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Whitney taps her pen against the side of her chin pensively; it feels like she’s been working on this calculus problem set for hours now, but the clock is telling her it’s apparently only been thirty minutes since she resumed. She groans quietly, bringing a hand up to her cheek to pull the skin down in frustration. She doesn’t know why she even needs to be taking a calculus class as a Poli Sci major.
She wants to ask Kimberly, because Kimberly’s good at every subject, but she’s taken up a second job at the campus library to make extra money after her scholarship got revoked. And Bela– not that she expects Bela to be that useful, but she could use any second pair of eyes at this point– spends late nights dedicatedly working on her Women’s-Only Comedy Club.
There’s always… the math genius who would be the most useful: Leighton. But she’s not home either, and not for any reasonable reasons like Kimberly and Bela, but just because she’s going down on whatever Catch of the Week– or maybe it’s day at this point, because Whitney never recognizes the girls that Leighton is talking to– that she can find. Leighton’s absence bothers Whitney the most of all because she’s grown to be fond of the blonde’s agitating whining. Her days feel different now that they’re getting closer and closer to final exams and everyone’s become increasingly busy and don’t come back to the dorm until late at night.
Whitney’s head jolts to the door when she hears the jingling of keys from outside. Maybe she’s just been waiting for an excuse to take a break from this awful problem set, but she grins to herself at the thought of Leighton– or, any of her roommates– coming back.
The doors are pushed open aggressively and Whitney’s eye half-twitches when she finds the sight of Leighton and her extra guest, whose face Whitney can’t even make out because it’s so busy making out with Leighton’s lips. She fights the urge to groan as the pair don’t stop to look up, they just keep devouring each other in front of Whitney. Leighton kicks the door behind her shut while letting her hands crawl further up this brunette girl’s curls.
“Hi, Whit,” Leighton stops between a kiss to greet her, but her eyes remain shut and she resumes kissing the girl. “Bye, Whit.”
Whitney rolls her eyes as Leighton and her hookup stumble back towards her room and shut the door. She thought she’d experienced the maximum volume of loud hookups whenever their climate change refugee neighbor brought a new girl home, but that was before Leighton had first brought a girl back. And tonight is no different– Whitney has to put on her noise-cancelling headphones and turn her music to full volume to even slightly drown out the sex sounds.
But she still can’t make any progress on her assignment. Not only is she stuck on a problem, but she can’t stop thinking about Leighton’s new girl and whatever they’re doing in the room.
She finally feels some peace when the hookup is over and Leighton walks the girl out, who leaves her with a flirtatious lip bite and a “text me when you’re free again,” which Whitney knows damn well is never going to happen.
“What the hell, Leight?” Whitney sets her notebook down on the table in front of the couch as soon as the door is shut and the girl is gone. “That’s, like, the millionth girl this week.”
“And what’s your point?” Leighton turns around in a fluffy pink robe, hands deep in the pockets.
“Do you even know their names at this point?” Whitney raises her eyebrows.
Leighton scoffs. “Yes, of course. I’m not a dude.”
“Then, what was her name?”
“Shelly,” Leighton answers confidently. “Well, it might’ve been Shelby, but it was something in that ballpark. Close enough.”
Whitney rolls her eyes. “Amazing.”
“What’s your problem?” Leighton asks, squinting her eyes. She steps closer to the couch, crossing her arms.
“I don’t have a problem. I just…” Whitney starts, shaking her head. “I thought you’d get over this hookup phase by now— it’s been going on for weeks. I thought you’d want to get to know the girls you’re sleeping with.”
Leighton shrugs. “No offense to you and Canaan, but I prefer to be freed from the shackles of monogamy. This is… much more fun.”
“Really?” Whitney raises her eyebrows. “So, you really don’t want anything meaningful?”
“Not with them.”
“You don’t even know them.”
“I don’t need to know them to know that I don’t want a serious relationship with them,” Leighton shakes her head. “I’ve tried that— it’s too much.”
Whitney’s finally about to reduce the heat, but when she sees Leighton sit down on the couch and whip out her phone and start texting another girl, clear from the flirty smile on her face, the frustration is reignited.
“Are you seriously texting a different girl right after?”
“How do you know I’m not talking to the same girl?” Leighton challenges, looking up from her phone.
“Because I know you.”
Leighton doesn’t protest because she most certainly is texting a different girl, but she’s unfazed by Whitney’s questioning and resumes her texting.
“It’s almost finals week, too. I have all sorts of big assignments and projects due, but you seem to have all the time in the world to be having sleepovers with these girls.”
“My grades are excellent, but thank you for your concern,” Leighton scoffs. She finally sets her phone down beside her and scans the mess of papers that Whitney’s scattered around their living area. “Looks like you’re struggling, though.” She leans over Whitney to get a closer look at the papers. “God, is this the same calc problem set that you were working on before I left? You’ve only finished one problem since then.”
“I took breaks!” Whitney defends herself.
“Uh-huh,” Leighton nods. She snatches the pen from the table and pokes Whitney’s cheek with the back of it. “If only you had a wonderful roommate who can solve calculus questions with her eyes closed.”
Whitney sighs. “Well, I wanted your help, but you were busy all night.”
“You could’ve just knocked on my door,” Leighton smirks.
“Yeah, I’m sure you would’ve dropped what you were doing to come do some math homework.”
