Chapter Text
Purgatory’s senior class of 2009 is missing its prom queen.
The king is still out somewhere in the decorated gym, looking dumb and alone as he searches the crowd for his queen - Waverly is sure of it. She needs to get back to Champ soon, but not yet. The limit is fifteen minutes before he stops believing her lies. Any longer than fifteen minutes and when she slips into his hold, Champ will question why her mouth tastes sharp like whiskey instead of fruity and a little bitter like the clearly spiked punch at prom.
She wants to stick around for awhile longer. Maybe forever.
Nicole has her pressed up against the mirror, Waverly’s ass half on the dry part of the sinks and half in Nicole’s hands. They’re kissing in the deserted boy’s bathroom on the fifth floor, but it doesn’t seem like they have more time for anything besides kissing. Waverly is okay with that. The blatant warmth of Nicole’s body is battling the cold from the mirrors behind her and the empty flask pressing into her thigh, and this position is surprisingly comfortable. She’s content just kissing the taste of whiskey off of Nicole’s tongue.
The upbeat pop song fades to a dull hum downstairs and then stops altogether before the music comes back. This time it’s some Rihanna song that’s much too intimate for the situation they are in. The sound blares and beats into the room regardless, making Waverly pause as she hears the lyrics swell.
Nicole pulls away. “You okay?”
It’s much too gentle of a question. Champ never asks. Champ never fucks her the way Nicole does either, but oh well. Waverly supposes everyone is different. Like her. Some might take Nicole’s words and let the building care in her heart soar into love, but Waverly simply swallows and lets it simmer.
Anyways, the answer is no. She isn’t okay. Her heart is doing wild things in her chest
She glances around the room and counts three things that aren’t Nicole, just to calm herself down. One, the urinals (which feel weird to look at because she’s never even touched one before, but on the other hand they’re such a plain, everyday, object). Two, her crown (which has been practically forgotten and is sitting to the right of them, away from the bathroom’s general funk). Three, the little glint of the cross on Nicole’s necklace as it hangs around her neck.
“No.” Her voice comes out shakier than she wants it to. “I-I’m not.”
Waverly pushes Nicole away a little harder than she should and Nicole stumbles, but regroups quite quickly. The full weight of what Waverly is doing hits her hard. Cheating on her boyfriend. Skipping what it is supposed to be an important part of her high school life. Making out with the preacher’s daughter.
It’s almost funny that it’s them in here and not one of the acne-ridden girls from the softball team Champ makes fun of. Waverly, who’s supposed to be flashing pearly white teeth at her friends with that tiara on her head, is soaking through her panties and sitting with spread legs as she looks at Nicole. And Nicole, who is still wearing that goddamn necklace, is supposed to be giving her prom date a prayer and a kiss on the cheek right about now.
“What’s wrong?” Nicole asks. Her eyes are all wide and earnest, but her hair has been tugged out of its neat braid and her lips are more swollen and red than lipstick could ever make them.
Waverly wonders if she would ever get to kiss Nicole outside of the chorus of a song. If they would ever touch each other without being hidden behind a locked door, in a bathroom stall, or (ironically) in a closet. If she could kiss her without the taste of alcohol burning the back of her throat or the rush of drugs making their tongues move too fast.
“Nothing.” Waverly lies. “I just… have to get back to Champ.”
Nicole nods solemnly.
“Don’t look at me like we’re going to a funeral.” Waverly chides, sliding off the sink until her heels touch the ground.
“We might as well be.”
That’s where their conversation ends. Not because Nicole had made it awkward with her snide comment (frankly, Waverly says more insults about Champ than she hears), but because outside of their ‘let me put my tongue down your throat arrangement’, they aren’t the best of friends. They aren’t friends at all, actually. They’re just two girls who happened to stumble into the same LGBT youth group meeting a month ago.
Some would call this fate, but it had been a total coincidence. Waverly had done research on her phone about different LGBT meetings in different places and had eventually decided on a time and place where she could go. She chose somewhere far away from Purgatory to ensure she wouldn’t see anyone she knew and even borrowed Wynonna’s truck for good measure. Apparently Nicole had had the same idea and their worlds had just kind of (very unintentionally) meshed.
They had pretended not to have seen each other for a week after that, but Purgatory was a small town with small-minded people and finding someone like you was a rarity that couldn’t be ignored. Besides, Waverly didn’t want to graduate high school without a bit of female experience under her belt and Nicole didn’t want to graduate without being a hundred percent sure she was a lesbian.
So they go along with this no strings attached deal, and it works.
Well. Sometimes it does. Other times they have this awkward, pregnant pause between kisses where it seems like one of them is just waiting for the other to break it off. Except, neither of them ever break it off (Waverly refuses to use the phrase: break up).
Waverly pulls her pink dress down enough that no one can see the barest glimpse of her panties anymore and Nicole tugs hers into a respectable position. Even though Nicole’s dress reaches both her knees and her collarbones, just seeing the light purple fabric (barely) clinging to her body makes Waverly want to rip it off. Maybe that’s why she had to attend those LGBT meetings in the first place, but it’s not like she can help it.
At least, that’s what they said in the meetings.
Waverly looks in the mirror and starts to re-apply her lipstick beside Nicole. She focuses on herself instead of Nicole and for a moment she forgets the meeting, along with their whole situation. Maybe she can will this away, if she focuses. It would sure make everything a lot easier.
She tries, and it works for a second. The throbbing between her legs gradually disappears and she gets so distracted by her makeup that she barely registers Nicole being there. Waverly thinks, just for that second, that if she stays in this spot with her eyes glued to the mirror and her body a safe distance away from Nicole, then all of her feelings will leave.
Of course, that doesn’t work, because Nicole takes it upon herself to brush Waverly’s side as they start to leave and Waverly’s skin ignites and burns at the slight touch. She’s so fucked. Except she’s not, because if she was so fucked then she would have trouble walking right about now and would probably be way more satisfied.
They leave the bathroom and start heading down the hall, then down the stairs in silence. They end up staying in that silence when they reach the bottom of the stairs, and it continues even as they share a quick nod of recognition and then leave to go find their dates.
Champ is doing everything Waverly predicted him to do. He’s set up like her own personal Ken doll, it’s as if he can’t make a single move without her. He has a plastic cup in his hand filled to the brim with punch, a small slice of lemon floating at the top. His eyes are on the thick squares of brownies set on top of his paper plate and his suit jacket has been ditched somewhere at a table with his football buddies.
Waverly almost groans aloud when she sees him. Once he spots her and waves (much too wild and drunkenly), Waverly actually does groan. The sound gets lost under the loud music, but still. Who gets drunk off of some lame, prom punch concoction? Her boyfriend, apparently.
