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bus stop
Siobhan meets Anya at the bus stop in sophomore year of high school. It’s a stupid grey day in November, nothing to look forward to but midterms, oh joy, and she’s playing with her lighter for no other reason than that she wants to set something on fire. Flick, swoosh, flick, swoosh. The bus is ten minutes late and her toes are freezing like little popsicles in her shoes; she’s about two seconds from bailing on the day entirely when a voice interrupts her thoughts.
“Hey, uh, could I bum one off you?”
It’s a pretty voice, Siobhan thinks. A little on the deep side, and kind of silvery. She turns to tell it to fuck off, politely, and blinks instead, bowled over by the girl it belongs to.
She’s pretty like her voice--sleek wavy black hair, huge dark eyes with these long lashes--but not like anything out of a magazine. She’s short and curvy, not tall and skinny, and her face is too round for a model’s. So it doesn’t make any sense, the way every nerve in Siobhan’s body zings straight up and goes, Whoa, yes! A thousand times yes! and wants to reach out and kiss this girl. It makes no sense, the way her breath gets snatched out of her throat and her heart jumps up to beat twice as fast, the way her palms suddenly feel so hot. She has to swallow before she can even think of talking, her mouth is that dry.
She takes her cigarette out and grins brightly to cover her weird moment. “Sure,” she says, for an extra layer of distraction. She fishes her pack out of her pocket with a magician’s flourish. Look at my hands, not at me blushing! The girl takes one, and Siobhan shakes the lighter at her so she takes that too. There’s a flaw in Siobhan’s plan, though: the girl puts the cigarette to her mouth next, drawing attention to the pretty curve of her lips, and then Siobhan’s just thinking about kissing all over again.
“I’m Siobhan,” she jitters out fast, wrenching her eyes away. “God, it’s cold as balls out here.”
The girl laughs, a surprised little ha. “I’m Anya,” she says. “Yeah, I think that bus driver is a sadist, and he’s late on purpose.”
“They have to put that on their job applications,” Siobhan agrees, faking a wise nod. She adds a tap of her cigarette for effect. “Professional sadist. Otherwise you can’t become a bus driver.”
Anya huffs out another laugh, and Siobhan catches a bright smile on her face when she chances a look over. She’s opened her mouth to keep the joke going, ask Anya what classes she’s in, anything, when someone calls Anya’s name from down the block.
Anya looks over her shoulder and mutters, “Oh no.” When she turns back to Siobhan, her smile is more of a grimace, her nose scrunched up. “Hey, I gotta go. Thanks for the smoke--see you later?” She’s already starting to walk away backwards, her hand raised in a little wave.
“Yeah,” Siobhan calls. “Seeya.”
She watches Anya leave out of the corner of her eye, trying and failing not to feel like a loser and/or creep.
So I guess I really do like girls, she thinks. She takes a long drag. Well, shit.
*
locker room bathroom
Anya is in her gym class next semester; they exchange awkward nods in the locker room, where it turns out they’re assigned lockers next to each other. Just Siobhan’s luck. She’d half convinced herself the thing with Anya was a fluke over the last two months, but one sidelong look at her as she pulls her gym shirt over her bra brings that attraction right back, prickling hotly under Siobhan’s skin.
Okay, it’s cool, you’ve got this! she tells herself, biting her lip and shoving on her own uniform. Just because you want to kiss her doesn’t mean she has to know. You can just not talk to her and nothing will go wrong, right?
Except that’s not what happens at all, because Siobhan apparently has the preservation instincts of a freaking couch, i.e., none at all.
She just can’t help herself. One look at those freckles or the line of her shoulders and Siobhan is done, caput, finito, pulse going crazy and some half-joke slinking out of her mouth in an attempt to get Anya to notice her. Did you hear about Jake from the football team’s party last weekend? He projectile vomited three feet onto Jannie, all over her, dripping down her cleavage. Three feet! That’s got to be like, a world record, right? or Hey, did you know that praying mantises eat each other’s heads when they have sex? or any other pointless thing she can think of or make up.
