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She realizes she’s in a little too deep with Tatum when she wakes up to three texts from Alicia — timestamped 11:33 (x2, which, ahem, who double texts an ex before midnight?!) and then 1:03 AM, respectively — and wonders why she didn’t see these before she went to bed.
It’s not really like Leighton to skip a night of insomnia and browsing social media just because she’s got a hot naked girl in her bed. Well, she doesn’t usually let them stay over in the first place, but she was a couple drinks in when Bela told her she’d have the room to herself for the night, and it felt like a good idea at the time. Not that she needs an excuse. Hell, it was a good idea. She likes Tatum, and sex, and Sunday mornings in bed. Even if said bed is at least half a body too small to comfortably be shared.
Anyway, that’s beside the point. She wakes up in a good mood, Tatum’s very warm and very naked body still wrapped around her from behind, and checks her phone for the first time in what appears to have been at least nine hours. Tatum stirs behind her when she reaches for the phone, letting out a little sigh, and Leighton goes from feeling content to feeling slightly panicked when she sees the notifications.
Great fucking timing. God forbid she gets to be happy for longer than a few fucking hours, right?
“Hey,” Tatum says, her voice all raspy and full with sleep, which Leighton immediately finds both sexy and adorable. Her arm snakes across her stomach and up her arm, where Leighton’s still holding her phone. “Put that away.”
Leighton laughs despite herself, locks the phone and wills herself to turn around.
She brushes some hair out of Tatum’s face. “Needy much? One night in my bed and I’ve got you acting all clingy.”
What she expects is a quippy, aloof reply, something she herself might say in a situation like this but in the short time (13 days, to be exact) she’s known Tatum, she’s learned that she’s usually genuine whenever Leighton least expects it.
(Like last night, when she told her she wasn’t going to just leave her for not being ready to come out to her dad, when she told her to take her time. Every time Leighton thinks she’ll act all haughty and too cool for school, she surprises her by actually being, like, a good person underneath the hot body and amazing taste in clothes. It’s a fucking trip.)
This is no different. Tatum smirks at her, bites her lip a little and moves in closer.
“Oh yes, I’m incredibly needy, actually.”
She kind of stops overthinking things after that because then Tatum is kissing her.
— —
She’s at Sips with Whitney grabbing a much-needed caffeine fix a few hours later when her phone lights up and it’s Alicia’s name again. She kind of wishes she had the willpower to ignore it and not glance at the follow-up message to last night’s olive branch, but she’s weak. And morbidly curious. And just generally a little terrified of it all.
The text isn’t exactly anything to make this go away — just ‘That wasn’t a drunk text, BTW.’ — and then a very direct invitation to come over later today so they can ‘catch up’. It’s all very Alicia, in a way Leighton wishes she didn’t still recognize right away.
(She hates that a part of her would like to go, just to show off how much she really, really doesn’t need Alicia anymore. How she’s so much better off now, sleeping with the hottest girl on campus. God, that’s such a fucking petty thought, it makes her wonder if she’s as over her as she thought she was.)
“Leight?”
Whitney is staring at her, no doubt because she just zoned out for a minute, and Leighton just shoots her a tight-lipped smile.
“What is up with you today? I kinda thought you’d be in a good mood, considering I saw a certain blonde sneak out of your room this morning.”
Leighton takes a deep breath. The Leighton of old wouldn’t have mentioned this to anyone, which is why her immediate instinct was not to bring it up so far. But she’s dying to talk about it, to maybe have someone more reasonable help her out with a few words of wisdom or a little bit of pity. Out of her three options, she’s pretty sure Whitney’s the suitemate most equipped to handle this.
Whatever the fuck this is, anyway.
“My ex texted me last night.”
Whitney raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn’t miss a beat.
“You have an ex?”
Leighton rolls her eyes. “Try and keep up,” she bites out, then sighs and tries for a less threatening tone. “She dumped me last fall because I wasn’t ready to come out.”
The outraged face Whitney pulls makes Leighton feel slightly more sane. Good. So it’s not just her who thinks that was all kinda fucked up.
“What the fuck? That’s so shitty. Who does that?”
She waves her hand around all dismissively; these details hardly matter now.
“So anyway, she texted me saying she misses me and wants to catch up and I kind of think she is expecting me to just take her back now that I’ve gotten the whole coming out thing over with.”
