Work Text:
Lizzie Saltzman’s latest google searches include: Why do I hate seeing my roommate kissing a girl? Why do I hate seeing my girl roommate kissing another girl?
There is only one answer so far.
Are you homophobic?
Lizzie Saltzman is not homophobic. Her sister is pansexual, for crying out loud!
But here she was, in a predicament of hating seeing her roommate kissing girls in their shared space.
It all started during her freshman year of college. Lizzie wanted to live on or near campus but didn’t have the funds to pay for such a thing herself. So she took to the internet. She went on interview after interview, and she had no leads. And truly, the prospects were anything but perfect; a girl asked her what her zodiac sign was, and said she refused to live with a pisces after a bad breakup. Another didn’t have any set rules for what they wanted a roommate to be, only that she would need some of Lizzie’s hair for a spell (which, what?). The latest meetup ended with her making a boy cry. To be fair, that one was her fault. But really, socks and sandals do not go together and he did deserve to cry over it.
But then she met Hope Mikaelson, and her fear that she would be couch surfing for the foreseeable future was no more.
(three months ago)
Lizzie wasn’t nervous. She’d done a million interviews at this point, had seen a million apartments, and met a million people. If anything, she was frustrated. School was starting soon and all she wanted was to know where she would be sleeping at night. Josie and her partner, Finch, are renting a place together and her last resort was sleeping on their couch. It wasn’t really an option at all though, because as much as she loved them, she didn’t want to ruin the honeymoon phase of moving in together would create. And if she walked in one them groping one another one more time – no, it just wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to keep her head clear of images she did not want to see. That’s all she had to keep in mind doing this interview. That she was desperate, and she’d say anything, do anything, to get Hope to see she was the right choice.
She knocks on the door of her last option before the last option. She has two coffees in hand and is holding one awkwardly, trying not to drop it as she knocked. She didn’t know much about Hope, apart from the fact she was looking for a roommate. The post online hadn’t offered anything else, just that the apartment was two bedrooms with one bathroom, that it was pet friendly with a “please, if you have a dog, you’re more likely to be considered! If you have a cat, exit this post now.” and Lizzie frowned when she read it because she did not, in fact, have a dog. She did, however, have a cat. Her name was Gizmo and she wasn’t past putting a dog costume on her to get Hope to change her mind (she wouldn’t.) Hope didn’t even need to know about her cat, though, did she? Not before Lizzie won her over with her winning personality? Footsteps approach the door, and Lizzie plasters a big smile on her face. The second the door is open, she shoves the coffee at Hope. “Hi! Oh, you’re so small.” Lizzie lowers her arm, trying not to shove the coffee in Hope’s face because of her height. “My bad. I hope you have a sweet tooth.” She didn’t know what coffee Hope liked to drink, so she duplicated what she liked.
Hope barely has time to blink. She moves slowly, grabbing the coffee from Lizzie. “Calling me short? If I was counting, this would be strike one.” She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t say thank you for the drink. Just takes the coffee and walks further inside, knowing Lizzie will follow. This doesn’t deter Lizzie, though. She always has her foot in her mouth, it’s just about loving that part of her. Which she knew she could get Hope to do if she tried hard enough. She follows Hope in, shutting the door behind her, and lets her eyes roam over the place. It’s decorated beautifully, with the eye of someone who appreciates art. Hope takes a seat in a chair that’s shaped like an egg, fitting inside of it with her small body almost perfectly. Lizzie sits across from her on the couch and waits for Hope to start with the questions.
What’s your zodiac sign? What are you going to college for? Can you afford the rent? Are you loud, quiet, or annoying? Yada yada yada.
Hope takes a sip of the coffee Lizzie got her and makes a face. Lizzie notes the expression on her face as something cute. “This is not coffee. It’s disgusting.”
Lizzie frowns, taking the comment personally.
“Too much sugar,” Hope adds to further explain her point.
“No such thing,” Lizzie says, taking a drink of her own coffee. It doesn’t taste like coffee, because she doesn’t like coffee, and has to add loads of other things to enjoy it. “It’s fun in a cup.”
Hope obviously does not agree. “A cup full of cavities, health problems, and money wasted, you mean?”
“Am I just here for you to insult me?”
“I’m not insulting you. I’m insulting the drink in your hand.”
“Well,” Lizzie says, “Good thing me and my drink do not care what you think.” She furthers this by taking another sip.
