It was a legitimate question!” Jinkx hushed their voice and rolled their eyes. And chewing with your mouth open isn’t rude? They wanted to say that, but, as much as they loved her, she wouldn’t fully get it through her head. That’s fine too; enjoy your popcorn.  “But I guess you’re right,” They were back at their first volume “All stars have some things to hide from their resume. After all, Bette Midler was Kitty Galore.”

“But that’s-“

“Della. I’d watch anything with Bette Midler… I’ve suffered a lot.” They sipped some more from their glass and stared back at the screen.

It was mid-December and TV stations across the world played its typical fare of holiday classics on repeat, but today was not the day for primetime. Jinkx had offhandedly mentioned one night that they hadn’t seen the original Rudolph, well not in a while. Last time they had seen it on a much smaller screen and Jinkx was a much smaller Jinkx.  Being the holiday enthusiast that she was, Dela took it upon herself to educate her friend on the wonders and joys of the film, plus the many sequels and direct-to-DVD remakes of the original: the cinematic Rud-iverse, as she liked to call it. It wasn’t like she could tell though; for all she knew, those all took place in the same continuity.

“I know I shouldn’t be talking right now,” Dela stage whispered into her old friend’s ear, her statement ending with a signature uptick, “but I thought you were going to be sober during this marathon?”

“Oh, I am. Don’t worry.” They took another sip, some sugar from the rim sticking to the edge of their chin and some whipped cream made a cute little dot on their nose. “It’s cocoa. Or… it’s more chocolate milk at this point.”

“Really? I thought it was some Kahlua or chocolate liqueur thing.”

“Nope.”

“It’s fine, you can – Wait is that one of the good glasses?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to the movie.” Jinkx embarrassedly smiled and took another long sip, forgetting about the reason they were over for a second. No matter the quality, Dela didn’t just put it on simply for the ambience. Their attitudes simply remained for the next twenty or so minutes: Dela with her terminal delight and Jinkx with nonplussed confusion about this cheap mockbuster.

“I wonder. How much did they have to pay for royalties for the song?” Dela inquired as Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” started playing under a montage.

Jinkx blinked a few times. Up until now, they weren’t even sure she knew what royalties even were. “I guess that explains the why the visuals are so b-”

“Don’t say that! You’ll hurt the animators’ feelings.”

“Well, they’re not here right now, so.” That seemed to halt the conversation until Jinkx started again only seconds later. “Oh gods, are they gonna use the whole song?”

“Well….” The sample stopped and that answered Jinkx’s question. “Anyway. Sorry for interrupting.”

For one of the longer stretches of the movie, the two sat in silence, occasionally moving for bathroom breaks or refilling (and redecorating) the cocoa martini glass. Jinkx silently prayed to any deity they could think of, hoping their glass hadn’t cracked from the heat.

“Man, they are really trying to stretch this plot thin, aren’t they? Five verses of a country song doesn’t need to take up an hour thirty minutes.” They planted themself back on the couch, placing the martini glass on the coffee table.

“You easily can say the same about the Rankin-Bass special too, Jinkx.” Dela retorted, having ditched the popcorn and focused on the movie again. She placed a hand on Jinkx’s shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly.

“But that was different, Dela. The pacing was good and the story was simple! I wouldn’t complain about this normally, but there weren’t any fairies or witches being the big bad. There were more realistic villains. Like the Abominable Snow Monster… but mostly nature itself. And it was charismatic and the characters were likable and there wasn’t an excessive side cast-”

Jinkx was interrupted by their friend shushing her, her finger awfully close to her mouth. They could have placed her mouth over the tip and done some lewd gesture, but it felt too intimate even for these friends. “I get it,” Dela responded. “I think there’s like fifteen minutes left, but we can skip the credits, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Jinkx put her head on their friend’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. “But you don’t have to though. I can take on more. There have been more trips to the uncanny valley than I have traversed.”

“We can take a break for now… cuddle maybe? Probably we can watch the next one another day… when you’re in a better headspace to do so.”

“Cuddles sound great.” Jinkx moved her head into Dela’s lap and sighed. “Hey, what are friends for after all?”

Dela nodded her head and turned off the TV. “Exactly.”

“I love you, Dela.”

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She’d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.  

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.  

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.  

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

“Brooke, can you get me a bowl?” Vanessa calls over from the stove, where she’s stirring a pot of rice.

“As you wish.” Brooke snorts after she says it, trading smiles with Vanessa. One of their favorite movies, and the first couples costume they did all those years ago for Nina’s world-famous–or at least city-famous–Halloween party, where there was always full catering, a DJ, and at least one rumored celebrity hidden behind a mask. One person isn’t smiling though, and it’s their kid, pausing table-setting to stare at them.

“‘As you wish?’” Sam repeats in confusion. “What is this, the Middle Ages?”

Brooke’s mouth falls open. “What? No, it’s from a movie.”

“Oh.” Sam shrugs and goes back to setting the table, clearly unimpressed.

Vanessa is nowhere near as calm, her wooden spoon clattering on the counter. “Brooke, our child doesn’t know The Princess Bride!” She leaves the stove to stand by Brooke, shaking her head in outrage.

“We’ve officially failed as parents,” Brooke agrees.

Sam rolls their eyes. “It’s just some old movie, right?”

“‘Some old movie,’” Vanessa mutters under her breath. “‘Some old movie.’ Brooke, we gotta fix this.”

Brooke nods. She and Vanessa have always let Sam be themself, reading and watching stuff freely, as long as it wasn’t too dark or upsetting. But in all that, they must have forgotten to show Sam all the movies they had wanted to, the movies that Brooke and Vanessa love.

When Vanessa got stuck on bed rest towards the end of her pregnancy, she watched movies to pass the time, and Brooke joined her when she could, rubbing Vanessa’s aching back and massaging her shoulders, doing anything she could to make her more comfortable. They talked about all the movies they wanted to watch after their baby was born, the things they wanted to do and memories they wanted to make as a family. They had even made a list of movies, but it got lost somewhere in the chaos of having a new baby. Sam might be nine now, but they can still make those memories, and Brooke claps her hands. “We need a movie marathon!”

