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“Did you guys know, that Eleanor used to go by Nora?”
Drea says the words in this old, classic manner of hers. Eleanor looks up and feels the rug slowly creeping away from her feet.
“And she went to Big Beach Day Camp with Tara and I? Do you remember?”
“What?”
“No? You don’t remember?” Drea looks at her with all faux confusion, eyes narrowing, “Well I guess she looked a little different,” Eleanor narrows her eyes back at her. Careful there, she’s trying to say with them.
“Here,” Drea gets up and comes closer, hand coming over Eleanor’s lower part of the face, “How about now? Look familiar?”
Shock washes over everyone’s face slowly, comically, “Oh my god!”
“We used to call her Nosy Nora?” Drea drawls like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like Eleanor didn’t spend half her life trying to erase it, or at least hide it beyond recognition.
“Oh my God, yes, yes! Nosy Nora!” “That’s Nosy Nora?!” All of them shriek in laughter, someone grabs her nose playfully. Eleanor’s mask starts slipping away, down, down, despite having carefully constructed it for years, despite building this alter ego for the past year. With one sentence, Drea tears it all down like it meant noting.
Eleanor feels like throwing up. There’s a gag somewhere in the back of her throat and she’s pretty sure she sways a little in her chair. She gets up and bolts for the door, ignoring Tara’s vague calls for her.
The door leads her to the garden, bougie and obnoxious like the rest of the mansion, with pebbles under her feet and a fountain and greenery all around her. She runs a hand through her hair, feeling stripped bare and exposed. Vulnerable. Without any armor left.
It feels like game over. It feels like just as she was beyond the break, Drea smashed her like a bat against a vase. All that’s left for her to do is plant drugs on Drea’s mom, and let’s face it, it’s really not something she wants to do. She wanted Drea to suffer, not her mother. Even if she apparently raised devil incarnate, the woman did nothing to Eleanor herself.
She couldn’t care less about what the people in there think. Even if she did feel like their friend, briefly, in their own toxic and twisted way - the only thing that really hurt, was knowing Drea hadn’t changed after all.
She thought she could maybe trust her, eventually. God, she even felt bad at one point for plotting behind her back all this time. She was so, so, wrong. Drea Torres would never change. No matter how much she waved the poverty card, the Yale card, she would always be just a bad person after all.
But what hurt the most, was that Eleanor let her hurt her all over again. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the pebbles beneath her feet, blinded by anger at herself. For believing, even for just a second, that Drea could be just a decent person. For even believing Drea wouldn’t stoop so low again as to humiliate her in front of everyone, again.
Why on earth did she go easy on her? Why did she let that doubt creep in? Why did she let the 13-year-old Nora take over? Why did she give the little Nora in her hope, hope that her crush would finally notice her, be nice to her?
“Eleanor,” Drea appears from the bushes. Eleanor doesn’t want to look at her at all, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Eleanor looks up from where she was staring at the water in the fountain, feeling whipped. Oh, who does she think she is?! Apologizing just like that, like she didn’t ruin Eleanor all over again?!
“I really thought I was different than them,” Drea continues, and Eleanor thinks to herself If that’s what helps you sleep at night, “Every time I did something mean, I told myself This isn’t me. This is just who I have to be to survive.”
What a load of crap, Eleanor thinks to herself, glancing at the sky as she releases a breath between trembling lips, something mute between a scoff and a sob. She turns around, she can’t look at Drea. All she did was lie, anyway.
“It was just a story I told myself to make myself feel better about the fact that I was just a toxic bitch,” Well at least that one sounds true.
It didn’t matter though. Eleanor keeps her back to her, shifting on her feet, gritting her teeth together hard. She will not cry. Not in front of Drea, not here. Drea isn’t worth seeing her tears. But God, does it hurt. It hurts to know that in the end, Drea would always get away with this kind of stuff. Drea would always go back to her life of being a popular bitch, one way or another, no matter how many people she had to plow through. And Eleanor needs to stop thinking she’s special and needs to stop thinking like Drea won’t treat her like anyone else, no matter the blackmail hanging over her head.