Anya actually laughs and jokes back sometimes, miracle of miracles, and Siobhan discovers some wicked sarcasm hiding behind her pretty face. She gives Siobhan some recs for music to listen to, too, and they spend the whole of one class talking about Homeward Bound, which Siobhan didn’t think anyone else remembered. Siobhan may or may not listen to Anya's music over and over until she gets sick of it, but forming new musical interests isn't a crime, she tells herself.
So okay, staying away and keeping her interest on the DL doesn’t go exactly according to plan, but it’s fine, no big deal. Siobhan’s got this. Summer break’s coming up, and after that she’ll stop seeing Anya every day and stop being tempted to talk to her. Then Anya will never ever figure out that Siobhan wants to make out with her, never call her lesbo or dyke, and everything will be a-okay.
You really think you can leave her alone? taunts her brain as they jog laps, Siobhan watching Anya’s ponytail bounce.
Shut up, Siobhan snaps back, I can do whatever I want! I have an iron will!
Then the Bleep Test happens.
Siobhan has had her escape planned for months. She’ll head into the locker room with everybody else to avoid suspicion, wait in the bathroom without changing until the bell blares, then sneak back out and go hide in the wood at the edge of campus. The first part goes off without a hitch; Siobhan crouches in the bathroom stall with the broken toilet, counting seconds. Anya, talking to someone else while she washes her hands, throws a wrench in the second part.
“I hate these things,” she grumbles. Siobhan bites her lip. “They should be illegal. It’s like they want us to die in high school.”
“Yeah,” whoever the other girl is sighs. “I know. But we’re stuck with them. Ugh. See you out there.”
“Bye.”
One faucet stops and the other keeps going, and footsteps trail out into the locker room again. Heavy ones, not Anya’s. Siobhan’s iron will melts.
Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s crawling her fingers up the walls for balance and wobbling to a standing position. Her head clears the top of the stall and she can see Anya, slumped at a sink drying her hands.
“Psst!” she whispers. “Anya!”
Anya glances up and jumps, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Oh my God, you scared me! Uh, what are you--?”
Siobhan feels a hot tug in her stomach, a bright and familiar urge zigzagging up through her. Hey, she wants to say, want to go up in the bushes and make out?
“Hey,” she says instead, hoarse. “Want to skip gym and go smoke?”
“God, yes,” says Anya, and grins.
Once you’ve jumped a fence with someone, you have a bond, and that’s where the trouble really starts.
*
second floor bathroom
The truth is that Siobhan is pretty shitty at this whole having a crush thing. She always thought that stuff about pulling pigtails was total crap, but apparently not, since it’s all she can do to stop herself from reaching out and tweaking Anya in any way possible.
She teases Anya about Dima (even though the kid seems more clueless than actually weird), about Russia (even though she secretly thinks it’s awesome that Anya can speak two languages), about feeling like she has to stay in class (even though she’s convinced Anya could make it somewhere good if she tried, not like Siobhan). She insults Anya’s taste in new movies. She points out Anya’s pimples. Even stuff she means as a compliment comes out all wrong, word vomit with gross chunks in it, and Siobhan feels gawky and messed-up all the time around her.
She doesn’t mean to be an asshole--somehow it just happens. It’s like all her atoms are spitting fire, she’s so buzzed up. One minute, everything’s fine, and the next, Anya’s scowling at her and walking away. They can go days without speaking to each other, usually because of something awful Siobhan said. Siobhan’s the one who always breaks the silence, too, coming up to Anya like nothing happened. She can’t help it. She can’t help anything around Anya.
She gets off in the shower with her teeth bared thinking about her and practically gives herself insomnia trying to figure out how to not suck as much at talking to her. Her brother Billy is the only one who notices, thank God, but that’s embarrassing enough. “Look, Sho,” he says to her one afternoon when they’re raking leaves. “I’m not going to tell Mom you have a boyfriend, but just be careful, okay? I know it’s easy to get caught up in the moment, but--”
“Agh, Billy!” she yells, and throws wet leaves at him. “I don’t need a ‘use condoms’ talk, God!” she adds, more quietly. She jabs her rake at the pile. “Besides, I don’t have a boyfriend, okay?”