Vanessa jumps up and down. “Yeah! This week, we’re gonna watch a bunch of movies! Sammy’s on winter break, it’s perfect! We can do one every night! Peter Pan, and the Peanuts, and Muppets Christmas Carol–”

“Jurassic Park,” Brooke adds, grabbing a notebook and pen. “And Star Wars, and Matilda … my movies are way better than yours, babe.”

“Nuh-uh!” Vanessa yells. “Mine are classics!”

“I guess Sam will be the judge of that, then.” Brooke grins.

“They will be, and you can do dishes for a week when they like mine better,” Vanessa says, raising her eyebrow mischievously.

“What do I get if I win?” Brooke asks. It better be something good, something Vanessa hates as much as Brooke hates doing dishes.

Vanessa thinks. “I’ll do the laundry for a week.”

Vanessa hates folding clothes since she does it all day in her boutique. Brooke doesn’t mind laundry, exactly, but she’ll happily let Vanessa take over and fold the endless amounts of clothes for a week.

“Deal.” Brooke smiles, all thoughts of rivalry gone and replaced with excitement of the memories they’ll make.

—

i. The Princess Bride

“Okay, is everyone ready?” Brooke stands in front of the TV, making sure Vanessa and Sam are settled on the couch with pillows and blankets and the cats, canyon-sized bowl of popcorn and cupcakes from Brooke’s sister Kameron’s bakery all ready for the night.

“Ready!” Vanessa yells. Brooke presses play, and Vanessa opens her arms for Brooke to snuggle into as the movie starts.

“At least you two aren’t wearing your costumes,” Sam teases. Vanessa and Brooke have probably been a little too eager in showing Sam that picture over the years, but Vanessa looked like a literal princess in her red Princess Buttercup dress, Brooke was the perfect Westley, and they got compliments through the entire party, so sue them for showing off. Vanessa still remembers the cool silk flowing around her and warming her hand on the soft bit of skin revealed by Brooke’s shirt.

“Don’t think we weren’t tempted,” Vanessa says. “They’re in the attic somewhere, I bet I could still fit in that dress–”

“Do we need to pause it already?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa swats at her before snuggling back down and watching the movie.

Vanessa finds herself watching her family more than the movie, watching Brooke’s eyes widen and her lips stretch into a grin like she’s never seen it before. Then she turns to Sam, who really has never seen it before. They’re skeptical at first, face blank, but then their brown eyes–so warm and expressive, like Vanessa’s–light up when the Dread Pirate Roberts reveals himself to be Westley. By the end, their smile is huge.

“You liked it, huh?” Vanessa asks.

Sam looks down. “I guess,” they say, and Vanessa knows their nine-year-old heart can’t quite admit something their parents like is cool, but it’s a start, and she’s counting this as a win in both her and Brooke’s column.

“Well, I’m ready for tomorrow!” Vanessa yells, pulling Brooke in for a kiss.

—

ii. Star Wars

Brooke knows the baby Yoda ugly sweater and Star Wars pajama pants are overkill, but she can’t help it. From the moment she first saw the movie as a seven-year-old, all she wanted was to be a Jedi like Luke and save the galaxy. She and Kameron made lightsabers out of foam swords and spray paint, and they ran around their background slicing through enemies and saving the day. Kameron had even made truffles decorated like the Death Star when Brooke told her what they were watching, her brown eyes warm with memories of their Jedi days.

Brooke doesn’t know whether this movie thing between her and Vanessa is a contest, but if it is, she doesn’t really care about it for this movie. She just wants to watch it with her kid, hope they find the same joy in it that she did.

Sam seems to be enjoying the truffles at least, and they shove another one in their mouth. “Aunt Kam’s stuff is so good,” they say with their mouth full, and Brooke agrees.

The music blasts and opening crawl creeps onto the screen, and Brooke grins, even when Vanessa rolls her eyes fondly and asks her continual question of why everyone else has such ‘weird-ass names’ and Luke’s is normal.

Brooke didn’t think anything would be better than the first time she saw it, in their living room with salty popcorn burning her lips and Kameron next to her, but watching it now, with her wife at her side and their kid on the other couch watching with wide eyes, just might be even better. She never thought she would have this life, a family around her like this, and she pulls Vanessa little closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo.

Sam is grinning when the movie ends, and warmth rushes through Brooke’s chest, that her kid enjoyed something that means a lot to Brooke.

“That’s my favorite one so far,” they say sheepishly, and Brooke lets out a whoop.

“All right, all right, it’s only been two movies so far,” Vanessa says. “We’re goin’ to Neverland tomorrow, and then we’ll see what’s better.”

—-

iii. Peter Pan

Vanessa feels like a professor as she stands in front of the TV, Sam and Brooke staring at her expectantly.

“Is this a presentation?” Brooke teases. “Should I take notes?”

“Oh please, you’re the one who loves presentations,” Vanessa says fondly. “No presentation–this movie did make me want to go into design, though. Oh! And it was the first sign that I was bi. Little kid me didn’t know if she wanted a flying boyfriend or a fairy girlfriend more.” Vanessa grins dreamily. She can still remember her heart fluttering the same way when she looked at Peter and his coppery hair as it did when she watched Tinkerbell pout, how it all made sense when she was seventeen and fully realized that she was bi for the first time.

“Start the movie, Ma!” Sam yells.

Vanessa does, then instantly pauses it, turning to Sam with worries in her mind. “Don’t get any stupid ideas from this movie, now!” she warns. “Don’t go flying around with people who show up in your window, no matter how cute they are! And Wendy was a child, acting all grown, Lord help us when you become a teenager–”

“Okay, Ness,” Brooke soothes, motioning for Vanessa to sit with her and pulling her into a hug when she does.