“Hey, Waves!” He greets. His booming voice turns some of the chaperone’s heads and Waverly lowers her head, embarrassed, as she rushes over to him.
She takes the cup from him and thankfully he lets her set it down on the table. Waverly looks around and sees a chaperone coming toward them. Champ is wasted and she smells like alcohol herself, so she grabs his buff (she’s pretty sure he’s taking steroids) arm and begins the nightly process of damage control.
“Let’s get out of here.” Waverly suggests, already pulling him to the main entrance.
A sly smirk crawls onto his lips, his eyes lighting up in that horny, boyish way. “Anything you want, baby.”
Waverly can’t help but grimace once her back is turned from him. She knows most girls would spoon and let their heart spike with nerves at the mere thought of sex with Champ Hardy, but she’s honestly just a bit grossed out. His fingers are too bulky and his shoulders are too broad and he’s pretty much just too much of everything - but then again, sometimes she finds herself thinking that Champ just isn’t enough. He just isn’t right in general.
Not to say that she hasn’t had sex with Champ, because she has - ten, very unsatisfying times. There’s nothing else to do in this town and it keeps him happy, plus he’s usually quiet during the whole thing so she gets a break from his voice. She especially needs this break because of everything that’s been happening lately with college admissions. Waverly has a scholarship to Stanford and Champ is going to community college, so their relationship is as good as dead in a couple weeks.
She gets Champ outside and he gets his hands on her hips almost immediately. Waverly wants to tell him to get off of her, but he is her date and they have been dating for two years so she can’t come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t include shouting ‘I’m gay’ in his face.
They step out onto the stairs where some kids are either simply talking, making out, or swapping cigarettes before heading to the back of the school by the dumpsters. They didn’t take Champ’s car here, so for a moment Waverly wonders if he is going to drag her out on the football field for another romantic night that ends in grass stains. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hey, babygirl! What up?” A familiar voice calls. Waverly’s eyes shoot towards the bottom of the stairs and find Wynonna in the darkness.
Her sister is waving around a dim, orange flame that Waverly recognizes as a cigarette, and her movements are as spastic as Champ’s but not nearly as annoying. In fact, Waverly is really glad to see her. Wynonna being here means that the song she heard earlier was the last slow song of the night, and the last slow song marks the end of the prom. Basically, it means that they all get to hop in Wynonna’s truck and leave.
“Hi, Wynonna.” Waverly smiles.
Wynonna steps out of the shadows like a white knight and beams at Waverly, then glares at Champ. “What are you two doing out here?”
Champ slips his arm around Waverly’s shoulders and opens his mouth to say something stupid, so Waverly cuts in.
“Just getting some air.” She explains. Waverly shrugs his arm off of her shoulder. “It’s good you’re here. The prom was getting a little, uh… stuffy.”
Wynonna casts a venomous glance towards Champ but he’s much too drunk to notice. Waverly chooses to ignore the hostility and the fact that Wynonna probably knows they were on their way to screw each other. She hauls Champ’s ass down the stairs and into the parking lot, then lets him do the rest of the work with climbing into the back of the truck.
“Your boyfriend is really the best of the best.” Wynonna comments, peering down at his slumped body. Waverly checks to make sure he’s fully unconscious but Wynonna says it without hesitation or care.
God, Waverly wants that kind of recklessness. She has the theory that when Wynonna was in the womb, she ripped almost all the bad decisions and wild choices right out of there. Now, Waverly is left with a good girl image and secrets while Wynonna has a surplus of dark marks on her record.
The only reckless thing Waverly is doing is Nicole, and even that includes a little church going and some basic human decency. She’s miles away from what Wynonna is doing if decency is involved.
“Really?” Wynonna tilts her head as she leans forward, resting her crossed arms on the edge of the truck. “No ‘oh, Champ isn’t that bad’? Or ‘shut up Wynonna, he’s nice’? No response at all?”
Waverly shrugs.
Wynonna gives her a long look that makes Waverly squirm. If anyone were to figure out about Waverly fooling around with a girl, it would be Wynonna. She’s like one of those dogs that sniff out drugs - except she sniffs out dumbass, teenage sex exploits.
Waverly gets into the truck, finding that it is a far more interesting trip into the passenger seat when she is buzzed. She knows that she’s made this night awkward, somehow. Wynonna is going to question her about not gushing over Champ, Gus is going to check her breath for alcohol, and Champ is going to want sex later or very soon if he wakes up.
Sitting in the car for those few silent seconds, with Champ in the back and Wynonna standing outside, feels like the calm before the storm.
Then, the door on the driver’s side opens. Waverly looks out at the gym and all of its decorations, spotting a few of her friends leaving the prom in packs. The door shuts and it’s silent but just a little tense, so Waverly turns the radio on. Some love song blares immediately, the volume having been turned up to one of the loudest settings from Wynonna’s earlier usage.
Waverly flinches at the sudden sound but refuses to reach out and turn the volume down. It’s one of those times when movement feels like putting your bleeding hand in a tank full of circling sharks.
She’s not a fan of getting bit, but Wynonna opens her mouth anyways.
“I didn’t take you for a cheater, Waves.” Wynonna says gently. The music is loud, but Waverly still hears it. She pretends not to for awhile but eventually Wynonna grabs the dial to make it quieter, then repeats herself.
“I’m not cheating.” Waverly says, pretty much just to say it. She knows Wynonna isn’t listening, all she hopes is that Champ is following in her sister’s footsteps.
“It’s fine.” Wynonna shrugs. Waverly only knows it because she hears the familiar shifting of her leather jacket. “Champ isn’t exactly a keeper, anyways.”
Her eyes are set outside, on the passing town, and Waverly’s forehead is cold due to how it’s pressing into the window.
It’s not the first time that Waverly mulls over the idea of blurting out all of her secrets about the group and Nicole. She imagines Wynonna pausing for just a second before making jokes about Waverly having bad taste in women, teasing her the same way she would if Waverly was into boys. Then she imagines Wynonna kicking her out of the car and making her walk home, and all the horrible outcomes that could come from the aftermath. Once that comes to mind, Waverly shuts her mouth.
She hadn’t even really realized it had been open.
-
Waverly sees Nicole again that weekend, though she knows she shouldn’t. People usually need breaks between meetings - or at least, Waverly does. Social interaction is like swimming underwater and quiet Saturday mornings are little bubbles of air. For some reason, Waverly doesn’t need those breaks to get the air in her lungs with Nicole. She feels like she could see Nicole every minute of everyday and still be able to breathe relatively easily.
They don’t see each other every minute of everyday. Obviously. That would be weird - a little romantic, a little too sentimental.
