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Naturally, Heather had started planning her strategy to win Total Drama Island before she even sent in her audition tape.
Unlike some of her fellow contestants, she wasn’t there for the five minutes of fame, or just to “have fun” - if she wasn’t planning on bringing home that grand prize at the end, then what was even the point? And despite her ego (which was a perfectly healthy size for a young woman, thank you very much), Heather was aware of her own limitations as an individual player. While she did consider herself to be a person of above-average intelligence, she had to factor in that she wasn’t exactly the most athletic person in the world, and she definitely drew the line at doing anything especially gross or freakish.
So, where did that leave her in challenges where she was placed at an automatic disadvantage? The solution was quite simple, and in fact involved an artform that she had perfected in her day-to-day life: getting other people to do what she wanted. The easiest way to make sure that she was ultimately carried to victory by her teammates was, of course, locking down alliances right from the get-go. This would have the dual benefit in challenges and in securing votes when it came time for eliminations.
The trashy reality TV gods were surely smiling down upon her, because Heather found two perfect candidates not long after arriving at Camp Wawanakwa. Enter Beth, a total loser nerd desperate to even be perceived by someone actually popular, and Lindsay, an airhead with a negative digit IQ that at least wasn’t totally revolting to look at. Neither of them were especially smart or athletic, but Heather was confident she could whip them into shape (metaphorically, of course– unfortunately). All she had to do was promise that they’d make it to the final three together, and she had them eating from the palm of her hand.
Ugh, it truly warmed Heather’s heart how easy it was to manipulate nice, stupid people.
——
It became quickly obvious to everyone that Heather clearly had a favorite between her two cronies — it wasn’t that she considered Lindsay to be her equal, God forbid, but she was certainly more tolerable to be around compared to Beth.
The campers had ample free time in between challenges, and though Heather valued her time alone (often only found in the confessional booth or the outhouse, though the latter wasn’t always guaranteed), she wasn’t some loner freak. Plus, she understood the value of “bonding time” in cultivating a successful alliance, if only to make sure that the person wasn’t off forming alliances elsewhere. So, most of said free time was spent with Lindsay, which was made easier considering they enjoyed the same sort of activities anyway. They didn’t talk much– at least, Heather didn’t do much talking– but they would spend hours on the beach together, sunbathing and flipping through magazines, painting their nails and laughing at other campers’ antics.
It’s not something she would ever admit out loud, obviously, but Lindsay was the only person on the island that Heather actually didn’t mind being around. Of course, that almost certainly had to do with the fact that Lindsay was the only person in turn who seemed to like spending time with her. Heather was well aware that the other campers hated her, but she paid no mind to that– so what if none of them wanted to hang out with her, and abruptly changed direction if they saw her walking their way? That was the cost of being a winner. To reiterate for those in the audience that had missed it, she was on this dumb TV show for the money, not to make friends or to be liked.
Anyway, none of that seemed to faze Lindsay in the slightest. Even though Heather tried to keep the verbal abuse to a minimum (constant harassment wasn’t exactly a morale booster), whenever she inevitably got frustrated during a challenge or otherwise, any nasty insults she hurled seemed to bounce right off the blonde. Lindsay was just so stupidly sweet, following her around like a puppy, hanging on to her every word, looking at Heather like the sun shone out of her ass. It was complete adoration. It made Heather feel like a god.
It made perfectly logical sense, then, why Lindsay’s little tryst with Tyler pissed her off so bad. Yes, their relationship certainly jeopardized the alliance– Heather wasn’t naive enough to believe the “bros before hoes” bullshit (or was it “hoes before bros” in this situation?)– but on a more basic level, it meant that Lindsay was paying attention to someone other than Heather, which was just not acceptable. After all, she’d grown accustomed to Lindsay being her little lapdog, and she had certainly never been one to share her toys. Lindsay was hers, damn it!
