Chapter Text
Beatrice is calm. She is cool. She is collected.
She is absolutely not panicking in the hallway outside the apartment of a girl she'd matched with on a dating app less than two hours before. Definitely not. If anyone were to claim as much, they'd be lying through their teeth.
Nor does she jump almost out of her own skin when the door opens behind her, interrupting her pacing.
Absolutely not. She's very calm.
"Beatrice?"
She turns towards the voice, hands settling at the small of her back, and nods. Continues nodding as her gaze drifts up and down the girl in front of her, catching on the gape of her singlet at the arm holes, the outer curves of her breasts just revealed beneath. "Ava?" she asks finally, mentally shaking herself.
"That's me. Do you want to come in? Or would you rather keep wearing a hole in the carpet?" Ava's grin can only slightly lessen the rush of heat that sweeps up Beatrice's face.
"I was going to knock," she starts, words catching in her throat.
"Of course, of course." Ava nods towards the door. "Come on in, if you'd like."
Beatrice follows hesitantly, bends to unlace her boots at the door and uses the moment to take stock of the apartment. It's as though a glitter bomb has gone off, covering every surface in a dizzying blur of colour and shine. Not for the first time, she considers turning tail and– Well, not fleeing. Beatrice doesn't flee. Beating a strategic retreat and parking somewhere until enough time has passed that she can go home without Lilith realising that she's fallen prey to cowardice.
Ava clears her throat, a note of amusement in it, and the heat climbs to Beatrice's ears as she toes off her boots and stands. "My bedroom is much neater than this, I swear. Chanel and I just got stuck storing the overflow stage pieces from last term's production of The Prom."
"Chanel?"
"Best friend. Partner in crime. Roommate," Ava explains rapidfire, bustling around the open kitchen. Then she looks back at Beatrice with a grin and a bold wink. "And out of town until next week."
Beatrice's mouth goes dry. "Right," she says, willing her voice to remain even. "Cool."
"Do you want something to drink?" She lifts a glass soda bottle, gestures towards the fridge. "Water, soda, beer? Are you a wine girl? There might be some tucked away in there."
"No, thank you, I'm not thirsty."
Ava's mouth curls into a smirk as she pops the bottle cap off using the lip of the counter for leverage. "You're not? That's a shame. You've certainly come off that way."
"Ah. I– Yes. Well." Beatrice catches her breath finally, enough to find her footing. "You may have…" She resists the urge to hide her face in her hands. What a mistake to take any advice at all from Lilith. She should know better, she does know better, but all it had taken was a single moment of weakness and somehow she'd ended up here, in this nightmare of a conversation. "You may have gotten the impression that I'm more... experienced at this sort of thing than I actually am."
"And what sort of thing might that be?" Ava asks, taking a seat on the edge of her kitchen counter. Her lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle as she takes a swig. Beatrice can't tear her gaze away. "Well?" Ava prompts, and Beatrice startles.
"What I came here for."
Ava shakes her head. "You've gotta be able to say it, Beatrice."
"With..." She bites her lip, glances to the side then back to Ava. "With dating apps," she says lamely.
"We're past the dating app, babe. That's not what you came here for."
Beatrice bristles at the arrogance, the assumption, of the pet name. "With one night stands," she says sharply, proof for herself as much as for Ava that she can voice the thought out loud. "With hookups. With–" and she swallows hard, bolsters herself up. "With fucking girls I've only just met."
"Good girl." Ava laughs, then, bright and clear. "Your face right now, jeez, you're too fucking cute."
Beatrice stuffs her hands in her pockets and rocks back on her heels. "I'm not–"
"You really are." Ava smiles softly at her, thumb circling the mouth of her soda bottle as she looks Beatrice up and down. "You were talking such a big game and then you show up here all blushes and fumbling. Adorable." She sets the bottle aside and slips off the counter, wipes her palms on her cutoffs. "So. This is your first hookup?"
Beatrice nods, struck dumb by the realisation of just how short Ava's shorts are, the way the barely-there inseams ride up as she moves.
"There are three ways this can go." Ava prowls across the room, coming to a halt just in front of her. She fiddles with one of Beatrice's shirt buttons as she looks up at her through her eyelashes. "Option A," she husks, "we can sit on the couch and pretend for a bit like we don't know why we're both here and you can tell me the story behind that shot of you on the beach with the dog – which, by the way, perfect app photo, should probably be the first one on your profile – or," and she tugs the bottom of the shirt free where it's tucked neatly into Beatrice's jeans, "Option B, we can cut the bullshit and you can let me take you to bed."
"B as in bed," Beatrice murmurs in a fit of stupidity and immediate regret.
Ava's knuckles skate across the newly exposed strip of skin at her waist as she tugs the rest of Beatrice's shirt hem loose. "Or, better yet, Bea is in bed. But there's Option C, too, where you can leave whenever you want to with no pressure and no judgement. So what's it gonna be, Bea?"
Beatrice screws her courage to the sticking place – stick your courage to the screwing place comes the slightly hysterical thought in a voice that sounds vaguely like Mary – and covers Ava's hand with her own, stilling its motion as Ava hooks her thumb inside Beatrice's waistband. "Bed," she says with much more surety than she feels. "Take me to bed."
Ava's grin is almost blinding as she rocks up on her toes and kisses Beatrice's cheek. "I was hoping you'd say that."