Chapter Text
Beatrice pulled her jacket closer to her body, hands buried deep into her pockets. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted Camila when she said it was just a ‘tad chilly’ outside in that horrible London accent she did whenever she came round to hers and Lilith’s flat, which translated to pretty much all the time.
Camila’s cheeks were tinted slightly pink from the chill in the air, and really Beatrice should’ve noticed from how cold her hands were when she grabbed her wrist to drag her from her desk chair and away from the mountains of books.
(She’d already borrowed far too many from the library despite the fact that the semester had only been in full swing for two weeks.)
She could hear herself echoing the sentiment, ‘but now’s the perfect time to go to the library because no one is there yet booking out everything that we’ll need later on’. Camila scoffed and continued to pull on her sleeve.
Almost nodding to herself, wishing for anything in the world to teleport her back into her warm and cosy room, where she could make herself a cup of tea and pour over the books she needed for modules they weren’t even going to be learning about until late March.
Leaves were just about browning on the trees, scattered around the path towards the sports fields just off campus, and Beatrice did like autumn. She really did.
Being wrapped up with a weather-appropriate coat and her face dipped low into a scarf that Lilith had gotten her as a gift after they moved in together at the start of their second year. Sometimes she’d take a thermos out, testing different teas out to decide which was truly the best one for when the temperature eventually dropped in late November or early December.
(She’d found it was a specialist citrus, clove, and cinnamon spiced black tea that had definitely been a gift from one of the lecturers she helped out when she had spare time.)
If you had told Beatrice when she was moving her things into her horribly decorated and definitely mouldy - to the point it was a health hazard - student accommodation room two years ago, that she would be spending her free time going to watch organised team sports, she would’ve probably laughed in your face.
And even when Camila had asked her, now living in a significantly nicer, decorated and not at all mouldy flat just off campus, she had still laughed in her face.
But Camila had practically begged her, puppy eyes and all. Promising not to force her to listen to her droning on about the same boy in her film history lecture that sat a row in front and three seats to the right of her, so Beatrice had to oblige.
She wasn’t sure she could cope with another explanation of how his favourite film being Joker, wasn’t a red flag, it just gave him character.
So, there she was, dragging a far too heavy tripod and a box of audio equipment that Camila didn’t seem too sure how it all worked when they collected it from the store cupboard.
“What is it that we’re actually here to do, Camila?” Beatrice asked, sighing as the tripod thwacked against her thigh with every misstep on the uneven pavement.
It was definitely going to leave a bruise, made even worse by the fact that Camila had refused Beatrice’s offer of taking her car, saying something about needing the exercise.
She could see the entrance to the football field now. The team trained on the same pitches where they played the games, and Beatrice had to say, the view when it was dark and the floodlights were on during game days looked quite stunning.
It didn’t seem to have that same appeal in the light when she wasn’t in her pyjamas, about to snuggle into bed with whatever book she was reading, however.
“Well, we’re a bit early 'cause I was worried about setting everything up. But! We’re here to watch the football team’s friendly before the season starts. I’m wanting to get some footage for my final project, it’s worth like 60% of my overall grade this year,” Camila buzzed with excitement, bouncing with each step, and the camera swinging heavily from her shoulder seemed like it weighed nothing to her.
Beatrice pushed the green fence gate open into the stands of the football ground. It was almost a sort of tiny stadium in a way. The pitch itself was surrounded by that same green link fence that was about waist high, which reminded Beatrice all too much of the downright awful ’90s teen movies Camila insisted they watch during their weekly movie nights.
Camila pulled her further into the actual grounds, letting the gate swing closed loudly behind them with a metallic clanking that almost made Beatrice jump.
The stands that loomed over the lengths of the pitch were adorned in the blue and white of the university colours, the seats alternating in rows of the same blue and white. ‘The Saints go marching on’ topped the stands.
Beatrice stopped to take it all in.
They were standing right next to the tunnel that she had seen the players line up in when she’d walked past once or twice after a midday study session in the library. A huge university crest was painted onto the astroturf where the tunnel led out to the pitch.
One of the ends, where the goals were, had a couple of shops built inside the whole complex. Bill’s Big Bites. Hans’ Heavy Pours. And a stand for the Students’ Union, where all the university teams got a lot of their funding.
Camila was clanking around with the camera, trying to put the cage on the outside. The small tool kit rested precariously on top of a seat that was just threatening to flip back up.
