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Katya’s pretty sure that she’s been in love with her best friend her whole life. She hasn’t, she knows that much, because they’ve only known each other since they were eighteen, but it’s always felt that way to her.
They first meet at Boston University, in a college canteen with a bunch of other Freshmen, and the only things that Katya can remember from their ten minutes of indirect interaction are Trixie’s long, blonde waves and her bright crooked smile. They are enough, and Katya doesn’t need a re-introduction when they somehow end up living together alongside mutual friends in their junior year.
Through matched twisted senses of humour, their shared college classes, and love of the same TV shows, Trixie and Katya become incredibly close over the next two years. Katya thinks that they must know everything about each other, until late one night when she sees Trixie scrolling through Tinder, and to her surprise, is faced with both girls and guys as Trixie swipes left and right. Something in Katya’s heart feels lighter, then, and she doesn’t even hesitate to pass Trixie her phone when she asks if she can veto some people on one of her dating apps a couple of weeks later. They’ve never spoken about sexuality with each other before, but Trixie doesn’t even flinch at the fact that it’s very evident from Katya’s Tinder profile that she’s a lesbian. Not that Katya makes much of an effort to hide it.
Trixie is in a relationship by October of their senior year. Which is fine. Katya doesn’t have any feelings about it at all, really, and certainly none of the jealous kind. Lucas is very… average. He is not good enough for Trixie, by Katya’s standards, but nobody ever has been. Trixie dated a string of guys leading up to him, nothing serious and nothing that stuck, but Katya can tell that this is different. He’s nice enough, even sweet sometimes, to the point where Katya finds herself enjoying his company. Still, she can’t help the pang of resentment that she feels whenever his arm winds itself around Trixie’s shoulders as they sit watching a movie, or the bile at the back of her throat as she watches her smile warmly at him.
Which is awful, really, because Trixie is her best friend. And she probably shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like if she was running her fingers though Katya’s wavy blonde bob, instead of Lucas’ short, strawberry-blonde hair.
A few months later, Katya feels like her life is slowly falling apart. The pandemic hits, and college is cancelled. Their housemates all move back home, to live with their parents, but Trixie decides to stay. She’s never met her dad, and doesn’t have the best relationship with her mom, and would rather live alone than be in close proximity to her for weeks on end, she tells Katya. And so, naturally, Katya decides to stay too. She’s secretly a little pleased at the thought of spending so much uninterrupted time with Trixie, that is until Trixie asks Katya whether Lucas can move in and quarantine with them, because he lives alone, and she doesn’t want him to get lonely.
Katya is a kind person, and she agrees without hesitation.
What they had thought might only be a couple of weeks turns into months, and Katya finds herself as a very unwilling third-wheel in their relationship. She often wants to regret her choice to stay, but then finds that she can’t, because sometimes Trixie will do something that makes it all worthwhile. She offers to dye Katya’s hair bright pink – call it a crisis on Katya’s part – and then cuts it, and they talk and laugh and sing to stupid songs for hours as Trixie works. Katya feels her heart rate increase as Trixie kneels down in front of her to check that both sides of her hair are even; their faces are close, and she can feel warm whispers of breath across her cheeks. Trixie’s brow is furrowed in concentration, and she looks adorable. Katya knows she’s staring, but she almost can’t stop herself. Her best friend is pretty, and she’s a lesbian for crying out loud, if she wants to admire her pretty brown eyes and her freckles and her plump bottom lip that’s tucked under her teeth as she works then she will.
Katya’s birthday rolls around, and they’re still confined to their house, so Trixie bakes Katya a birthday cake. It’s chocolate, Katya’s favourite, and Trixie adorns it with tiny pink and white unicorn sprinkles. Katya doesn’t particularly have an affinity for unicorns, but she knows that Trixie does, which makes the cake all the more special. Lucas buys her a birthday card, and she almost wants to feel resentful towards him for it, but as he hands it to her with a shy smile, she knows she’s being ridiculous. He’s not getting in the way of her friendship with Trixie. She has no reason to feel jealous, really. It’s not his fault that he’s been stuck here with them for so long.
Trixie and Katya play video games together a lot, huddled up close on the couch, and cook each other food, and watch movies together in the evening. Lucas is always there, but in Katya’s mind, it’s just the two of them. Sometimes she’ll forget that he exists, until he chips in with some words of wisdom and Katya jumps at the sound of his voice.