“Does any of this make you feel better?” Drea squeaks, “Because I’m fucking miserable!”
“No of course I don’t feel better! I feel like shit!” Her voice betrays her, trembling and watery, but she grits her teeth anyway.
“So do I!” Drea fires back, like it matters. But then, her fingers fumble with the top of her dress, the pin with the goddamn camera in it, “Fuck!”
“What are you doing?” Eleanor’s eyes widen, voice calm and steady, dangerously so. Panic flares down her spine, “No, no. Stop it, Drea,” Drea throws the pin on the floor, “Drea, don’t!” And smashes her foot on top of it, like she’s killing a bug.
“None of this is gonna make us feel better, okay?”
Eleanor just stares at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, not believing what her eyes see.
“We can’t erase what we did to each other, but I don’t wanna hurt you anymore… And I don’t think you wanna hurt me either.”
Oh, she’s got some nerve saying that.
“The only times I’ve felt happy this year…” Drea goes on, shaking her head, “Were when I was with you.”
Eleanor stares. Stares and breathes in hard. No, Drea doesn’t get to behave the way she just did in there, then come out here and say things like this. Eleanor can’t keep deciphering whether she’s talking with an angel or with the devil. Drea doesn’t get to awaken the little Nora in her, doesn’t get to give her hope that somehow still wasn’t snuffed out even after Drea ruined her life.
Drea doesn’t get to fuel the crush that never completely died within Eleanor.
Her mind replays the past year. All the times Drea went shopping with her, helped her adjust the clothes that felt completely alien on her body. The hold of Drea’s hands of her face as she put makeup on her, the little bop on the nose, so unaware of who she’s being playful with. All the times they plotted their plan that was never theirs in their homes. That time Eleanor held Drea against her chest as she cried, that was the first time she let her control slip. The first time she believed Drea had changed from the version she knew four years ago. The first time she felt that warmth bloom in her chest because of the other girl, hair beneath her fingertips soft.
Drea laughs a little, self-scolding and devastated, “You might be the only real friend I ever had.”
And that does it for Eleanor. She feels her knees wobble, wanting to give out. She realizes then - all this time, Drea actually was being the best version of herself. Maybe the best she could be with revenge and anger clouding her eyes.
“And, I know this probably means nothing now, but… If I could go back in time to when we were kids… I would tell you You’re the coolest person I ever met,” Drea’s voice breaks, that same watery tone that Eleanor’s own voice had, sobs a little. Eleanor bears her teeth a little - from sorrow, from betrayal, anger and the stubborn hope shimmering brighter than her outfit, trying to fight it.
“Because you are. And I will regret what I did to you forever,” Drea comes closer, leaning towards her, “So, I’m sorry, Eleanor, for everything.”
Eleanor grits her teeth again, feels her throat close. Her eyes well up with tears so much they burn. She rolls them, but they spill over anyway.
A sob rips through her and she looks down at her feet, mortified and defeated. So much anger still courses through her, but it dies and dies and dies down. The apology from Drea’s lips tears through her, sincere and reaching to her core, but she wants more than anything to ignore it, wants to tell her to fuck off, to go somewhere else, to someone else who would buy her lies. But she knows that even if she were to say that, that her voice would betray her. That even though Drea is a narcissist, anyone would be able to hear the hurt and agony in her voice were she to speak.
Eleanor feels her whole body start to tear apart with the effort to hold her ground, vein by vein, muscle by muscle. It rips through her resolve, through the alter ego and through the defenses until little Nora comes through and speaks her heart, having been contained for four years without any answers.
“God, Drea!” Eleanor exclaims, pained and resigned, “You can’t just say things like that! You can’t act like I matter to you, like you care, when you act like that,” She motions to the room she stormed from, “Every five seconds!”
Eleanor breathes hard when Drea looks down at her feet, “You treat me like absolute garbage the moment you have another motive! You were so hellbent on making everyone pay back that you didn’t even bother to remember my birthday when I told you the day before!” She grits out, “You were ready to ruin my life again in there because something wasn’t going your way! You can’t act like that and then say that I was your only real friend and that you were only happy with me and expect for it to matter!”