“I might’ve,” Leighton shrugs. “The rush I get from you being impressed by my math skills is far more pleasing than an orgasm.”
Whitney feels heat rising in her cheeks. She shakes her head, trying to roll her eyes. “Can we please just do my assignment?”
“Someone’s bossy. I kinda like it.”
Whitney’s cheeks flush even redder. Leighton never takes anything seriously, so she just thinks it’s funny to jokingly flirt with her roommates. She wonders if Leighton does it this much to Kimberly and Bela. And she wonders if they feel bothered by it, too. They’ve never complained about it.
Leighton leans back over to see the notebook, her head practically smushed right next to Whitney’s. Whitney just sits still, lips pressed together as she tries to not mind how close Leighton is to her.
“Okay, you just take the limit here, and…” Leighton stretches further as she uses the pen to jot something down in the notebook.
“Leight, I can barely breathe.”
“Well, sorry. My glasses are in my room and I can’t see.”
Whitney doesn’t know how much longer she can survive with Leighton so close to her. She hates this weird tingling she feels when their arms graze. And what’s even worse is the weird drop in her stomach she gets when Leighton shifts her position.
“Here, you just take it,” Whitney picks up the notebook and drops it in Leighton’s lap.
She thinks it’ll grant her some space from Leighton, but all it does is stop her from leaning over so far. Leighton still sits well into her personal space bubble, not seeming to mind or notice the way her thigh is touching Whitney’s. Whitney can’t even move because she’s pressed against the edge of the sofa already, so all she can do is accept repeated tapping of Leighton’s leg as she thinks about the calculus problem before energetically scribbling mathematical nonsense into Whitney’s notebook.
Normally, she would’ve dozed off, but she keeps thinking about the contact between their legs. And it goes on until Whitney’s problem set is finally complete and Leighton proudly shoves the notebook back into her arms, complete with solved calculus problems that Whitney can’t even begin to understand.
“There you go!” Leighton flips blonde locks behind her back.
“Wow. I keep forgetting that you’re an actual math genius and that title wasn’t just self-proclaimed.”
Leighton ignores the insult and pats Whitney’s back. “You should rewrite everything in your handwriting. We don’t want a repeat of the whole… Kimberly Cheating-Gate.”
“Yeah, of course,” Whitney nods as she watches the blonde stand up from the couch. “Thank you, Leight. I really appreciate it.”
“Always happy to help you,” Leighton smiles, shoving her hands back into the pockets of her robe before backing into her bedroom. “Good night.”
“Night,” Whitney responds before watching Leighton shut the door.
Whitney would never describe Leighton Murray as a nice girl because her vocabulary mainly consists of very inappropriate insults, but sometimes she forgets about that side of her because she’s… so nice. This version of her doesn’t even resemble the entitled blonde menace who walked into their Essex dorm a few months ago.
…
Whitney tries to ignore the continued string of Leighton’s hookups, but it becomes increasingly difficult when Leighton starts bringing them back to the dorm more often now that she’s realized that Bela is rarely in their room anymore.
But when her calculus professor hands her back the last problem set she turned it with a huge A- written in red at the top, the only thing Whitney can think about is Leighton because she’s never been in the A-range on these stupid calculus problem sets until now. And the only questions that were marked as wrong were the ones that she did— Leighton’s were flawless. She got every single question correct.
“Excellent work, Miss Chase,” her professor praises while separating the next student’s homework from the stack. “Keep that up, and you’ll be in excellent shape for the final exam.”
Whitney almost sprints back to her dorm after class because she needs to catch Leighton before she runs out for her nightly hookup. Unsurprisingly, Leighton’s in a tight black dress, clearly meant for her newest catch.
“Leight, ” Whitney calls her as soon as she shuts the door. She’s about to mention the great grade on the problem set, but her eyes detour over Leighton’s body one more time. “You, uh… you look really good. You look hot.”
Leighton smiles. “I try.”
“Heading out for another one-time date night?” Whitney asks.
“How would you know that?”
“I know you. And it’s obvious.”
“Well, you might be right this time, but I seriously do not want your slut-shaming again.”
“I wasn’t gonna!” Whitney protests. “I’ve accepted that I’m never going to be able to change your mind in favor of monogamy.”
“Thank you for quitting. It means so much to me.”
Whitney’s mind shifts back to calculus. She knows Leighton’s about to head out the door, but she has another problem set due at midnight. She stares at the blonde for an excessively long period of time. Leighton just raises her eyebrows.
“What do you want, Whit?”
Whitney breaks from her thoughts. “Huh?”
“You want something, so tell me what it is.”
“How would you know that?” Whitney mirrors the blonde’s words.
“Well, because I know you. And it’s obvious, too,” Leighton mirrors Whitney’s words with a quiet chuckle. “I know your ‘I want something’ eyes. You were just doing them.”
“I don’t have ‘I want something’ eyes—” Whitney begins to protest.
“So, you don’t want anything, then? Shall I walk out?” Leighton raises her eyebrows, a small smirk curving upon her lips as she keeps her eyes focused on Whitney.
“Okay, fine,” Whitney gives in with a sigh. “I need your help again with a calc problem set that’s due tonight. I know, I should’ve asked you sooner, but I didn’t realize how well you did on the last one until my professor handed it back today, and… yeah. Will you help me?”