One evening, they’re watching some shitty action movie, and Katya chooses to fall asleep on the couch halfway through to save herself from the sight of Trixie and Lucas spooning on the other couch. As the movie comes to an end, she wakes up enough to hear them standing up, mumbling to one another about heading upstairs to bed. She doesn’t open her eyes, content to spend the rest of the night on the couch under her woven blanket. Somebody’s footsteps get closer, and then she hears some shuffling, feels the presence of somebody kneeling in front of her. ‘She’s so cute’, she hears Trixie whisper, before Lucas hums in acknowledgement.
Katya’s heart almost jumps right out of her chest.
Then, she feels Trixie’s warm hand stroke over her hair, and she thinks that she might have forgotten how to breathe. Trixie repeats her name softly, once, twice, and then Katya’s eyes are fluttering open. She’s met with her friend’s warm smile, and tired honey eyes. She lets her lead her up to her bedroom, before she’s left alone for the night, the sound of Trixie and Lucas laughing together in the next room tugging painfully at her heart. Katya has known for a while that Trixie is her best friend, and her favourite person, but now she knows for sure that she must feel something more for her.
The night that Trixie finds out that she’s moving away is one of the hardest days of Katya’s life. Months later, the worst of the pandemic over, she applies for her dream post-college job, three hours away on the train, thinking that she won’t get it – but she does. She opens the acceptance letter cuddled up to Katya on the couch, and as soon as they read the word ‘congratulations’, they both burst into tears. Katya thought that Trixie would be happy, she’s always wanted to work in theatre and this job is quite literally perfect for her, but it soon comes to light that her tears are the result of upset.
“I don’t want to go,” She mumbles, gripping onto Katya’s back, snivelling into her neck as her hot tears pour down onto Katya’s skin.
“You do,” Katya tries, though she feels sick to her stomach, “You’ve wanted this for so long, you do. It’s just new.”
Trixie swallows, “I’m gonna miss you so much.”
“Me too,” Katya breathes out immediately, her voice wavering.
Trixie pulls back then, holds Katya by the shoulders to look directly into her eyes, “Do you promise you’ll come and see me? Like, all the time?”
“All the time,” Katya nods, trying for a small smile despite the rivulets of tears on her cheeks, “Promise.”
The day after Trixie leaves, Katya is woken by a knock on the door, and a letter from the postman. She opens it to find a ‘thank you’ card from Trixie. In it, she calls Katya her rock, and tells her she doesn’t know what she would do without her. She signs it with six kisses, and Katya immediately falls to the floor, cries for two hours until one of their other housemates, Clara, finds her and gives her a hug until she calms down.
Katya stays true to her word, and visits Trixie at least once every month. Things stay just the same between them; they text every day, and FaceTime a few times a week, and Katya feels satisfied that their friendship won’t suffer because of the distance. She technically has everything she needs, she really does; she has a job at a local art gallery and wonderful friends and her family, but she still misses Trixie, feels the absence of her physical form more with every day that goes by. And when she feels her anxiety starting to get bad again, starts having panic attacks and isolating herself in her bedroom, she wishes more than anything that Trixie was there to rest a hand on her knee, talk her down like she used to. She confides in her about it, still, tells her how it’s worse than it’s ever been.
It all culminates in Katya needing to call a crisis line, one night, and then receiving some pretty intense therapy in the weeks following. Trixie gets the train over straight away, as soon as she realises that something is desperately wrong. She stays with Katya for three days, just watching movies with her, making her food, waiting patiently until she’s ready to talk. Katya feels hopeless, and Trixie knows that, knows what Katya’s like when she gets this way. When Katya tells her that she sometimes can’t think of anything worth sticking around for, Trixie suggests that their friendship might be worth it. Katya knows that she’s right.
A year passes, and Trixie and Katya reunite with their friends for a girls trip to Spain. The humid air is just on the uncomfortable side of warm and the beaches are full of tourists and everything is hugely overpriced where they’re staying, but Katya feels herself glowing in the presence of her favourite people, especially Trixie. Always Trixie. They end up sharing the only double bed in their holiday apartment, because they always do, somehow, and take every opportunity to go off on little walks, or to cute little souvenir shops together. One day, early in the morning, they decide to leave the rest of their friends asleep in bed while they go for a dip in the sea. Katya asks her how Lucas is doing, more to be polite than out of genuine interest, and Trixie gives a non-committal shrug in return. She quickly changes the subject to Katya’s love life, and Katya tells her about how she’s been on a string of dates with girls, who have all been nice enough, but not what she’s looking for. Trixie questions what she means by that, and Katya shrugs, but she knows exactly what she means. They’re not Trixie. Trixie looks thoughtful for a minute, before she declares that she’s never dated a girl before, even though she’s bi. Katya knew this, has known for a while, but hearing Trixie say it out loud makes her feel giddy. Trixie says that she does want to date a girl, someday, though, and Katya has to suppress a smile.