“But does it?!” Drea looks up finally, look in her eyes determined.
“Does it fucking what, Drea?!” Her own voice sounds ridiculous and too dramatic for her liking.
“Does it matter?” Drea comes close, voice suddenly soft, “Did it matter to you like it did to me?” She looks up at her with shining eyes, pleading… almost vulnerable. More vulnerable than that night when they laid in Drea’s bed after revealing Max had been cheating on her all along, “This past year, anything at all?”
“Did you not hear anything I just said?!” Eleanor’s voice cuts through the tension between them, not loud, but still vice.
“I did,” Drea clenches her teeth but stays close. There’s less than two feet between them. It’s way closer than Eleanor wants her, but she can’t bring her feet to move backwards, “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, I’m sorry that I let revenge come before you. I got carried away, I got reckless. I shouldn’t have neglected you like that and I’m truly, truly sorry, Eleanor,” Drea’s eyes shine over. Even if Eleanor doesn’t want to see it, the sincerity in her eyes is clear as day, “I can’t go back in time and undo what I did to you all those years ago, I can’t undo what I did to you last week, not even what I just did to you. But I can try to prove it to you that I am sorry. I am willing to change, I am willing to put this… toxic version of me behind, even if it means tearing myself in half, if you will let me, if you tell me this year meant something to you.”
Eleanor stares deep into Drea’s eyes, the air between them charged and tense. They are both rooted in place, trembling a little with the force of their hearts beating against their chests. Eleanor watches as tears in Drea’s eyes rise, rise, until they topple over and slides down her cheek.
There’s a tug at her heart that she wishes to ignore, but that tear slices through Eleanor, breaks the tension in her jaw, and her shoulders sag a little. The last of her resolve ebbs away as she watches Drea, can’t help herself but think - why is this so important to her? Why is Eleanor so important to her? Eleanor dares to think the unimaginable for a moment, then goes back to reality. Remembers she has a questions to answer.
With no fight left in her, she speaks almost in a whisper, “Yes…” She watches Drea’s eyes widen only slightly, barely visible weren’t they so close. If Drea were to come any closer, her face would blur and Eleanor would have to look at her cross-eyed, “It did matter,” She powers through, realizing there is nothing left to lose, “For the record, when we realized Max had been cheating on you, I wasn’t acting. I didn’t have to comfort you, I didn’t have to let you sleep against my chest, but I did, because I wanted to. For a while, I actually felt bad for doing all of this. I thought you had maybe changed,” Eleanor grins weakly, reminiscent, “I thought, damn, I’m being such an asshole. But then you wanted to get back at everyone and you proved me wrong, again. You were just as selfish, just as self-absorbed, and just as ruthless as you were four years ago,” She shakes her head, “But yeah, it did matter. I just don’t know if I can trust you. I want t trust you, but I don’t know if I can.”
They just stand there, breathing deep and hard. Eleanor watches deeply as emotions change and morph, reflect in Drea’s eyes. There’s so much she’s feeling too. So much anger, betrayal… But she also feels so good, having said it out loud, and despite everything, she feels like she’s standing in front of a different Drea. Not the one that ruined her life, not the one that ridiculed her in front of everyone minutes ago.
Something has changed. Something new and dangerous. Eleanor barely has strength to breathe, afraid to find out what that something is. But just then, Drea’s eyes drop slightly, and Eleanor realizes she’s looking at her lips. Panic and something else shoots down her spine, her mouth going dry when she sees Drea wet her lips. Her whole body freezes, but she can’t bring herself to stop the inevitable.
Drea surges forward, hand cupping either side of Eleanor’s face, keeping her in place against her lips. Eleanor’s eyes shoot wide open in panic. She’s suddenly aware of everything around them - the crisp air, the hum of the fountain, the unsteady pebbles beneath their feet, the smell of pine; then the softness of Drea’s hands against her face - firm yet somehow tender. Her soft mouth kissing her own, firm and meaningful, in a single long kiss, the way their chests press together.