Maybe in a sane, well-adjusted person, this extreme possessiveness that arose in Heather would raise some red flags or at least trigger some self-reflection. But sane and well-adjusted Heather was not, so instead she elected to throw a canoe at Tyler when she caught the two lovebirds giggling together under the dock after their dodgeball challenge. Something about seeing the jock’s arms wrapped around her Lindsay made Heather’s blood boil.
Afterward on their walk back to their cabin, Heather tried to ignore Lindsay’s pout and occasional sad little sighs. She honestly did, but eventually it just became unbearable.
“Can you cut that out?” Heather exploded, rounding on the blonde. “So pathetic. What do you even see in that meathead, anyway?”
Lindsay just gawked at Heather like she had grown three heads. “He’s cute!” she exclaimed, throwing out her hands. She didn’t elaborate– clearly that was explanation enough for her.
Heather just didn’t get it. Honestly, she had never understood girls that lost their minds over any guy. She’d never really grown out of the playground perspective of seeing the entire male species as crude, disgusting brutes. Sure, she’d had boyfriends when it suited her, and she enjoyed the power trip of playing them like a fiddle to get what she wanted, but it wasn’t like any of them had ever sparked a fire in her loins or anything like that. She certainly would never risk throwing a whole competition for one.
“So what?” Heather scoffed back, rolling her eyes. She stepped into Lindsay’s space, poking a finger into the girl’s exposed collarbone. “Didn’t I specifically tell you not to get involved with anyone on the other team?”
“Yeah, but,” Lindsay began to argue.
“No buts!” Heather hissed. “This isn’t a discussion, okay Lindsiot? We’re in an alliance and I’m the leader, which means you listen to me. You do what I say, when I say it. And I’m telling you that you’re not allowed to see Tyler, or anyone else except for me.” Without thinking, she grabbed Lindsay’s wrist, pulling the girl even closer to her.
She hadn’t meant to say that last part– or at least it hadn’t come out the way she’d meant it, and now Heather was intensely aware of how little space there was between them. With their faces only inches apart, Lindsay was just staring at her, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and fear, her lips slightly parted– she was frozen, as if waiting to see what Heather did next. Some stupid voice in the back of Heather’s head piped up to point out that if she were a guy, this would be the part where she’d pull Lindsay into a searing kiss to stake her claim that way. Her eyes dropped to the other girl’s mouth. That’s what Tyler would do. There was a sharp stab of sudden, intense heat further south than Heather knew what to do with, and that was enough to shock her back to her senses.
Heather released Lindsay’s wrist and stepped back, breaking whatever spell had locked them both into place.
“Whatever,” Heather muttered as she tried to regain a sense of control over herself and the situation. “I didn’t come here to lose just ‘cause my teammates couldn’t keep it in their pants.” Softening her voice, trying for a nicer approach, Heather pointed out, “I’m just looking out for our alliance. You’ll forget his name in a few days anyway, okay?”
“Okay,” Lindsay echoed miserably.
If Lindsay had noticed anything off about their encounter, she didn’t comment on it. She also didn’t mention Tyler again– at least not to Heather, which was all that really mattered anyway.
——
With the Tyler situation ironed out, Heather was hopeful that things would go back to normal and she could forget all about whatever weird glitch occurred in her brain that made her consider, even if only for a fraction of a second, kissing Lindsay. (God, they weren’t even two weeks in and Heather was already losing it. She placed the blame squarely on this stupid camp and stupid Chris McLean and the stupid production company that made her come to this stupid godforsaken island!)
Unfortunately for Heather, however, it seemed that whatever was wrong with her brain was more than just a fleeting malfunction– rather, it was like a switch had been flipped. Even though the next morning Lindsay was no different from her typical bubbly, effusive self, something had changed. If not in Lindsay, then certainly in Heather. The only way that she could describe it was that all of a sudden, she was more aware of Lindsay than she had been previously.