Trixie breaks up with Lucas a couple of months later. Katya can see it coming; Trixie has been calling her a lot more frequently lately, complaining about little things that Lucas has been doing to annoy her, and seeking comfort in Katya. Katya goes to visit her a couple of days after the break up happens – it had been mutual, Trixie tells her. Katya gives her a long hug, and Trixie cries softly for a couple of minutes, before she straightens up and gives Katya a small smile, tells her that she’ll be fine, that it was for the best, anyway. Lucas wants to move across to the West Coast, and they’d never be able to make long distance work.
That night, they go out to one of Katya’s favourite gay clubs. They’ve been there a couple of times, when Katya’s come to visit Trixie in the past, and their visits always culminate in one of them taking care of the other during a drunk taxi ride home, and then passing out in bed together. Tonight, Trixie drinks double vodkas at twice the rate she normally does, pulling Katya back out onto the dancefloor after each trip to the bar, gripping her hands tightly as she twirls them both around. Katya loves it, feels free and alive and at peace when she’s with Trixie, like this, just the two of them. She’s buzzed, though not as drunk as Trixie is, and can already tell that she’ll be the one looking after Trixie when they get back to her place.
The song changes, and Trixie lets go of one of Katya’s hands, uses her hold on the other to twirl Katya under her arm. Katya giggles out loud, and Trixie smiles back at her, loops her arms around Katya’s neck as they come back to face one another. Katya doesn’t think, reaches her hands out to place them on Trixie’s waist. Trixie’s smile drops a little, Katya can see her inhale sharply, and their eyes hold each other’s for a second too long. And then Katya is pulling her hands away, taking one of Trixie’s hands in hers to twirl her around just as Trixie had done to her. She scolds herself for putting her hands on Trixie in that way, worries that she’s made her uncomfortable, despite her friend’s continuing laughter as she stumbles a little with the force of Katya’s spin.
A few minutes later, Trixie drags Katya to the restroom, apparently desperate for a bathroom break. There’s a queue, and Trixie’s impatient, fiddling with Katya’s hair while they wait, Katya taking the time to re-apply her lip gloss.
“I need some lip gloss,” Trixie declares, her voice slurred, steadying herself with her hands on Katya’s shoulders.
Katya raises her eyebrows, “You need some lip gloss?”
“Yes,” Trixie nods decisively, “But I have no lip gloss.”
Katya smiles – Trixie didn’t want to bring a bag out with them, so Katya’s holding her money and her phone, because apparently that was all she needed. “You want some of mine?” She offers, presenting her clear gloss to Trixie.
Trixie simply pouts, stepping closer to Katya. “You put it on for me.”
Katya’s breath hitches, and she nods again. She swallows as she opens the tube, takes Trixie’s jaw in one of her hands to steady her as she applies the gloss to her plump, pink lips with the other. She tries not to look at Trixie as she does it, but she can feel Trixie’s stare burning into her, her hand reaching out to steady herself further on Katya’s hip. She hums in approval as Katya swipes the lip gloss across her lips one final time, and then rubs her lips together, coating her matte pink lipstick in a layer of shine. Katya tries not to think about how the gloss has touched Trixie’s lips as she applies another layer to her own, completely unnecessarily.
Katya’s prediction is right, and she ends up ushering a very tipsy Trixie into a taxi at 3am, trying not to laugh as she almost flops down into one of the leather seats. Trixie tells Katya to hurry up, lets out a huff as Katya gets into the car and buckles both of their seatbelts before she finally lets Trixie rest against her. Her head is on Katya’s shoulder, face smushed into her neck; Katya can feel her warm, slow breaths, and the last remnants of her lip gloss where her lips press against her sticky skin, and knows without looking that her eyes are closed. She can always fall asleep in a matter of seconds when she’s drunk, which would annoy Katya, if she didn’t look so cute doing it. It always takes Katya at least an hour to fall asleep – she finds it incomprehensible that somebody could lay down and immediately fall unconscious, just like that.