“Ooh, it’s like that, huh?” he says, sympathy coloring his voice, and pats her on the back. Jerk.
When it’s good, though--when Anya’s eyes are sparkling with laughter and Siobhan’s grinning so wide her face hurts, and everything else gets kind of blurry in the background--when it’s good, Siobhan’s sure she could light up an entire city at night with the way she feels. One hundred thousand million twinkling lights on a waterfront, like stars.
Anyway. When she doesn’t see Anya for two days after a fight about cigarettes or something, Siobhan doesn’t think much of it. Then she hears Mina Thompson talking to that weird rolling-backpack guy about “that Russian girl Anya, she was stuck in a well for two days, everything around here is the worst” and she jerks straight up in her chair. Anya in a well? Pre-calculus doesn't stand a chance.
She sneaks out before the teacher gets there and heads over to the window outside Anya’s econ class. She makes Anya tell the story twice in the bathroom, cigarette smoke mingling and swirling over their heads. She can’t stop grinning, looking Anya over and trying to see if anything’s changed, if she looks tougher than before. Anya’s well experience is better than anything on Survivor--the skeleton is only icing on the cake. A real skeleton! In the flickery bathroom light, Anya looks like she doesn’t even get that it’s a big deal, and Siobhan thinks, Yeah, someone that awesome is really my friend, with a fierce surge of pride. She thinks about kissing Anya’s cheek like people do on TV when they win a sports game, but settles for another huge smile instead.
(It only hits her later--Anya said there was a skeleton down there. Anya was stuck for two days, and no one noticed. Anya could have died. Siobhan stops eating dinner with her fork in her mouth and tries hard to breathe over the sharpness in her chest.
“You okay, Sho?” says her brother Jim after a minute. Then he elbows her hard enough to make her cough on her food, and snickers when she spits it out. “God, you’re gross.”
“Screw you,” she growls, and shoves him. But the fear sticks with her, tight like a band around her throat.)
*
bedroom
Anya’s been nervous all day, twitching and fidgeting like someone out of a bad spy movie. She asked Siobhan at lunch if she was busy after school--no, I have to go home and do my homework before I go out and rescue kittens from trees on my volunteer shift. Yes, I’m free!--and invited her over to her house, for the first time ever. Her nervousness must be contagious, because Siobhan bites her nails and then her fingers all through final period. She can’t help but remember every other second that the last time Anya was this nervous was over Sean from the basketball team. She tells herself it’s not the same, but her nerves still won’t quit.
When she sees Anya waiting outside for her after school, her foot tapping, she almost trips down the stairs. Luckily, she manages to turn it into a badass jump instead. “Here I am,” she says at the bottom, spreading her arms wide. “The one you’ve been waiting for your whole life.”
Anya rolls her eyes. “Take me, take me now,” she deadpans. “C’mon, let’s go.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, babycakes,” Siobhan tosses back on autopilot, shoving down the sliver of longing poking up in her guts. “Hey, did you hear that Katie Baker threw a total fit in the quad today?” she asks, more to distract herself with the telling of the story than anything else.
It lasts them all the way off the bus and to Anya’s house. The inside of the house is full of creepy bleeding Jesus memorabilia, but Siobhan bites her tongue. Anya’s been different since their last fight--gentler--and Siobhan wants to be good, too. Wants it to last. So instead of saying what she’s thinking, she says hi to Anya’s mom with a smile.
Mrs. Borzakovskaya beams back at her and fixes them a snack of something delicious and fried. She asks Siobhan about their studies at school, so Siobhan lies very prettily while Anya’s face gets redder and redder across the table. Actually, Siobhan doesn’t know what Anya’s been complaining about all this time; Siobhan’s lucky if her mom remembers her lunch money, let alone asks how her day was. Mrs. Borzakovskaya ruffles Anya’s hair and chats with Siobhan about how ridiculous American history is, and then calls, “You’ll stay for dinner, yes?” as Anya drags Siobhan up the stairs.