However, when Waverly does wake up on Saturday she has a wicked hangover and a text from Nicole asking if she wants to come over. Waverly is groggy and her head is throbbing just a bit but she manages to squint at the screen as she types out a response to Nicole.
In less than an hour, Waverly is freshly showered and standing on Nicole’s doorstep with her car parked two blocks away so no one gets suspicious. She knocks twice and the door swings open immediately. Nicole pulls her in past the doorway and shuts the door just as quickly as she had opened it. It makes sense that Nicole would be waiting for her and that she would desperately want Waverly in the house, away from prying eyes.
“Hey.” Nicole greets. Her whole appearance is all types of soft, from her rumpled pajama shirt to the fuzzy cat slippers on her feet. “How’s your morning going?”
“Good.” Waverly stretches and hears the faint sound of her back cracking. She supposes it should be a lot more awkward, with how Nicole looks as if she wants to politely offer Waverly a beverage but knows that neither of them are here for lemonade or water.
Besides Nicole’s good girl awkwardness, there’s just the fact that being over at Nicole’s house kind of makes Waverly uncomfortable. It wouldn’t if she was actually here for the lemonade, but since she isn’t it just feels wrong. There’s a cross in every room and that’s fine, except she really doesn’t like looking into the eyes of Jesus while she gets off - but beggars can’t be choosers.
They’re just standing there still, rooted in the living room of Nicole’s house. Waverly glances at her awkwardly and bounces on her toes. She rubs the nape of her neck and her shoulder with one hand, trying and failing to ease the ache there.
“Does your neck hurt?” Nicole finally asks.
“Yeah.” Waverly replies, but it doesn’t really matter because Nicole is already circling around to place her hands on Waverly’s back.
Nicole’s palms rest gently on the high part of her back, trying to get rid of the slight pain there. Her hands are almost clinically cold and just a bit dry where they meet Waverly’s heated skin.
“Your hands are cold.” Waverly comments quietly.
“Sorry.” Nicole apologizes and it sounds genuine, but her eager hands don’t stop kneading at the skin. “I washed them just before you got here.”
Waverly laughs then, even though it’s not that funny. She just can’t help it. It’s such a Nicole-like thing to do. “What, did you also google ‘how to have sex with a girl’?”
All she is met with is silence, but that silence is telling. Waverly lets a smirk crawl up onto her face and stretch across her lips as she stares at the couch in front of her. Nicole is quiet, yet her hands are slower now on Waverly’s back.
“Do you always have to be the best at everything?” Waverly questions teasingly.
Instead of getting a response, she feels Nicole’s hands slowly turning her around until they are facing each other. Nicole steps forward and presses her against the edge of the couch, her grin way too devious for the rest of her.
“Am I the best?” Nicole asks, head tilted just enough to be noticeable. Waverly’s back hits the couch and she plants herself there as Nicole finally kisses her, dragging her into one that’s longer than expected but entirely welcome.
(Waverly ignores how Nicole still tastes faintly of alcohol even though it’s the morning, and she wonders distantly if Nicole had to slam shots just to be with her).
As predicted from Nicole’s tilted head, Nicole dips down and presses her lips to Waverly’s neck. She kisses along her jaw, sucks on her pulse - gets Waverly feeling loose and wet in a matter of minutes.
“Am I the best at fucking you?” Nicole whispers, right up near Waverly’s ear. Waverly shudders and grips the couch tightly, moans and lets her head fall back so Nicole can take anything she wants from her.
“Yes.” She admits, her voice nothing more than a high-pitched whine.
Nicole picks her up like she weighs nothing at all and starts carrying her up a flight of stairs. Waverly forced her eyes open while Nicole kisses her neck. It’s not something she would usually do, but she can’t help it. She gets glimpses of random objects and family photos and things she had only ever seen that one time in the fourth grade when they had to do a group project together. Nicole’s house is about as foreign to her as Europe, but she feels safe in the space anyways.
Maybe it’s because of Nicole and her apparent strength or her adorable, pleasant smile that comes when she accidentally bumps them into the edge of her bedroom doorway. Waverly would get irritated if Champ did the same, but with Nicole all Waverly does is return the smile and tuck a stray strand of hair behind Nicole’s ear.
She tries not to think about it. It isn’t hard to play the game of avoidance when she’s being pressed down into the mattress. Waverly tugs at the hem of Nicole’s basketball hoodie until she leans back to pull it off.
Waverly notes that Nicole has plain white sheets and purple pillows, plus a brown headboard. It’s an odd combo of colors but Waverly has no time to comment or form an opinion on it. She just lets her eyes sweep over all of Nicole’s bed, thinking about how if they were friends meeting under different circumstances then she would have gotten the Haught household tour already.
She should get that thought out of her mind though, because frankly - she’s just here to fuck.
And fucking is what they’re best at, really. Maybe that’s a little blunt, but it’s the truth. After Nicole’s hoodie comes Waverly’s shirt, and then Nicole is slipping her leg between Waverly’s thighs while she kisses her and it feels like magic.
“Nicole would you-“ Waverly cuts herself off abruptly, feeling slightly sensitive about the words coming out of her mouth. “Would you touch me?”
Of course, Nicole is all gentle smiles and teasing words. “Someone’s eager.”
Nicole dips down again and kisses Waverly’s chest, pressing her open mouth against Waverly’s bare nipple. It’s odd how sex gives Nicole sudden confidence, but Waverly has no time to question it. She's arching up (completely glad that she didn’t come here with underwear) into Nicole’s mouth, gasping as Nicole drags her teeth over the hardened bud.
Waverly tries to push Nicole down lower, but Nicole simply swats her hand away and switches breasts. Waverly wants her so much lower, but she’s not sure how to say it. She knows Nicole is teasing her - knows Nicole just well enough to know that she always wants the explicit words before she makes a move.
“I want your fingers in me.” Waverly says, flushing in embarrassment at the admission. “Please, Nicole.”
That’s all it takes for Nicole to start pulling Waverly’s shorts down her legs. Just some words and a bit of Waverly’s dignity. Waverly doesn’t really care all that much though, because Nicole is looking down at her like she wants to eat her (Waverly knows she won’t - that’s not what Waverly asked for and Nicole is a woman of her word).
Nicole hums appreciatively once the shorts are all the way off and she can see everything. She reaches out and brushes her fingers almost tenderly across Waverly’s thighs, grinning when Waverly’s breath stutters. It’s something Champ would never do. He isn’t one for teasing, but Nicole certainly is.
“So pretty.” Nicole says distantly, her voice an awed whisper that is barely there - but of course Waverly hears it, and it makes her throb just the same as all of Nicole’s words do.