Still, she takes immense comfort in Trixie’s presence against her side. Having her in such close proximity always stirs up feelings that she’d rather not acknowledge at times like these, even if she’s painfully aware of their presence most of the time. One arm around Trixie’s back, she strokes up and down her forearm, steadying her breath every time Trixie makes a cute little mumbling noise in her sleep. Katya turns her head, gently pushes back the curtain of blonde hair covering Trixie’s face until she can see her features. She almost wishes she hadn’t – the combination of her parted lips and the tiny crease between her brows and her slightly smudged eye makeup make Katya’s heart jump up into her throat, throb painfully with the knowledge that Trixie isn’t hers to love in that way, will never be.
Trixie wakes up enough to change into a tiny pink silk pyjama set that Katya can’t look at without feeling like she’s going insane. Katya pulls on a pair of loose boxer shorts and an oversized black t-shirt, and slips into bed next to Trixie, who she’s pretty sure is almost asleep again already. She reaches over to Trixie’s bedside table, and grabs a makeup wipe – Trixie always chastises her for using them, tells her how awful they are for her skin, but Katya always strives for convenience over anything else. She wipes her own makeup off before pulling a fresh wipe out, and starting on Trixie’s. Trixie barely stirs as she works at her bright pink eyeshadow and thick eyeliner, before wiping off what she can of her foundation. She smiles to herself as more of Trixie’s freckles are revealed – she’s always loved them, tried to count them one summer when they sat out in their garden for so long that the sun adorned her with a whole new smattering of them.
When she’s done, she reaches over, flicks off the light. She stays laying on her back, as she usually does when she shares a bed with Trixie, scared that she’ll accidentally touch her, and that Trixie will be freaked out. She hears Trixie shuffle around a little, and then jumps as she feels something warm against her hand. Trixie’s fingers link themselves with hers, squeeze once, twice, as Trixie whispers goodnight. Katya can’t help it, beams into the darkness of the room as she whispers goodnight in return, feeling Trixie’s hand go slack in hers as sleep claims her again. It takes her a little more than an hour to fall asleep, that night. She’s not in a comfortable position, but she doesn’t dare move, terrified that Trixie will unlink their fingers.
The next day is the penultimate of Katya’s time with Trixie. They spend the morning lying in bed, watching movies on Trixie’s laptop, Trixie whining about how she’s never going to recover from her hangover. Katya rolls her eyes, and pretends to be disgruntled at her brattish behaviour, but happily walks to the bakery next door to pick up some fresh bread and orange juice at Trixie’s pouty request. In the afternoon they go for a walk in a nearby park, rambling and laughing aimlessly as they stumble down winding paths and navigate their way through overgrown grass and flowers. They go for dinner at an Italian place not far from Trixie’s apartment – they’ve made it their mission to try every Italian restaurant in the city, though so far they’ve only ticked off three. They have a little wine with dinner, but only two glasses each, Trixie unable to face the thought of another hangover.
That night, as Trixie performs her twelve step skincare routine, she scolds Katya for using a makeup wipe on her the day before, then thanks her under her next breath, acknowledging that the alternative of leaving her makeup on would have been worse. Katya rolls her eyes as she scrubs at her eyeliner with the last makeup wipe in her pack. When Trixie turns off the lights, both of them under the covers, it’s a matter of seconds before Trixie reaches over to take Katya’s hand again, whispering another goodnight. Katya is almost surprised, had assumed that Trixie’s gesture the previous night had been one fuelled by alcohol. She smiles, turns her head to face her friend. In the dim light of the room, she can just about make out Trixie’s facial features, her head also turned to the side, and her dark eyes staring straight into Katya’s.
The corner of her mouth kicks up into a smile, her thumb grazes over the back of Katya’s hand, and Katya has to squeeze her eyes shut to stop herself from feeling too much.
When she opens then again, Trixie has shuffled a little closer, and her eyes are still trained on Katya. Katya opens her mouth to speak, to say something to fill the silence, but nothing comes out. Then, Trixie uses her grip on Katya’s hand to pull her forward, close enough that she can wrap her arms around her back, pulling her into a hug. Katya is confused for a moment, and then lets herself relax into it. Maybe she’s overthinking this. Making the moment into something it’s not. Trixie is her friend, and she’s hugging her. And that’s normal. Except that she can feel Trixie’s heart hammering against her chest, and her smooth skin as she slots one of her legs in between Katya’s to pull her even closer. Katya falls onto her back as Trixie gently encourages her to do so, one hand against her breastbone. Now, Trixie is settled against her chest, their legs still intertwined.