Leighton doesn’t take a second to think. “I’m in.”
“Woah, what?” Whitney’s startled. “I thought you’d say no. I mean, you’re meeting that girl, and—”
Leighton waves her off. “There’ll be other girls.”
A smile forms on Whitney’s lips. “Wow… I never thought you’d blow off your sex addiction to do my calculus homework.”
“Don’t make me retract my offer,” Leighton warns, furrowing her eyebrows. “Besides, it’s for you.”
There it is again— that weird stomach drop. Whitney swallows thickly as she watches the blonde sit down on their common room sofa.
“And I’m not doing your homework this time,” Leighton adds. “I’m going to tutor you until you understand the concepts.”
“But it’s due at midnight…”
“I’ll get you there by ten o’ clock. Guaranteed,” Leighton states confidently. “Plus, you said it yourself. Final exams are coming up and we can’t have you failing, can we?”
Whitney sighs, but nods reluctantly. She joins Leighton on the sofa.
“We’re not stopping with this problem set, either,” Leighton declares. “Tomorrow, we go back to the very first chapter and I’m going to drill every concept into you so hard that you wish you never asked for my help.”
Whitney’s eyes widen when she sees the intense crazy eyes that have overtaken Leighton from whatever power trip she’s gotten from becoming Whitney’s self-appointed tutor.
“That’s a lot of time you have to spend with me instead of your rotation of girls,” Whitney reminds.
“I like you better than them, so…. not a loss for me,” Leighton smirks. “Now, give me your textbook.”
…
For the first time, Whitney starts to feel like she’s good at calculus.
Maybe she’s always had it in her but just didn’t keep her eyes open long enough in class, but somehow, with Leighton’s tutoring, she feels like she has her final exam in the bag. And as a bonus, she actually gets to hear Leighton’s normal talking voice daily instead of the muffled sounds of her moaning from her bedroom.
Oddly enough, since their tutoring arrangement began, Leighton hasn’t hooked up with any girls. At least not any that Whitney had to witness.
Whitney hates that she thinks this, but she wishes she could keep it that way. She wishes this would last forever— Leighton tutoring her and not sleeping with girls in their dorm.
They’re studying again in the common room again and Whitney feels closer to Leighton than she ever has this semester.
“You got it right!” Leighton exclaims, clapping her hands together. “When your professor sees how well you do, he’s going to put you in my advanced math seminar. Just wait.” Leighton turns to face Whitney and grins at her. “Do you even need me anymore? I’m starting to think you’re better than me at this. I don’t like it.”
“Please, I could never be better than you,” Whitney shakes her head. When she looks back up, she catches Leighton’s gaze with her own eyes. “I’ll always need you.”
They let silence take over for a moment and Whitney starts to wonder if she sounded… flirtatious, or something. Leighton’s staring at her with a burning gaze and Whitney’s starting to feel that stomach drop again. She takes a thick swallow as usual to calm herself, but the feeling in her stomach intensifies when Leighton reaches over to put her hand on Whitney’s thigh.
“Fuck, you’re so smart,” Leighton comments.
Whitney doesn’t know what this means— it certainly can’t mean anything real . She’s probably just overthinking all of this because Leighton would never go there. Leighton has the entire sapphic female population thirsting over her.
Whitney doesn’t get much more time to think about it when the door bursts open and she catches a rare sight: Bela and Kimberly .
“What’s up, bitches?” Bela exclaims, waving a bottle of Fireball in the air as if it’s a trophy. Whitney’s not even surprised that the first thing Bela wants to do when they all have time to hang out is drink alcohol. “We’re getting lit tonight to celebrate the last weekend before finals!”
Normally, Whitney would’ve been over the moon because she hasn’t spent quality time with her other two roommates since after Thanksgiving, but she sort of is dreading the end of the one-on-one time with Leighton. It’s stupid and selfish, and she knows she shouldn’t be thinking things like this. She forces herself up from the couch.
“I’m game,” Whitney declares, snatching the Fireball from Bela’s hands.
“Now, that’s the end of semester spirit that I wanted to see,” Bela grins.
Whitney pops the cap of the Fireball off and tosses it on the table. She lifts the bottle up, pouring the liquor straight into her mouth. She winces at the lingering burning sensation in her throat as she pushes the bottle back in Bela’s direction.
“Needed a break from hanging out with me that bad?” Leighton whispers with a nudge while Bela pours the Fireball down her own throat.
“No, it’s not like that— I was… I just…” Whitney whispers back, shaking her head frantically. “It’s been a while since we’ve all done this together.”
Leighton raises her eyebrows. “I was joking.” She extends her arm to snatch the bottle, which is now in Kimberly’s hands. “There’s nothing more beautiful than the four of us gathering to get wasted off our asses.”
Whitney forces a laugh, but she still feels the heat of Leighton questioning her. She squeezes her own arm to calm herself down, desperately needing another swig of the bottle to free her mind from these absurd feelings that have been plaguing her recently. She watches intently as Leighton lifts the bottle up high in the air to skillfully waterfall from it.