Before Waverly gets a chance to respond, Nicole’s fingers drag up along her slit. She’s wet and slippery, and Nicole’s fingertips are able to glide along Waverly’s sensitive clit with ease. Waverly’s fingers curl into the sheets and she resists the urge to shoot her hips up from the bed desperately. She just lets Nicole touch her, allowing the pressure to build as Nicole plays with the little bud.
Waverly moans and (embarrassingly) whines Nicole’s name, thinking that she could get off on just this. That isn’t what Waverly asked for. They both know that, so Waverly isn’t sure why she is so surprised when she feels two of Nicole’s fingers slip deep into her. It’s a pleasant stretch and a gentle burn, but it’s so fucking good.
Waverly gaps. “Oh god-“
“Yeah, he’s in the house somewhere.” Nicole replies cheekily. Waverly would laugh if Nicole wasn’t curling her fingers right now, building up a relentless rhythm.
She starts rocking against her fingers, chasing a building orgasm with rapid intensity. Waverly feels like such a fucking teenager with how close she’s getting after just a couple minutes, but she can’t help it. Champ doesn’t touch her like this, and she’s not as good at any of this as Nicole is.
Waverly cums a minute later with a strangled cry into the crook of Nicole’s neck, still humping her fingers even as she gushes around them. Nicole works her through it, whispering encouraging words until Waverly’s hips come to a stop.
Nicole pulls her hand away once Waverly is still. She brings her palm up to her mouth and casually licks the juices there, as if it’s no big deal and not one of the hottest things Waverly has ever seen in her life.
“You taste good.” Nicole says absentmindedly. Waverly hums and rests her head on the pillow, too tired to respond at the moment.
Once she gets her breath back she sits up and looks at Nicole hopefully. “Do you want me to do you, too or…?”
Waverly trails off as she stares at Nicole. She already knows the answer. Almost every time they do this, Nicole won’t let Waverly reciprocate. She has gotten Nicole off in informal ways - with her fingers when they aren’t facing each other or with the relentless, grinding heel of her palm. Waverly has never gotten to taste Nicole directly and it kind of annoys her, but she also respects Nicole’s wishes.
“It’s fine.” Nicole replies predictably.
“Can I, um.” Waverly licks her dry lips, glancing down deliberately. “Can I taste you? Can you just - I don’t know - feed it to me?”
For a moment Nicole pauses, quirking her head to the side like a puppy, but then she pushes her hand down into her pants. Waverly watches eagerly as Nicole’s fingers visibly shift under the fabric. Nicole moans quietly right at the moment her fingers must be digging in. She pulls them out carefully, the skin on her fingers obviously wet and glistening. Nicole offers her hand and Waverly gladly leans forward, taking Nicole’s fingers into her mouth excitedly.
Sucking the wetness off of someone’s fingers is a strangely intimate thing. Waverly hallows out her cheeks and glances up, making eye contact. Her face flams but she doesn’t break away from their locked gaze. Her tongue swirls around those fingers, licking the liquid off as well as she can.
An unexpected little gasp leaves Nicole’s lips as Waverly cleans her fingers off.
“Waves.” Nicole says quietly. It’s a rare, soft nickname reserved for friends, family, and boyfriends (probably girlfriends, too, in the future).
She lingers for a bit too long, unable to move away for some reason. Waverly doesn’t say anything, but she stays nuzzled there even as the salty sweet taste goes away and all she knows is the feel of Nicole’s skin.
When she does pull away, Nicole’s eyes are wide and her breath is ragged. Nicole obviously tries to get her breathing together but it doesn’t seem to be working. Waverly just watches, feeling like she’s sitting in a doctor’s office and waiting for the doctor to stab her with a needle. It’s an upcoming kind of pain that Waverly has to accept and brace herself for.
Despite that, it still kind of stings when Nicole scrambles off the bread and steps far back until her back knocks against the wall. It’s as if Waverly has a disease. Maybe she does - a lot of people (along with her boyfriend, friends, family members, and a lot of other people who call her Waves) would say that she does.
Nicole glances around the room frantically like she’s just witnessed a car crash. “Uh. My dad is coming home soon.”
She slips into that practiced facade of indifference, like nothing is wrong. An outsider would think that they had just played a casual game of Scrabble with how steady Nicole has forced her voice to be.
“Okay.” Waverly says. She doesn’t force the slight disappointment out of her voice. Maybe she’s supposed to.
Regardless, she stands up from the bed and starts to put on her clothes. Nicole does the same, but she has far less clothes to put on since Waverly is the only one that’s actually naked. Still, they get dressed together - but not really together, because they’re on different sides of the room and not looking at each other.
Waverly uses her cheerleader abilities to push some pep into her voice. “Alright, well. See you at school, Nicole.”
“Yeah.” Nicole replies, sounding entirely fake and drained. “See you.”
They nod at each other and Waverly steps out of her bedroom. Nicole doesn’t bother to offer to show her the way to the front door, but it’s okay. Waverly finds her way. She’s good at taking hints.
When Waverly calls Champ later, it’s entirely out of guilt. They hadn’t made plans to hangout that day. In fact, Waverly had been looking forward to a day in watching movies and eating low calorie popcorn. Instead, she returned home with ragged breath and a panic attack, and though she was able to calm her breathing, she never got rid of the sinking guilt in her chest. She was a cheater. The lowest of the low, relationship wise.
And she didn’t have any plans to stop or confess or both - that was what worried her the most.
So, she sat through half of the movie Clueless before her restlessness got to her and she pulled out her phone. Champ had other plans too, guessing by the telltale blasts of guns going off in the background of the call that indicated he was playing some video game. He actually sounded happy that she called (which hurt her heart more than he’ll ever know) and brought up how a buddy of his had a date tonight and wanted to another couple to join them.
Waverly agreed, even though Champ said that she didn’t know the couple. She wanted a distraction, so they made plans to meet at Sugar’s for dinner before a movie at eight, and that was that.
Crisis averted.
“It was so cool, Waves.” Champ is saying, sitting across from her in a booth while he plays with a spare napkin. “These three guys were running out towards me and then Mike just came out of nowhere and tackled them. The dude is a beast on the field. He’s totally my bro forever, now.”
Waverly nods along. Champ wasn’t being as annoying as usual. He even looked kind of cute in his nicest flannel, and this wasn’t the most boring topic in the world. Apparently, Michael is one of the guy’s from the football team that Champ has recently befriended. Champ talks about him as if they have been best friends for years, even though this is the first Waverly has heard of him and they’re graduating in a week or two.
This is actually looking as if they’ll have a nice time. If Mike and his girlfriend are cool, then they can have a fun time swapping senior year stories. If not, then Waverly can distract herself with Sugar’s amazing burgers and fries. It’s one of the few places in town without alcohol that can actually turn a bad day into a good one.