Katya can’t quite fathom what’s happening. She’s feeling so much, almost too much, and she’s wanted to hold Trixie like this for so long, but she doesn’t know if Trixie knows what this means to her, if she wants it to mean the same. She’s pulled out of her trail of thought by the movement of Trixie’s calves against hers, the slight shifting of her hips until Katya’s toned thigh is wedged between the apex of Trixie’s.
Fuck. Katya curses to herself. She can’t have done it on purpose, wouldn’t have, but Katya can feel Trixie’s heat against her skin, can feel it warm and soft and she wants to cry with the effort it’s taking not to move. But then, she doesn’t have to, because Trixie’s doing it for her. Head buried against Katya’s neck, one arm slung across her waist, she starts to move her hips in small, fluid movements, dragging her core up and down Katya’s exposed thigh. Katya is stunned, can only find it within herself to tighten her grip on Trixie as she feels her movements becoming more sure, more steady, until there’s no questioning what she’s doing. She can feel Trixie’s wetness through her tiny pyjama shorts, has to physically restrain herself from reaching down and touching her, because she doesn’t know what Trixie wants out of this, doesn’t know what it means for them yet.
Trixie is letting out tiny gasps against her neck and Katya can feel arousal pooling deep in her belly, almost painful in its intensity. She can tell that Trixie needs more, that she’s frustrated, her movements becoming jerky and erratic and her breaths turning to pants. She pulls her face away from Katya’s neck, moving it up slightly so that the tip of her nose, and then her lips, graze Katya’s jaw. She lets out a long, slow moan, and then the corner of her lips press against Katya’s, whispering warm breaths out against her skin in time with her thrusts.
Katya feels brave, moving one hand around to grip the back of Trixie’s thigh, encouraging her to press harder into her. Trixie tilts her head forward involuntarily, her nose pressing against Katya’s as she lets out a deep, guttural moan and Katya can’t find it in her to hold off any longer. She lurches forward, capturing Trixie’s lips with her own, only unsure of her decision for a split second before she feels Trixie melt into her, reciprocating her kisses, letting Katya run her tongue along the seam of her lips until she parts them for her.
If she had a second to think, she’d question how this had even happened. But her mind is full of Trixie, Trixie, Trixie, and she doesn’t have room for anything else, so she just keeps kissing her, encouraging her move against her thigh, gripping onto her tightly as she feels her tense, let out a whine and a long, shuddering breath before she stills, and her shoulders relax, and she becomes slack in Katya’s arms. The room is silent apart from their laboured breaths, and Katya is painfully aware of how aroused she is, of the warm wetness of Trixie up against her thigh, of Trixie’s hard nipples pressing against the satin of her shirt and into Katya’s chest. She doesn’t dare say anything, waits for Trixie to open her eyes, push herself up on one arm until she can look directly at Katya.
She looks incredible. Her face is bare, flushed, tiny droplets of sweat collecting at her hairline. Her eyes are glazed over, half-closed, and her lips are parted, breathing still laboured. Her eyes search Katya’s, looking for some kind of acknowledgement of what they’d just done, some kind of emotion or feeling towards it. She almost looks nervous, and Katya hates it, thinks she’s maybe only seen Trixie look unsure of herself once or twice in all the time she’s known her. And so, she lets herself smile up at her, and feels her instantly relax in response, returning her grin. A half-hearted apology almost makes its way out of Trixie’s mouth, but Katya stops it in its tracks, closing her mouth back over hers and bringing her back down towards the bed until their bodies are flush again.
They lay there for what feels like hours, kissing, giggling, talking. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Trixie gets Katya off with two fingers rubbing at her clit as she peppers kisses over her cheeks, and Katya is so worked up that it barely takes five minutes. They fall asleep tangled together, warm and exhausted and content and comfortable, and don’t even really need to talk about what it all means the next day, because they both know without words that they’ve been in love with each other for a long time. They don’t tell each other out loud for a couple of weeks, but it’s said long before that in their smiles, in their lazy mornings in bed holding each other close, and their slow, soft goodnight kisses.
Katya’s still pretty sure that she’s been in love with her best friend her whole life, even before they met. Now, she just gets the added bonus of calling Trixie her girlfriend, too.