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She regrets eating Chipotle with every fiber of her tiny body.
It’s all LaFontaine’s fault really. They’ve been fighting a lot with their girlfriend lately and Chipotle’s a white person’s greatest friend, they’d proclaimed proudly. Laura had raised her eyebrows at that. LaFontaine had shrugged, That and Starbucks. I don’t make the rules.
Anyway, for a person whose daily diet consists almost entirely of caffeine and carbohydrates, Laura’s stomach is extremely sensitive to spicy and salty foods. Thus, she’s in a not entirely pleasant looking and smelling restaurant restroom.
At least there’s no one else in here, she thinks miserably to herself as she assumes a very uncomfortable position over the toilet and possibly dislocates her hip. A couple of minutes later, her muscles are aching horribly and her fingers scratch helplessly against the door in an attempt to find support; her left hand manages to grab at the handle, her right hand very gracelessly slams on the lid of the toilet paper holder.
Which falls down and breaks in two. And it’s hopelessly empty.
Laura’s eyes go wide as saucers as she tries to grasp the handle with her right hand as well, almost falling in the process. Cause even if those burritos burn a hole through her intestines, her backside is not touching the toilet seat. Even in this position, she has some pride and personal hygiene.
Very carefully, she extracts her phone from her jeans’ pocket, slipping only twice, and calls LaFontaine. All of this is beyond uncomfortable and she can feel her face heating up and her shirt sticking with sweat on her back.
Her friend picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, how’s it going in the restroom?” They snigger without malice. “Met anyone cute yet?”
Laura’s so not in the mood for jokes.
“Shut up, this is all your fault,” She mutters with a dry throat. Then pauses. “There’s no toilet paper.”
LaFontaine bursts into laughter.
“LaFontaine!” Laura hisses vehemently and grips the door handle that her slick with sweat palm refuses to get a proper hold of. “I am dead serious, the toilet’s like a mine field and I’m out of paper! You have to do something!”
Most people would probably be more than a little disgusted after such a description. LaFontaine doesn’t seem bothered at the slightest.
“Yes, ma’am,” They promise solemnly. “Sending someone your way immediately.”
“Sending someone- Wait, wha- No!” Laura’s left staring helplessly at the display of her phone. “Fuck!” She curses loudly.
The restroom’s door opens with a creak. Laura’s hand finally loses hold of the handle and she lets a violent scream at the same time as her ass crashes almost as violently with the toilet seat. Which is only a little wet and she's not the culprit.
There’s silence for a couple of moments as she scrambles to get up before there’s a slight knock on her door. She almost falls back.
“Hello?” Oh God. This is not LaFontaine. It’s a completely different voice. “Are you alright there?”
“Yes!” Laura squeaks and her body temperature probably doubles. “Yes,” She repeats with what she likes to think is a calmer voice. “I just- I saw a cockroach and kind of, kind of- you know.”
The girl from the other side of the door lets a snort. “Whatever you say,” Laura hears her step away then a water steam hit porcelain.
The washing continues longer than normal and by the time she hears the rumbling of the hand dryer, Laura almost hates her and god, whoever LaFontaine sent should be here already!
Or maybe this is the girl LaFontaine sent (who knew they were this fast) and both of them have decided to pull a prank on her. This is a new low though, even for a professional sneaky trickster like her friend.
“So,” She hears the girl’s voice, quiet and hoarse but absolutely clear, near the door again, “you sure you’re okay, buttercup?”
“Oh, you would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Laura snaps at her but her tone’s unsure, experimental.
No one makes fun of Laura Hollis. That is if this is the girl LaFontaine sent. But even if this isn’t the girl LaFontaine sent. No one makes fun of Laura Hollis.
“Whoa there,” The girl chuckles throatily. “I was going to tell you to get that stick out of your butt but obviously that’s already out along with other things.”
Laura blushes so deeply she feels tears prickling in her eyes. This has to be the most embarrassing moment of her life since she accidentally vomited on her crush in 7th grade.
“Alright then,” The girl says; Laura practically hears the shrug in her voice, “sorry for bothering you, I guess.” The steps start retracting and before she can stop herself, Laura yells:
“Wait!”
The steps stop. Then slowly come closer.
“What’s up?” The girl asks, her low tone sounding only mildly intrigued.
“I don’t-” Laura hesitates but to the hell with it, she’s already humiliated herself enough, “I don’t have any paper.”
“Oh. Got it,” The girl agrees easily. Oddly enough, nothing follows. Laura taps her fingers against the door handle for a while before losing patience.
“Hey!”
“Good afternoon,” The girl responds, somehow sounding very distant.
“What’s happening?”
“Um,” A pause, “there’s this dog outside sniffing his ba-”
“I mean with my toilet paper!”
“You wanted toilet paper?”
“Didn’t I say that a minute ago?!”
“I thought you were just being polite and making small talk.”
Laura’s ass is freezing and she can’t feel her legs below the kneecaps anymore. She opens her mouth, probably to say something very rude, but then a delicate pale hand slides under the door, clutching a roll of paper.