Champ is in the middle of retelling a story that involves more football and more tackling when he shoots up from his seat, waving wildly at something behind Waverly. “Hey, Mike! Bro, we’re over here.”
Hearing that, Waverly turns around and looks Mike up and down. He isn’t what Waverly expected him to be. Most of the guys on the team have the same rugged handsomeness as Champ, but Micheal is blonde, clean, and crisp as a dollar bill. His combed hair has gel in it and his smile makes it seem as if he belongs to a dentist. What really pulls it all together is his baby blue button-up shirt and long, khaki pants. He looks like he would be dating the preacher’s daughter.
Oh. Fuck.
Her breath catches in her throat as Mike gets closer to them and she spots bright orange hair peaking out from behind his broad shoulders. Waverly twists back into her initial position quickly. Her heart is doing all types of wild things and her brain has the steady chant of ‘oh shit, oh shit, oh shit’ going on. Of course, no one seems to notice Waverly sinking into the booth’s seat under her. Which is fine. She wants to die quick and silently.
“Hey, man.” Mike greets, clapping Champ on the back once. He slides into the seat next to Champ and Waverly can’t help but cringe, because this means Nicole has to sit next to Waverly.
Waverly accepts her fate and glances up, seeing Nicole’s clearly forced smile. She bites back a groan as Nicole casually sits down next to her, as if everything is perfectly fine.
It isn’t, but all the bad stuff is hidden. Literally. Nicole is hiding her suddenly fidgeting hands under the table, and no one can see it but Waverly.
“This is my girlfriend, Waverly.” Champ introduces her to the group with a proud grin.
“Nicole, you know Waverly, right?” Mike asks.
Waverly wants to throw up as she looks between the couple (god, she hadn’t even known Nicole had a boyfriend but Nicole had to have gone to the prom with someone and fuck - Waverly is so stupid).
“You two have English class together.” He says finally, all innocent smiles and dimples.
“Oh, right.” Nicole agrees with a nod. “It’s nice to get a chance to talk to you, Waverly.”
Nodding along slowly, Waverly gives Nicole a once over. She’s wearing a modest white dress with a yellow belt around her waist that matches the sun and the pin in her hair. Her smile is radiant and clean, no where near the devious little smirk she gives when her fingers are inside of Waverly. Even her posture is different. She sits up straight as if she’s in church listening to a sermon instead of on a date - and it’s weird, especially since Waverly has seen Nicole slumped over on various surfaces many times now.
Regardless, Waverly answers. “Nice to finally talk to you, too.”
They smile tightly at each other and then the trance is broken. Champ and Mike take up most of the conversation, being loud and overbearing in the easy way only teenage boys can be. Waverly and Nicole occasionally nod or offer up a sentence to contribute but mostly they don’t say much. They all take turns picking at the large order of fries in the middle of the table, but while Champ and Mike dig in with abandon, Waverly and Nicole slowly build up a system to make sure their hands don’t brush.
Nicole takes a fry, then Waverly takes a fry. Nicole takes a fry and then Waverly takes a fry. One fry for Nicole, another for Waverly. It’s an endless cycle of fries and smearing ketchup and avoidance, until Mike checks his shiny silver watch and informs them that they need to leave to catch the movie.
The walk to the movie theater is worse than all of dinner. Waverly actually gets to talk to Champ, but that isn’t the bad part. The bad part is that if she occupies Champ’s time, he doesn’t occupy Mike’s - so Mike spends the walk flirting with Nicole in a sly way that makes her giggle.
She didn’t know Nicole was the type to giggle, but apparently she is. The sound makes Waverly wonder if maybe Nicole likes boys, too. Maybe she doesn’t share the same disinterest in all males with Waverly. Maybe Mike is someone she actually cares about.
The thought hurts, though Waverly knows it shouldn’t. It’s selfish of her, really. She thought if Nicole was only into girls and if the only other lesbian Nicole knew was Waverly, then they had some secret understanding. They couldn’t leave each other until graduation, because where would they go? Who else would they fuck? Apparently, Mike. That’s who Nicole would fuck.
Then, Champ puts his arm around her as they walk and Waverly realizes she’s being a hypocrite. She still fucks Champ, even though her and Nicole have this thing going on. Nicole should be able to do what she wants.
“I heard this movie is super cool.” Champ comments. He pulls Waverly into his side and Waverly goes willingly, leaning into the bulky muscle there. She tries to focus on the warmth Champ provides rather than Nicole and Mike’s conversation, but it’s hard.
“Yeah. The trailers looked really interesting.” Waverly replies at the same time Mike laughs - big, bold, and boyish in a way that Waverly absolutely loathes - at something Nicole says.
This is probably what Waverly was meant to be doing at prom. If she had stayed in the gym for all of the dance (minus the time all the girls flocked to the bathroom in a pack to gossip), then she probably would have ended up cuddled into Champ’s side and talking about how Mike and Nicole were so cute. They are cute now. Waverly knows that because if she imagined Mike with one of the cheerleaders or literally any other girl, their relationship becomes adorable.
It’s just- it’s Nicole. So, their laughter is poison, and their joined hands are disgusting, and the quick peck Mike drops on Nicole’s forehead just seems unnatural - because Nicole is supposed to be considered a giant, but Mike is taller than her. His gangly limbs are much too long instead of adorably charming. It’s simply unsettling to Waverly, but it shouldn’t be. She should be focusing on other things, like how pretty the stars look or the upcoming movie or-
“Purgatory’s one and only.” Mike announces, gesturing towards the movie theater.
Purgatory has a lot of one and only things. It’s such a small town that usually there’s no double of anything, especially movie theaters. All of this is sitting on her tongue (“The town is small, there’s no need to announce it.”) but Waverly doesn’t let it slip off. Her rude tone would seem unwarranted. Besides, he seems like a nice guy.
Mike even opens the door for them, grin in place as he does so, and Nicole makes a show of leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek as she passes. Waverly walks in behind her, fighting a scowl.
Yeah.
He’s so frickin’ nice.
-
The real annoying part comes later.
Waverly thinks it over and decides that her suspicions must just be blatant paranoia. So, she texts Nicole the next day. She doesn’t get a response right away, which is fine because it’s early on a Sunday morning and she assumes Nicole is in church. Waverly would be in church too if it weren’t for the fact that Wynonna walked in wasted during breakfast this morning and prevented the whole family from going.
She sits for three hours in front of the television with a plate in her lap that has the last of a cooling waffle on it. Waverly listens to the familiar sound of Wynonna’s drunken yelling and Gus’ tired, angry screams for a solid half of the first hour before Wynonna stumbles into the living room where Waverly is. Her stumbling is probably supposed to sound like enraged stomping but it doesn’t, and Waverly isn’t surprised when Wynonna falls and passes out on the couch next to her mid-argument.