Case in point: after they’d finished breakfast, the two girls went to lay out on the beach as was their routine. Lindsay was wearing the same cherry red bikini that she always wore, but for whatever reason, today the amount of smooth, suntanned skin it revealed seemed especially scandalous. As they walked to their usual spot on the beach, Heather was half tempted to order Lindsay to cover herself up, but ended up biting her tongue since she couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation in case the blonde dared to ask why.
They settled down onto their towels side by side, and despite Heather harnessing all of her willpower to try to keep her gaze firmly locked onto the page of her magazine she’d randomly flipped to, it didn’t seem to matter once Lindsay began applying tanning lotion to herself.
Heather’s eyes betrayed her, following the motions of Lindsay’s elegant, delicate hands as she diligently rubbed the lotion into her toned arms and legs, then into her perfectly flat abdomen and the top of her perfectly not even slightly flat chest, the tips of her fingers slipping just under the hems of her bathing suit so that no spot got missed.
Such was Heather’s level of distraction that she jumped a little at the sound of Lindsay’s voice. Even though her eyes were hidden behind her tinted sunglasses so it was doubtful that Lindsay would’ve noticed she was being watched, Heather still felt a wave of guilt like she was a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“What?” Heather snapped, a little more harshly than was fair even by her standards.
Lindsay held out the bottle of lotion, offering Heather one of her big, dopey smiles. Before Heather could deny needing any, Lindsay repeated, “I said, silly, can you help me out with my back?”
Heather just stared at her. Was this the universe testing her? Was it divine punishment for being so unnaturally gorgeous? (Heather being the gorgeous one, of course. Obviously Lindsay had an insanely hot bod too– just look at her– because Heather would never be friends with an uggo, but that was beside the point.) “No,” she answered flatly once she had regained use of her voice.
“Aww,” Lindsay whined, “C’mon, Heath! Pleeeease? I’ll get sunburns if you don’t help!”
“Not my problem.”
Lindsay’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “But how am I supposed to help win challenges if I’m all burnt up and can’t even move?” she complained, leaning closer to Heather.
For the first time, Heather wondered if maybe Lindsay wasn’t as totally oblivious and innocent as everyone thought. She’d be vaguely impressed if it wasn’t for the fact that she was the one being manipulated here. (Or was that just what having a friend was like? Doing nice things for each other just because? How bizarre.) Of course Heather’s first instinct was to stubbornly dig her heels in and refuse Lindsay’s pleas. But then she made the mistake of looking into those big, blue puppy dog eyes, and that annoying voice in the back of her head reminded her that there were plenty of other people at camp who would leap at the opportunity to lend Lindsay a helping hand.
“Whatever, fine,” Heather found herself saying before she had even completed the mental justification. She snatched the bottle from the blonde’s hand and gestured impatiently for her to lay down.
With a squeal of excitement, Lindsay wasted no time in sliding down the towel onto her stomach. Determined not to let her eyes get away from her again, Heather very pointedly stared at the small of Lindsay’s back, just above the red fabric of the lower bikini piece, as she squeezed a dollop of lotion into her hand.
“Oh, wait,” Lindsay said suddenly, just before Heather’s first touch. “It’d be easier if you untied my top. So the stringy thingy isn’t in the way.”
“I am not helping you strip!” Heather hissed, face burning in a reaction totally unrelated to the heat of the summer sun.
Lindsay only giggled in response. That laugh almost sounded like a challenge, though maybe that was just Heather making more excuses for her certifiably insane behavior from the last 24 hours. Regardless of whether the challenge was real or imagined, Heather hated backing down without a fight. Surprising even herself, suddenly the fingers of her free hand were at the bow of Lindsay’s bikini top, untying the knot and laying completely bare the smooth expanse of the blonde’s back.