“Dude,” she says, “your mom is awesome. Wow, it’s really clean in here. Your posters are nice.”
“Thanks,” Anya says. “Um, sit anywhere.”
Siobhan flops into the striped armchair and grins up at Anya, who offers a crooked smile back. Siobhan’s pulse hikes up when she realizes that she and Anya are alone, really alone, for the first time in a while. Anya’s face is all scrunched up, like she’s nervous, and heat brushes through Siobhan.
“So,” she says, sitting up straight.
“So,” Anya echoes. She clears her throat and plunks down on a rolling chair, hands clasped in her lap. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Anytime,” says Siobhan. “You are my main man, Anya.”
“Ha, ha,” Anya says, frowning at her hands. She takes a deep breath. “Siobhan, look. There’s something I have to tell you, and I don’t know how to say it, so I’m just going to do it. Don’t flip, okay? Please?”
For one star-bright second, Siobhan’s heart yanks up itself into her throat, painfully hot with hope, and her stomach ties itself in so many knots she could win a Girl Scout badge. Maybe, her brain whispers, maybe maybe--Anya’s biting her lip, pink with lipgloss, and Siobhan wants so bad to touch that spot with her tongue that she almost leans over and--
But then Anya starts talking about ghosts all in a rush and Siobhan doesn’t have time to think about kissing anymore because she’s too busy freaking out.
*
graveyard
“This sucks!” Siobhan bawls.
“Shut up!” Anya hisses, throwing a frantic glance around the graveyard. It’s dark and creepy, lit only by a chilly stream of moonlight, and the whole thing just pisses Siobhan off even more. She is one hundred percent done with this graveyard and this night. No, two hundred percent done. Everything can just go fuck itself as far as she’s concerned.
“Anya, we’re covered in ghoul blood,” she says, shaking her ruined shirt for emphasis. “Ghoul blood! I never signed up for blood! Or ghouls. Or killing stuff!”
“Argh! Can you save it till we’re out of the graveyard?”
Anya doesn’t even wait for an answer, just grabs Siobhan’s wrist and jerks her forward until they’re moving in a stumbling jog. Somewhere in between the twigs scratching their arms and the mud splattering their jeans, Anya’s grip shifts to her hand, and she only lets go of Siobhan when they have to jump the entry gate.
Siobhan’s heart is still beating a million times a minute from the ghouls, so she doesn’t even have spare energy to be excited about that. Were they even ghouls? They were small and roach-sized and wrong-looking, with freaky double-jointed arms and big buggy eyes--she just assumed ghouls. They bled blue and wouldn’t stop screaming the whole time they attacked Anya and Siobhan, who were totally minding their own business trying to break open the mausoleum.
“Dude, stop,” she wheezes, leaning against one of the entrance pillars. They’re out of the private area now and into the public lot, so if they get caught, they won’t get it that bad. Her chest aches with every stabbing breath and she sucks in long swallows of the freezing night air.
“Are you okay?” Anya asks. She reaches out to touch Siobhan’s shoulder, gentle. Siobhan’s heart gives a huge, gulping galumph and her legs wobble a little.
“Gotta stop smoking,” she pants. “It’s killing my getaways. Anya, what just happened?”
“God, I have no idea. Dima didn’t say anything about--” she waves her hand-- “those things. Ugh! I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Maybe this guy had special protections put on his grave or something?”
Siobhan groans. “Why do the ghostbusters on TV never have to deal with this shit? It shouldn’t be that hard to kill something that’s already dead!”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Anya says, and then goes quiet for long enough that Siobhan looks over at her. Her face is in the shadows, and Siobhan can’t make out her expression.
“What?” she says after a moment, kicking Anya’s ankle.
“Siobhan—” Anya sighs and leans next to her, and there’s silence again, stretching between them like a rubber band. “You know you don’t have to come with me, right?”