Hope almost smiles. They sit in silence for a few minutes. It’s not uncomfortable, but Lizzie is anxious, waiting for the questions to start. She’s bouncing her leg, a sign of the too much sugar thing of her coffee not coffee, and breaks the quiet. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me something?”
Hope almost pouts. Like she doesn’t like that Lizzie is putting a stop to the nervousness she’s causing her. Lizzie doesn’t understand the game she’s playing. Hope sighs, like her fun is over. “To be honest, I can’t be bothered. The kind of trauma I’ve been through looking for someone to live with is an amount too unbelievably big.”
Lizzie understands that. “You have no idea.”
Hope raises an eyebrow, wanting her to elaborate.
“Someone asked for some of my hair.”
Hope counters with, “Someone asked if they could pay rent with their kidney.”
Lizzie almost spits out her drink. “Someone told me they wouldn’t live with me because I’m a pisces.”
“A girl came in and told me the art on the walls was ugly.” Lizzie didn’t think that was too bad. “Most of the art belongs to my father.”
“Offending the people we want to move in with. I can relate to her.”
It’s the first time Hope laughs. “You called me short. What else have you done?”
Lizzie sighs. “He had a two bedroom two bath. A dream, really. I met him for coffee –”
“This isn’t coffee.”
Lizzie pretends she didn’t hear her. “And when I saw him, the first thing that came out of my mouth was that he was a disgrace to humanity and should consider a career change because as someone who wanted a degree in fashion, he should know better to wear socks with sandals.”
“He cried over that?”
Lizzie can’t keep the frown off her face. “He was three years in. I think college was doing a number on him, and there I was, sending him into an identity crisis.”
Hope has the decency to pretend that she doesn’t want to laugh. “I guess I should thank you for not sending me into a spiral, then.” She smiles, and another note is added in the back of her mind: her smile could end wars. “When would you like to move in?”
Wait, what? “Don’t you want to ask me questions? Make sure I’m not like, a serial killer?”
Hope leans over, setting the coffee down on the table in front of them. “Are you a serial killer?”
Lizzie sips her coffee. “If I was, why would I tell you?”
This time, Hope talks like she hadn’t heard Lizzie. “And besides, why would me asking you questions help me determine whether you’re a killer or not? That’s stupid. Like you telling me you’re a pisces would convince me that you don’t kill people.”
That made sense. “Good point.”
“Do you want to ask me questions?” Hope asks. “To make sure I’m not a serial killer?”
“You’re too short to be a serial killer.” Lizzie comments.
Hope folds her arms across her chest. “There’s a height limit?”
“How would I know? I don’t kill people, Hope.”
Hope thinks for a minute. “You’re kind of impossible. I have a feeling I may regret this.”
Lizzie smiles, all innocence. “Is this a bad time to mention I have a cat?”
(current day)
Lizzie learns that Hope is a sophomore in college. That the plants you find all over the house, some hanging, some in the window, some in her bedroom, aren’t fake and Hope treats them like her children. She learns that Hope likes to watch fantasy TV to escape from reality, and if you can’t get a hold of her, it’s because she’s getting lost in the magic. She also likes cooking shows, but she pretends she doesn’t. She can’t hide it after long, because she doesn’t watch them alone anymore. Not when Lizzie is around. She learns that Hope values family before anything else and is someone who is fiercely protective of the people around her. She learns that Hope procrastinates her assignments and stays up late, losing sleep over them. She learns that Hope plays the kind of music that soothes the anxiety in your brain while she paints in the living room. Lizzie learns that it’s nice, to join Hope while she stands at her easel and she sits on the couch, each working on projects (that Hope put off, that Lizzie is getting a jump start on because she’s always miles ahead) enjoying one another's presence. She learns that she doesn’t have to talk around Hope, not to love having her around. She learns that Hope doesn’t like routines, but she falls into one with Lizzie, each of them laying on their stomachs on the floor, shoulders touching, appreciating the kind of closeness that comes without words. She knows Hope hates cats, but within the first weeks of living with her, learns that she doesn’t really hate cats. She’d come home after work, and find Hope napping on the couch with Gizmo on her chest. Not only did she have photo evidence of Hope with Gizmo, but Hope starts coming home with a bag of cat toys, explaining that she couldn’t pick just a few when she didn’t know what kind of toys the cat liked. Which, in itself, will tell you she doesn’t hate cats. She learns that she still has a wolf stuffed animal on her bed, something favorited because her parents gave it to her. She learns that Hope’s parents aren’t alive anymore and that Hope doesn’t like to talk about it, but likes to drop comments about them here and there. She learns that Hope may be small, but she is strong. She learns that Hope is kind, but mean sometimes. She learns that Hope has a heart of gold, but covers it with sarcasm. She learns, and she learns, and she learns.