And then Whitney finds that she can’t tear her eyes away the entire time that Leighton is chugging the cinnamon whisky. She looks fucking good. Obviously, she always does, but Whitney doesn’t know why it’s hitting her now, more than ever, how attractive Leighton really is, especially when she’s drinking straight from the bottle like a pro. Whitney feels like she’s crazy— maybe she’s become such a lightweight, since she hasn’t drank that much since her roommates started getting busier.
“I propose that we go out tonight!” Kimberly exclaims, and the three remaining roommates stare right at her with wide eyes because Kimberly’s usually the last person to suggest going to a party.
“Bitch, you stole my line,” Bela feigns anger, then bursts out in a laugh. “I love that! I’m absolutely down.”
Whitney glanced back at Leighton, who seems more than down to go. And Whitney doesn’t know why, but that offends her slightly, even though she knows she’s just overreacting. She pivots back to face Leighton, who’s clinging the bottle against her chest.
“My turn,” Whitney declares, reaching for the bottle, but Leighton tightens her grip on it.
“Who said it is?” Leighton teases.
Whitney never backs down from a challenge, so she glides her fingers upwards, covering Leighton’s, trying to pry her fingertips underneath Leighton’s to get her hands off. She feels crazy, but Leighton doesn’t take her eyes off of her the entire time. The blonde even bites down on her lip, the same look that Whitney has seen her give all the girls she brings back to their dorm— before she has her way with them and kicks them out, that is.
“ So impatient,” Leighton relents with a smirk, finally releasing the bottle.
Whitney smiles proudly, basking in her victory by taking a swig from the bottle right in Leighton’s face. She laughs after swallowing the liquor, finding her eyes pulled back to Leighton’s face, which looks more and more perfect the more she stares at it.
“Thank God Theta doesn’t hate our guts anymore,” Bela says. “Apparently, they’re throwing the biggest party of the semester tonight.” She cuts in between Whitney and Leighton, snatching the bottle back from Whitney. “So, I need to pregame hard. And so do you guys— I wanna see you blackout drunk tonight!”
They all take that advice to heart— especially Whitney. She doesn’t know exactly how much she’s had to drink by the time that they’re outside the doors of Theta in their sluttiest outfits, but she certainly feels dizzy on her feet.
“Welcome, ladies,” the brother at the door greets, opening the door for them.
Whitney feels more confident than ever, smiling at the Theta brother as she walks in. But her confidence sinks immediately, when she trips on her own foot, stumbling forward into the house. Leighton grabs her arm, steadying her quickly.
“Yo, is your friend good?” the brother demands. “We don’t want anybody yakking all over our shit.”
“She’s good— just clumsy,” Leighton calls back to him. She leans in close to Whitney and whispers, “Are you good? Should I, like, call your boyfriend to take you home?”
Fuck. Whitney’s recently been so in her own world— or whatever little world she has going on with Leighton— that Canaan slips her mind far too often. She still hangs out with him, but she finds herself sending the I’m busy studying texts far more often than she used to. Even when she isn’t exactly being the most productive college student in the world…
“No, I’m fine,” Whitney shakes her head. “The pregame alc is just starting to hit me a little hard. I’ll be good, though. I can handle my alcohol— I’m not Bela.”
When the two turn to Bela, she’s already mingling with a group of white Theta brothers with chiseled six-packs. Leighton scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“I thought she was into that nerdy guy from the Catullan,” Leighton says.
“Eric?” Whitney raises her eyebrows. “They’re just casual. I thought you were the biggest fan of that.”
Leighton rolls her eyes again. “Are we back to this, Whit? I am a fan. I think that’s great for Bela. She shouldn’t limit herself to one guy. She needs to get all the doses of six packs that she can to stay alive.”
Kimberly senses the tension and puts one hand on each of their shoulders.
“Okay, guys, let’s not judge each other for our sexual preferences,” Kimberly tries to intervene. “Some people like sampling many pies, trying as many flavors as they can. And others find their favorite pie flavor right at the start and that becomes their regular order. Neither one is better than the other!”
“Are you suggesting that I’m shaming anyone for their sexual choices? I am not. I’m a feminist,” Whitney declares. “I’m sex positive.”
“Really? You seem very sex negative about my sex life,” Leighton raises her eyebrows.
“It was just a joke,” Whitney rolls her eyes.
“Whatever. I’m going to get a drink,” Leighton excuses herself and walks to the bar where the brothers are serving the unknown contents of their own jungle juice recipe.
“Are you guys good?” Kimberly asks, eyes still slightly widened.
“We’re… fine,” Whitney waves it off. “I’m just drunk. I’m being dumb.”
Kimberly doesn’t seem to actually buy it, but she’s also not one to provoke further. She presses her lips together and squeezes Whitney’s shoulder before pulling her to the area where everyone is dancing. Whitney exhales, trying to pull herself together mentally; she’s usually the one who drags Kimberly to the dance floor even when Kimberly adamantly insists that she can’t dance until she gets enough alcohol in her system.
Whitney forces a smile and starts moving her body to the music with Kimberly’s encouragement. With enough time, she actually starts getting distracted and has fun dancing and yelling the song lyrics in Kimberly’s face.
Almost. She almost has it, until she whips around to look for the bar when she finally feels ready to have another drink, but her eyes instead catch Leighton’s lips attached to some random girl. She rolls her eyes involuntarily, then turns back to Kimberly, who’s apparently now reunited with Bela.
“Woah. What happened to your Greek God boy-toy that you’ve been talking with the whole night?” Whitney asks.