For what had to be a few solid seconds, Heather’s brain did that stupid malfunctioning thing again. It drove her crazy because she didn’t know what to do next, which was totally unlike her. Her whole, like, thing was always being two steps ahead in every situation. What was wrong with her? Did she hit her head on a rock or something when Leshawna pushed her off that cliff? She must have a concussion, right? Oh, Leshawna was so going to get it–
“Lotion?” Lindsay piped up, glancing back at Heather over her freckled shoulder with an innocent bat of her eyelashes.
Frustrated and pissed off (which were admittedly her two default states of being anyway), Heather gave the half-hearted retort, “Shut up,” and then started rubbing the lotion into the other girl’s shoulders. She wasn’t gentle– she intentionally pressed hard, dragging her nails a bit, surely being rougher than Lindsay had intended. That’ll show her.
Instead the blonde just sighed, her muscles relaxing under Heather’s insistent fingers. “Mm, that feels really nice,” Lindsay murmured, voice muffled somewhat as she rested her cheek on the towel. “Keep going.”
Even though Heather knew that there was no way that Lindsay had meant anything by those words– it wasn’t any deeper than Lindsay enjoying having her sore muscles kneaded after having to sleep on a rock hard mattress every night– the breathiness of her voice combined with what those words could have been in response to made Heather feel a little, well, feral.
Propped up next to Lindsay with the girl totally at the mercy of her own two hands, Heather came to three realizations. First, that Tyler, any of the boys would kill to be in her position right now; second, that Lindsay would probably let Heather do whatever she wanted to her if she played her cards right; and third, that that weird glitch in her brain and insistent heat in her lower regions were unmistakable proof that Heather was really, really into this. Into Lindsay. What the hell?
Of course, Heather had a lot more self control (and shame) than the horny teenage boys they were currently stuck on an island with. She finished applying the rest of the lotion quickly and efficiently with a lighter, more impersonal touch, throwing the bottle into the sand next to Lindsay once she was finished and immediately retreating back to the safety of her own towel.
“Thanks, BFF!” Lindsay chirped up at her, tilting her head lazily and pursing her lips in an air kiss. “That was awesome. Like, you’re totally better than my masseuse back home!”
Heather bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard.
She seriously had to get herself under control here. Think of the alliance. Think of winning, the whole reason why she was here in the first place. It was one thing to spend time with Lindsay, pretending to be her friend, but it was totally another to do– whatever this was just now. She couldn’t let Lindsay even begin to think that this was a partnership of equals, or even worse, that she actually held the upper hand here and could get Heather to do whatever she wanted.
Heather was going soft, clearly. How pathetic. Someone paid a little bit of honest attention to her, and now she was drooling all over them– over a girl, no less– and letting them order her around. Alright, no more Miss Nice Heather. She was going to make sure the line was clearly drawn in the sand– that Lindsay knew who was on top here. (And no, she wasn’t going to acknowledge the non-family-friendly images that invaded her mind at that last sentiment.)
——
For the next few days, Heather applied the same standard tactics toward Lindsay that she used whenever one of her cronies back home displeased her in some way. She wasn’t immature enough to utilize the silent treatment, but she took extra care to make Lindsay’s very presence seem like a terrible inconvenience.
It wasn’t even just her putting on an act– suddenly, everything Lindsay said or did pissed her off for no logical reason. If it was possible, Heather was even more short-tempered than normal. While before she could just dismiss any idiotic comment from Lindsay with a roll of her eyes, now the girl’s very voice set Heather’s teeth on edge. She’d go nuclear for just about anything– any tiny mistake or perceived slight.
Heather even tried to punish Lindsay (for what exactly, she wasn’t sure) by spending more one-on-one time with the other member of their alliance. As it turned out, though, having to be around Beth for more than a few minutes at a time ended up feeling more like a punishment to Heather than anything else. The other girl was the total opposite of Lindsay. Beth was gross and awkward, could barely hold a conversation, had absolutely nothing in common with Heather at all. It was evident that Beth was terrified of her in how she could hardly even look her in the eye. While there was value to that, of course, Heather found it exhausting after a point. Though Lindsay certainly had the good sense to fear her wrath, it was different– she only feared her in the way someone might fear the god they worship. It was a fear born from adoration.