Gus simply sighs and leaves, so Waverly checks her phone once more before tossing it away again when there’s no response from Nicole. Waverly pulls her older sister’s head into her lap, setting her up so it rests right near the plate but not on it.
She watches enough cartoons that she doesn’t check her phone until she’s into hour two out of three. By that point, Wynonna had barely woken up enough to munch down the rest of Waverly’s waffle with her eyes closed before going back to snoring.
When Waverly checks her phone that time, there is still no message. It’s the same when the three hours are up, and so that’s when Waverly slides Wynonna’s head from her lap and gets up to actually go do something with her Sunday.
On Monday afternoon, right after school, Waverly sends a text Nicole’s way about hooking up sometime during the week. She saw Nicole at school that day, so she expects an answer. Except she doesn’t get one. The minutes stretch into hours and the bored fiddling turns into finishing all of her homework. It gets dark and Nicole never responds, so Waverly ends up jamming the buttons on the TV remote almost angrily that night.
That next morning, Waverly sends a new text and keeps her phone resting on a dry part of the sink while she brushes her teeth. She puts the minty toothpaste on the brush and her phone doesn’t buzz. She runs the toothbrush along her teeth several times, rinses, and then spits. The phone doesn’t make a peep.
Waverly kneels down, grabs the half empty bottle of mouthwash that is secretly filled with vodka, and tips her head back to wash down the neediness.
When she comes back from school that day she’s as wasted as Wynonna is on a good day. Thanks to Waverly being an Earp, she has alcohol hidden everywhere. Mouthwash, water bottles, in her jacket, and buried in the very back of her locker. She takes sips whenever she misses Nicole (though she likes to think that she’s taking sips whenever she misses Nicole’s body under her hands).
It leaves her unsurprisingly trashed by the end of the day. She shares classes with Nicole. She has to see her bend over in P. E. and watch the fabric of whatever dress she is wearing that day move oddly gracefully around her thighs.
Waverly might as well have brought shot glasses to class, invited Wynonna and her friend’s over to the school, and slammed shots during lunch.
“I so knew it!” Wynonna exclaims much too loudly, throwing open the door to the bathroom. Waverly is in a completely compromising position, on her knees with her lips on that vodka mouthwash bottle and her vomit still not flushed down the toilet.
Waverly stands slowly, not bothering to put the vodka mouthwash down. A sensible girl would realize that something is wrong in your life when you can’t tell what you’re being accused of. She isn’t sure if this is about the gay sex, the excessive drinking, the semi-blatant homoerotic tension, the vomit, the fact that Waverly borrowed Wynonna’s chapstick, or all of the above. Either way, Waverly is locked and loaded like a gun, ready to apologize for it all.
“I noticed my vodka supply getting low.” Wynonna says, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. She snatches the bottle from Waverly and takes a long sip.
Of course it’s that of all things.
Waverly stays quiet while Wynonna surveys the room, taking more sips from the bottle as she looks around the bathroom. Wynonna flushes the toilet and finally gives Waverly a pointed look as the sound of it fills the room.
“Okay, I-“
“So, who’s this boy that’s got you down?” Wynonna asks.
“B-Boy?” Waverly stutters dumbly. She needs to cut herself some slack - she is drunk, after all.
Wynonna gives her a look like all of Waverly’s emotions are written across her chest. Except they can’t be, because if they were then Wynonna definitely wouldn’t be talking about any boys.
“I can see it on your face.” Wynonna says, lifting herself up onto the sink and planting herself there. “Some guy - who I bet isn’t Champ - is fucking with you somehow, so you’re walking around like a zombie and drowning your sorrows with Listerine vodka to get over whatever happened.”
“There’s no guy.” Waverly replies. It isn’t a lie.
Wynonna slowly tilts her head to the side in thought before downing another gulp of the drink. Her feet land with a light thump on the floor and for a second Waverly winces, thinking that Wynonna might be hitting that point where she acts like an adult and lectures Waverly. Of course, that’s a stupid thought, because it’s Wynonna - and because she’s Wynonna, she simply pushes off the sink and hands the bottle back over to Waverly.
“Just know, if anyone is hurting you then you can tell me and I’ll kick their ass - but I’d need some details for that.” Wynonna reaches out to squeeze Waverly’s shoulder once, and with that Wynonna is out the bathroom door and gone.
Waverly exhales, long and slow, before sinking to the floor and hugging the mouthwash bottle to her chest. Maybe it would be better if Wynonna had actually lectured her. She hates it when Wynonna indirectly calls her on her shit.
-
The next time Nicole and Waverly have sex is days later, mostly because Waverly needs the time to get her emotions together before they do anything. She loathes Mike, especially because he hangs around Champ a lot more now, which means he hangs around Waverly. Waverly tries to get a handle on the loathing, anyways. She thinks she does a pretty good job of it, but despite the effort, the next time they have sex is angry.
It starts like this: Waverly is shedding her backpack and jacket in a rush as she runs out onto the football field, towards the school’s gym on the other side of the grass. She’s tired, but not exhausted enough to fall asleep properly later, so a quick workout seems like the best idea ever. Waverly is stripped down to her undershirt and leggings by the time she finally gets into the gym. She is also soaking wet, but not in a sexual way - it’s raining ridiculously hard outside.
Regardless, she dropped her backpack near the entrance and scanned the room to make sure no one else was there. Usually there was at least one other person, but due to the weather and it being the last few weeks of school, the place was empty.
She got through about ten pull-ups before she heard the door creak open again and dropped to check who it was. Of course it was Nicole, because of course. Waverly had the worst luck lately - if you could consider seeing Nicole bad luck. They shared this weirdly long glance that made Waverly feel as if she was in a drama show before she jumped up, grabbed the bar, and continued.
Then (of course), Nicole had the audacity to stand there, lingering and watching her even though she hadn’t responded to any of Waverly’s texts in what felt like forever. Waverly goes from feeling cold and iced out to suddenly too hot too fast, with Nicole’s eyes on her and the general heat that comes with exercise.
“You’re doing it wrong.” Nicole had said (like an asshole), prompting Waverly to drop off the bar with as much sass someone could load into a landing.
“Then how should I be doing it?” Waverly had questioned in a tone that meant she really wasn’t open to suggestions.
And that’s how Waverly ends up on her back, sweating onto a dirty mat while Nicole fucks her through two orgasms in a wild rush. God, this must be what being Wynonna is like. Waverly feels shame, guilt, and pleasure all wrapped up with a pretty bow. She also feels satisfied and finally tired enough to sleep properly, so that’s a plus.
