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The scent of vanilla body spray and extra-hold hairspray hung heavy in the air of Mira’s small dorm room. On the desk, a portable CD player was skipping slightly as it worked its way through a No Doubt album. It was an hour before they were supposed to head over to Allston, and the room was a chaotic landscape of butterfly clips, glitter gel, and discarded platform sneakers.
Tess sat on the edge of the twin XL bed, her weight making the springs creak. She was already dressed, looking effortlessly grounded in a vintage black leather jacket she’d found at a thrift shop in Cambridge. The leather was worn and soft, the dark material making the stark black of her eyepatch look like a deliberate fashion choice rather than a necessity. Underneath, she just wore a simple grey tee and dark jeans.
Standing by the full-length mirror, Mira was ostensibly trying to decide between two different “baby tees,” but her blue eyes kept drifting to the reflection of the bed behind her.
Every time Tess shifted, the leather jacket creaking or the metal zippers clinking, Mira’s gaze snapped to her. She looked at the way the heavy collar framed Tess’ jawline and how the tough, protective layer of the jacket seemed to suit Tess’ serious personality. Mira felt that familiar, fluttery intensity rising in her chest, the same crush she’d been nursing since freshman year, but she forced herself to look back at her own reflection.
“You okay? You’ve been staring at that blue shirt for five minutes,” Tess said, her voice calm and steady. She looked up, her one brown eye meeting Mira’s blue ones in the mirror.
Mira jumped, her face flushing a deep pink that almost matched the streak in her bangs. “I’m just hyperfocused! I can’t decide if the blue makes me look too... STEM major-y. I want to look like I’m actually fun.”
Tess let out a short, genuine laugh. “Mira, you’re the most ‘fun’ person I know. You could wear a lab coat to this party, and people would still follow you around.”
Tess stood up, stretching her arms, the leather of her sleeves pulling tight across her shoulders. “Does the jacket look alright? I don’t want to look like I’m trying to be a biker or something.”
Mira turned around fully now, her heart doing a nervous little somersault. Up close, the leather smelled like faint woodsmoke and old libraries. “It looks really good, Tess,” Mira said, her voice dropping some of its usual bubbliness for a second of pure honesty. “It makes you look... like someone you shouldn’t mess with. But in a cool way.”
Tess offered a small, appreciative smirk, the kind of look she only gave Mira. “Good. Because I’m definitely not in the mood to be messed with tonight.”
“Well, lucky for you, you have me as your bodyguard,” Mira joked, regaining her sweet, bouncy energy. She flashed a grin, her slightly pointy canines catching the light as she finally pulled the blue shirt over her head. “No one’s getting past me.”
Tess shook her head, though her expression was soft. “Right. Remind me of that when I’m the one hauling you out of a mosh pit later.”
As Mira turned back to the mirror to carefully apply a bit of glitter gel to her cheekbones, she could feel Tess’ gaze on her. Tess watched her for a beat longer than usual, her expression unreadable behind that serious, criminal justice major exterior. She reached down and adjusted the cuff of her leather jacket, the silver buckle clicking into place with a definitive snap.
“You almost ready?” Tess asked, her voice regaining its usual steady, grounded clip. “If we wait any longer, the T is going to be packed with people heading toward Kenmore.”
“Ready!” Mira chirped, grabbing her small backpack and flashing one last, bright grin. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her blonde hair swinging at her chin. “Let’s go. I have a feeling tonight’s going to be a good one.”
Tess just nodded, holding the door open for her with a quiet, polite gallantry. As they stepped out into the drafty dorm hallway, the heavy leather of Tess’ jacket brushed against Mira’s arm, a tiny, fleeting spark of contact that made Mira’s heart race all the way to the elevator.
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The air in the Allston apartment was thick with the scent of cheap beer, clove cigarettes, and the lingering humidity of too many bodies in a small space.