So Heather quickly abandoned her strategy of cutting Lindsay out of the alliance and resumed spending time with her, if only for her own sanity. Despite her endless irritation with the girl lately (or maybe because of it), the noticing continued with a vengeance. No matter what Lindsay was doing, Heather’s eyes followed every movement obsessively, just like they had at the beach. The lines of Lindsay’s body, the gentle curves of her lips, the way her hair fell, every flex of the surprisingly toned muscles in her arms, shoulders, thighs– Heather noticed everything.
It didn’t help that Lindsay did not understand the concept of personal space, at least not with Heather. The blonde really did remind Heather of the little Yorkie she had back at home. At the beach, when they were eating meals, during eliminations– wherever Heather sat, and regardless of the number of open seats, Lindsay always sat right next to her, close enough that their thighs would just slightly touch. Whenever they spent time together in general, especially while they talked, Lindsay seemed to always gravitate closer until Heather was enveloped in the girl’s flowery perfume. The clinginess should’ve made her uncomfortable– she’d always had a pointed distaste for physical closeness, had never particularly enjoyed being in close proximity to anyone– but for whatever reason, Heather didn’t really mind it. Even now, when she was trying so hard to not give Lindsay the time of day.
Maybe, maybe, Heather was overreacting about all of this. She wasn’t one to admit when she was wrong, though, and the thought just made her want to double down even more.
Heather reached her boiling point at the most inoffensive of slights. She was sitting on the steps of their cabin, sunning herself and sipping a soda (the one rare treat she occasionally gifted herself). Lindsay was right next to her, of course, and Heather didn’t miss the way the blonde kept shooting longing glances at the condensation dripping down the can.
Unable to simply ignore the glances as she typically would, Heather jerkily pushed the soda in the direction of her companion. “Clearly you’re too lazy to go get a drink for yourself, so just take a sip of mine, then, if you’re going to keep staring.” Leave it to her to counterbalance an uncharacteristic act of charity with a biting remark. She still refused to let Lindsay believe she had anything close to a soft spot for her, after all.
Lindsay seemed to brighten as she always did whenever Heather addressed her, gratefully accepting the can and taking a dainty sip. When the blonde passed it back over, Heather was horrified to see a little smudge of rosy lipstick left on the rim.
Numerous images flashed through Heather’s mind rapidfire, all without her consent. Of the expert way the blonde applied her lipstick, her makeup in general (not that Heather paid attention, of course), then of Lindsay’s lipstick leaving marks in other places. On Heather, to be specific– her lips, the side of her jaw, the column of her throat, the insides of her thighs. Heat rising to her face for more reasons than one, Heather lost it.
“Are you kidding me?!” Heather screeched, flying to her feet. “I’m nice enough to let you take a sip of my drink that I got for myself, and you just slobber all over it? I already knew that you barely had enough brain cells to count on one hand, but seriously? What the hell, Lindsiot?”
The blonde just stared up at her, evidently left totally bewildered at Heather’s sudden mood swing.
Irrationally frustrated, and desperate for Lindsay to fight back (even though she never did), wanting to provoke some reaction, Heather fell back on her old reliable method: abject cruelty. She upended the remaining contents of the drink into Lindsay’s lap, crumpling the can and tossing it at the girl’s feet.
Lindsay immediately gasped at the cold, sticky liquid seeping down to her skin. “My skirt!” she wailed, also leaping to her feet.
Heather waited for any other reaction– for the blonde to yell at her, to strike her, something. Any act of resistance, any excuse for Heather to dump her ass out of the alliance. But Lindsay was focused on her beloved skirt, dabbing at the wet spots with tissues she must’ve pulled out of her clutch.
“You’re such an idiot,” Heather snarled out as one final jab, though she wasn’t sure Lindsay even heard her. Whirling around, Heather stalked off, leaving the blonde to clean up the mess by herself.