“We made out a little,” Bela mentions casually.
And Whitney feels the alcohol churning in her stomach when it hits her that she doesn’t care when Bela has a new hookup. Bela’s just as bad as Leighton is about it, but Whitney never has cared. She’s always been happy. She’s always cheered Bela on and asked for more details about her latest fling.
But whenever it’s Leighton, she hates it.
“But…” Bela continues with a sigh, expression turning more serious. “While we were making out, I couldn’t stop thinking about Eric.”
Kimberly turns to Whitney and they exchange a beaming smile, happy for their friend.
“You like him!” Kimberly exclaims. “That’s amazing!”
“I don’t like him,” Bela shakes her head. “I like having sex with him. Our bodies just… work together really well.”
Kimberly isn’t buying it, but she laughs. “I’m still happy for you.”
“Me too,” Whitney smiles.
Bela bites her lip and scratches her head. “That being said, I already texted Eric and asked to go over, so… I’m gonna have to dip early.”
Whitney chuckles, pushing her playfully. “Have fun. Tell us all about it.”
Bela waves them off. “We’ve hooked up, like, a million times already. You already know how it is.”
“Details,” Whitney demands.
“Okay. Don’t complain when I get graphic on you, then,” Bela winks, then gives the two of them a last wave before exiting the frat house.
Whitney’s ready to resume dancing when their climate refugee neighbor slips in between them, red cup in hand. His eyes linger on Kimberly for a moment too long before he starts talking.
“Hey.”
“Uh… H-hey, Jackson,” Kimberly greets nervously, eyes darting around to find a place to settle on so she doesn’t stare at him. Whitney realizes his name is Jackson now, when she’s just been calling him the climate refugee neighbor in her head.
“It’s good to see you guys,” Jackson says, but Whitney gets the sense that it’s more directed towards Kimberly than her.
They start talking and Whitney quickly excuses herself to the bar, not wanting to get in the way of whatever flirting they’re doing. She knows it’s only a matter of time before Kimberly hooks up with him— she’s been drooling over him ever since she met him.
Whitney can acknowledge that he’s an attractive dude, but it doesn’t matter. She has Canaan, and she would never do anything to jeopardize what they have.
She accepts a red cup filled with jungle juice from the bar and wants to lean back somewhere and sip it, but her peripheral keeps sticking to Leighton, who has this girl pinned up against the wall next to the bar. They’re kissing furiously and Whitney has no doubt in her mind that Leighton is going to be bringing this girl back to their dorm tonight.
“I’m getting a refill,” she announces to her girl and picks up her red cup from the floor.
Whitney watches Leighton slide past the girl, fully aware of the fact that Leighton’s only coming over here because she saw Whitney. It becomes especially clear when Leighton immediately locks eyes with her once she’s past her girl.
“Stalking me?” Leighton raises her eyebrows, crossing her arms.
“I’m getting a drink,” Whitney dismisses her provocation, waving her red cup up in the air as a prized sign of evidence.
“You already have your drink,” Leighton points out.
“I’m drinking it here.”
“At the bar?” Leighton raises her eyebrows.
“You don’t own the bar.”
“Never said I did. Just seems like a convenient location to choose to camp out in.”
“Camp out? I’m just drinking my drink, Leighton,” Whitney laughs incredulously, taking a thick sip of the jungle juice as if it’ll help her prove her point. Once she stops drinking, she feels the frustration boiling over her further from the smug look on Leighton’s face. “What are you even trying to suggest?”
Immediately, she regrets asking because she’s basically given Leighton a free pass to twist this situation into something ridiculous. And by this point, she’s tired of arguing with Leighton about her hookups. She wishes she never said anything to begin with– she shouldn’t have. What Leighton does in her bedroom has never been any of Whitney’s business.
She wishes they could just go back to how things were before this stupid frat party, when they were laughing while Leighton calls her an idiot for not knowing how to solve a simple differential equation. And she hates that she was having more fun studying for a calculus final with Leighton than she is at a college party.
“Oh, nothing,” Leighton shrugs. “I thought you’d want to take a couple more jabs at me. Maybe call me a whore.”
“That’s not–” Whitney shakes her head. “I just– I thought you were done with the whole sleeping around thing. You haven’t brought anyone home in a while.”
Leighton rolls her eyes. “I stopped because of you.” Her lips part when she realizes how that sounds and quickly corrects, “I mean, because I was helping you study for your calculus final. I never said I was done.”
“Well… my mistake, then,” Whitney shrugs, trying to hide her discomfort by shoving her red cup between her lips again.
“Sounds like you’re… jealous,” Leighton finally gets the words out that she’s been dancing around, and it’s like she’s been holding that in for a long time. Her smirk is long gone and she doesn’t even look pleased when she says it– she looks like she’s treading carefully.
“Jealous? ” Whitney scoffs. “Of what, exactly?”
“Please,” Leighton grimaces, scratching the back of her head like she’s embarrassed on Whitney’s behalf.
Whitney feels an uncomfortable lump growing in her throat that makes her too choked up to say anything back. She lets more unbearable silence grow between them. She knows she has to say something, or it’s just like Leighton is right and she actually is jealous about these stupid hookups. But she isn’t jealous in that way– she can’t be. They’ve finally gotten close again and she’s just afraid of losing Leighton to her sea of one-night-stands. She’s jealous in a… friend way.