“Thanks.” She says dumbly, still in that post-orgasm haze that makes her a whole other level of stupid.
Nicole raises an eyebrow at her, resting her (probably sticky) palms on the mat as she leans back and peers down at Waverly. “I assumed you were mad at me for some reason.”
“For some reason?” Waverly asks, sitting up. Nicole nods, clueless expression set in place, so Waverly clarifies everything for her. “You’ve been ignoring my texts.”
A beat passes before Nicole laughs humorlessly and wipes at the sweat on her forehead, smiling in that distant, ‘the world fucked me over again’ kind of way that is so very human.
“My dad took my phone away. Mike got me home a couple minutes past curfew when we went on that double date.” Nicole explains. “I get it back tomorrow.”
Waverly thinks that sounds a little ridiculous, considering Nicole is eighteen and not really a child anymore, but Nicole’s face is completely serious.
“Oh.” Waverly says, because she’s not sure what else to say. Apparently her anger was entirely unwarranted. It’s technically not her fault - it’s not as if she could have just walked right up to Nicole in the halls and asked her about it - but she’s still an idiot.
“Yeah. Oh.” Nicole replies, nudging Waverly with the edge of her shoe in a way that makes it seem like they’re almost friends.
They stare at each other for another moment longer before they both decide it’s awkward and get to their feet. Nicole gets her bag and Waverly collects her backpack. Waverly gets done faster than Nicole, but she still lingers by the doorway like they’re friends and it’s rude for her not to say goodbye.
“Do you think you could drive me home?” Nicole asks hesitantly, meeting Waverly where she stands near the doorway. “Mike said he would but he’s playing football with his buddies for another hour or so.”
Waverly stares in shock as Nicole jerks her thumb towards the door. She rushes to open it and looks outside, spotting both Champ and Mike out on the field almost immediately. It makes her nervous (and just a bit horny) that there was a group of people out there while Nicole got her off. They could have been caught so, so easily.
And that’s scary. Also kind of hot. Okay, so Waverly has issues. Whatever - it’s Purgatory.
“I guess.” Waverly says, thinking it over. She is going to have to drive past Nicole’s house on her way home anyways, and it isn’t that long of a trip. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”
Nicole smiles and thanks her. They walk outside together. Waverly feels odd about the whole thing, like everyone can see their secrets. It’s as if what they did just minutes ago is being broadcasted everywhere they go - but then Waverly remembers their acting job and how their boyfriends are friends. It looks normal (almost wholesome) for them to be hanging out.
They walk across the field without gaining any suspicious glances or looks from anybody. All that comes is a pair of waves from Champ and Mike as they make brief eye contact on the field. They get to the parking lot easily enough that Waverly wonders why she thought it would be so hard.
Waverly drives a nice blue Jeep that is much nicer than Wynonna’s truck. Nicole looks just a little surprised to see it instead of the truck, but she gets in the passenger seat without a word and holds her stuff in her lap. Waverly sniffs the air as she starts the car up and grimaces. They both smell bad, but they also smell like sex. Somehow that’s worse than any overbearing scent two teenagers could conjure up.
She blasts the air conditioning and puts down the windows to speed up the process. Waverly drives out of the parking lot and into the street fast enough that the wind whips into the Jeep, clearing the space of its intense scent.
Eventually, Waverly rolls the windows up and presses the button to turn on the radio, hoping it will break some of the tension.
“I didn’t know you liked ABBA.” Nicole says, sounding surprised as the music floods the vehicle.
“Of course I do.” Waverly replies automatically. “Mamma Mia is my shit.”
“The song or the movie?”
Waverly shrugs. “Both.”
Nicole sits up in the car seat. She looks suddenly more interested in this drive - at least from what Waverly can see. Waverly can see a lot, because the road is open and wide so she takes quick glances at Nicole whenever she safely can.
“I had a huge crush on Amanda Seyfried when it came out.” Nicole admits, no shame in her tone at all. She says it the same way the cheerleaders talk about the football players. It makes things feel normal. Waverly kind of loves her for it.
She thinks back on the movie and how she had seen it about a hundred times when it came out last year. Maybe dragging Champ and Wynonna to all those viewings wasn’t just about the movies, but more about the actress’s shining smile and pretty, blonde hair.
“Me too.” Waverly adds. She likes this. It’s nice to be open about it in the safety of her Jeep and it’s also nice to be open about it without sucking hickeys onto each other’s necks.
“Maybe it runs in the water.” Nicole says jokingly. Waverly cracks a smile along with Nicole, but the words get her thinking.
Maybe there is something in the water. Maybe there’s some sort of lesbian water out there in the world that made her gay - wouldn’t it be ironic if she was baptized in it? Or maybe she was born this way. The Earp curse could be real and manifesting itself in different forms. Waverly’s part of the curse just happens to include a love of boobs.
This is something that Waverly instantly wants to bring up with the LGBT group, but she’s only ever been there once and didn’t really plan on going back. It’s not that she doesn’t want to, it’s just that it’s a hassle to get there. Getting there involves borrowing Wynonna’s truck, thinking of a valid excuse for why she’ll be out in the city alone for so long, clearing out the times with everyone, and a bunch of other stuff that seems harder than it should be.
Waverly glances over at Nicole and gets an idea. It’s a stupid idea, but it is one.
“Did you plan on going back into the city anytime soon?” Waverly asks slowly. “Like, for one of those meetings?”
It feels like all the air is sucked out of the vehicle.
Nicole scratches the back of her neck as they turn out onto her street. “Yeah. Maybe. Why? Are you going?”
“I don’t really have a way to get there.” Waverly says pointedly. She shrugs to try and make it casual, but it’s all very obvious.
“Do you want to come with me?” She asks.
“Yeah. If it’s not too much trouble, of course.” The last part is added in a rush, like she’s a child who got chided by their mother to say thank you.
“It isn’t.” Nicole replies. “I can take you.”
Waverly stops the car in front of Nicole’s house and looks at her expectantly. She finds that it isn’t just nice being open and proud about something (well, as open and proud as you can be while hidden in a Jeep), but it’s nice simply being with Nicole. Nicole has this ease about her. It’s something Waverly is just now discovering, but she can already feel herself getting high on it.
Nicole pushes open the door and steps out, taking her stuff with her. She shuts the door behind her but leans her head through the open window to speak to Waverly.
“Thanks for driving me home.” Nicole says brightly. Now that she’s outside of the car, it feels a little like the act is back. It’s not all an act though, because Waverly can tell Nicole is genuinely grateful and happy.
“Thanks for agreeing to take me.” Waverly replies in the same manner.
Nicole grins. “No problem. I’ll text you.”