It’s only a moment before instinct takes over and Eleanor’s eyes flutter shut and kisses her back. Drea pulls away only to kiss her again, lips fitting against each other, Eleanor’s hands moving to Drea’s waist, instinctively pulling her closer when she should be pushing her away. One of them sighs audibly when their fronts press together fully, maybe both, and Drea kisses her again, and again, and Eleanor can’t help but match her enthusiasm, fingers digging slightly into her waist and her shoulders begin to sag at the feeling similar to the final piece of the puzzle locking into place, a full picture finally making sense.
Little Nora soars and spreads her wings, flying high. Eleanor forgets how they got here momentarily, forgets the lies, the torture, the humiliation, the pain, and breathes in as her lips part and her tongue slides against Drea’s bottom lip. There has to be something extremely poetic about kissing your once sworn enemy, but her thoughts are a little too busy to think about that. She puts a pause on her doubts, on her anger and promises herself to come back to them later. Until then, she kisses Drea, feels her tongue slides against her own and she groans, kisses her harder, pushes a little more-
Clapping. One, two, three times- they spring apart on instinct.
Max stands behind Eleanor, in the middle of a path between two bushes, “Didn’t expect to play vouyer on the two of you, but hey, I’m not complaining,” He smiles that disgusting rotten grin of his.
“Did you just enter doing a slow clap, you cliche piece of shit,” Drea sneers behind her.
“Oh, I’m a piece of shit?!” He drops a phone to the ground. Eleanor’s phone.
“Where did you get that?” She asks calmly before she thinks about it.
Max then proceeds to brag about having figured out their master plan. Proceeds to insult them, to belittle Drea and Eleanor has to damn nearly physically hold herself back because she might still be furious with Drea, a passionate kiss doesn’t magically change that, but Max doesn’t get to as much as speak in her direction. She holds herself back and even takes a measuring step behind, making sure the camera strapped to her boob will catch every second of it. It will pay out in the long run.
When he skips away, smugly, she bursts in laughter.
“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Drea sneers at her, deeply offended.
Eleanor opens the side of her jacket, revealing the camera, “It’s called double assurance, sweetie,” She purrs, voice low and raspy, watches for a moment as Drea’s eyes glue to her chest, mouth parting comically, “Look it up,” Drea looks up at her, “We got him.”
Eleanor’s biting her lip, grinning like an idiot who got her masterplan to work, because that’s exactly what this idiot did. Drea closes the distance between them, glee fully flashing in her eyes, “God, do I love you right now!”
Eleanor doesn’t have time to think about that confession and if it means something because Drea’s hands cup her face again and pull her in for what can only be described as a victory kiss. Their mouths fit together a bit sloppily, yet perfectly at the same time. She wraps her arms around Drea’s waist and pulls her against herself, pushing into her so Drea tilts her head backwards as their tongues brush together again.
In that moment, Eleanor realizes that nothing would be the same again. That it hasn’t been for a while. She replays Drea’s words from before, her promise to be better, to not repeat her mistakes. As she kisses her, deep and slow and full of pent up longing, Eleanor decides to be brave one more time and to take a leap. To give Drea one more chance and see if she will be worth it, because she isn’t quite ready to give up this blooming warmth that spreads through her chest as Drea kisses her like she’s her only source of oxygen.
They part, eventually, reluctantly, foreheads pressed together, breathing deeply the same air, “Does that mean…?” Drea asks firsts, voice shaky.
Eleanor nods quickly, “I want to give us a chance… And… I’m sorry too, for saying I didn’t believe Max was the one to send the video. I never believed he didn’t, I just wanted to hurt you the same way you hurt me. I never meant it. It was a fucked up thing to say, and I’m sorry.”
Drea nods against her forehead, smiling faintly, “I forgive you… And… I’m gonna try to be the best version of myself. I’ll be better, and I promise to never hurt you again like that.”
“Good,” Eleanor grins, steals a peck against her lips, “Now, let’s expose that son of a bitch,” She pulls away with a grin and tugs Drea inside with her.
“Let’s maybe cut the parts where we argue and kiss,” She suggests seriously. Eleanor barks out a laugh.
Maybe there was one thing sweeter even than revenge…