“What?” Siobhan says again, and, “Shut up!”
“You don’t.” Anya blows out a breath and bows her head. “This whole stupid thing was my idea. It’s because of Emily--” her voice dips, the way it always does on that word-- “and I just feel like I dragged you into it, and... ”
Anya is sweaty. Anya is tired. Anya’s hands are covered in grave dirt, and she’s wearing a lumpy old school sweatshirt, and her unwashed hair is coming out of her ponytail in hanks. Siobhan has never wanted to kiss her more. More than just kiss--hold hands with, and stay up late watching scary movies with, and go to prom with. Fight ghosts with. Stay with.
Be partners with.
She punches Anya in the arm, hard.
“Ow! Siobhan, that’s totally going to bruise!”
“Shut up,” says Siobhan fiercely. She wishes there were more ghouls to fight; punching Anya wasn’t enough. She wants to rip something apart into a million bleeding pieces. “I want to come with you, you jerk,” she tells Anya, teeth grit. “I’m not going to let you do this alone. And if you don’t let me come, I’ll follow you and show up in the middle of everything and probably die and ruin it all, so you’d better not try it, okay?”
Her breath whistles out through her teeth; she smacks her hand into the stone entrance pillar instead of punching Anya again. “Ow! Shit!”
“Siobhan! Are you okay?” Dark eyes fix on her, and Siobhan’s breath hitches.
“I’m--”
“Hey, who’s out there?” A flashlight beam sweeps the ground inches away from their feet. “This is private property, you know!”
“Fuck,” Siobhan whines under her breath, and then they’re running again.
*
bus stop
Yeah, so whoever said you get smarter as you get older was clearly a horrible liar. Siobhan blows on her hands through her gloves and wonders again what in the world she was thinking twenty minutes ago when she got on the bus to Anya’s college.
For that matter, what was she thinking an hour and a half ago when she got on the train to town in the first place? “God, you loser,” she mutters. She bangs her head against the back of the bus shelter. Her hand goes to her jacket pocket for her smokes before she remembers she’s trying to quit again. “Shit.”
She can see the bare tree branches through the snow on the shelter’s roof, waving in the wind. If this were a movie, sad, trembling violin music would be playing right now to remind Siobhan what a dumbass she is. I don’t need any reminders, she thinks, scowling. But because she hates herself, she pulls her phone out of her pocket anyway, and scrolls back through her recent texts with Anya.
so im kinda at the bus stop outside your school. sorry should i go home is today a bad day for this was her last one. STAY THERE!!! MOVE OR LEAVE AND I KILL YOU, I’LL COME GET YOU was Anya’s.
Before that, a long string that Siobhan never answered, starting three weeks ago:
holy crap, saw that guy in the library and he smiled at me and waved. too early to start planning our wedding?
this philosophy class is really dumb. what are you up to?
god, i hate cafeteria food. gross fried chicken for the THIRD TIME THIS WEEK!!!
my roommate is going through the weirdest breakup ritual right now. non-stop hannah montana playing in our room. SOS
i hate college parties, do these things ever actually get fun? beer spilled all over my shirt by drunken frat boy, awesome.
hey, dima emailed about a new ghost! you up to head out to newport this weekend?
did you get my last text?
check your phoneeee!
hey, is everything okay?
okay, well, i’m going without you... i’m guessing you’re too busy with stuff to go ghostbusting. it’s not a big job, i can handle it by myself. but call me if you change your mind.
newport is done and everything went okay if you were wondering.
siobhan. what’s up? please text back, i’m getting a little worried.
hey, did you get my last text? please text me back.
dude. what the hell is going on? i left you a voicemail.
ARE YOU OKAY?
okay, you know what, fine, fuck you
Siobhan winces. Those last two are from this morning, and she just couldn’t do it anymore--she hopped on the train right after the latest, stood up right in the middle of her intro to programming class and left. She didn’t even go back home to toss her backpack, so she still has that with her, full of textbooks. What am I doing? she thinks. I should just go back--but right at that moment, like it's been summoned from Hell, Anya’s beat up car comes down the road and slides up in front of the bus stop. Crap.