It’s different with Bela and Kimberly. They’re close and all, but she and Leighton are the closest.
“I have a boyfriend,” Whitney finally speaks up with the best defense she has. “Who I love. ” She cringes internally– love? She’s never even said that to him, and she certainly has no plans of saying it any time soon. They’re doing fine, but they’re definitely not at that stage yet.
“Oh, really?” Leighton asks, unconvinced. The smirk returns to her lips, so she’s back to getting a kick out of this. “I can’t remember the last time you hung out with him. Do you even remember his name?”
“Canaan,” Whitney responds, as if Leighton was seriously asking, earning a theatrical laugh from the blonde. Whitney balls her fist; she doesn’t get how Leighton has the nerve to assume this kind of thing. Why would she even think any of this? “I’ve been busy studying for finals.” Whitney huffs quietly, tossing her red cup and all of its unfinished liquor and sugary soda into the overflowing trash can next to the bar. “You know what? I don’t need this.” She can feel Leighton still smirking at her intensely as she pulls out her phone and searches frantically for Canaan’s contact. “I’m calling my boyfriend because I want to see him. And fuck him. All night long.”
She feels her cheeks heating up from how embarrassing she’s being. Leighton probably thinks she’s a total idiot and is just faking all of this, so she has to really go hang out with Canaan now. She types up some stupid message baiting him to hang out with sex, which she knows he’d never say no to.
“You do that,” Leighton rolls her eyes.
Canaan hasn’t even responded to her text yet, but Whitney can’t stand here and let Leighton keep going. She decides to wait outside the frat house, brushing past Leighton without so much as a goodbye, not that she deserves one.
Leighton’s expression drops when she actually watches Whitney leave the house. Part of her did think this whole thing was a sham to get a rise out of her, but now Leighton’s not so sure. She swallows, guilt overtaking the muscles on her face. She made this dumb fight with Whitney so much worse. She tries to push a smile back onto her face when she steps back over to the girl she’d just been making out with.
“You’re not too busy for me now, are you?” Leighton flirts, palming the wall and leaning dangerously close to the girl’s face.
“Not at all,” the girl flirts back, but her excitement drops to anxiety as she bites down on her lip. “That girl you were fighting with… was that, like, your ex?”
“My what? No,” Leighton shakes her head vigorously. “Not at all. That’s my friend– my roommate. We were just arguing about stupid roommate stuff, like who left their dirty dish on the table all day.”
Leighton can sense her disbelief, so she doesn’t leave room for her to dwell in it for much longer; she lessens the space between their lips to steal a kiss. She gets her wish– the girl drops the subject and starts kissing her back, picking up right where they left off before Whitney interrupted Leighton’s mind.
But Leighton, as much as she wants to be into this, finds it hard to focus. She feels icky after her argument with Whitney. She can’t stop thinking about it– whether or not it’s too late to run out of the frat house and find her to patch things up. The more she kisses this girl, the more her mind slips back to Whitney.
…
Leighton jiggles her key in the lock. She stopped drinking long ago at the party to sober her mind up for this moment– she can’t let things escalate with Whitney, so she has to say all the right things. For one final time, she runs through the jumbled version of the apology that’s been sitting in her head since Whitney left the party, then pushes the door open.
She doesn’t know why, but she expected Whitney to be in the living area, debriefing the night with Kimberly, giving all her unsolicited advice about what to do with Jackson. But instead, she finds nothing but Kimberly and the excessively strong smell of bananas.
“Is that oatmeal?” Leighton asks judgmentally as she shuts the door behind her.
“I had an oatmeal craving,” Kimberly responds with an enthusiastic grin.
“Of course you did,” Leighton mumbles, fighting a chuckle.
The microwave timer rings loudly, prompting Kimberly to excitedly clap her hands together and pull her instant banana oatmeal out. Leighton sits down on the couch, watching Kimberly with partial horror in her eyes as Kimberly practically is moaning after shoving a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth.
“Want some?” Kimberly offers, joining Leighton on the couch.
“Um… I’m good,” Leighton responds. She glances around one more time, trying to listen closely for the faint sounds of the sink running, in case Whitney’s in her bedroom getting ready for bed. “Where’s, uh… where’s Whitney?”
“Hanging out with Canaan,” Kimberly responds, sending discomfort into Leighton’s stomach. She feels stupid for thinking Whitney would be here– she literally triggered Whitney into texting Canaan and saw her leave the party to meet up with him. Kimberly looks over at Leighton apologetically. “I’m sorry I left the party without you. Things seemed to be getting prettttty hot and heavy with that super cute girl and I assumed you’d be going home with her, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“It’s okay. I thought I was going home with her, too, honestly,” Leighton answers with a bittersweet chuckle.
“What happened?” Kimberly asks, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “Was she not actually gay? Straight girls need to stop kissing girls at parties for attention– I’ve read threads on Twitter about how it’s very problematic–”
“No, she’s actually a lesbian. One-hundred percent,” Leighton cuts her off with an actual laugh this time.
“Oh,” Kimberly frowns. “Then, what is it?”