Beatrice almost let her continue, her tongue poked out in her concentration as she was fiddling with screws and clasps until it seemed a bit cruel to not help out when she had paid attention to the store attendant when she explained how it all came together.
“Do you need any help?” Beatrice asked, trying not to sound like she was worried Camila was going to break it and they’d have to fork out ten grand to afford a replacement.
She nodded, handing over the camera almost instantly, starting to ramble on about her project and what her overall vision was. Beatrice sat down, resting the tiny tool kit on her lap as she got to work.
When she thought back, she wasn’t even sure how she and Camila became friends, the most unlikely of sorts. An odd pair.
Beatrice, studying biomedicine, hoping to qualify for specialising next year in biomedical engineering. Camila, a media production student, had no clue whatsoever what she wanted to do, but knew she loved making things that made people feel things.
And Camila was damn good at it.
Last year, during her final project for her first year, she had to create an advert for the university. One, that if it was good enough, would be displayed on the website.
She was invited (after days of begging the lecturers) into one of Lilith’s lab assignment blocks. Talking of women in STEM, having herself try a bunch of the experiments, almost exploding the laboratory. And Camila edited it down into a short forty-second clip about how anyone can try science. And it had all the ‘gooey marketing bullshit that lecturers just eat up’ as Camila had put it.
As thanks for being in her advert, Camila invited Lilith out for a couple of drinks at the on-site bar, eventually getting dragged home to fall asleep on the sofa for Beatrice to find in the morning, and Lilith was face down into a pizza that she didn’t remember being there before she went to sleep.
And Camila hadn’t left their sides ever since.
By the time Beatrice had looked up, brandishing the camera completely ready, the memory card fully inserted and battery clipped to the side, Camila had finished setting everything else up. She passed the camera over to Camila and sat watching the pitch.
She’d always wanted to go to university, since finding out about her parents going to the most prestigious schools across the country, meeting at a ball thrown by the school as a ‘fundraiser’.
She’d let her parents believe it was to fulfil the legacy they’d paved out, to ‘right’ herself, set her on the correct path to behave exactly how she’d been told to. Whatever it meant to make sure they wouldn’t stand in the way of her one real shot at independence. A quick getaway from everything.
Beatrice picked the single university the furthest away from her parents possible, still prestigious enough that they wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the acceptance letters coming through the post that she couldn’t intercept.
She’d find letters from Oxford and Cambridge across the dresser in the sitting room, and her mother would tell her to stand up straighter and that ‘a woman that goes to such places doesn’t slouch’.
Her father would read the letters, place them into a pile and stare at her, giving her a simple nod before going back to leafing through documents. He’d sent her a link to gain access to a large sum of money the week of her departure from home.
She still hadn’t touched the trust fund. She was certain she probably never would.
Camila’s voice cut through Beatrice’s thoughts, shaking her from spiralling too far.
She had a gentle smile on her face, one that said Beatrice was free to leave if she wanted to, that she understood, and that she appreciated that Beatrice had even stepped out to spend time with her in the chilling breeze. Beatrice wiped her hands on the fronts of her trousers before standing and moving over to look at the set-up.
“Looking good,” Beatrice mustered up, both of them ignoring the way her voice waivered ever so slightly.
She watched the way Camila scrolled through the settings on the camera, referring to notes she’d made on her phone. The sliders and numbers all flew right over Beatrice’s head.
“Can you help me get some tester shots? Just so I can make sure all the settings are right,” She asked with a teasing smile.
Beatrice sighed, a hint of playfulness in the way her breath looped and swung up at the way she held back her smile.
“These ‘tester videos’,” she gestured with her fingers in quotation marks, “best not be going anywhere. Especially not to Lilith, I will not hear the end of this if they do.”
She gasped, “How dare you make such accusations, Beatrice! I would never!”
They laughed, “Where do you want me, director?”
“On the pitch?” Camila said, her smile apologetic now, as they were the furthest from the gate possible.
Beatrice nodded. She unzipped her jacket to aid her movement and placed her hands on the cool metal of the fence. And as quick as you could blink, she had swung herself over and was upright on her feet on the other side as if nothing had even happened.
Beatrice zipped her jacket back up and pushed her hands back into the pockets, a slight smile on her face as she watched the way Camila’s mouth hung open in surprise.