Tess leaned against the wood-paneled wall, her brown eye scanning the room while the black patch over her left eye felt like a weight she was extra conscious of tonight. The party was a blur of baggy jeans and platform sneakers, but her gaze kept drifting. Across the room, she saw Annie laughing, her pink-streaked ginger hair bright under the dim yellow lights. Annie was wearing a loud yellow hibiscus shirt that looked like it belonged on a beach in Maui rather than a basement in Boston.
She was leaning in close to Agnes, who looked characteristically poised in a charcoal turtleneck and glasses, her dark academia aesthetic making her look like a professor who had accidentally wandered into a frat house. While Agnes was nodding seriously, discussing some nuance of religious philosophy, she wasn’t as detached as she usually seemed. Annie’s hand was resting comfortably on the small of Agnes’ back, and as Annie made a joke, Agnes reached up, her fingers lingering as she tucked a stray ginger lock behind Annie’s ear. Agnes’ expression softened into a rare, private smile, the kind of look that made it painfully clear they were in a world of their own.
Tess looked away, feeling a quiet, lingering exhaustion. The breakup had been clean, but seeing the way Agnes looked at Annie, with a devotion Tess had never quite felt from her, left her heart feeling like it was under lock and key. She’d spent months brushing off any girl who tried to catch her eye, treating every flirtatious glance like a piece of evidence she needed to debunk.
“You’re doing that thing again,” a bright, melodic voice chirped beside her, cutting through the heavy bass of The Chemical Brothers.
Tess looked up to see Mira. Her blonde hair, cut sharp at her chin, caught the light, especially the single, bold pink streak she’d dyed into the front that morning. Her blue eyes were wide and sparkling with a restless energy.
“What thing?” Tess asked, a small smile finally breaking through her serious exterior.
“The ‘I’m-observing-the-human-condition-from-afar’ thing,” Mira teased. She leaned in, and as she grinned, Tess caught the flash of her slightly pointy canines, a detail that always made Mira’s smile feel a bit more mischievous, almost canine. “You’re a Criminal Justice major, Tess, not a private investigator in a noir film. Drink your punch. I checked, it’s mostly just juice... I think.”
Tess laughed, the sound warm and genuine. Mira had a way of puncturing Tess’ gloom that no one else did. “I’m just tired, Mira. People are... a lot. They’re complicated, and they usually want things I don’t have the energy to give.”
“I’m not a lot,” Mira said. Usually, Mira was the bubbly heart of the group, but her tone suddenly shifted, becoming focused and uncharacteristically intense. When Mira got like this, hyperfocused on a single thought or goal, the rest of the world seemed to melt away for her. It was the same look she got when she was studying for her biology exams, a laser-like precision.
She stayed closer than usual, the heat from her arm radiating through Tess’ sleeve. The crowd surged as a new song started, pushing them deeper into their corner.
“Remember the skiing trip?” Mira asked suddenly, her blue eyes locked onto Tess’ brown one. “Freshman year? When you fell into that snowdrift, and I had to haul you out? We spent three hours by the fireplace just trying to get our toes to stop being numb.”
“I remember you laughing at me for ten minutes before you actually helped,” Tess reminded her, nudging her back. “And then you made me drink that terrible hot chocolate that was mostly just powder.”
“I was nervous!” Mira blurted out, her sweetness giving way to that raw, reckless intensity. She turned fully to face Tess, ignoring the girl who accidentally bumped into her. “Tess, I’ve been nervous for like... a year. And I’m really bad at being patient when I finally know what I want. I’ve spent all this time being the ‘sweet friend’ while watching you look over your shoulder for people who weren’t even seeing the real you.”
Tess felt her guard go up instinctively, her hand tightening around her cup. She started to look toward the door, her brain looking for an exit strategy. “Mira, if this is you trying to wingman someone for me, I already told you, I’m not interested in the sophomore recruitment pool.”
“I’m not wingman-ing,” Mira interrupted, her hand reaching out to catch Tess’ wrist. Her grip was warm and steady. “I’m tired of being the friend who watches you get your heart broken. I’ve had a thing for you since we were shivering in that lodge in Vermont. And I’m not brushing this off. I’m not ‘any girl,’ Tess. I’m Mira.”