“I promise I won’t fly around with people in my window,” Sam says, and Vanessa smiles, reaching over and ruffling their brown waves.

“You better not,” Vanessa says, leaning back into Brooke, her wife still as cozy to cuddle with as she’s always been.

Vanessa’s dancing in place and belting out all the songs in no time. She’s known all the words since she was six, when she would perform the whole movie in her living room or sing them to herself as she drew fierce pirate coats and sparkly fairies with striped wings, and they’ve refused to leave her brain, even if she wishes she could have that space for something useful like where she put her phone.

Brooke’s not much of a singer, but she hums along, and when Sam’s soft voice hesitantly joins Vanessa’s, she knows the night is a success.

—

iv. Matilda

It’s not as action-packed as her other favorite movies on the list, but as a shy kid who always had her nose in a book, Brooke’s always had a soft spot for Matilda. After she had to accept that becoming a Jedi wasn’t a viable career path, it had been Matilda that gave her the idea to become a librarian. She could surround herself with books all day, and help people find the book they were looking for, introducing them to whole new worlds through the pages, just like she does with each bedtime story for Sam every night.

“This is a movie about a kid with magic powers, right?” Sam asks.

“Right,” Vanessa says, “and Mommy loves it because she’s a big nerd.”

“Hey!” Brooke protests, but Vanessa is laughing and giving her a warm hug.

“You know I love you for it,” Vanessa says simply, and Brooke hugs her back and knows it’s true.

It’s nice to watch a movie she hasn’t seen since she was a kid and find it still makes her smile the same way, still gives her the same hope at seeing a shy girl who loved books the way she did—and still does. Brooke has never been the confident, outgoing kid in so many movies. She was quiet and kept to herself, and Matilda gave her a world where she could be the hero. She hopes Sam always feels that way too, always knows that they can be the hero.

When the credits roll, Sam declares that it’s not their favorite off the list, but Brooke doesn’t mind.

—-

v. Peanuts

“Why are these even on the list?” Sam asks as Vanessa fiddles with the TV. “I’ve seen all the Peanuts movies.”

“And you’ll see them again!” Vanessa yells. “This is different. They’re official now, on the list and everything.” She starts the Easter special and shuts down all the arguments, biting into a peanut butter cookie.

“All right, all right.” Sam gives in, but they’re not complaining. Sam once tried to make Riley dance like Snoopy, and Vanessa knows they love these movies just as much as she does.

“This is another thing that got me into fashion,” Vanessa says. “Because I didn’t know why they always wore the same boring old clothes in all the movies, so I drew them wearing some new ones.”

“Of course you did.” Brooke grins.

“Well, I had to jazz those outfits up! They’ve been wearing the same clothes forever!” Vanessa laughs. She’s always wanted people to wear clothes they feel like themselves in, and somewhere in between drawing new outfits for cartoon characters, she decided that was what she wanted to do, and it’s what she still does with her own little boutique, just up the street from the library where Brooke works. She loves getting to help people pick out the perfect outfit, watching them smile as they come out feeling as good as they had hoped.

She leans back as Charlie Brown and the others take them through all the seasons, from Easter to Halloween to Thanksgiving and finally Christmas, where Vanessa reaches for tissues and even Sam pretends they have dust in their eye. Vanessa always wanted to fight the other kids for being so mean to Charlie, and even as an adult, the urge is still there.

When the movie’s done, an idea pops into Vanessa’s hand. She whips out her phone and brings up the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack, yanking Brooke into the middle of the room and pulling her into a dance while Sam twirls around with Riley, cats watching from the couch, unimpressed.

“Ness, you’re making me dizzy,” Brooke giggles as Vanessa spins her faster and faster, until they almost crash into the Christmas tree.

Sam is cackling next to them, and Vanessa slows up, pressing her chest close to Brooke’s and melting as Brooke places a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

It’s her favorite movie night by far.

—

vi. Jurassic Park

All her movies on the list are special, but this one just might be the most special for Brooke. Because this is what she and Vanessa watched on their first date.

Brooke had started her first job at the library the same summer Vanessa started doing formal design sketches for a portfolio. She came to the library to get fashion books for ideas, and Brooke secretly hoped she would come back in every day, so they could make small talk and maybe she could say something funny to see Vanessa smile again. And almost every day, Vanessa came back.

Summer was half over and Brooke thought they would do nothing but talk with a library desk between them when Vanessa finally asked her to a movie in the park, both of them giggling as they set the date because they were finally going out after weeks of flirting and smiling and wondering if feelings were reciprocated. A dinosaur movie might not have been the most romantic choice for a first date, but they curled up together on a plaid blanket and let their fingers meet in the bag of buttery popcorn, and when Vanessa gave her a soft kiss as the end theme song played, Brooke knew she was the one.

She looks at her wife now, humming along to the opening theme and eating the dinosaur sugar cookie Kameron made, and knows that she’s still the one.

They snuggle up together and make dinosaur noises that cause Sam to look at them in annoyance, but it only makes them laugh harder.

They watch on the edge of their seats even though they know the ending, and Sam does the same, jumping every time a dinosaur pops out. When the end theme plays softly as the characters escape in the helicopter, Vanessa has tears in her eyes. Brooke’s not a big cryer–the last time she cried was probably when Sam was still a baby–but her eyes pool with dampness too, until she and Vanessa are holding each other and half-laughing, half-crying, because this movie is what brought them together.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks in alarm. “Why are you crying over a dinosaur movie?”

Brooke and Vanessa just laugh and exchange a soft kiss.

—

vii. The Muppet Christmas Carol

Christmas has always been Vanessa’s favorite holiday. As a kid, she fought her brothers every day to move the little Christmas tree counter on their Advent calendar, her excitement only growing as the day grew nearer. She’d just make it through the extra-long church service, and then she was free to play with her cousins and stuff herself with cookie after cookie and wake with the sunrise Christmas morning to jump in her parents’ bed.