“I don’t know,” Leighton shrugs, sighing. “Part of it is because… maybe the whole one-night-stand thing is getting old. And…” She hesitates, moving her eyes to fixate on the floor of their dorm. “Part of it is because I got in a stupid argument with Whit, and I said some pretty stupid things that I shouldn’t have, and now I feel like she’s never gonna talk to me again.”
“What? Leighton, that’s not true,” Kimberly shakes her head supportively. She squeezes Leighton’s shoulder. “Whitney loves you. I’m sure that… whatever it is that happened, you guys can work it out. Just talk it out when she gets back tomorrow.”
“I hope so,” Leighton nods, leaning her head back against the couch.
…
Whitney is pretty sure that she has never once left an exam feeling confident– especially not a math exam.
Even when she gets a good grade on the test, she’s always left the classroom with burning cheeks and a pit in her stomach, thinking about all the potential mistakes she might have made. But this time, she doesn’t feel that way. Instead, she feels a rush when her professor announces that the exam period is over. She drops her pencil onto her desk with a proud and toothy grin on her face because, for once, she isn’t scrambling to finish all the questions before time runs out; she’s been done and was just checking over her work for the millionth time when the professor called time.
When she drops her exam packet in the bin at the front of the room, she’s not dwelling on any mistakes because she doesn’t need to– she knows the exam material inside and out. She feels great.
And that would be great if she didn’t suddenly develop a pit in her stomach when she takes her first step out of the lecture hall because she remembers the entire reason she feels so good about this final exam: Leighton, who sat with her everyday for the past few weeks, permanently engraving the information into her brain. She probably would have given up on studying if Leighton didn’t motivate her.
So, it kills her when she’s reminded of the fact that the last time they spoke was the frat party before finals week. And obviously, they didn’t end on a positive note.
She buried herself at Canaan’s apartment for the rest of the weekend, not wanting to address what went down with Leighton. It was easier to ignore her and try to put her all into her relationship with Canaan again. He was definitely feeling neglected before, but Whitney hadn’t noticed because she’d been in her own world with Leighton for the past few weeks. He was startled when Whitney requested to stay over at his apartment for so long.
When she returns to their suite, she knows she has to talk to Leighton. She’s going home for winter break; she doesn’t know when she’s going to see Leighton again, and she can’t stand the thought of leaving while she’s on bad terms with her.
She bites down on her lip when she finds an empty living area. She steps towards the door of Leighton’s room, knocking gently.
The door swings open and Whitney finds herself with an empty mouth. She stands in silence while Leighton greets her with coldly raised eyebrows and an expectant expression.
“Bela’s not here. She’s taking a final,” Leighton breaks the silence monotonously.
“I– I didn’t come here to talk to Bela,” Whitney tells her. “I came here to talk to you.”
“Really?” Leighton raises her eyebrows. “That’s funny, because you’ve been totally avoiding me for the last few days.”
Whitney glances behind Leighton, noticing her opened suitcase surrounded by scattered clothing.
“Are you leaving today?” Whitney asks suddenly.
“No, tomorrow morning,” Leighton tells her. “But I have a final at eight AM, so my dad’s picking me up right after.”
Whitney just nods, but she feels her anxiety quadrupling because this is really it– the last time she’s going to see Leighton for a whole month, and if she doesn’t find the right words, things are going to be even worse when they see each other again.
“I’m sorry,” she musters out, “...for avoiding you. And for judging your sex life– it’s none of my business, and I don’t want to keep you from having your fun.”
Leighton gives her a half-smile, her expression softening as she gazes at Whitney.
“Can I ask, though…” Leighton begins, clearly nervous. “Why were you so mad? You used to be my biggest cheerleader whenever I hooked up with a new girl.”
Whitney sighs, shifting on her feet uncomfortably, searching for any excuse she can because she knows it’s weird, and it’s stupid, and it’s not what normal friends do to their friends. There has to be an excuse that isn’t just that she and Leighton… aren’t normal friends.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Whitney shrugs, hoping her faux-earnest tone will get by Leighton’s bullshit detector. “I feel like an idiot, but whenever you start talking to so many girls, we don’t hang out as much, and… I just missed having my friend around.”
Leighton takes the excuse. She nods her head with a smile.
“Okay. Well, I promise you that I won’t go overboard anymore,” Leighton tells her. “I don’t want to prioritize meaningless hookups over my friends.” She pushes through her discomfort with vulnerability and confesses, “I really missed you, too.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have aced my calculus final without you, Leight.”
“You got your score back already?”
“No, but I know I did,” Whitney grins.
“Cocky, much?” Leighton laughs, but shakes it off. “Well, I’m glad to have played a role in your success, but… it was all you. You wouldn’t guess it from your terrible fashion decisions, but you’re crazy smart.”
Whitney rolls her eyes. “I’m choosing to focus on the part where you said I’m crazy smart.”
Leighton laughs again. She catches Whitney off guard by leaning forward to pull her in for a hug. Whitney figures it’s just a goodbye-slash- “we patched everything up” hug, but she feels a surge of butterflies in her stomach from the way Leighton holds her so close. Her eyes remain open as she brings her hand up to rest on Leighton’s back, hugging her back as best she can without her body combusting from the way she feels over a freaking hug.
She thought that a weekend with Canaan would make those feelings go away, but the second that she’s close to Leighton again, they’re back. As she lets her eyes and leans into Leighton, she’s not sure if these feelings are ever going away, no matter how hard she tries.