Tess froze. Her first instinct was to deflect, but the way Mira was looking at her, with that sharp, hyper-focused gaze, made it impossible. She didn’t see the fleeting fascination she usually saw in girls who were curious about the girl with the eyepatch. She saw the girl who had stayed up with her in the library, the girl who understood her silence, and the girl who never made her feel like a broken thing to be studied.
“Mira...” Tess whispered, her serious side taking over. “I don’t do ‘casual’ well right now. I don’t have a ‘casual’ setting left in me.”
“Good,” Mira said, her bubbly persona replaced by a soft, fierce bravery. She took a half-step closer, her chin-length hair brushing against Tess’ cheek. “Because I don’t want casual. I want the serious stuff. I want all of it.”
Tess took a breath, the noise of the party fading until it was just the two of them. She reached up, her fingers grazing Mira’s hair, lingering on that pink streak. For the first time in a long time, Tess didn’t pull away. She leaned in, closing the gap.
The kiss started sweet and certain, but Mira’s characteristic intensity quickly took over. Having held back for over a year, she was suddenly making up for lost time. She leaned into Tess with a desperate sort of enthusiasm, her hands sliding up to cup Tess’ face, pulling her closer as if she couldn’t get enough. She was breathless and eager, her kisses becoming faster and more frantic as the adrenaline of the moment hit her.
Tess felt a surge of warmth, but she gently placed her hands on Mira’s waist to steady her. When they finally pulled apart, Mira was flushed, her blue eyes wide and shining, a stray strand of blonde hair stuck to her lip. Tess let out a long breath she felt like she’d been holding since freshman year. A small, affectionate smirk played on her lips, the kind she only reserved for the people she truly trusted.
“Hey,” Tess said softly, her voice a low, protective hum as she smoothed Mira’s hair back. “Slow down, mariposa. We have all night. We have all year.”
Mira beamed, her bubbly energy returning in a rush as she practically vibrated with excitement, her pointy canines showing in a wide, genuine grin. The nickname landed softly between them, and as Mira tucked her head onto Tess’ shoulder, Tess finally felt the weight of the last year lift.
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Across the room, the academic debate over coffee and theology had hit a lull. Annie, ever the social butterfly, let her eyes wander from Agnes’ intense gaze to scan the rest of the party, her hand still resting comfortably on Agnes’ waist. Her eyes snagged on a corner that was usually occupied by a solitary, guarded Tess, but the scene she saw there made her breath hitch.
“Agnes, look,” Annie whispered, her voice dropping an octave as she nudged her girlfriend’s arm. Her pink-streaked ginger hair bobbed as she leaned over, squinting through the dim light. “Is that... are they...?”
Agnes adjusted her glasses, her sharp eyes narrowing as she focused through the haze of the room. Just as she looked, Mira leaned in again with that reckless, hyper-focused enthusiasm. They watched as Mira cupped Tess’ face, pulling her into a kiss that was anything but “just friends”, it was desperate, sweet, and clearly a long time coming.
Annie’s jaw practically hit the floor. She had seen Mira’s pining for a year, but seeing Tess actually lean into it, her hand gripping Mira’s waist with a sudden, fierce possessiveness, was a revelation.
“Oh my god,” Annie squealed under her breath, a huge, genuine grin spreading across her face. “She did it! Mira actually did it!”
Agnes watched the pair for a moment longer than necessary. She saw the way Tess pulled back, smoothing Mira’s hair with a tenderness she rarely showed the world. A flicker of profound relief crossed Agnes’ face; the lingering guilt of being the reason for Tess’ heartbreak finally began to dissipate.
“It appears,” Agnes said, her British accent clipping the words with academic precision, though her tone was remarkably soft, “that our Mira has finally found the courage to execute her long-standing tactical maneuver.”
“I knew it!” Annie chirped, her upbeat energy surging. She looked like she wanted to jump up and down. “I told you they had that ‘shivering-in-the-ski-lodge’ tension! Oh, I have to go over there and-”
Agnes caught Annie’s hand, her thumb stroking over Annie’s knuckles to keep her grounded. She pulled Annie back toward her, her gaze lingering on her girlfriend with a quiet, steady devotion.