She always learns that Hope takes on many lovers.
Which is fine.
Lizzie doesn't care who Hope dates. Doesn’t care that many faces pass through because really, isn’t that what college is for? To have fun? Lizzie hadn’t considered it for herself, but she didn’t mind that Hope did. Or well, she thought she didn’t. But then she would walk in after a long day of classes, see a girl sitting on their kitchen counter, see Hope standing between her legs, smiling at her. And Lizzie would hate it.
She’d come out of her bedroom in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and hear her giggling with someone in her room, and she would hate it.
She’d be sitting on their couch, journaling in her notebook covered with the stickers Hope made for her, and Hope would crash through the door with a girl on her heels. They’d giggle, hand in hand, off to Hope’s bedroom. And Lizzie hated it.
She thinks back, going through her memories, trying to find out when she started feeling this way.
(two months ago)
Hope was sketching in her notebook, sat on the couch, legs folded underneath herself. Lizzie found it funny when she did that because it only made her look that much smaller. Lizzie could tell by the look on her face that she was stressed, trying to figure out what her next move would be. What line, what mark, what stain she could add that would make the drawing. Not take away. Lizzie joins her on the couch, and Hope doesn’t notice. Is too caught up in the design in front of her. Lizzie leans over and snatches the book off her lap.
“Hey!”
“Hi,” Lizzie smiles, looking over her work. It was an outline of their living room, their couch. A girl was sleeping, a blanket draped over her, and although the moment felt familiar, Lizzie couldn’t place it. It must be one of Hope’s girls, Lizzie assumes. She doesn’t know why it makes her feel sad.
Hope reaches over, trying to grab back at the book, but Lizzie moves to the other side, holding it out of her way. “Now now, let’s not embarrass yourself. You couldn’t get it no matter how hard you try.”
Hope pouts. She gives up easily, leaning into Lizzie as Lizzie puts the book on her own lap, and they look over the drawing together.
Lizzie is trying hard not to focus on how close Hope is. Why is so hard not to notice it?
“Which one is this? Cleo? Alison? Maya?”
Hope sighs. “You know her name is Alyssa.”
“Do I?”
“And anyway,” she grabs the book when Lizzie is too focused on her words to hold onto it, “It’s none of your business.”
That hurt Lizzie’s feelings, for reasons unknown to her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Who you sleep with and who you draw is none of my business.”
(two months ago)
Hope is laughing. The kind of laugh that you can’t stop, can’t keep inside. The kind of laugh that takes over your whole body until you’re shaking, tears coming from your eyes. And Lizzie has never seen something so beautiful. Never heard something that made her so happy.
“I didn’t tell you this so you’d laugh at me!”
Hope doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even try to keep it in. “I’m – so – sorry.”
Lizzie scoffs, pretending this annoys her. It doesn’t. Anything that puts a smile on Hope’s face, that made Hope laugh the way she was now – well, she couldn’t hate it, could she?
They’re sat on the couch, a shared blanket thrown around their shoulders, a movie on that they weren’t paying attention to. Some romantic comedy Lizzie had picked. Previous to this, it was a rough night. Hope missed her parents, hated every piece of art she’d been working on the past few days, and couldn’t get through the block her emotions were putting her through. It was causing a create wall for her, and Lizzie wanted to take her away from the bricks, give her a moment of peace where she didn’t think about her parents, school, or her art. She put something from Netflix on, put a blanket around her shoulders, and held it out to Hope as an invitation. She grumbled, something about how she hated when Lizzie made her watch these kinds of movies but joined her anyway.
After a few minutes into the movie, Lizzie was telling her about the first time she’d watched this with someone else, not realizing they thought it was a date. She told her about how when he tried to kiss her, she pushed him away, he fell off the couch, and they both just sat there in shock. Him on the floor, mouth wide open, confused about how he’d ended up there. Her on the couch, mouth wide open, confused about when she’d decided she never wanted to kiss a boy. Or maybe anyone. But definitely not boys.