“Will you do poses for me?” Camila eventually asked, she was looking at her through the screen.
“Absolutely not.”
“I thought we were best friends,” Camila looked up and stared at her, bottom lip practically quivering, eyes already welling up.
Beatrice stared at her, eyes narrowing. Camila knew her too well. Knew that she’d crack way before Camila ever would, just to get her to stop talking about it.
She breathed in slowly, almost accepting her fate.
“You get one.”
Camila practically squealed, “Okay! Can you do, like, a dance move for me?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes, knowing exactly the move she was referring to. The one that Beatrice had pulled out when they got dragged into a dance battle at a club crawl sometime last year that she'd managed to drag both Lilith and Beatrice to. The one that seemed to be an absolute crowd-pleaser and a mic dropper.
“Are you ready?” Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, a chuckle ghosting past her lips.
At the sight of Camila nodding furiously, Beatrice schooled her face back to neutral. Composing herself completely.
Then she’s moonwalking and clutching a fake fedora on her head, wholly Michael Jackson-esque, and of course, she can’t forget the finishing move. Beatrice jumped in the air and dropped into a jazz split. Her hand was still clutching her imaginary hat, her breathing quickened a little bit.
And Camila hadn’t said anything yet. And Camila could never tell Beatrice she wasn’t committed, because she stayed on the floor, popping her feet so she dropped back down, tipped her hat a bit further forward, signifying the finishing move with an extra flourish.
“Wow, nice moves!” A voice called out behind them, one that Beatrice had never heard before.
She scrambled to her feet, feeling the deep blush of embarrassment creep up her collar and onto her cheeks, staining them a dark crimson that she definitely could not blame on the weather.
And this voice seemed genuine, a bright smile on her face. She’d almost looked Beatrice up and down, biting her lip when they lock eyes. Was she checking her out?
She moved closer and Beatrice could practically feel herself holding her breath. She went to lean against the fence to talk to Camila. And it gave Beatrice a chance to properly look at her.
She was in shorts with some football boots on. The boots were impressively clean despite being white with pink and blue stripes up the sides.
The way she’s leant has her calves flexing in the most delicious way that Beatrice has to physically tear her eyes away. They resettle on the tighter fit of the training kit. The way the sleeves are rolled up, so this girl’s biceps are out, her left arm flexing when she leant forward to grab something from Camila.
It’s almost mouth-watering the way the muscles in her forearms flutter when she gripped the fence to gain better leverage to poke fun at Camila. And Beatrice could feel herself blushing, feel herself biting her lip so she doesn’t say something completely out of pocket.
She finally looked up and is met by a pair of deep brown eyes sparkling at her, her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. The gentle breeze fluttered stray hairs to frame her face.
And all Beatrice could do was gulp because this girl was saying something to her. She could register that she was speaking because she watched the nice, pink, plump lips moving, a smirk still apparent underneath it all.
“I didn’t catch your name,” the girl asked, throwing her hand out almost too enthusiastically, “I’m Ava.”
And Beatrice couldn’t help but look at Ava’s hands.
She tried to stop herself; she really did. But Lilith keeps telling her to get laid, there’s all this pent-up religious oppression that ‘needs to be released’. And she could feel the way Camila was going to snicker and poke fun at her the moment Ava walked away.
She noticed the curve of her fingers, the bracelet dangling from her wrist, teasing her as it swayed in the wind. And Beatrice was reaching out to shake her hand, it’s soft. Calloused at the places where her fingers meet her palm, firm in the way she bounced their hands three times.
That same smirk burned a hole into her.
“Beatrice,” and they locked eyes once more.
And Ava had the audacity to wink at her when they broke contact. Missing the warmth immediately, Beatrice shoved her hand straight back into her pocket.
They stared at each other for what feels like ten minutes but in reality, couldn’t be any longer than a second or two, and Ava’s speaking again, raising her eyebrows, wiggling and comedic, seeming naturally funny, kind and so much more.
“Come on, I’ll give you a hand back over the fence before Superion is out here. She’ll have my head if she sees someone on the pitch,” and Ava's hand grazed her elbow, brushing it ever so slightly with the backs of her fingers. She pulled them closer to the gap of the field before the fence and bends down, her fingers interlocked and ready to go.
And Beatrice could feel the way Camila’s eyes darted between the two of them.