Whitney’s always really matter-of-fact about stuff, diplomatic like her mother when she wants to be, so she fixes Leighton with a look and asks, “Do you want to get back together?”
“I haven’t even seen her since, like, November.”
“Don’t do that,” Whit says, eyes narrowed. “You’re avoiding the question.”
The thing is — ugh, she really wishes she wasn’t like this but the fucking thing is — she wants to confront Alicia more than anything. She’s never been very good at shying away from confrontation.
“I don’t want to be with her.”
“But you do want to see her,” Whitney concludes, and it’s as if she’s reading Leighton’s mind because then she’s grinning at her. “You want to show her you’re better off without her, don’t you? Leighton, that is so fucking toxic.”
She can’t help but grin back at Whitney.
“So you think I should go see her.”
Whitney takes a large sip of her iced coffee and nods.
“Of course you should.”
She laughs loud enough to get some of the other Sips customers around to shoot them dirty looks when Whitney says, “And then you need to block her and delete every girl’s number in your phone that isn’t Tatum’s.”
Whitney’s definitely got a point.
——
Tatum asks if she has plans for dinner while she’s getting ready to head over to Alicia’s and Leighton feels really shitty for telling her she’s helping Kimberly study for her math test later. She feels even shittier when Tatum replies ‘Aww, that’s so much more wholesome than what I had in mind for us’ because she wants to flirt back, but she suddenly feels like she can’t, not before she’s closed the book on the whole Alicia thing. Maybe she’ll do that, and then go spend time with the person she’s actually (kind of) dating.
She didn’t tell Alicia she was coming, because that would’ve made this a date, or pre-mediated at least, and when she rounds the corner to her house, Leighton struggles to suppress a sick sense of deja vu. She manages to get in the building without having to be buzzed up because some guy is just leaving and holds the door open for her, and before she knows it, she’s outside Alicia’s apartment door, nervously running her hands through her hair.
The couple of seconds it takes for Alicia to open the door for her after she knocks feel like an out-of-body experience. It’s like she can feel, not hear, Alicia’s footsteps approach. Leighton kind of wants to die. Maybe coming here was stupid.
“Oh,” is the first thing Alicia says to her after five months of silence. “You came.”
Leighton allows herself to take in the simple white henley — no bra — Alicia is wearing, a pair of oversized gray sweatpants rounding off the look. Her hair is slightly longer, a little more in her eyes than she remembered it being, and she’s not wearing makeup because her skin is still infuriatingly nice.
She looks past her, down the corridor she knows leads to Alicia’s room, and tries out a smile.
“Mind if I come in?”
The thing is, they could’ve met somewhere else. Leighton thought about it. Somewhere public, where she won’t be tempted to fuck her way out of all these stupid pent up emotions she’s feeling. But the queer scene at Essex is small, and now that she’s out, there’s no way she could meet Alicia anywhere on campus without it starting rumors. Her and Tatum aren’t exactly exclusive, at least neither of them have mentioned it, but Leighton doesn’t want any ridiculous rumors standing in the way of that changing in the medium to short term.
Alicia seemingly recovers from the shock of her being here and ushers her inside, and of course her fucking roommate is in the living room, so she looks back at Leighton and leads her past it, to her bedroom. She looks apprehensive about it, so at least that means she’s not expecting them to just start making out any minute.
“I’m sorry I texted you so late last night,” Alicia says when the door is closed behind them, and sits down on her bed. Leighton figures not sitting down would be more awkward than anything, so she sits down next to her, making sure to keep some distance between them.
And because she’s always assertive, even when she’s nervous, she bites out, “Yeah, because that’s what I want you to be sorry for,” before she can stop herself.
Alicia looks like that’s caught her off guard, but then she cracks a smile.
“I probably deserve that.”
Leighton shrugs her shoulders.
“Kind of.”
They’re quiet for a while after that. Leighton knows why she’s being quiet — because they’re at a crossroads here, because this is when she needs to choose anger and confrontation over her weird innate desire to be liked by people she once respected, or whatever. Her silence is calculated; she’s not sure why Alicia isn’t saying anything.
“Why did you text me last night?”
Alicia crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“Because I miss you.”
It’s nice to hear, if a little late. That’s not what she was asking about, though.
“Why last night? Why not, I don’t know, like, three fucking months ago?”