Only now that she has her own child jumping in her and Brooke’s bed at an ungodly hour each Christmas does she realize why her parents would groan so loudly and what a little demon she must have been.

But her and Brooke don’t mind–they both love it, really, love all their traditions. There are the cookies they bake all month, the toy drive they help with at Sam’s school, and then Vanessa’s turn bringing Sam shopping to buy Brooke’s present and Brooke’s turn taking Sam to buy Vanessa’s present. The weekend after Thanksgiving, when they’re still stuffed with leftovers, the tree goes up, the three of them passing ornaments around while Vanessa narrates the history of how they got each one and almost falls on the tree trying to prove to Brooke that she can reach the tall branches. The tree is her favorite part, with the rainbow lights twinkling and the shining star looking over them. The tree is extra bright tonight, Christmas just days away, as Vanessa starts one of her favorite Christmas movies.

“This was my favorite to watch when I was pregnant with you,” Vanessa says to Sam. “The doctor said I had to go on bed rest, and I was so mad because it was almost Christmas and I wanted to do stuff. This was the next best thing.” She still remembers those long days, the pain in her back and hips and shoulders combined with the sadness of not being able to hang up lights or bake cookies or do much of anything. The Muppets at least made her smile, gave her a piece of Christmas she could have while stuck in bed. And when Sam was born perfectly healthy in January, she knew it had all been worth it.

“I swear, I heard Kermit in my sleep for weeks,” Brooke says, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

“You love Kermit and you know it,” Vanessa says.

Brooke just snorts, but Vanessa knows she’s right.

Vanessa knows most of the words—she really did watch this movie a ridiculous amount of times when she was pregnant—and finds her mouth moving along with the characters. The movie still makes her just as happy as it did when she was stuck in bed, makes her love Christmas and her family that much more. It doesn’t mean she’s forgotten the bet though, and the credits have just started to roll when Vanessa leaps from the couch and turns to Sam. “So?” she asks expectantly.

“So what?” Sam asks casually.

Vanessa huffs. “So, whose movies did you like better? Mine, right? Say mine.”

“No way.” Brooke pops up behind her. “Mine were way better.”

Sam just rolls their eyes. “Come on, you know I can’t pick between you two. You’re both my favorite.”

Vanessa melts then, pulling Sam into a bone-crushing hug, Brooke wrapping her arms around both of them.

“I guess we’ll just split the house stuff next week,” Vanessa says.

“You mean like we already do anyway?” Brooke snorts, holding them tighter.

Vanessa just smiles. She has her family, and tomorrow is their holiday party with all their friends, and then Christmas with her family and Brooke’s family, and her smile deepens. She watches the snow fall softly outside and knows this will be the best Christmas ever.

After a week of running into Willam seemingly left and right while desperately trying to sort out her feelings, Courtney had thought that avoiding her entirely after their fight would be difficult. As it turned out, 800 acres of campus was plenty of space to stay out of the way of someone, even if they lived just two floors beneath you.

If Courtney were being honest with herself - and as a rule, she did try to - a part of her had been hoping that she’d run into Willam. Not just now, on a Thursday night spent sitting alone in her room actively avoiding her roommate and their friends and aware she was being avoided by the person she had fallen in love with over the last few months. Last weekend, she had wanted to run into her because she wanted to keep fighting. It felt good, airing her complaints and sharpening all her hurt into knives to throw, even if the returning blows hurt just as much. But as the week went on, she started to miss Willam, and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she had had a point.

She hadn’t refused to see Willam in any context that wasn’t schoolwork or sex as much as Willam had done to her, had she? They had gone to that movie a few weeks ago, and they had gotten food together more than once, but those were always in the context of their Thursday “study” sessions. Sure, Willam had extended offers to parties and sneaking into clubs downtown a few times last semester, not long after their study sessions had started to get a bit more… personal, but Courtney had been busy those nights, and Willam hadn’t made any similar offers this semester. But did Willam have a point about her not making attempts to spend time with her outside of Thursday evenings? Had she reached out to Willam to spend time together otherwise? And hadn’t Willam been the one to suggest their ventures out of her room on their Thursday nights more often than not?

Courtney leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. Had she been the one to totally fuck everything up this time?

“How’s the essay going?” Adore asked as she pushed through the door.

Courtney just groaned in response. She hadn’t been able to focus for more than a few minutes at a time before her thoughts turned back to Willam.

“I told you that philosophy sucks, especially with Professor Visage.” She crouched down in front of their shared minifridge and pulled out a can. “Can I steal one of your Cokes?”

“Go for it,” Courtney said, then sat up to look at her roommate. “It’s not the class, I just have to summarize readings that I’ve already done. I just keep getting distracted.”

Adore opened the pop and nodded. “Because instead of telling Willam that you’re in love with her you said she was a shitty student that couldn’t get by without you?”

“I didn’t say she was a shitty student,” Courtney protested, but felt that maybe she had. She didn’t remember what was said so much as how much their argument had hurt. “I just asked her about how she was doing on tests if I was doing most of her other work.”

“That kinda sounds the same to me Court, but I guess I don’t have a hot chick doing my homework for me to really know how it feels.”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “You’re no help.”

“I never said I was. If you’re gonna fix this, it’s on you. Now if you don’t mind, I gotta go watch the rest of this movie about zombie pro wrestlers,” Adore said, grabbing a bag of chips off of her desk and heading back out of the room.

Courtney sighed. Maybe Adore was right. She had been the one to fuck it up, or at the very least the one who hadn’t bothered to make her feelings and intentions clear enough. There had to be some way that she could fix this. Whether she ended up as Willam’s girlfriend or back to just being a friend, or even if she just managed to help them both feel a little better, there had to be something she could do.

She glanced at the clock. 10:24. Her paper was due at 11:59, and late work wasn’t accepted. She just had to power through this essay, and then she could start brainstorming ways to make this better.