Lizzie leaves that part out. Tells Hope how she was just a teen and didn’t realize a movie meant a date meant kissing. “It wasn’t that funny!”
Hope is still giggling. “You pushed him off the couch!”
“Yeah, well, he deserved it!” She’s pouting. “I didn’t know it was a date! He should have said it was a date. Then I would have said no, and we both would never have had to experience that moment together.”
She isn’t sure why her words make Hope look Hopeful. Hope reaches over and brushes a thumb over Lizzie’s lip until her pout was no more. “A late-night movie isn’t a date?” She says, her hopeful look dimming. “Noted.”
Lizzie doesn’t know if she’s breathing. What did that mean? What was going on? Her brain is mush. Confused by Hope’s words, confused by her touch.
Someone knocks on the door, breaking whatever moment they were having. Hope drops her hand, looking at Lizzie with a raised eyebrow, a way to ask if she was expecting anyone. She was not. Lizzie shakes her head.
Hope climbs out of the blanket and opens the door. It’s Cleo.
“Hi,” She leans in and kisses Hope on the cheek. “Are you busy?”
Every part of Lizzie is hoping she’ll say yes. Hope glances back at Lizzie, and then back to Cleo. “I guess not.”
Cleo is a good person. With a pretty smile, and an even prettier face. But at that moment, Lizzie has never hated someone more.
(one month ago)
Lizzie is exhausted. She was staying up late doing her assignments, going to every single class she was in, her mind running a mile a minute, trying to keep up with what she was doing and what she wanted to do, and what she wanted her life to be. Between school and her own brain trying to sabotage her, she was working at the library to keep up with her half of the rent. She’d learned pretty soon after moving in that Hope was well off and had family money funding her through. That she didn’t technically even need a roommate, but after a childhood spent mostly alone, she didn’t want to anymore. The family money part is why they’re arguing now.
Lizzie lay shut-eyed on the couch, legs in Hope’s lap, enjoying Hope’s touch as she rubbed them. Just a second before, Hope had offered to pick up her half of the rent. She hated that Lizzie was working so much, with everything else, and wanted to help take something off her plate. Lizzie hadn’t meant to be working long hours, originally only planning to take on what would pay her rent, but the library was understaffed and cycling through the same five employees. And after a stunt of feeling like every decision she made was selfish, she couldn’t say no when they asked if she’d work.
“I don’t want you to pay for my half.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
Lizzie keeps her eyes closed. “Maybe.”
“So what? I’m supposed to just watch you drive yourself into the ground?”
“That’s exactly what college is for.”
Hope pushes Lizzie’s legs off her lap and stands. “That’s ridiculous.”
Lizzie misses her touch instantly. What was it about Hope that made her feel better, even when she felt like shit? “Come back.”
Hope shakes her head. “Let me pay the rent.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Pride? Why should I get to live here if I’m not offering you anything?”
Hope considers her answer. “You’re my friend. That’s enough.”
Lizzie is her friend. It’s true. So why does hearing her and the word friend make her want to cry? It only made her want to be more stubborn, too. “Then as my friend , you’ll understand why I need to work to prove I can do this alone.” Without her sister, without her father. Without falling into a cycle of dependency to the people around her. Without needed to depend on Hope to keep her upright. As much as Lizzie had learned about Hope, Hope had learned the same about her, and she knew that Hope would get why she was saying no. So why did she seem so hurt by it?
Hope grabs her keys off the hook. “I understand. I get that your sister left you feeling like – like you take too much. But I’m offering. It isn’t some weird dependency thing. It’s you accepting help. It’s you letting me help you.” She slides her shoes onto her feet.
Lizzie doesn’t know what to say to that. Was shocked to even hear any of it. “Where are you going?”
“To Alyssa’s.” Lizzie fixes the name to Alison in her head. She hated Alyssa the most because she was who Hope ran to when she was sad, lonely, or frustrated. She wondered which of those things she was making her now. Lizzie says nothing, and Hope says nothing, the door slamming behind her as she went.
To Alyssa.
(one month ago)
On Monday she runs into Hope and Cleo. She hates it.
On Friday she runs into Hope and Alyssa. She hates it.
On Saturday she runs into Hope and Cleo, again. She hates it.
