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Braeden knows she’s been standing in the bathroom for a little too long. She has fifteen minutes to get breakfast, grab her bag, and leave the apartment (twenty if she’s being generous), but she can’t stop staring at her reflection in the mirror.
She knows it’s definitely been too long when she hears Erica yell from the kitchen.
“Brae? Toast or cereal?”
The words don’t really register, though. Every time she’s about to walk away, Braeden’s eyes catch on something new to worry about – is the lipstick too much? Should she have straightened her hair? What if if rains and–
“I only have one piece of bread, so if you want toast, you’re gonna have to starve,” Erica says, this time much closer. Braeden is almost as startled by the proximity of her voice as she is by her sudden appearance at the bathroom door. Erica crosses her arms and learns against the doorframe, the usual mischievous glint in her pretty brown eyes, and smiles. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready,” Braeden deflects, earning a small huff of laughter from Erica.
“Oh, Brae, are you nervous?”
Braeden sighs. Of course she’s nervous. She’s not the best with people, and she definitely sucks at making a good first impression – or, at any rate, one that leans less toward ‘tough cool chick’ and is at least closer to ‘responsible intelligent person’. She’s been second guessing every decision she’s made in the past six months since the moment she woke up this morning.
It’s a pretty big day.
“Oh, honey,” Erica coos. “You know there’s nothing to worry about, right? You got this.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Braeden agrees. “Just gotta blend in with a bunch of 18 year-olds. No big deal. Not like I’m gonna look like everyone’s mom.”
Erica rolls her eyes, then glances to the mirror.
“Is that thing working? Because from where I’m standing, you look hot . You’re not gonna blend in, you’re gonna stand out as the hottest girl in all your classes and everyone’s going to ask for your number and then I’ll have to fight them off. I mean, if I saw you looking like that at orientation, I would totally hit on you. I’d probably have dreams about you. Kinky dreams. And you know I’m completely, absolutely, one hundred percent unbiased, and not at all trying to make out with my girlfriend before I have to sit through two dreadful hours of biology.”
Braeden shakes her head and huffs out a laugh. If there’s one thing Erica knows, it’s how to get her to relax and stop worrying so much about everything, all the time. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, reminding herself that it’s alright and she can do this . It’s not even that big a deal. Hell, she almost died at the hands of a blind Alpha werewolf and made it through just fine. She can handle a small, insignificant thing like going back to school.
She sees Erica’s reflection sidle up to her from behind, her soft hands coming to rest at Braeden’s hips. They lock eyes in the mirror.
“I really don’t see why you’re worried,” Erica goes on, resting her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “You can name more methods of torture than I can name brands of shoe. If anything, it’s your classmates that should be worried.”
She feels Braeden’s shoulders tense up again.
“What is it?” Erica asks, dropping the casual tone.
“This is… is this a good idea? I mean, I know it’s a little late to be questioning, but… I mean, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“No, I get it. It’s scary,” says Erica. Braeden nods and Erica slides her arms around her girlfriend’s middle, squeezing a little. “Not blood-and-gore scary, but big-life-changes scary. Super valid. But you want this, remember? Besides, look at everything you’ve done in your life. You're a badass, Brae. This is absolutely nothing.” She nods again. “And stop saying you’re old. You’re making it sound like I’m dating a 40 year-old housewife.”
“I am older than you.”
“Oh please. What, five years? That’s nothing. If I’m a baby, you’re just a slightly bigger baby.”
Braeden laughs and turns around, capturing Erica’s lips in a soft kiss.
“Now that’s what I was looking for. A score, and it’s not even ten am yet? Sophomore year really is the best,” Erica giggles. “No, okay, being serious now. You’re 24, Brae. So what, you’re a freshman? It’s not like you’ve been home, doing nothing. It just shows you know what you want, and you’re willing to work for it. And if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, you tell them about the torture thing.”
Braeden chuckles again, but Erica can see the difference in the way she holds herself, just a little less tight, just a little brighter. She counts it as a victory.
“Okay, good. Now, come get some breakfast. I hope you like cereal, because I lied about having that last slice of bread.”