Behind the wheel, Anya looks furious, a Valkyrie in red lipstick. Her eyebrows are pinched together in that way that always makes Siobhan feel full of sludge, knowing she’s done something really shitty. She bites her lip, pushes off the bus shelter, and slouches over to the door with her backpack.
Inside, she buckles her seatbelt and takes off her gloves for something to do with her shaking hands. Anya turns off the car, leaving them sitting outside the empty bus stop. Siobhan looks at her knees so she doesn’t have to look at Anya. The glance she got through the car window wasn’t enough, not at all, but she doesn’t know what to say or how to act--feels like she might fall apart trying to even explain anything about what’s going on in her head. Where would she even start?
So they sit for a couple minutes. The car engine ticks a little as it cools, and Siobhan remembers when Anya got this car, just this last summer. Just enough for them to have a few months of riding to the movies together before college, laughing over the radio in the dark at night. She teased Anya about it, how old the thing is, but the smell of it punches her right in the gut with memories of how good everything seemed, for a little while.
“Siobhan,” says Anya after a while, voice tight.
“I’m know, I’m sorry,” Siobhan says, wincing. “I’m sorry, I’m an asshole. A huge asshole.”
“You never replied to my texts,” Anya says. “Or my Facebook message. Or my voicemail!” Her hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“I know. I’m sorry!” She looks up at Anya, miserable down to her toes. Anya glares back at her, and Siobhan’s heart turns over in her chest. “You know if you’d really needed me in Newport, I would’ve come, right?” she says. Urgency makes her words tumble together. “I just, you would have called me if it had actually been a big deal, wouldn’t you?”
Anya throws up her hands. “I don’t know! How was I supposed to know what you were thinking, Siobhan? You went totally radio silence on me!”
“I would have,” Siobhan says, her voice bubbling out. “I would have, you know I’d never let you do something like that alone if it was really dangerous. Anya--”
She cuts herself off. Anya purses her lips, and Siobhan swallows. “I would have,” she whispers. “I promise.”
“Siobhan, look. What the fuck is going on?” Anya says finally. “Is something wrong? Are you okay? I’ve been worried. Really worried.” She pauses, mouth twisting; adds, “And I missed you, jerk,” and that does it.
It’s not a good kiss. Siobhan’s had exactly two relationships in her life--one seventh-grade disaster with Marty Greene and one weird short-lived thing with Ellie Liu last summer--and neither taught her anything good about kissing. Marty was awkward and slobbery, and Ellie didn’t actually like kissing that much, so aside from a few close-mouthed pecks, they stuck to getting each other off. Angels are not on her side, here, and the saints aren’t with her, either. She comes in at the wrong angle and hits the corner of Anya’s mouth, smoosh, lips squishing into mostly cheek. Her heart jolts in a heavy thud, and she jumps back like she’s been zapped by lightning.
“Oh,” she says, “God. Um. I--”
“Wow,” Anya says, hushed. Her eyes are wide, lashes dark against her skin, and Siobhan wants to die.
“Can you take me back to the train station now!” she squeaks. She feels like she’s going to throw up all her internal organs. Maybe that would solve the problem: Anya can’t hate her if she’s gross and bleeding.
“Oh my God,” Anya says. She smiles, suddenly, this big blinding smile that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “I can’t believe you. Is that why you weren’t talking to me?”
Siobhan squeezes her eyes shut, chest tight. She never thought Anya would actually make fun of her. “No, dipshit, obviously wanting to kiss your best friend is no big deal. Anya--”
“It isn’t when she wants to kiss you back.”
The world stops.
“What?” Siobhan croaks.
Anya’s fingers slide over Siobhan’s hand, cool and smooth; her thumb pries open Siobhan’s clenched fist and her fingers lace into Siobhan’s. “I like you,” she says, like this is simple, like it’s easy. Siobhan sucks in a breath sharp as a knife and forces her eyes open. Anya’s mouth quirks. “Want to go out with me?” she says.