Ava’s gaze was magnetic and absolutely addicting in a way that Beatrice had never experienced before. And she absolutely drank it up.
She unzips her coat once more, sparing a glance to Ava waiting expectantly from where she’s kneeling, and expertly tumbles herself over the fence without so much of a run-up.
A light dusting of pink spreads across her cheeks, and Ava was practically stuttering out a ‘cool’.
The rest of the team starts running out of the tunnel, laughing and someone is dropping the balls across one half. A girl shouted Ava over and she barely flinched. She stayed looking at Beatrice.
“Well, I better- “
“-go,” Beatrice finishes.
Ava scratched the back of her neck, laughing, “Yeah, I’ll see you after the game, Beatrice.”
Tight-lipped, she smiled at Camila, shot a glance back to Beatrice before she runs off to join the team passing the ball about in a circle, laughing and chatting.
Camila turned to face Beatrice, practically buzzing. She could already tell that Camila will not let this go and she had definitely noted the way Beatrice practically froze on the spot the moment Ava came over.
“Don’t,” Beatrice practically pleaded, her eyes trained onto the field, watching as the other team came out.
Much more structured, the coach had already laid cones out in an elaborate pattern and the players were sprinting between them.
So very different to the way that Ava and the rest of the team were jogging calmly across the width of the 18-yard box, stretching in between each length and finishing with a sprint before stopping for a short drink break.
And Beatrice couldn’t help but stare at the way Ava seemed to fit right in, a huge shining smile on her face, joking and messing around. She effortlessly rolled the ball onto her foot and kicked it into the air before trying to catch it on her back.
Beatrice didn’t completely live under a rock; she had heard some things about the football team.
An unbeaten run last season saw them win the league title for the first time in a decade, Ava was an unsung hero for the team. From what she’d read on the website, she could do no wrong in games but somehow managed to remain massively underrated.
Apparently, scouts had come to a couple of games last season after a tip-off from the Saints’ coach, Superion. No one was really sure what her actual name was, and she embraced the nickname, Superion seemed to fit her well anyway.
Some teams in some big leagues across Europe were interested in signing Ava after she got her degree, supposedly. Beatrice wasn’t sure how true that was, but she didn’t doubt it for a second.
She shuffled from foot to foot as she felt Camila boring her eyes into the side of her skull, practically willing Beatrice to start speaking.
“What do you want to know?”
Camila laughed, “What do you think of Ava? I messaged her a couple weeks ago about being in my documentary.”
Beatrice shuddered her breath in, fighting back ‘well, you could’ve told me’.
“She’s fine.”
“Just fine or fiiine ?” Camila nudged Beatrice with her elbow as Ava waved at them from where they were getting ready to walk back into the changing rooms. The game kicked off in ten minutes.
“I’m not answering that,” Beatrice said, waving back, getting a wide cheeky smile back off Ava.
Camila snickered, “You like her.”
“I said she was fine,” Beatrice shrugged, trying not to think about the way Ava looked kneeling before her, hands stretched out and ready to help her over the fence. The way her eyes shone as the sun hit her just right, her mouth quirked up into an innocent smile as Beatrice pulled in a shaky breath.
“I’m gonna tell Lilith you like someone,” Camila pulled her phone out, typing furiously into their group chat which Beatrice could only groan at.
Camila started again, “Look she clearly thinks you’re hot, which you are. Like, take a look at yourself, Bea. You’ve got that whole sexy, serious shit going on, not even mentioning the London accent. Women eat that shit up!”
“So, what about you and Lilith? Don’t you find her ‘sexy and serious’?” Beatrice already knew the answer, Camila had come to her drunk a couple of months back saying how she thinks she’s in love with Lilith. How every second she spends with her, it felt like she was going to explode into a million pieces.
Beatrice didn’t mention that Lilith had come to her a week prior with the exact same conundrum.
They’d figure it out eventually.
“Low blow, Bea. Low blow,” Camila held her hand over her chest acting as if she’d been shot, gasping and everything.
They chatted until the teams were filing back out again, and Ava looked good with a game face on. All stoic and serious. Her eyes shone with determination and power she was ready to unleash. She was definitely the shortest on the team, maybe that worked to her advantage. Faster, more likely to be underestimated, able to easily slip past defenders.