She found herself at the dinky vending machine behind the outhouse again. Groaning, Heather briefly leaned her forehead against the side of the machine, eyes tightly squeezed shut as her rage finally abated. She had a temper, there was no denying that, and she’d certainly done much worse to rivals in the past. Still, though, what she’d just done to Lindsay felt like she’d gone way too far, even by her standards. Truthfully, Heather had regretted her actions pretty much the millisecond after she’d started to do it, but at that point there had been no going back.
What was it about Lindsay that made her lose control and doubt herself like this? With anyone else, Heather could dismiss the cruelty she dealt out as deserved– it was her primary weapon in establishing dominance, of ensuring that everyone knew who the boss was. With Lindsay, though, it felt different. The blonde had been nothing but endlessly loyal to her since they’d formed their alliance, so now lashing out at her was akin to kicking a puppy. Her adorable, sweet, smoking hot puppy that would get down on her knees for Heather without hesitation at the first bat of her eyelashes.
Heather sighed and leaned back, jabbing a thumb into the vending machine button that summoned a replacement soda for herself. She wasn’t going to apologize– that wasn’t something that she did, like, ever. Maybe being mean to Lindsay raised alarms from the conscience that she’d so persistently ignored throughout her adolescence, but Heather was too far gone to change her behavior now. It was like she’d said at the beginning. Why should she care about maintaining friendships during a competition? If Lindsay was going to have her precious little feelings hurt, that was her problem, not Heather’s.
Her mental pep talk complete, Heather marched back to the cabin, maybe to lay into Lindsay a little more to further suppress any regret she may have still been feeling. She hesitated outside, though, when she heard muffled voices from inside– was someone crying? Hiding herself so that she could safely eavesdrop, she quickly realized that the voices belonged to Bridgette and Lindsay.
“I just don’t get why you let her do this stuff to you,” Bridgette was saying, voice not devoid of sympathy.
The sniffling Heather heard seemed to be coming from Lindsay. “She’s my friend,” Lindsay insisted, voice wavering in uncertainty as if she were trying to convince herself more than Bridgette. “I know she can be kinda mean sometimes, but it’s just ‘cause she takes the competition thing so seriously.”
“What does the competition have to do with her pouring soda all over you, though?”
There was a long pause, and then Lindsay released a little whimper. “I-I don’t know,” she admitted.
Heather peeked around the corner, catching a glimpse of Lindsay’s crumpled face, tears tracking their way down her cheeks and ruining her makeup. There was an unexpected twinge in Heather’s chest. It wasn’t such a pedestrian emotion as guilt, obviously not– she’d just established with herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong– but nonetheless, it completely took the wind out of Heather’s sails. Any thought of further berating Lindsay instantly vanished.
Deciding to make her entrance, Heather walked back into the cabin, ignoring Bridgette completely as she approached Lindsay. Her disciple gazed up at her with trepidation, almost flinching away from her, from whatever Heather was going to do next. Heather placed the unopened can of soda next to Lindsay and, with a slight head tilt, instructed, “Go wash your face and we’ll go to the beach.” She’d meant to sound authoritative, but her words coupled with the soda came off more apologetic than anything. Again, not that she would deign to apologize for anything, but she was at least offering an olive branch.
The light reappeared in Lindsay’s eyes, despite still being wet with tears. As Heather left the cabin again, she heard the blonde say to Bridgette, “See? She cares about me in her own way.”
___
Ten minutes later, Lindsay approached her on the beach, head shyly tucked. When they met gazes, Heather immediately noticed that the girl hadn’t reapplied her makeup. It wasn’t the first time that Heather had seen her bare-faced, but nonetheless she was struck by the blonde’s undeniable natural beauty. As much as Heather appreciated the care that Lindsay took with her daily application of cosmetics, she almost preferred Lindsay like this.