“For real?” Siobhan asks, and her voice comes out all funny, hushed like in church. Anya’s mouth just curls up a little more.
“Yes,” she whispers, and leans forward to kiss Siobhan.
She starts slow, just barely brushing her lips over Siobhan’s a couple times, then presses closer in a firm kiss that makes Siobhan flush deep, her skin tingling all over. When Anya’s tongue teases inside her mouth, slick and perfect, Siobhan can’t help but make a little noise and squirm even closer. Her free hand ends up on Anya’s thigh for balance, and she squeezes a little, heat thrilling in her blood. In reply, Anya reaches up to cup Siobhan’s cheek and lick in deeper, dirtier, hotter, until Siobhan actually finds herself moaning with how good it is, which she thought was something that only happened in crappy porn.
She gets the hang of it quick, sliding her tongue around Anya’s till Anya lets out a good hmm of a sigh and biting Anya’s lip a little as she pulls back for a gasp of air. She lets her hand creep up around Anya’s neck the way it wants to and rubs her freckly shoulder, and it hits her all of a sudden: Anya’s kissing her back. Anya likes her back.
She blinks and pulls back a little farther so she can look Anya in the face. Anya’s lipstick is smeared from their kissing, and it makes her mouth look even redder, her lips even fuller. It’s all Siobhan can do not to drag her back in for another kiss or climb over into Anya’s lap. She blinks and meets Anya’s eyes.
“Since when do you like girls?” she makes herself ask.
“Since when do you like girls?” says Anya, raising her eyebrows.
Siobhan grimaces. “Okay, fair point. I was going to tell you, I swear--”
“Yeah, and then you pulled a Houdini on me instead.” Anya slides her hand down to Siobhan’s shoulder and offers her her patented I-am-not-impressed look. “Just so we’re clear, I will hunt you down if you do that again.”
“I’m sorry, I freaked out!” Siobhan chews on her lip and looks at the trees through the windshield. “You were down here having fun, and I was up there, and I don’t know, I thought maybe... ” she trails off, and glances back.
“Geeze, don’t even finish that sentence,” Anya says, rolling her eyes. “You are ridiculous. Siobhan, you’re my best friend. Nothing’s going to change that.” She looks at Siobhan like she’s such a dope--but maybe she’s Anya’s dope now, which makes all the difference in the world. Siobhan breaks out in a grin and squeezes Anya’s thigh again.
“Whoa, tiger.” Anya grins back, cheeks a little pink. “Maybe we should go somewhere else. Somewhere that’s not right in front of a bus stop where a million people could see?” Her smile takes on a devilish tilt. “My roommate went home for the weekend last night, you know. You could come see my dorm. And we can talk.”
“Uh, yeah,” Siobhan says. Her face is starting to ache from how fiercely she’s smiling, and she leans back into her seat to try and reel herself in. “Yes. After that, could we go get something to eat? I didn’t get breakfast this morning and, uh, I was kind of too nervous to eat on the train.”
“Great planning,” Anya teases. She shakes her head. “Okay, lunch first, then making out. Just don’t have anything with garlic in it.”
She doesn’t wait for Siobhan to reply, just kisses her hand before letting it go to take off the emergency break. Siobhan can feel her insides melting completely. It’s a good thing Anya already knows what she’s really like, because there’s no way she’d be able to keep her cool in the face of--well, all this.
Anya lets out a little laugh as she starts up the car. “I can’t believe you thought I would stop talking to you,” she says. “You should have said something a month ago instead of disappearing; we could have been making out this whole time.”
“The last time we talked for real, you were going on about that jockstrap dude in the bathroom,” Siobhan protests, laughing too. She still can’t believe this is happening. “How was I supposed to compete with that?”
Anya turns to kiss her again, lingering and sweet. “Hot guys in jockstraps pale in comparison to you,” she murmurs, and somehow it’s the most romantic thing Siobhan’s ever heard.