Camila clicked a couple of buttons on the camera and microphone, and she leaned on the fence next to Beatrice. The ground had filled up significantly while they’d been talking, with the shops along the edge opening their shutters as the teams lined up to shake hands. Most of the seats on the far side had filled up, and away fans were starting to fill up the seats behind Beatrice and Camila.
The game hadn’t started yet, and the energy was already electric. On the walk there, Camila had explained the rivalry between the two schools. How when Superion used to play she suffered a career-ending injury when their captain crashed into her, rupturing her ACL and she never quite recovered. Pushed herself too soon and re–injured herself the next season. Hence the cane she walked around with.
“Talk to me about the team then,” Beatrice asked as the captains met in the centre circle with the referees. A coin toss and then they’re rewarded with kick-off.
“Captain, Shannon. She’s absolutely amazing, she’s like a mum to so many people on the team. When Ava didn’t settle in super well straight away, her and Mary took her under their wing. I think her winning ‘player’s player of the year’ was down to them. Obviously, Ava plays on the right. She’s one of the quickest I’ve seen,” Beatrice nodded along, the game kicking off, and the ball was played back to who she recognised as Mary, “on the ball now, of course, Mary. She’s with Shannon, I wouldn’t cross her. She’s an angel, but I’m still scared of her now. She’s probably got enough yellow cards under her belt to last her a lifetime.”
Camila waited for someone new to get on the ball, the team was playing it careful, for now. Feeling out how offensive the opposition were going to be.
“Centre back pairing of Crimson and Dora, Dora’s super strong. One of the best centre-backs I’d seen last season, deserves to be in the starting eleven this season. Crimson,” Camila paused as if trying to say what she wanted to in the nicest way possible, “she’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but she’s good. So, what can you do,” she shrugs.
Beatrice nodded, “Did you used to come here a lot last year then?”
Camila laughed, she checks the camera’s still recording, “I guess so, before I made friends with you guys, I just kinda stuck around where I knew people would be in the hopes I’d make friends that way. I’m quite good friends with Ava,” she nudged Beatrice’s elbow, “in case you ever want to spend some time with her.”
They laughed and watched as the ball was expertly pinged from Dora at the back straight into Ava’s feet. She looked up, almost stilling her entire movement as the defender was quick to close down her space. Mary was free in the middle, but Shannon, up top, was free in the box with the centre-backs not noticing her sneak in just in front of their right-back, it’s like something clicks.
Ava rolled the ball carefully with her right foot, feeling out for what the left-back is planning on doing. She spotted an opening when the player leaves her legs open and nutmegs her, running past her and collecting the ball on the other side.
A bright smile beamed across her face as she ran past Beatrice and Camila. She looked up again, the ball still at her feet as if it belonged there. The centre-back quickly closed her down just as she crossed the ball in, landing straight into the path of Shannon whose header expertly flicked the ball into the bottom left corner, leaving the goalkeeper practically stranded in no-man’s-land.
They’re running to the corner flag, the crowd going wild. And it felt like it might as well be the world cup with how the crowd was cheering and singing and shouting.
Mary pulled Shannon into a side hug, kissing her square on the temple as Shannon pointed up to the sky kissing her fingers. And the team ran back to their positions as the ball is thrown out of the back of the net by the keeper.
Beatrice didn’t miss the way that Ava ran past them, blowing a kiss to Beatrice and high-fiving Camila’s outstretched hand. She practically skipped to her spot on the halfway line, her face already trained back into how serious it was at kick-off.
The game ended 3-1 and the teams shook hands.
Camila called Ava over for a chat after the game. Her eyes crinkled with her smile, the floodlights that were turned on halfway through the game reflected in her eyes and were just a bit too bright that Beatrice was squinting, but Ava still managed to look absolutely ethereal.
She pulled up the bottom of her shirt to wipe the sweat off her face and Beatrice could’ve gasped at the abs rippling with each step that Ava took to meet Camila, the bottom of her sports bra peeking out that Beatrice just had to pull her eyes away. She forced herself to look literally anywhere but at goddamn Ava Silva.
“Hey, well done! Knew you could do it!” Camila said, reaching across the fence to pull Ava into a hug by her shoulders. Ava laughed and it's like music to Beatrice’s ears, radiating out and bubbling over like a shaken-up bottle of pop. And it made Beatrice feel all fizzy and warm inside.
“I only seem to play that well when you’re here, and of course, I had to give Beatrice here a show. Let her know what she was missing out on,” Ava wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and leaned against the fence again, her arms flexing and shining in the lights.