(a few weeks ago)
Lizzie is in the kitchen, making dinner. She has water boiling on the stove, a song playing from her phone, and she’s twirling around, dancing, singing the words.
“You’re on the phone with your girlfriend and she’s upset,” She adds the noodles to the pot, “She’s going off about something that you said,” She throws the packaging away, and grabs a spoon. “Because she doesn’t get your humor like I do!” Her spoon hits her chest, implying she’s the I in the situation. She’s moving her shoulders to the music, her head is bouncing back and forth, and she’s happy.
Someone coughs from behind her.
She spins around, a deer caught in the headlights.
Hope is smiling, arms crossed, leaning against the frame of the doorway. “Taylor Swift?”
Lizzie’s heart is beating fast. Well, she was already caught, she might as well have with it. She puts her spoon down, smiles and walks over to Hope. Hope realizes what is happening, the smile of her own dropping from her face.
“Oh, oh, no. I don’t – I don’t dance.”
Lizzie reaches out and puts her hand on one of Hope’s arms. “That’s very Highschool Musical 2 of you, but I don’t care.” Hope is confused by the statement, and Lizzie thinks for a quick second, wondering if Hope had never seen those movies. And if she hadn’t, they would be watching them soon. It’s a right of passage of childhood. Hope lets herself be pulled into the kitchen by Lizzie, and Lizzie twirls Hope around, singing the lyrics of You Belong With Me to her. Hope eventually loosens up, and they’re a giggling mess in the kitchen, the two of them taking turns twirling one another and dancing quite awfully. The song switches from T Swift to Teenage Dirtbag, and it’s Hope’s turn to scream lyrics. Lizzie laughs with her as she pours her noodles into a bowl, and thinks about how she wanted to wrap this memory up and never let it go. Well, until Hope says what she does.
“Oh shit, I’ve got to get ready.” She walks to her bedroom, living the door open. Lizzie follows, shoveling noodles into her mouth.
“Ready for what?” She says it, food restricting the words to come out right, but Hope still understands.
“Date with Landon.” She answers, taking off her top and throwing it on the ground. Lizzie’s eyes widen, and she turns, like seeing Hope’s body isn’t something she’s allowed to do. Lizzie feels deflated, her earlier happiness seeking out of her body, leaving her with a mess of feelings she doesn’t understand.
“Oh. I thought maybe we’d watch a movie.”
Hope makes a face at her, not a frown, but almost a wince. “I’m sorry, I’ve gonna be busy.” Lizzie was confused. Like Hope was saying for the future, she’d always be doing something else. Doing something without Lizzie.
Why does it feel like her heart just broke?
(current day)
Hope had pulled away from her the last few weeks. She can’t help but feel like it’s her fault. Maybe the feelings she felt from seeing Hope with other people were written on her face, and Hope was offended by it. Maybe she was acting like a horrible person who thought horrible things who felt horrible things and Hope could see it. Feel it. But Google was no help because she couldn’t be homophobic. The most recent lover Hope had taken on was a man, and she still hated it. Hated seeing him on the couch, hated seeing him in their kitchen, hated hearing his voice and hearing him say Hope’s name. But was that just her taking on her role as being the number one man-hater too seriously? This only confused her. She felt the same way about him as she did about any of the other people Hope would date. When she walked in on them watching a movie on the couch, she still had the same thought: that she should be the person Hope spent her time watching movies with.
She sighs, flops down on her bed, and calls her sister. It rings three times, and Josie answers.
“Am I homophobic?” Lizzie blurts out before Josie can get a word in.
Josie doesn’t say anything for a second. But when she does, it’s through a laugh. “I’m putting you on speaker. Finch is with me. Can you say that again?”
Lizzie groans. She didn’t need more witnesses to how much of a horrible person she was. “Am I homophobic?”
The laugh Finch lets out is comical.
“I’m serious!”
“Okay,” Josie says. “Then could you like, give us some context?”
Lizzie explains her dilemma. Explains that Hope is her closest friend, explains that she has many girls in her bed and many girls on their couch, and many girls everywhere. Explains the kind of hate that fills her heart when she sees them kissing. Sees them holding hands. The kind of hate that makes her want to kick them out and take their spot. Even with Landon, who she may be hating more than the rest of them because he’s sticking around the longest.
Finch and Josie bust out laughing, again.
“Should we tell her?” Finch says between giggles.
