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Rachel Amber is a whore.
It doesn’t hurt. It barely even exists. Rachel finishes toweling off her hair and wipes the mirror to check her reflection.
Rachel Amber is stunning is what she is. Even without makeup; even with her hair a damp, uncombed tussle; even running on four hours of sleep and three energy drinks that have made her no less exhausted but a hell of a lot more jittery.
The words tug at the edges of her peripheral vision, thick black strokes of marker on the tiles next to the mirror just inches from her reflection. They weren’t there when she came in to shower. She can still smell the fresh marker. She wonders if whoever did it (it doesn’t look like Victoria’s handwriting for a change, which is... disconcerting) knew that Rachel was the one in the shower when they wrote it or if it was a coincidence.
It doesn’t matter. It never matters. It’s just petty teen girl drama, and Rachel is above it.
Rachel runs her fingers through her hair a few times - very deliberately not allowing her eyes to stray to the graffiti - then takes a deep, calming breath, flashes her reflection a winning smile, grabs her shower caddy, and turns to the door.
RA will give you VD.
Rachel’s smile falters. She straightens her shoulders and swallows down the bubble of hot anger that rises in her stomach. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t. She’s Rachel fucking Amber, and she is above this petty bullshit. She is untouchable.
She pushes through the door with its childish insults and walks out into the hallway with her head held high. She may only be wearing a towel and flip-flops, but she wears them like armor. It’ll take more than some unkind words to break Rachel Amber.
It is a lot of unkind words, though. Graffiti besmirching her name is nothing new, but it’s been worse lately. It feels like everywhere she looks these days there’s another insult: marker on walls, lipstick on mirrors, pen on crumpled notes that land at her feet when the teacher’s back is turned. She had to get a new whiteboard for her dorm room since someone used a permanent marker on it. She’s actually started to think about reporting the increasing incidents to campus security, but… Well. Given the way David Madsen scowls at her whenever she sleeps over at Chloe’s, she doubts reporting it to him would do much.
She turns the corner and heads for her room.
Rachel is a cu–
Rachel’s shower caddy falls from her numb fingers and hits the ground with a solid crack. The two girls standing just outside her dorm room startle at the sound.
One girl is someone Rachel only vaguely recognizes. They’ve got a couple of classes together and she’s seen her at a few parties maybe, but she’s pretty sure they’ve never had an actual conversation. She’s got an uncapped permanent marker in her hand and a distressed look on her face. The arm holding the marker is twisted behind her back at an angle that’s painful even to look at.
The other girl, the one pinning the tagger’s arm behind her back, is the one and only Chloe Price.
There’s a frozen silence for about half a minute where every point of this awkward triangle is too befuddled to move. The girl with the marker recovers first, beginning to struggle. Chloe tightens her grip and grins at Rachel. “Hey, Rach! Perfect timing. What d’you want me to do with her?”
There are dozens of ways that this could go. She could ask Chloe to break the girl’s arm, and she’d probably do it. She could have Chloe let her off with a warning, and she knows the girl would be looking over her shoulder for the next week at least. She could demand answers - why is she doing this? why is she so mad at Rachel? what’s even her name?? But it’s late, and Rachel’s tired, and knowing the answers won’t change anything anyway.
“Let her go.”
The girl stops struggling. She and Chloe both give Rachel incredulous looks. “You sure?” Chloe asks.
“Yeah. You don’t need any more strikes on your record. It’s not worth it.”
Chloe shrugs and lets the girl go. She’s off like a bolt of lightning, her marker hitting the ground and rolling between Chloe’s feet as she tears off toward the exit. Chloe bends to pick up the marker. She stares at the unfinished graffiti for a moment then finishes it off with a flourish.
Rachel is a cuTIE.
Chloe caps the marker and turns to Rachel with a shrug. “I can only assume that’s what she was going to write.” Rachel laughs. Chloe walks up to her, bending to retrieve the shower caddy from the floor. Chloe waggles her eyebrows comically as she rises. “That’s a killer look for you, by the way.”
“Shush, you.” Rachel gives Chloe’s shoulder a playful shove. She fishes her room key out of the caddy and unlocks her door. Chloe follows her into the room, closing the door behind them and tossing Rachel’s shower caddy onto her desk.
“Why’d you let her go?” Chloe asks. “I could’ve gotten an apology out of her, at least.” She cracks her knuckles and puts a menacing expression on her face. “With my fists.”
Rachel can’t help but laugh. It’s not that Chloe can’t fight; she’s seen Chloe in action before, and even though she’s more gusto than muscle she can get some decent licks in. And certainly plenty of people find her hugely intimidating. It’s just that Chloe is, underneath the rough exterior she presents to the world, the biggest, sappiest mush on the planet.
Chloe pouts at Rachel’s laughter and turns on the puppy dog eyes, which doesn’t really help her case. “What? I'm scary. She was already halfway to shitting herself.”
“I’m sure she was,” Rachel chuckles.
“You don’t seem very convinced,” Chloe sulks. “I’m hella badass, I’ll have you know. You think I won’t fuck a bitch up for you? I will fuck a bitch up for you.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Rachel pulls Chloe into a hug. She can feel Chloe’s lips pressed against her bare shoulder, still in an exaggerated pout.
“I’d do it, you know. Say the word, I’ll track her down and kick her ass. I’ll kick her ass into next week.”
Rachel shakes her head. “I’d rather you stay here.”
Chloe’s hands slide hesitantly to the small of Rachel’s back, pressed against the damp towel still clinging to Rachel’s skin. “…Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Rachel nuzzles her face against Chloe’s cheek, breathing in the calming scent of her. Maybe if Chloe stays the night she’ll actually get a decent night’s sleep. “You know what, Chlo?”
“What?” Chloe asks in a distracted sort of way that indicates she’s moved on from thinking about defending Rachel’s honor to thinking about desecrating it.
Rachel whispers into Chloe’s ear, making sure her lips brush against it with each word. “You act tough, but I know that it’s just a front. You’re a softie.”
She can feel Chloe’s blush rising from her skin. “‘M not,” she mumbles halfheartedly.
“It’s a good thing,” Rachel assures her, raising a hand to tease the hairs at the nape of Chloe’s neck. “Wearing armor all the time is heavy work.”
Chloe makes a sound that might be agreement.
“You can let your guard down around me. And… I can let mine down around you.” She presses a soft kiss to the side of Chloe’s neck and smiles at her shiver. “And you know I don’t let my guard down around just anyone.”
“That’s true…” Chloe’s fingers toy with the damp ends of Rachel’s hair as she works her mouth around a thought. “So… Does that mean you’re going to let this towel down? Because that would be awesome.”
Rachel bursts out laughing again.
“What?” Chloe teases. “I can be a softie and a perv.”
“You certainly can,” Rachel agrees. She places one hand on the back of Chloe’s head to help tilt her down for a kiss. With the other, she releases the knot of her towel.