If she’s being honest, Alicia’s always been a little too well-adjusted for her liking. She takes a measured breath, as if to remind herself not to get too hung up on Leighton’s obvious anger, and shrugs her shoulders. Probably some de-escalation technique she picked up from a counselor at the Women’s Center, or whatever. Doesn’t really matter. It fucking sucks, because Leighton’s pretty sure it would feel a lot more cathartic if they could just yell at each other.
“Honestly? I didn’t think you would want to hear from me so soon.”
“I didn’t.”
“I figured with a little bit of time and distance between us, you’d probably realize I was right and finally be yourself.”
That’s… The implication behind that is what bothers her more than anything — the way Alicia seems to be implying she was right to try to get Leighton to come out.
“I didn’t want you to come out for me, I wanted you to do it for yourself.” Alicia scoots closer to her so she can reach for her hand, which Leighton promptly pulls away. “You have to admit it was the right thing to do.”
And see, this? This is what’s always pissed her off about Alicia. Because she’s fucking smart, and emotionally intelligent, so of course she’s right. But this was never about right or wrong, it was about how Alicia knowingly dated her, a paranoid closeted girl, and then acted surprised when she didn’t just suddenly decide to come out for her.
“You have to realize that was really unfair of you,” Leighton says. She hates how quiet her voice comes out sounding. Alicia tries to reach for her hand again, which is really not what she came here for. And actually… “No. I didn’t come here for this.”
She gets up and takes a couple of steps back instead, which is a little dramatic, but better safe than sorry. Physical touch is her fucking kryptonite, and she really hates how Alicia knows that. She isn’t gonna let her weaponize that knowledge.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, it hasn’t exactly been fun for me either, to hear about how you’ve fucked every queer girl on campus.”
Leighton’s jaw drops slightly, but Alicia is sort of smiling at her now, so she tries out a grin. Maybe that was a joke; brave of her. She can go with that.
“It’s been pretty fun for me, actually.”
An olive branch. That’s all this is. Alicia’s not going to apologize to her — she’s too proud for that — and Leighton’s certainly not here to admit that she, of course, knows it couldn’t have been easy for Alicia either, keeping things a secret.
Maybe they can be friends when all this is over.
“Look, I’m glad you miss me, because who wouldn’t, but I’m not interested. I’m kind of seeing someone else and I think it might be serious.”
Alicia scrunches up her nose all adorable (and fuck her, for pulling that off in the middle of this tense conversation) and shrugs her shoulders.
“Sucks for me, but good for you, I guess.”
She’s kind of surprised at how well this went.
——
Leighton’s never been to Tatum’s place, and now that she’s seen it, she isn’t sure why they didn’t just come back here last night. It’s a few blocks off campus, a little condo Tatum mentions her dad bought as an investment.
“You could’ve mentioned that you live alone,” she says, eyeing the gorgeous understated throw blanket on Tatum’s bed. “Your bed looks a little more comfortable than my dorm single.”
That’s an understatement, and not just because of the sheer size of it.
“Well, the whole your place or mine line felt a little redundant, and we were already on campus, so I didn’t really feel like waiting any longer.”
“I am pretty irresistible,” she jokes, except Tatum is suddenly right in front of her, turning her around for a quick kiss and then pushing her back on the bed, so there must be some truth to it.
Leighton was kind of hungry on her way here, but now that they’re alone, food doesn’t really feel like a priority anymore. Tatum looks absolutely amazing in her simple pair of Levi’s and an Essex tennis hoodie, effortlessly chic even in athleisure, and Leighton can’t help but ogle her from her new vantage point on the bed.
“I love this look on you,” she says, and she means it, too. That gets Tatum to pull the hoodie over her head. “Actually, that look is even better.”
Tatum smirks at her, undoes her jeans and steps out of them gracefully. “And this?”
Tatum’s all bronzed skin from tennis in the sun, lean muscle and soft curves, and Leighton’s pretty sure she’ll start drooling any minute. She’s in a blue lingerie set, somehow both lacy and yet simple enough to work for this casual Sunday hookup.
“I don’t know, I feel like there’s room for improvement…”
She isn’t gonna wait for Tatum to respond to that.
Leighton wasn’t really prepared for how fucking gorgeous Tatum looks all spread out on her bed, squirming and whining and begging as Leighton slowly makes her way down her body, leaving teasing kisses in her wake.
(Not that she hasn’t seen her naked before, but they didn’t exactly bother with appropriate lighting last night; they were a little too busy chasing long overdue orgasms. This is infinitely better, and she allows herself to take her time committing this spectacular view to memory.)