Officially, Willam’s major was listed as “undecided”. She, in theory, had not yet decided what she wanted to focus on learning about for her entire time at college, and maybe even her entire life. But that was only officially. She knew exactly what she wanted to learn about, and she could boil it down to just one question.

Why was Courtney acting like that?

If she could at least get a lesson or two on reading Courtney better, she’d be happy.

For the most part, Willam didn’t run into Courtney outside of their Thursday plans. She didn’t avoid her, but they lived different lives on campus and usually barely caught glimpses of each other unless they made plans to be together. But in the last week, she had managed to run into her four times. 

It hadn’t been a deliberate thing on Willam’s end, but they were happy accidents. Or they could’ve been, until Willam saw that each time, Courtney would give Willam only the slightest bit of acknowledgement - a tight lipped smile or a halfhearted wave Willam normally saw reserved for people Courtney recognized from class but never spoke to - and then pointedly ignore her. It made Willam’s stomach ache.

Despite her apparent disinterest in Willam the rest of the week, Courtney had given no indication that their plans for Thursday had changed, which Willam took as a good sign. She could ask why Courtney had been avoiding her and maybe, if things went well, address the feelings that she hadn’t managed to stomp out in the months since they had first started growing. At best, something good could come of tonight. At worst, Willam could find herself rejected. But that would be okay. She had no doubt she’d be able to find a party or two for the weekend if she needed to be on the hunt for a rebound. It’d been a while since she’d sucked a dick, and she almost missed it. 

But that all depended on whether or not Courtney showed up.

Willam stared at her mirror. Her makeup was done, and she hoped Courtney would like it. She had to dress to impress after all, or at least dress to remind Courtney what she’d be missing if she rejected her. She glanced at the clock and her heart sank. It was 6:08. The ever-punctual Courtney Act was running late. She hadn’t gotten a text or any other indication that she wouldn’t be coming, but maybe she had decided it wasn’t worth it. What the fuck had Willam done to piss her off?

As she began to put away her makeup, she heard a knock at the door. So, maybe Courtney hadn’t decided to not show up with no warning.

Courtney looked a little tense when Willam opened the door, but it dissolved away as her face broke into a smile. Willam grinned back. Maybe her bad mood this week didn’t actually have to do with Willam.

As they settled into their normal spots - Courtney on the bed with Willam sitting on the floor next to her - Willam’s mind raced. If Courtney didn’t seem to be upset at her anymore, would it even be worth bringing it up? And if she was putting off asking Courtney what her problem was, she didn’t have to open up about her feelings just yet, did she? It was one thing to risk it all when things already seemed tense, but there was no point in putting anything on the line if things were perfectly fine, was there?

“Hey Bill, I’ve got a question,” Courtney said, and Willam could feel her relief evaporate at her tone. She sounded more like she was going to break some bad news than ask something, anything, that Willam would want to answer. So maybe things weren’t perfectly fine.

Willam put her phone down to look at her. She hadn’t opened the notebook in front of her yet, and she hadn’t bothered to take off her jacket. Her face was unreadable, and Willam felt her stomach drop. She was apprehensive, but she wasn’t going to back down. She wanted to know what was wrong, and it seemed she was going to find out. “Go for it.”

“How the hell are you passing your classes?” Courtney asked.

Willam bristled. This wasn’t the first time someone had questioned her intelligence, but she had never expected it to come from Courtney. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that I’ve done more of your homework in the last six months than you have and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open any of your textbooks. You never seem to spend our study time studying. There’s no way that homework is a high enough percent of your grade in all of your classes that you can get by flunking your tests.”

“Who told you I was flunking my tests? Just because I’m not willing to waste my time doing all of the bullshit busy work doesn’t mean I don’t know my shit.”

“But you’re willing to waste my time with the bullshit busy work?” 

Willam had never seen Courtney look this angry, but she couldn’t figure out why it was such a big deal.

“You offered! I wouldn’t have asked you to do any of it if you hadn’t offered last semester! If you didn’t want to you always could’ve fucking said no!” Willam crossed her arms. Courtney really couldn’t be blaming her for accepting an offer, could she? It wasn’t like she’d fucking asked or anything like that.

“Is that why you kept me around? Because I’m willing to do your busy work and I’m an easy fuck?”

“You didn’t have a problem with that last week,” Willam huffed.

“Yeah well, I’ve decided I’m worth more than an easy A and a quickie every week.”

“You’ve turned me down every time I’ve asked about doing anything else, so I don’t see why it’s my fault if you only ever want to see me in the context of homework and fucking. It’s not my fucking fault that that’s all we do if you won’t fucking acknowledge me any other time.”

Courtney went quiet, and she wouldn’t look Willam in the eye. Fuck telling her her feelings. Fuck the thought of trying to be anything more than fuck buddies, fuck even putting any effort into that. If Courtney wanted to act like this was all on her, then she could go fuck herself.

“You know what? Leave. If you don’t want to do this and you don’t want to do anything else either then why the fuck are you here? I don’t need you and you don’t want me, just get out.”

Courtney began gathering her things, but not quick enough. Willam could feel tears threatening to escape, and she couldn’t cry now, not in front of Courtney. Courtney needed to know that she wasn’t hurt, she was angry. She wouldn’t admit to anything else.

Willam watched as the other girl left, not looking back. 

Gigi enters Crystal’s apartment as quietly as she could. She knows Crystal is busy studying and she doesn’t want to disturb her and make her regret giving her a key to her apartment.

It’s early on a Friday evening and she just wanted to quickly check in on her girlfriend before heading out with her friends. Gigi passes the threshold into the living room to see Crystal on the floor, back against the couch, legs outstretched under the coffee table, chunky black turtleneck over her chin, curly hair up in a very messy attempt on a bun on the top of her head, flashcards scattered all over, pencil behind her right ear, pink highlighter smear on her left cheek, eyebrows creased, fussing and almost crying over her annoying tangled earphones.