“Hey,” Heather said, acknowledging the girl’s presence even though it was abnormal for her to do so.
“Hi,” Lindsay echoed tentatively. She placed her towel down next to Heather’s, albeit just slightly further away than normal. Clearly she’d elected to walk on eggshells around the other girl, which despite being perfectly fair, still elicited a pang of something in Heather’s chest.
Before Lindsay could settle down, Heather tugged the edge of the towel closer, back to where it should be. Lindsay hesitated for a moment until Heather flashed her a quick, pained smile of invitation. Now side by side again, neither of them immediately spoke.
Listening to Lindsay’s even breathing next to her, timing her own breaths so that they were in sync, Heather felt a calm settle over her. She reached a decision: even though striking fear in her enemies’ hearts was a primary goal of hers in this competition, hell, even just in her everyday life, it would do no good to apply those tactics to Lindsay anymore. Lindsay didn’t deserve Heather’s wrath or her punishment– on the contrary, she should be rewarded for her loyalty, her devotion. Even if it was difficult to reign herself in sometimes, Heather would make an effort to treat her devotee with a lighter hand. She would focus her aggression elsewhere, where it was more appropriate– in challenges, toward her actual opponents.
Maybe a few minutes later, Heather was pulled from her thoughts by Lindsay’s soft, inquiring voice.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
Surprised by the question, Heather’s automatic, flat response was, “None of your business.” Then, after a second, she sighed in resignation. “I just can’t wait for this stupid competition to be over, that’s all. Once I secure that prize money, I’ll be so done with this place.”
Lindsay hummed in response. “You won’t miss it here?”
Reminding herself of her earlier oath, Heather decided to respond truthfully. “I mean, I won’t miss it here. I guess it’s possible that I’ll miss other things, though. Certain people.” She cleared her throat, shrugging dismissively.
Lindsay beamed at her, evidently understanding what Heather was getting at. “Yeah, me too,” she agreed. The tension between them having dissolved, the blonde leaned closer to Heather, their bare shoulders now brushing together. “What will you do with the prize money?”
That was a much easier question to answer. “Start my own clothing and makeup line, probably,” Heather replied with another shrug. Nevermind that she could do that with or without the prize money– when you had filthy rich parents whose only way of showing they cared was throwing cash at you, you could pretty much get whatever you wanted with very little effort. Heather supposed that her wanting to win this competition was more about proving that she could rather than about needing the money.
“Ooh, that would be so cool!” Lindsay squealed, her hand falling excitedly onto Heather’s arm. “Since we’re besties and everything, would you send me some products? I could totally model them for social media!”
Heather bit her lip, half at the mental image of Lindsay wearing her clothes (the skimpier the better) and half to hide a smile. “I guess so,” she replied breezily.
They fell into another, more comfortable silence, both girls just sitting next to each other– shoulders still touching, Lindsay’s hand having dropped lower on Heather’s arm. Maybe to distract herself from the feeling of Lindsay’s warm hand against her skin, or maybe just because she was desperate to break the silence suddenly, Heather found herself asking, “Well, what would you do with the money?” Quickly she added, “Like, if I get food poisoning from Chef’s cooking and die, or something else totally catastrophic happens to me, so you end up winning.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lindsay blinking in response. “Huh,” the blonde mused. “I guess I never really thought about that.”
“Seriously?” Heather said with a little laugh– for once, not out of mockery but instead genuine amusement.
Lindsay shrugged, her hand sliding down until it was resting on top of Heather’s. The contact almost made Heather jump– although she sternly told herself to pull her hand away immediately, her motor functions once again refused to cooperate. Maybe that wasn’t quite accurate, though, as Heather found herself turning the hand over, letting their fingers intertwine.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Lindsay giggled, giving Heather’s hand a squeeze. “‘Cause you’re gonna win for sure, I know it!”