As she takes a step back, retreating up her driveway and to her house, Nicole winks at Waverly. Fucking winks like that isn’t the smuggest, most teasing action Nicole could ever do out in broad daylight to her.
Waverly is so very screwed.
-
Waverly hasn’t flirted with anyone in awhile. She has had the skill down since eighth grade, but she hasn’t actually used those skills in years because of Champ. She’s definitely never used them on a girl, either. It’s new territory, but Waverly goes with the basics - a bra that gives her amazingly full cleavage, a bright smile, a deliberate press of her knee to Nicole’s while they sit through another one of those meetings.
Mostly, the meeting is different people standing up to introduce themselves and tell their stories. It’s interesting, but Waverly has no intention of being one of those people who gets up to talk. Someone hands out flyers in the middle of the meeting, and that totally distracts Waverly for the rest of it.
The flyers are for a gay club nearby that’s having some type of margarita special. Waverly barely looks at the flyer until she thinks about it for a bit, realizing she has nothing else to do for the rest of the night and she also has Nicole by her side. She has her fake ID in her wallet and she’s sure she could find a way to convince Nicole to come in with her. The only problem is that she can’t imagine Nicole having a fake ID.
Then again, she couldn’t imagine Nicole being potentially gay and a total top just a short while ago - and we all know how that turned out. Nicole is a woman of surprises, so maybe…
“Do you have a fake ID?” Waverly asks as the meeting ends and everyone stands up.
Nicole gives her this confused (admittedly adorable) puppy dog look, like she had been more interested in the cookies and brownies they had for the meeting than clubbing.
“Why?”
Waverly taps the flyer twice. When all she gets from Nicole is a blank look, Waverly expects that they are going to be grabbing brownie chunks and going straight home - but again, Nicole is a woman of surprises. She takes her wallet out of her pocket and surveys what’s in it before smiling brightly, handing over her ID for Waverly to look at.
“Katherine Barrell?” Waverly questions. She looks Nicole up and down, deciding that she could probably pass for a Katherine in another universe.
Lord knows it’s better than Wynonna’s former fake ID - Aphrodite Martin.
Waverly hands Nicole back her ID. They leave (with peanut butter cookies and brownies, of course) and walk out into the street together, quickly figuring out that the club is only two blocks down. They don’t really say much for the walk, but Waverly doesn’t expect them to. She feels the kind of quiet comfort that usually only comes when she is idly watching television with her family.
“What’s your name for the night?” Nicole asks, quiet enough to be discreet.
“Dominique Provost-Chalkley.” Waverly replies, matching her voice in volume.
“Interesting.”
Waverly bounces on her heels, feeling a little cold. “Yeah, Wynonna was fucking with me when she got it made.”
They move up in the line pretty quickly. It’s kind of early, so not many people are there yet. Waverly doesn’t mind the wait, short or long. She wants to get in the club, but she also likes looking around the town and seeing all the people she doesn’t know. It makes the whole place seem so much bigger than Purgatory ever could be, and Waverly loves the space.
The bouncer is broad shouldered and looks as if he belongs in the mob, but it doesn’t matter because he barely checks their IDs and lets them in without a hassle.
The music is loud enough to drown out Waverly’s thoughts. There are no clocks and her phone feels as if it doesn’t even exist where it rests in her pocket, and the rest of the world is shielded by the thrum of the crowd surrounding her. She really could lose all sense of time in a club (she understands now, how Wynonna has done it so much). It’s not even just the music and the dancing and the sweaty group of people - it’s Nicole.
Nicole, who has good taste in margaritas and actually handles her alcohol surprisingly well. Nicole, who looks kind of gorgeous under the club’s multicolored lights. Nicole, who buys both Waverly and herself a drink before dragging her out on the dance floor.
Waverly had thought that she would have to be the one convincing and dragging Nicole out to dance, but apparently not. It’s a surprising twist on what Waverly thought would happen tonight, but it’s definitely a welcome change.
She lets Nicole grip her hips and hold her. She does more than that, actually. She responds by enthusiastically wrapping her arms around Nicole’s neck and drawing her body closer, unable to hide her eagerness. Waverly gets close enough that she can smell the sweet mix of chilled fruit and alcohol on Nicole’s tongue. It should be wrong how much she likes this already - wrong because her heart is jumping and she’s horny, and she half wants to kiss Nicole right now but she also half wants to pull Nicole away to find out all of her secrets.
They just got here. It would be impractical for her to drag Nicole away (and she wants to see how well Nicole can dance, anyways), so she goes with the other option.
Waverly presses her body closer to Nicole’s and tilts her head up just enough to kiss the little soft spot under Nicole’s jaw that Waverly knows is there. She only gets that one kiss in, because Nicole jerks her head away almost immediately. It’s a reflex. Waverly would do the same thing if her brain hadn’t already registered where they are at the moment.
Nicole glances around the club - probably spotting a hundred people in similar situations as them - and smiles down at Waverly almost shyly. She steps in again, looking like a nervous preteen boy having his first dance ever with a girl. Except, Nicole is a hell of a lot prettier than any preteen boy Waverly has ever seen.
She has this softness to her whole face that makes Waverly feel as if she could kiss her and sink into it, like falling through a cloud. There’s a tiny scar on her face right up near her left eye and Waverly lifts her hand to brush her fingers against it, wondering where she got it from. She has pretty brown eyes and the cutest dimples and her hair is multicolored from the lights above, but mostly dark orange. Waverly tangles her other hand in Nicole’s hair, finding it rather ironic that all the strands seem to make up a rainbow.
The irony makes her smile, then laugh, and then she loses her resolve.
Waverly pushes up onto her toes and kisses Nicole again, this time on the lips. Nicole accepts it - kisses her back with all this desperate need and draws Waverly in close with two hands on the small of her back.
They kiss feels a lot like the first one they ever had. A bit hesitant, but obviously needy. Maybe it’s because they are kissing in public for the first time. Maybe it’s because Waverly is getting just as many feelings as she is in her heart and stomach as she is between her thighs, and that scares her. It scares her in the thrilling, ‘I’m drunk and I own the world’ way. It’s as if her problems are being washed away by Nicole’s lips and she won’t have to deal with them until they eventually (inevitably and sadly) pull away.
They do have to pull away minutes later, because humans need air and the crowd could be described as nearly suffocating, but it’s only for half a second. Waverly isn’t even just being dramatic. Nicole is gone for what doesn’t even feel like a second and air is in her mouth for that very, very brief moment, but Nicole shoots back in as if it’s easier to breathe with Waverly’s lips on hers.
And for a moment, Waverly is warm and fuzzy and at peace.
But life passes in moments.
“Waverly?” The voice lands the same way a fist would on glass. Both Waverly and Nicole hear it, and it shatters everything.