On a different day, this sight would have made Gigi laugh but she knows that it’s a stressful time for Crystal so she tries to be supportive. Crystal’s obviously in the middle of a mental breakdown in the middle of exam season.

Crystal doesn’t seem to notice she has company until Gigi sits on the floor beside her and takes the tangled wire off her hands without a word, just a comforting smile.

“Thank you,” Crystal whispers, rubbing at her very tired eyes as she rests her head on Gigi’s shoulder and tucks herself into her side, relaxing for the first time that day.

Untangling the earphones and setting it on the table, Gigi leans in to plant a kiss on the top of Crystal’s head. “Don’t stress the small stuff.”

“Honestly, I’m just over it,” she sighs. “Obviously, I don’t know shit. My whole brain right now is just soup.”

Gigi looks over the illustrations laid out on the table; she doesn’t understand it one bit. “I think you need a break,” she suggests.

Crystal groans. “I know I do, but I don’t deserve one.” Gigi raises a brow at her, doubting the fact that Crystal actually believes she doesn’t deserve a break from studying. “Gee, I seriously can’t. Nothing is sticking and I need all of this,” she wildly gestures to her flashcards, “memorized and inside my brain like yesterday.”

“Do you want me to stay and keep you company?” Gigi offers instead. “I can fix you dinner or run you a bath?”

It’s a tempting offer and Crystal wants to say yes. But she doesn’t want to be the boring one who makes her girlfriend stay in on a Friday night when she could be out having fun with her friends. “Thank you, it’s sweet of you to offer but I’m a grown-ass woman who doesn’t need mothering,” she says with a pout.

“Doesn’t need mothering?” Gigi asks incredulously as she looks under the coffee table. “Baby, I can see five Fruit by the Foot paper under here. And a half-eaten cinnamon sugar Pop-Tart.”

“There’s probably more junk scattered around the apartment.” Crystal laughs, slightly embarrassed at her trash eating habits, and secretly hoping Gigi doesn’t find the two packs of Most Stuf Oreos she demolished today. And she’s supposed to be the almost-doctor here.

Gigi just playfully rolls her eyes at Crystal. “Okay, tell me how I can help you study.”

“There’s no way. This is all me,” Crystal sighs. She thinks there’s really nothing Gigi can do at this point to help her remember all these things when her brain feels like an overflowing pot of boiling water. “You look great. Where’s Gigi going?” she asks trying to get Gigi off her back about taking a break, waving her hand over Gigi’s very put-together appearance – ginger hair down in loose waves, makeup as immaculate as ever, a loose white faux fur jacket over a black bike short bodysuit, teeny tiny waist accentuated by a wide white belt, all tied together by chunky gold jewelry (which confuses Crystal a little bit because Gigi rarely ever accessorizes like this).

“Thank you,” she smiles. “Gigi’s checking out that new place near Jaida’s apartment with the girls if she manages to get her girlfriend to take it easy.”

Crystal laughs. “I don’t like talking about Gigi like she’s not here.”

She tells Crystal of the mundane things that happened to her at school today. About the way she felt so excited when she found the little doodle of a cat Crystal left inside one of her planners. About how Nicky managed to convince her and Jaida to go out tonight even though no one was in the mood to dress up and get drunk. About her phone call with her mom about possibly inviting Crystal home for Thanksgiving break. She lets Crystal know it’s no pressure at all. But knowing Crystal, it’s already causing her some anxiety.

She tells her about how she wishes Crystal would come out with her but she totally understands she has to study. She wants to tell her to spend more time with her but doesn’t know how that won’t make her appear like the most selfish person in the whole entire world when Crystal is actually working towards her dream of becoming a doctor. Gigi holds back on the whining and the invitation to go out seeing it’s hard to convince Crystal to take a break, much so to convince her to come and party.

Crystal promises her all of Sunday to make it up to her. She promises brunch and dinner. And three snacks. Maybe four. She promises a walk in the park and a movie (at home, on the couch, because she also promises to make out).

Gigi eventually convinces Crystal to take a break and a shower while she’s at it. She manages to order dinner and tidy the mess Crystal leaves behind — wrappers and crumbs on the floor, a multitude of colorful open markers and pens that surprisingly haven’t stained her immaculate carpet, used socks (four pairs, what the hell?) under the couch. Gigi knows that the post-it notes with illegible scribbles and notepad paper with diagrams that make no sense to her are off-limits, so she leaves them where she finds them.

She’s rid herself of her jacket and is cozy on the couch when Crystal emerges from the bathroom in a fluffy robe. Gigi’s face breaks into a wide smile at how comfortable Crystal looks as she reaches out and makes grabby hands at Crystal who quickly settles herself straddling Gigi’s lap.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Gigi chuckles and leans in to plant a small kiss on Crystal’s cheek.

Crystal plays with the strap of Gigi’s tank top. “Where’d your jacket go?”

“I wanted cuddles.”

“I do, too,” she says wrapping her arms around Gigi, quickly enveloping her in the scent of green tea that always seems to linger on Crystal’s skin even hours after a shower.

“Don’t you need to study?” Gigi playfully reminds her.

Crystal groans and holds onto Gigi tighter. “Cuddles first.”

She feels Gigi hold the back of her head, scraping her fingers through her scalp and still damp hair and she feels herself relax further.

“Can I kiss you?” Crystal whispers.

“You never have to ask,” Gigi says, leaning back to look at Crystal.

Crystal smiles sheepishly. “I don’t want to ruin your makeup, it’s so perfect.”

“It’s just makeup, Crys,” she says with a dismissive wave. “Now, how about that kiss?”

Crystal leans in, slips her hand up to cradle Gigi’s face, and fits their lips together. They move their mouths against each other, soft and warm, feeling like they’re both yielding exactly to the shape that would make them a perfect fit.

She opens her mouth to let Gigi lick into her mouth. Crystal moans quietly when their tongues meet, tasting the remnants of the ginger beer Gigi had before coming over. She knows Gigi’s lipstick is smearing across their faces but if Gigi doesn’t care, she doesn’t care either. Not when this kiss is too good to cut short.

