Chapter Text
“Five star clips? Really? Now you’re just going overboard.” There was something sweetly comforting about the dead affectation of Brittany’s voice; something in her candid, blase, emotionless delivery of the most biting refrains (or in this case, her gentle teasing). They often got ready for school together, meeting at one's house to add the final touches to their looks; Isabel, carefully twisting a plait, or Brittany, perfecting the swoop of a smokey eye. In a time that felt entirely alien, their routine was a welcome comfort -- the source of Brittany’s teasing however, an entirely new event for Isabel.
The subject of the conversation, Isabel’s free flowing mane of hair (shiny shiny) whips as Isabel turns around from her vanity in a frenzy, her eyes hoping to make up for the elevation in her pitch. “I’ve got a lot of hair - I always wear this many.” Brittany, seated on Isabel’s bed, continues to apply lipstick with an air of blythe; she’s cross legged in a denim on denim ensemble (they’re agreed denim is so in right now) and regards her with little more than a shrug.
Isabel has in fact, put more attention and care into her hair than usual -- which is a miraculous and almost impossible feat. She’d fretted over her outfit for an hour, switched her underwear twice, and is fully committed to a full on mermaid look today; completed, with every star hair clip she owns. And if Isabel wasn’t trying to pretend she didn’t care far too much, she’d admit it was because Josie told them they were pretty -- along with saying that well, every inch of Isabel was pretty. Even her toes; though that was quickly followed up with a bumbling explanation she didn’t have a toe thing. Unless Isabel did.
“She likes them, doesn’t she?” Brittany continues, snapping shut her golden contact and easing into a position of comfort across Isabel’s pink floral bedspread. The look of ambivalence has disappeared from her face -- instead, her countenance bears a look of warmth, affection.
Isabel deflates, all notions of pretense leaving her. She smiles freely, a look of free happiness that doesn’t entail curtailing her features to be pleasing; anything in regards to Josie, is Isabel, bones and all. “Josie told me she always looked for what I was going to do with my hair that day. Before .” Before meaning the long stretch of years in which Josie had been little more than a footnote in her life -- something, with a resigned sense of guilt, their relationship forced her to reckon with. The club in itself, asking Isabel to examine the gilded castle she’d existed in for years; the one she’d happily let Jeff build around her.
Not that he was a villain, really -- criminal masterminds needed brains that weren’t completely smooth.
“Before she finger blasted you so well you kissed her at the football game.”
“Shut. Up.”
♥*♡∞:｡.｡
School managed to be exactly the same, and entirely different. Jeff still reigned with his last supper-esque table --- Isabel still inspired adoration and admiration, PJ and Josie still existed in their bubble; but the social order was entirely eschew, girls of all orders whispering and eating lunch together. The most important thing being Isabel had gone from a brain dead, greek god of a boyfriend -- to a gorgeous, and endearingly socially inept, girlfriend. A girlfriend who was standing by her locker, a bouquet held so tightly in her hand the stems were wont to break at any moment. And a girlfriend who always started slightly whenever Isabel made an entrance, her big brown eyes widening in incredulity -- too preoccupied to notice the same emotion, mirrored in Isabel’s green pair.
“Hi!” Isabel began as was her custom, wrapping her arms around Josie’s neck. She leaned her weight against one leg, her hips swung entirely towards her girlfriends -- her fingers brushed the skin of Josie’s neck. It was always soft, like satin, hidden away by the collar of her shirt. It was one of Josie’s usuals -- white collar, blue and white stripes. Isabel would wait another week or so before telling Josie she liked the way she dressed; it turned her on, if it was being honest.
“M’lady. M’Isabel. These are um, for you. You’re probably thinking hey, flowers? On a Tuesday? Again?” Josie’s eyes (those gorgeous eyes - they’re what had drawn Isabel in when she’d arrived at the fight club) were soft, slightly hesitant.
Isabel removed one hand from Josie’s neck, to take the flowers from her grasp -- carefully and deliberately, brushing her fingers against Josie’s. “Thank you.” She offered a rather uninspired answer. The kiss that followed, offering Josie far more than words could. Kissing Josie made her realize how hopelessly uninvolved she’d been with Jeff. And it wasn’t a matter of sexuality; Josie didn’t aspire to labels at the present, following where her heart led her. But they hadn’t been in love for a long time, she knew now - because when her lips met Josie’s, her eyes didn’t close out of mere reflex. Isabel closed them to prolong the feeling of soft, sweet lips against her own, to steady how her heart thundered in her chest. She loved the way Josie sighed into the kiss, her hands forgetting all shyness to wrap around her -- the way their foreheads met when they pulled apart, the pair of them smiling uncontrollably. Being made to feel beautiful was such a trivial thing now, when Josie made her feel happy. She made her feel loved; that the parts of her that were in Josie's words 'delightfully unhinged' were as fascinating and enrapturing, as her eyes or skinny minnie figure.
“You’re welcome. My pleasure. Which is to say, I like making you feel good. With flowers! And other stuff - not that I’m thinking of other stuff right now, no sir -”
“Josie!”
“Yes?”
“Let’s go to your house after school.”
Josie looks up, her face torn in an apparent inner battle - a wild desire to say yes, and some unseen reason why she has to say no. “Okay, yes -- that doth pleases the court. No, but what I mean is, can we go after?”
“After what?”
“This thing with PJ and Hazel.”
“What thing?” Isabel smiles curiously, balancing from one baby pink heel to another -- her fingers are back around Josie’s neck, toying with the silver chain she’s just found.
“I uh, meant to tell you yesterday, but we got busy and I don’t actually think my brain works for a good hour after I’ve seen you without clothes on. A sort of hang out?”
Isabel fights the urge to roll her eyes, opting instead to scrunch her nose -- a move she knows makes Josie’s knees slightly weak. “A double date, you mean.”
Josie concedes with a laugh, and an eye roll of her own. “Don’t tell PJ that -- she’s not dating Hazel, according to her. Consensual community service is her term.”
“So we’ve got a double date with a minor league bomb maker and, however, to best classify PJ.”
“I’d say my best friend, but also probably a threat to the public, playboy.com’s best customer and a suspenders enthusiast.”
Isabel would probably add a few things to that list; even though she has to admit, she likes PJ. Not nearly as much as she likes Josie, of course. But she doesn’t like anyone the way that she likes Josie.
“Our first double date as girlfriends,” Isabel begins.
She’s forced to summon a great deal of strength as Josie begins to wilt into the floor.