Laura snatches it from her and hears the girl pulling away from the door to give her some privacy.
When she finally exits the dreaded stall, she sees no one.
“Feeling better?” An amused voice makes her whiplash back and the same pale hand grabs her shoulder and prevents her from falling when she almost trips on her own foot.
A just-an-inch-or-two taller than her girl in a tanktop which reveals her bare midriff and sinfully short pants cocks her head to a side and smiles arrogantly, kinda predatorily at her. Laura should probably punch her in the face for the shit she just pulled off but she’s more than a little distracted to do so.
God, her gayness betrays her in the worst moments.
“Yes,” She breathes and then blinks, getting a grip on herself, inhaling with the whole capacity of her lungs. No one makes fun of Laura Hollis. “Oh my God, you’re such a jerkface! What did you do, put an ad in the newspaper, professional prankster, pay me 5 bucks and I’ll humiliate your friends publicly?”
“There’s no one else in here, cupcake,” The girl shrugs easily and spreads her arms to show the empty restroom.
“Yes, except me, you and LaFontaine who’s laughing their ass off while watching this whole fiasco from the hidden camera!”
LaFontaine, of course, decides this is the best moment to barge in, shaggy hair and all.
“Oh God, Laura, I’m so sorry, but can you believe Perry actually came in here-” They shut up, eyes darting confusedly between Laura and the other girl. “Am I interrupting something?” They ask tentatively.
Laura laughs a little more forcedly than usual and waves her hands in the air. “It’s alright, LaF, you can stop pretending. I already caught your little joker girl.”
LaFontaine rubs the back of their head slowly, looks at Laura, looks at the other girl. “My what?”
Laura rolls her eyes. “Ha ha, very funny, you little shit. Not so much if you’re actually squatting half-naked and this person right here,” Her eyes rake over the girl’s form a little longer than desired, “is annoying you and refusing to give you toilet paper.”
LaFontaine’s eyebrows rise before they squint at the girl. “Good one,” They nod apprehensively, “but not when you do it to my friends, you asshole.” They clench their fists warningly.
The girl raises her hands conciliatorily but there’s a mocking glint in her pupils. “It was a simple misunderstanding, I believe. And your friend didn’t exactly cooperate.”
“Dude, she had three burritos, cut her some slack!” LaFontaine exclaims indignantly.
“Three burritos?” The girl gives Laura a detailed once over and the tiny girl feels her cheeks heat up. “Where did she even fit those?”
“I know, right?” LaFontaine laughs easily. “She weights no more than 50 kilos but man, she eats like a-”
“Okay!” Laura surprises everyone including herself with her suddenly high voice. “In the end, are you two or are you two not involved in this?”
LaFontaine scrunches their eyebrows. “Um, no? Involved? C’mon, Laura, I wouldn’t get involved behind my girl’s back. Although,” Their face falls a bit, “after that fuss Perry made I’m not even sure if we’re still a thing.” Their phone rings and they take it out of their pocket, sighing loudly at the caller. “See, it’s her again! Hello? Lola, no, baby, come on!” LaFontaine exits the restroom just as loudly as they came in, fighting with their girlfriend over the phone.
Now alone, Laura and the girl look at each other.
“I do believe you owe me an apology, fuzzybear,” The girl notes, “me and your redheaded friend.”
“I owe you an apology?” Irritation bubbles back, almost too big for Laura’s small body to contain it. “You acted like a total dick towards a stranger and you want me to apologize?”
The girl tilts her head to a side as if deep in thought. “You’re right,” She drawls finally then outstretches her hand. “Carmilla.”
Laura huffs at her, crosses her arms, cocks her nose proudly. And then makes the mistake to look the girl in the face.
Carmilla’s plump lips twist upwards, one of her canines lightly nibbling at the corner of her lip. And her eyes suddenly seem too big and too dark and too alluring…
Before she knows what she’s doing, Laura’s shaking her hand and smiling back like the dumbass she is. “Laura... which you already know... yeah.”
Carmilla’s own smile widens. “Laura”, She repeats and Laura somehow loves her own name twice as much now.
The two of them stare at each other, hands still glued together, before the shorter girl comes to her senses (arguably but still) and pulls away.
“So,” She clears her throat a couple of times before she trusts herself to speak, “we’re not strangers anymore. You can freely be a dick to me now, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Carmilla shrugs and Laura’s heart sinks a little. “Or I could get your number.”
Laura looks like she’s constipated, she’s 100% sure. “My number?” She repeats stupidly.
“Your number,” Carmilla agrees and her expression is amused again but like soft amused, not teasing.
“Despite the three burritos I, um, unloaded there?” Laura points vaguely behind her back and oh god, she’s so gross, she’s such a loser, she’s-
Carmilla actually laughs at that and for some reason it really makes Laura feel better. “I know how the human body works, Laura. So yes, despite that.”
Laura’s grinning like an imbecile the whole afternoon after.