But Gigi has other ideas.

“I’ve thought of a way to help you study,” Gigi says, pulling back from the heated kiss.

Crystal rests her forehead against Gigi’s, slightly out of breath. “I’m on a break.”

“No, no. You’ll want this, I promise.”

“No offense, Gee, but I don’t see how you can help. It’s not like you’ve studied this.” Yes, Gigi’s still in school. But she’s not pre-med. She’s not even close to the sciences. So Crystal cannot, for the life of her, figure out how Gigi is so confident she could help. Crystal leans in to catch Gigi’s lips in another kiss instead but she moves away.

“Crystal.”

“What?”

“You’re studying the hand,” she says stating the obvious. The colorful flashcards are staring at them.

“I know, and?” She tries to kiss Gigi again. But she’s denied. Again.

“I have hands.”

Crystal furrows her brows in confusion. On any other day, she’d quickly catch on to what Gigi is trying to say but with all the things she had to put in her brain today, her processing has definitely slowed down to a Pentium.

“I know, and?”

Gigi raises a brow. “I know what to do with my hands.”

Understanding dawns on Crystal slowly and the confusion on her face is replaced by a look Gigi is all too familiar with. “How is that going to help me memorize though?” she pouts.

Gigi squeezes Crystal’s cheeks together with one hand while the other tries to untie her robe. “Because you, my love, have pornographic memory.”

“No, I don’t,” Crystal snorts. That’s a lie and they both know it. Not to be a horndog but Crystal remembers anything and everything related to sex. That’s just how her brain works. And Gigi is smart to use it to her advantage.

“Crystal,” Gigi pulls down Crystal’s bralette to expose her breasts, “are you seriously going to argue with me right now at this very moment?” Crystal shakes her head. “Okay, good.” Gigi pulls Crystal down for a kiss. She holds up her right hand to Crystal’s face when she pulls away. “My hand.”

“Your hand, yes.”

“When I do this,” Gigi cups both of Crystal’s breasts in her hands, “what muscles am I using?”

“I like this game.”

“It’s not a game, Crys. I’m helping you study.”

“Okay, fine. The, uh, the distal and proximal interphalangeal joints are slightly flexed so, uh, flexor digitorum superficialis and profundus.”

Gigi pinches Crystal’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “How about now?”

Crystal feels herself melt, delicious warmth spreading to every single part of her body, turning her into a useless puddle with just that. Thanks to the oversensitivity of her nipples.

“The thumb interphalangeal joint is extended by extensor pollicis longus, abductor pollicis brevis, and adductor pollicis. The index,” Crystal moans when Gigi rolls her nipple between her fingers, “the index finger distal interphalangeal joint is also extended by the extensor indicis, the lumbricals, and both the dorsal and palmar interossei.”

Gigi honest to goodness doesn’t know what in the world Crystal is saying. She might as well be talking to her in a foreign language. But it seems like there isn’t a need for her to be stressed about it; she knows the material well enough. Leave it to Crystal to overthink.

“If this is how you’re going to help me study, I can’t wait ‘til I reach the pelvis and perineum,” Crystal breathes out as Gigi latches onto the nipple she isn’t pinching and sucks gently.

“Told you you’d like it,” she says, pulling Crystal down for another kiss. They stay like this for a while, kissing and breathing each other in. When the need for air becomes too much, Gigi moves to take Crystal’s nipple back into her mouth, licking and tugging it between her teeth. Crystal holds onto Gigi’s head closer to her chest as she arches her back, throwing her head back in pleasure and grinding down on Gigi’s thigh.

Gigi takes this as a sign to go further. She runs her hands up Crystal’s thighs before reaching in between to move her panties to the side. “Nice,” she says spreading the wetness around with her fingers. She pushes two fingers into Crystal. “What muscles am I using now?” she asks as she slowly pumps in and out, gently reminding Crystal that what they’re doing is actually studying.

“Th-those two fingers, uh, extensor digitorum,” she says, grinding down harder onto Gigi’s palm that’s barely resting on her clit. “But the other ones are, uh, are the lumbricals and flexor digiti minimi.”

Gigi scissors her fingers inside Crystal, feeling her become wetter and more pliant. “And now?”

Crystal moans at the stretch. “Palmar and dorsal interossei.”

“Good girl.” She lets Crystal fuck herself on her fingers, watching her face contort with pleasure, before curling her fingers upward. Crystal makes a noise, a sound she’s sure she’s never made in her entire life. It’s strangled and deep and guttural. “How about now?” she asks to distract Crystal from her building orgasm.

“Fuuuuck!” she moans. “Are we still studying?” Crystal’s a little bit frustrated. The student side of her brain has already closed up shop. All she wants now is to focus entirely on reaching an orgasm.

“We can stop,” Gigi chuckles, making a move to slip her fingers out of Crystal.

But Crystal’s reflexes have never been so fast in her life. She grabs a hold of Gigi’s wrist before she can fully take her fingers out. “No, no, let’s not do that,” she whines.

She grabs the back of Crystal’s neck with her free hand, pulling her in to connect their lips. “Okay, no need to beg,” Gigi says against her lips. She lets Crystal ride her fingers more before she curls her fingers upward and asks again, “What muscles am I using now?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the answer?”

“Answer to what?”

“My question, Crystal.”

Crystal slows down her movement to catch her breath. “F-flex-flexor digitorum superficialis and, and flexor digitorum profundus. But they’re more flexed now than they were a while ago when you were fondling my tits.”

“Mm, okay,” Gigi chuckles as Crystal speeds up again. “One last, I promise. Then you can come.” Crystal nods, eyes glazed. Gigi brushes her thumb back and forth over her now very sensitive clit. “How about now?”

“Feels good, Gee,” Crystal takes a breath between her teeth.

“I know but you still have to answer my question,” she says in a way like a mother would admonish her child.