“I’m really glad everything’s good between us,” Leighton smiles as she releases her hold on Whitney and resumes her previous standing position. Her smile fades and she scratches her head awkwardly before continuing. “And… Whit, I’m really sorry for what I said to you at the Theta party. I was out of line, and I shouldn’t have accused you like that.” She laughs to herself, “God, I was being fucking ridiculous– I know you’re not gay, obviously.”
Whitney chuckles nervously. Her palms are growing sweaty as she nervously rubs the front of her thumb against her fingers.
“Yeah,” she forces a laugh.
“Okay,” Leighton masks her awkwardness with an uncomfortable smile and wide eyes. “Glad we cleared that up, too. I should, um… get back to packing. I have a lot of clothes to go through before break to show everyone at home how much hotter and more fashionable I’ve become after starting college.”
Whitney nods her head slowly. There’s nothing really left to say– they’re right back to being friends and Leighton is about to close her door and resume sorting through a pile of winter coats. Everything’s perfect. This is exactly what Whitney wanted. She can go back home with a clear conscience.
But she still feels a drumming in her body, like it’s anticipating more. It’s like she hasn’t gotten out everything she really wanted to. And Leighton is staring at her like she’s crazy because she’s standing there mute with shaky arms instead of saying “see ‘ya later!” like any normal friend would have already done.
“Are you alright?” Leighton asks.
“Yeah,” Whitney nods. “I started thinking about a problem I might’ve messed up.”
“Hey, it’s done,” Leighton reminds her. “Don’t overthink it. You know you did well.”
Whitney nods again and she feels like she’s been nodding nonstop during this entire conversation instead of just saying what she actually needs to.
“Okay. Back to packing.”
Leighton reaches for her door to shut it and Whitney almost pivots around on her feet like her better judgment is screaming at her to do. But she doesn’t want to listen to her better judgment because she’s pretty sure it’s just afraid to take a risk in real life. Whenever she’s on the field playing soccer, she’s not afraid to take risks.
Whenever she’s off of the field, her better judgment wants her to play it safe.
“Wait,” Whitney calls out, pushing back against Leighton’s door before she can close it fully.
“What–”
Whitney doesn’t let Leighton say anything to make her too afraid to take the risk. She doesn’t think about the repercussions; she just cups Leighton’s cheek, tilts her head, and presses her lips against Leighton’s.
It’s soft and gentle, she can feel Leighton kissing back ever-so-slightly even though her body is startled. Whitney’s eyelashes flutter as she opens her eyes and faces Leighton.
Thankfully, Leighton doesn’t look mad or disgusted or horrified. She’s just in shock– her lips part, hanging ajar as she tries to process what the hell just happened. She stares at Whitney, eyes completely wide.
“I thought you–”
“I was jealous,” Whitney confesses.
Leighton’s eyes flicker down to Whitney’s lips for a brief second before she throws all of her qualms out the door and grabs the material of Whitney’s plaid shacket, leaning down to recapture Whitney’s lips full-force. She parts her lips, letting her tongue slip into Whitney’s mouth.
Their lips move in sync with slow, wavy kisses that make Whitney lose the balance on her feet. Leighton’s fingertips dig into her collarbone as she steadies Whitney as their mouths move. She’s overwhelmed by how good it feels because kissing has never felt as good as this.
Clearly, Leighton knows what she’s doing. And the longer this goes, the more Whitney realizes just how good Leighton is at this. Skillfully, she sneaks her hand under the collar of Whitney’s shacket, effortlessly pushing it off of her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She then moves her hand up, wrapping it around Whitney’s neck and it’s so fucking hot that Whitney has to pull her lips apart from Leighton’s to catch her breath.
While their lips are on a break, she can feel Leighton’s breaths against her lips. Their noses are practically touching, and she looks up at Leigton’s eyes.
Leighton bites down on her lip seductively, taking a step back from Whitney. She pulls her sweater over her head, letting it join Whitney’s shacket on the floor. Whitney feels like a bad person every time her eyes flicker down to look at a very topless Leighton.
“You can look, you know,” Leighton says, and it’s the hottest thing that Whitney has ever heard.
Leighton lets her do more than that– she steps closer again, bringing Whitney’s hand up to her chest as she reconnects their lips. They start kissing again, but it grows sloppier as Whitney starts losing control of her composure. Leighton takes full control again– if she ever even lost it, that is. She pulls Whitney fully into her bedroom and shuts the door behind them, then pushes her down on the bed.
She bunches Whitney’s sweater up at the top of her chest and pulls it off with ease, tossing it to the floor. She kisses Whitney again, but only briefly before trailing kisses down her jawline, then moves to her neck. She sucks on the skin of her neck, then peppers kisses all the way down. She leaves kisses all around her stomach, moving lower each time until she reaches right before the hem of Whitney’s jeans.
“Is this okay?” Leighton asks, looking up.
“Mhm,” Whitney hums with a vigorous nod, earning a smile from Leighton, who pops the button on Whitney’s jeans before kissing her stomach again.
Whitney shuts her eyes again, lips fully parted as she takes in everything Leighton does to her body. She isn’t sure how things between them are going to go from here, but she’s definitely sure of one thing: why Leighton has every girl she’s hooked up with absolutely obsessed with her.