“She’ll figure it out, right?” Josie says in turn.
“Guys, I’m right here. Please help me. Am I a horrible person?”
Josie sighs, but not the kind of sigh that says she’s exhausted. The kind of sigh that says Lizzie is an idiot. “Can I ask you something, Lizzie?”
Lizzie nods, forgetting she’s on the phone. “Oh, yeah.”
“How do you feel when you see Hope with this guy? Landon, you said?”
Lizzie understands where she’s going with this. “I hate it.”
“Right.”
“But I hate men.”
Finch cuts in. “But it’s the same feeling, right?”
Lizzie nods again. “Oh, um, yeah.”
“So what do you think that could be, sweetie?” Josie’s voice is soft. Like the answer is obvious but she doesn’t want to push.
Lizzie thinks about it. She hates seeing Hope with women. She hates seeing Hope with men. She wishes she could just push everyone away and keep Hope to herself.
Oh.
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Eureka! I think she’s got it.” Finch can't contain her laughter. Not that she was trying much to begin with.
Lizzie stands from her bed. Paces her room. “So, wait. I’m not homophobic, I just –”
“Want to kiss Hope?” Josie says.
“Want your lady lover all to yourself?” Finch says at the same time.
So that’s what this feeling was? The bone-deep, heart falling to your ass, empty hollow type sensation whenever she saw Hope with someone that wasn’t her? It’s jealousy. Her favorite romance movies did not prepare her for this. Didn’t tell her how much it hurt when the person you want, wanted someone else. Didn’t explain properly how much hate, sadness, and confusion that comes with it. And yeah, sure, she’d been jealous before. But over silly things. Things like wanting her mom’s attention when she was talking to Josie, or being annoyed over Josie not hanging out with her and going out with a friend instead. Over clothes she wished she had, or pretty girls she wished she could be. Nothing compared to the feeling of jealousy she felt now.
Maybe she should have been more prepared for it. I mean, after all, she did swear off men as an option for her in the dating pool. She’d always known that men were not in the cards. She should have considered the possibility that maybe women were. God knows Josie was trying to get her to see that sexuality was a spectrum. She would go on long rants about it. Lizzie was just always too busy with planning school events, assignments, parties, running for student council, and her own future and what she wanted it to be, to really hear her.
Well, she was hearing her now.
Quite literally.
Josie was rambling on about the same subject while Lizzie sat here, experiencing something close to a gay awakening.
“And like, you totally love Hope. It doesn’t mean you need to figure out what your sexuality is right now, but like, you love her, so that should help you along.”
“Oh my god,” Lizzie speaks for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re so right. I’m in love with my roommate. That is so much better than being homophobic!”
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Lizzie is waiting for Hope on the couch. She was due to be back from the art studio at any time now if she wasn’t going out with Landon after. Lizzie’s leg is bouncing up and down, a direct result of her being nervous, or the coffee wrecking its way through her system. Probably both. When she hears keys turn in the door, her heart quite literally drops into her stomach. Hope comes in, drops her bag by the door, and hangs her key on the hook. Lizzie smiles at the sight of her. Her clothes are covered in clay, and there are a few marks on her face, too. She looks beautiful. Had Lizzie really not noticed how simply the look of her brings her an intense amount of happiness that never goes away? God, and her heart. It’s trying to jump out of her chest. If it’s even in her chest anymore. Lizzie watches her, not knowing how to begin.
When Hope spots her, her eyes linger on Lizzie’s leg, which is still moving. It may be moving forever now, and she’ll just have to accept it. Hope walks over and sits down, as close to Lizzie as she can manage. She reaches out, placing a hand on Lizzie’s knee. Trying to stop the movement. Lizzie lets her hold her leg down. She knows Hope can sense that something is wrong, or well, not wrong, but not right.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m freaking out, actually.” Over having feelings. Over being confused and then not confused anymore. Over needing to all of Hope’s dates because she spent way too much time hating them for no reason.
“Okay,” Hope says, pressing her hand harder into Lizzie’s leg, trying to ground her into here and now. “What about?”
Lizzie doesn’t know how to answer that. How to even start. Honesty is the best policy, right? “You.”
She lightens her touch on Lizzie’s knee. “Me?”
“Funny story,” Lizzie begins, taking her eyes off Hope and planting them on one of the paintings on the wall. “Everything was all normal, right? And then I met you, and I started living here, and you – you date.”