“You played exceptionally well, Ava. You’ll have to let me know when your next game is and I’ll try and make it,” Beatrice schooled her face to be as neutral as possible, but it's so hard when Ava is looking at her like that . Like she had just made Ava’s entire week by saying she’d come to another game.
“Of course! I’ll give you my number after I’ve had my starring interview from dearest Camila here.”
Ava’s eyes wandered to Bea’s lips for a split second and Beatrice can feel the blush ghosting across her cheeks, filling in the gaps between the freckles leftover from summer. The interview was short, and Ava kept sneaking glances at Beatrice over the microphone Camila had handed her. Her eyes were teasing, and her voice was energetic as she talked about the game, how she expects the season to go and what Superion had said to them at halftime after they’d conceded.
Shannon was shouting Ava over for a team photo, and Ava reached over to brush her fingers against where Beatrice’s gripped around the rail, “Wait in the car park for me?”
And Beatrice couldn’t have said no even if she wanted to. She could only nod, not trusting how her voice would croak out at the warmth of Ava’s hand in the chill of the autumn air.
“Brilliant! Thank you, Camila! I’ll see you for karaoke on Thursday, right?” Ava handed back the microphone and started to saunter back with a playful flair.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
“Bring your scary friend as well, I loved her singing Celine Dion last time!”
And Beatrice whipped her head around to face Camila, “Lilith goes with you to karaoke Thursdays?”
Camila laughed as she began to pack everything away, checking over the footage on the camera. Muttering to herself about slight edits and zooms, how she’s going to patch everything together. And Beatrice was just staring at Camila in disbelief.
“Honestly, I thought you knew. Where did you think we went on Thursdays? You knew I did karaoke.”
Beatrice shrugged and packed things back into their respective bags, careful not to knock or break anything, “I don’t know, maybe Lilith was just walking you there?”
“You should come,” Camila offered, “I know Ava would love to see you there, she seemed to really like you.”
“Maybe, I tutor Thursday evenings, however.”
Camila nodded, “Think it over, no pressure.”
They pack up quicker than expected and then she’s waiting for Ava to leave the changing rooms. Camila is talking to Lilith on the phone, asking her to pick them up because she wants to get Chinese on the way home. It’s just gone 7:00 and Beatrice can feel herself starting to get a bit hungry as well.
“Beatrice!” Ava’s voice called out, she looks as if she was going to jump on her and pull her into a hug. Beatrice wasn’t sure if she would mind so much.
Her hair was pulled into a small ponytail, and she had a Saints University hoodie on that was way too big to be hers. She looked cute in all meanings of the word.
“Hi,” Beatrice coughed as she watched Ava step from foot to foot awkwardly.
Ava scrambled to grab her phone from her sports bag that is thrown over her shoulder and had her boots poking out of the unzipped top.
“I wanted to give you my number, just so you know when the games are and stuff. I’d love to see you there,” Ava smiled at her
And Beatrice couldn’t help the way she looks like a deer caught in headlights when Ava slipped her phone carefully into her hands. Their fingers brush once more and the tips of Beatrice’s ears are burning, sending a shiver down her back. Ava’s smiling up at her ever so innocently as she let the touch linger a second or two longer than necessary.
“Wednesday next week at 3:00, first game of the season,” Ava chuckled at the way Beatrice nodded wordlessly, handing back the phone carefully, “I’ll text you.”
Beatrice ghosted out a “Thank you,” more an exhale of breath from Ava being so close. The smell of the rubber from the pitch and citrus floods her senses as Ava leant back in, pressing the gentlest of kisses to Beatrice’s cheek.
“I’ll see you around, Beatrice.”
Ava waved to Camila and started to walk off to join Mary and Shannon who had just popped out of the changing rooms. And Beatrice just stands there, her face so red she knew if Camila was any closer, she’d be taking a picture of her to put in the group chat as soon as possible.
Lilith pulled up after a couple of minutes, and the drive back is filled with Camila chatting with her about Ava’s invitation to karaoke. And Beatrice’s brain was a constant repeat of Ava propping herself up on her tiptoes, how soft and warm her lips felt pressed against her cheek. Her hand ghosted up to press her fingers delicately to the spot as if to replicate the way it felt.
At that point, Beatrice realised she was royally fucked.