“Stop. Fucking. Teasing.”
Tatum’s downright intimidating when she gets like this, and she wants to think it’s all bite and no bark, but then she fists her hand in Leighton’s hair, grabs hard enough to hurt and glares at her. It’s really fucking hot.
“You’re too demanding,” she says against her hip, teeth grazing the skin there briefly to make Tatum hiss out a breath.
“Says the girl who bit my shoulder last night when I didn’t move fast enough for your liking.”
Leighton grins up at Tatum and moves so she can kiss the little bruise on her shoulder, too, which just makes Tatum grab onto her harder in protest.
“This is the opposite of stopping with the whole teasing thing.”
She’s pretty sure they were made for each other.
“I’ll make you pay for this,” Tatum whines out a little while later, which is so dramatic, Leighton has to roll her eyes at her.
“You’ll make me pay for making you feel good?”
“This—,” she interrupts herself with a moan when Leighton bites down on her collarbone. “This is torture, and you will pay for it.”
Leighton kind of can’t wait to find out.
“Sounds awful,” she deadpans, then finally moves her hand between Tatum’s legs, which earns her another needy whine.
She could do this all day.
— —
Tatum comes back from the kitchen with two glasses of water, hands one to Leighton and says, “So was that line about helping your roommate study just another attempt at playing hard to get?”
Leighton’s a little distracted because they’re both still fully naked, and Tatum rolls her eyes at her when she catches her staring at her chest. That level of confidence is intimidating to even her, so excuse her for acting like a teenage boy looking up google image search results for ‘boobs’.
“What’s up,” Tatum prompts, now back under the covers, legs intertwined with hers. “I may not know you very well but I can spot these silly little avoidance techniques from a mile away.”
Leighton figures it serves her right for dating someone who thinks like her; maybe she shouldn’t try to bullshit a bullshitter. And yeah, she could make something up about how she did actually plan to help Kimberly study, but she kind of doesn’t really want to. She wants to tell Tatum the truth, even if she’s a little worried about her reaction.
“Do you really want to know?”
Tatum cocks an eyebrow at her in response, sets her glass of water down on the nightstand and waits for her to elaborate.
“Remember when I panic overshared last night at dinner about not being out to my dad?”
“Of course. That was pretty adorable.”
Leighton groans. “Shut up. Well, the ex I mentioned texted me last night, saying she wants to catch up.”
Tatum sits up a little straighter, but if that revelation made her feel anything, she doesn’t let on.
“You still had her number saved? That is such a dating girls beginners mistake.”
It’s kind of weird, talking to the girl she’s currently dating about the girl she used to date, but Leighton finds it’s an easy conversation to have, with Tatum. Everything with Tatum’s been suspiciously easy so far; she was kind of expecting a different reaction.
“I mean, it’s not like it ended badly aside from her not wanting to wait around for me to get my shit together and come out.”
Tatum scoffs, reaching over to play with a strand of Leighton’s hair. “So it did end badly.”
“Seriously, do we have to unpack all of my relationship baggage right now?”
“You brought it up!”
Semantics. “Whatever,” Leighton says, ready to just finish this story and then never talk about Alicia ever again. “I met up with her earlier today, just to tell her I’m not interested.”
“And you had to tell her that in person, because…”
“I don’t know, I guess I didn’t wanna be a bitch to her and do it over text.”
There’s a shift in tone when Tatum says, “Well, it sounds like she was a bitch to you.”
“I wouldn’t say she was being a bitch, exactly, she was just—,” Leighton stops in her tracks when Tatum rolls her eyes at that. “Oh my god, are you jealous?”
Tatum looks offended. “Definitely not.”
“Well, in case you were jealous — which, I’m very flattered by, by the way — you shouldn’t be. Do you actually think I want to be with someone who couldn’t even wait a few weeks for me to come out?”
Tatum, in response, moves so she’s straddling Leighton and buries her face against her neck. She can feel her teeth there, so she must be smiling.
“Did your dad ever take her golfing?”
“What part of closeted makes you think I would possibly have introduced her to my parents?” Leighton says, a little breathless because Tatum’s kissing her neck now. “Now that you mention it, picturing Alicia golfing with my dad is kind of hilarious.”
Tatum pulls back, leaning up so she can look at Leighton’s face. “I’d really appreciate if you could stop talking about your ex now.”
Leighton kisses her briefly, says, “You brought it up,” and promptly gets shut up with a real kiss.