Hope takes her hand back. “Is this like, a slut shaming thing?”
Oh god. “No! No, absolutely not! I mean, why wouldn’t you? You’re so beautiful, and everyone who meets you probably falls in love for like, the entire time of knowing you. Of course you date, and it’s fine, of course, it’s fine! All the power to you, really. It’s totally fine. Until, like, it wasn’t? But not in a weird, like, slut-shaming view, or whatever? It was okay, but then I had to see you with girls, and like, every single time I saw you with someone my heart felt like it was going from a balloon floating in the sky flying high in the air but then it gets stuck in a tree and deflates and becomes something bad for the environment.”
The confusion on Hope’s face is something she’ll find funny later. When she’s no longer in the moment of screwing everything all up.
“After a while, I thought there was something wrong with me, so I googled it.”
“You..” Hope is trying to find her words. “Googled it?”
Lizzie nods.
“Okay, Bella Swan. What did that get you?”
“It told me that I was being homophobic. Which like, was totally terrifying. I didn’t want to be a horrible person with horrible feelings when I saw you with girls. But then I saw you with Landon, and everything in me still hated it.” Lizzie takes a breath. “I called my sister and her partner, well, not her partner, because I didn’t need someone else to witness me being an awful human being. But they told me to explain like I should do now –” She takes another breath. “ Of course, I hated seeing you with other people. I wanted it to be me instead. I wanted to be the girl you kissed on the kitchen counter and the girl who kisses you on the cheek and the girl you run to when you’re frustrated and the person you watched movies with and the person you took out on dates.”
Lizzie is talking, and talking, and talking, and too busy focusing on her words that she doesn’t even realize the look of hope back on Hope’s face.
“But you said it wasn’t a date.”
“Huh?”
“When we were cuddled on the couch, watching a movie. You didn’t consider something like that a date, and I thought, I don’t know – you were trying to tell me that wasn’t a date.”
Lizzie is shocked into silence. She needs a minute to gather her thoughts. “You wanted that to be a date?”
“Seriously, Lizzie? I thought you knew. I thought you knew when you saw me drawing you on the couch. I thought you knew I wanted to be on dates with you. And kiss you on the kitchen counter. And all that dumb stuff, okay? But then you said that, and I thought I needed to like, back off. I didn’t even know if you liked girls, and I didn’t want to be creepy.”
Lizzie feels like her brain is about to explode. She’s about to open her mouth, to say like, what the fuck –
But Hope shakes her head. “Are you going to push me off the couch if I kiss you?"
&
It took the rest of the night for Lizzie to stop freaking out. Hope brought her to her bed, laid her down, and talked her through everything she was feeling. Had been feeling. Her hate, her confusion, the sadness of Hope leaving to be with other people. And Hope talked to her about when they met, that Lizzie could have said anything, and she would have said yes to her moving in because she found her so beautiful. She tells Lizzie about covering her with a blanket on the couch, of having her here but not really here. Of drawing her, to try and get her out of her brain. Of how much it hurt to try and keep herself away from her the last few weeks, trying to give Lizzie space and herself space, too, because she thought she needed to undo all of the feelings she had for Lizzie. Of running to Alyssa, or Cleo, or Landon, because she was sad about the person she wanted, not wanting her.
Hope is cuddling to Lizzie’s side, trailing a hand up and down her stomach. Lizzie almost has to tell her to stop, because she can’t think clearly like that, but she doesn’t. Hope kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her again when she talks about how she thought she had done something wrong for Hope to pull away from her. Lizzie kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her again when Hope talks about liking someone she thought would never like her back.
After all the serious stuff, after everything that needed to be said had been, Hope starts laughing. The kind of laugh that says she won’t be stopping any time soon.
Lizzie is watching her, smiling, because this is hers now. This is hers, and no one else's. She gets to kiss Hope whenever she wants and take her on dates and dance in the kitchen with her and never have to fear someone else will be taking her place.
“Jesus, Hope, what?”
Hope tries to breathe, tries to stop the laughter from spilling through her lips. “You – you thought you were homophobic?”
Oh, god, she was never going to live that down, was she?
+
Hope gets excited all of the sudden. “Does this mean I can pay your rent? If you’re sleeping with me, what exactly are you paying for? Oh, oh!” She grabs at Lizzie, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Does this mean I”m your sugar mommy?”