She takes a moment to shift her focus back to the question at hand. “Th-the thenar muscles. Adductor poll-. No. Abductor pollicis brevis, flexor p-pollicis brevis, a-and op-opponens pollicis.”

“You did so well,” Gigi coos.

Crystal is so wet now that Gigi manages to slip in two more fingers. She pushes back on them before moving up and pushing down again. And again. And again. Eager and excited to go over the edge.

“Need to come,” Crystal practically pleads.

“No one’s stopping you.”

She lets Crystal use her fingers the way she wants and takes in the sight of her’s lips parted and eyes squeezed shut. Gigi feels Crystal tightening around her fingers, moving closer and closer towards her climax. She drapes her arms over Gigi’s shoulder and drops her head on to the crook of Gigi’s neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses up her neck to her jaw.

“So close,” she says.

Her body is beginning to tremble, a sure sign of her impending orgasm. Gigi angles her head to catch Crystal’s mouth in a sloppy kiss as she moves harder and faster against her clit.

Crystal rocks up and down to the movement of Gigi’s hand, eyes closed, lost in her own pleasure. Her face and chest are flushed, she’s panting so hard to catch her breath, her breasts having with every breath. Gigi bends her head to take one of Crystal’s nipples into her mouth and sucks hard. Crystal lets out a strangled moan and Gigi feels her muscles rhythmically clench around her fingers. She slows her movements helping Crystal, who is now slumped against Gigi’s chest, go through and come down from her orgasm.

Gigi wraps her arms around Crystal, holding her close as she regains her breath. Crystal lazily drops kisses against Gigi’s neck, up her jaw until their lips meet in a lazy kiss. Breaking away, Crystal smiles down at Gigi. She regards Gigi’s face, wondering how she ever brought that look of awe and wonder to her face. “Did I pass?” she asks, still basking in the afterglow of a great orgasm.

“You realize laying your face in the book won’t make the information come faster, right?” Alaska was met with a grumble and a middle finger thrust in her direction from her redheaded friend. “It’s not like we have to be off-book by tomorrow or anything…”

Jinkx sat up from their slouched position and was tempted to throw her copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at their scene partner, but they refrained from doing so. “But it FEELS like it, Lasky.”

“We can meet Sunday too if it makes you feel any better?”

“That might help, but I thought you mentioned something earlier about babysitting earlier.”

“Cory texted me a few minutes ago saying he could cover for me. I’m glad he listened this time when I told him I had a big assignment due.” Both students let out a sigh of relief as they delved back into Shakespeare. “Wanna start now?“

“I guess so.” Jinkx responded, hopping out of their chair. “And we’re on…”

“Act 2 Scene 1. We can start at my line again.” Alaska followed her and leaned on the wall opposite Jinkx. “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.” She followed with a laugh befitting a king of the fair folk.

“What, jealous Oberon?—Fairies, skip hence. I have forsworn his bed and company. I’d never forswear your bed or company…” They added under her breath, but loud enough for a certain someone to hear.

Alaska’s face temporarily turned beet red. By gods, they said that with such confidence and… energy. And the additional comment She thought nothing more of it as she continued with her lines. “Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy lord?”

“Then I must be thy lady- Yes! I got through that without cringing! Woot WOO!” Jinkx did a small happy dance then stopped, realizing Alaska had been watching her little spurt of energy. “I mean considering I’m… not a lady and all.”

“Jinkx! I think I figured out why you’ve been so off book so lately.”

“I’m not that bad, give it a bit…”

Alaska playfully rolled her eyes and went back to the text. The blonde was a little surprised at how off-book she was the more they rehearsed, and a little more about how her friend was completely out of it. She’d seen them in class. Their scenes with the actor playing Bottom went swimmingly, but when it was just them two, things went awry. There was a lot more banter between them, like a contest to see who can break character the fastest. These two were unstoppable.

“..No night is now with hymn or carol blest. Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, pale in her anger… pale in her anger… pale…” Jinkx hesitated for a while, then grabbed their script again to look over what the next lines were, “Goddammit, I got it last time! Why now? Why did I have to screw up two nights before we’re supposed to be off book?!”

“Have you tried dissecting what Shakespeare was trying to say with that?” Alaska picked up her own script and glanced over Titania’s monologue. “Damn, I didn’t realize how much you had your first scene.”

“As if you don’t have anything longer. At least I spend a few scenes asleep…”

“Well, at least I’m offstage for those scenes.”

“Touché… “

“So anyway, back to this Shakespeare shit. What did he mean when writing these things?”

Jinkx stared at the page a bit before formulating their answer. “Well, my whole monologue is saying climate change is immanent and it’s all your fault. Oberon’s, not yours as in Alaska’s.”

“As if there’s a difference,” The horse-faced girl joked, wanting to bring her shorter friend into an embrace.

Jinkx wiggled their way out of the embrace, stepping out of the way. “You shouldn’t have said that; it’s making things worse. I don’t want to think of you as this shitty person.”

“Wait a sec… does this mean-”

“Alaska Honard, I like you. Romantically.”

“Really?”

“I was flirting with you just a while ago, and you say I’m the dense one?!”

Alaska was speechless. Things were starting to come together in her brain, but what if part of this was temporary? Maybe it would go away once they weren’t romantic leads anymore… She took a deep breath and stepped away from her scene partner. “Let’s continue with the scene. Where were we?”

“We can skip my monologue if you want… Get back to it tomorrow?”

“That sounds good to me.” She tightened her ponytail and slipped back into the role. “Do you amend it then. It lies in you. Why should Titania cross her Oberon?” The girl snaked her arms around Jinkx and lightly swayed them to and fro. They leaned into the touch accordingly. At that moment, Alaska froze. “Why should… Why should I cross you?”

She let go and faced her scene partner for a minute or so. They couldn’t stop staring. Even as she stepped towards Jinkx Monsoon, she couldn’t stop staring at them. How could she have been so foolish?