“Perhaps we should give them a moment of peace, darling,” Agnes murmured, her voice warm. “Tess hasn’t looked that relaxed since... well, possibly ever. Let them have their moment before you bowl them over with your brand of enthusiasm.”
Annie pouted playfully but settled back against Agnes, resting her head on the charcoal wool of Agnes’ shoulder, feeling the familiar comfort of her presence. “Fine. But tomorrow at the GSU, I’m getting all the details. I mean, did you see that? That wasn’t just a ‘maybe’ kiss. That was an ‘at last’ kiss.”
Agnes nodded, her gaze lingering on the pair for a second longer. “Indeed. It seems Mira is exactly the brand of chaos Tess needed to stop looking at the past.”
Across the room, as the kiss ended and Mira tucked her head into Tess’ shoulder, Tess’ brown eye caught Annie’s for a split second. Usually, Tess would have stiffened or looked away. Instead, she offered a small, knowing smirk, a silent acknowledgment that she was finally okay, before she turned her head to whisper something into Mira’s ear that made the blonde girl beam.
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The cool November air stung their cheeks as they stepped out of the Allston apartment, but neither of them seemed to feel the bite of the wind. The walk back toward the BU dorms was a blur of neon streetlights and the distant hum of the Green Line. Mira was still vibrating with that same hyper-focused energy, her hand firmly interlaced with Tess’, her thumb tracing nervous, frantic circles over Tess’ knuckles.
When they reached Mira’s floor, the hallway was quiet, a stark contrast to the thumping bass they had just left behind. Mira fumbled with her keys, her usual coordination slightly off from the sheer adrenaline of the night. Finally, the lock clicked, and they stepped into the familiar scent of vanilla and hairspray.
The room was still a mess from their pre-party prep, discarded clothes draped over chairs and the faint shimmer of spilled glitter gel on the desk, but it felt different now. The tension that had been building since freshman year had finally snapped, replaced by a soft, magnetic pull.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Mira turned, her blue eyes wide and intense. She didn’t wait. She stepped into Tess’ space, her hands reaching up to grip the lapels of that vintage leather jacket.
“I didn’t think I was actually going to do it,” Mira admitted, her voice a breathless whisper. “I’ve played that out in my head a thousand times, and every time, I thought you’d just... laugh or tell me I was being reckless.”
Tess leaned back against the heavy wooden door, her one brown eye searching Mira’s face. She didn’t look serious or guarded anymore. She looked vulnerable, her hands sliding under the hem of Mira’s blue baby tee to rest on the small of her back.
“I’m not laughing, Mira,” Tess murmured.
Mira leaned in, her enthusiasm bubbling over again. She kissed Tess with a fierce, clumsy sweetness, her slightly pointy canines grazing Tess’ lip in her eagerness. She was all heat and motion, her chin-length blonde hair falling forward to shield them from the rest of the world.
Tess let out a low, shaky breath, her grip tightening on Mira’s waist to ground them both. She pulled back just an inch, her forehead resting against Mira’s. The silence of the dorm room was heavy with the weight of everything they hadn’t said for a year.
“You’re doing it again,” Tess teased gently, her voice thick with affection. “The hyperfocus. You’re going a mile a minute.”
Mira let out a small, breathless laugh, her chest heaving against the leather of Tess’ jacket. She looked up, her blue eyes searching Tess’. “I told you. When I know what I want, I don’t really know how to do ‘slow.’”
Tess reached up, her thumb tracing the line of the pink streak in Mira’s hair. For the first time in a long time, the walls weren’t just down, they were gone.
“Well,” Tess whispered, a genuine, soft smile breaking across her face. “Luckily for you, I’m a criminal justice major. I’m used to handling high-intensity situations.”
She pulled Mira back in, slower this time, moving toward the twin XL bed where the night, and their life as something more than just friends, was only just beginning.