Of course Heather was going to win– she’d made that explicitly clear, and it wasn’t like she’d accept anything less than undying support from her teammate, but there was still something so earnest in Lindsay’s voice that made Heather’s throat tighten a little. The way she said it, it was like she really wanted Heather to win, regardless of the alliance Heather had strong-armed her into, regardless of how Heather had treated her just earlier that day. It simultaneously felt like a punch in the gut and a shot of adrenaline, along with a whole mix of other emotions that left Heather tongue-tied for once in her life.
“You think so?” Heather eventually mumbled, feeling disgustingly vulnerable all of a sudden as she toyed with Lindsay’s hand.
Lindsay bobbed her head in response, “Duh! You’re like, super awesome and scary and hot.” She leaned in conspiratorally, “I mean, have you seen everyone else here?”
“Losers,” Heather agreed, unable to hide a smile this time.
Again, it wasn’t like Lindsay said anything that Heather didn’t already know– her own ego alone was enough to assure her that these things were true– but still, having someone else saying it, actually believing in her, was… nice. Refreshing. Certainly not something that Heather was used to. Sure, she was no stranger to compliments– from boys that just wanted to get into her pants, and from girls that were trying to keep themselves in Heather’s good graces. Lindsay’s compliments always felt different, though. Hers were intoxicating, and it just made Heather want to hold onto her own personal cheerleader even tighter.
“Linds?” Heather abruptly asked, turning her head to look at the blonde.
“Yeah?”
Heather swallowed, unsure of what she was about to say– of what she was about to do. “You… like me, right?”
Lindsay’s face split into a wide, beaming smile. “Of course I like you, silly,” she replied softly, staring intently into Heather’s eyes.
Feeling reckless and entirely out of control, unable (or just unwilling) to combat it anymore, Heather took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss the other girl. It wasn’t that Heather expected Lindsay to push her away or anything, but still, it was reaffirming when the blonde started to kiss her back after an initial little squeak of surprise. Heather hadn’t meant for the kiss to be gentle– despite her resolution to be nicer to Lindsay, she’d still wanted it to be rough, a show of dominance as was expected of her. She found it impossible to be forceful, though, with Lindsay’s hand still holding hers, with the sweetness of the soda they’d shared hitting Heather’s tongue.
It was Lindsay who finally pulled back after a minute, already breathlessly giggling before they had even fully separated. Heather was pleased to see the blonde’s cheeks tinged pink (not that hers were likely any different).
“I guess that’s why you’ve been so weird lately,” Lindsay said cheerfully, nodding to herself like Heather kissing her explained everything.
A little pissed off that Lindsay was so blasé about what just happened, because of course she was, Heather fell moodily silent. She considered whether she should just get up and leave. It would be so easy to just pretend this never happened– to yell at Lindsay and find a way to blame her for this, to threaten to blackmail her if she dared mention this to anyone else (not that anyone would believe her anyway). Instead Heather stayed put where she was for the moment, though she slowly started to creep her hand away from Lindsay’s grasp.
Lindsay didn’t seem willing to let go, though, instead tightening her grip and pulling their joined hands into her lap. “It’s not a big deal, y’know,” she assured, as if she could hear Heather’s conflicted (panicked) thoughts. “We’re best friends forever, and BFFs kiss sometimes, right?”
Heather just stared at her pointedly. “No, they don’t.” And although she was pretty confident in that answer, it wasn’t like she would really know what the standard course of conduct was in female friendships. She hadn’t had any real friends since she was six.
The blonde seemed confused. Heather wondered if she had kissed her best friends before, or if this was new territory for her, too. “Oh…” Lindsay tilted her head in that frustratingly cute fashion, “Well, is this part of the alliance then?”
Impatient and for whatever reason unwilling to take the out being offered to her (intentionally or not), Heather snapped again, “No.” She wasn’t sure how to explain what had just happened to Lindsay– she wasn’t even sure how to explain it to herself.
For some reason, though, Heather’s denials seemed to please Lindsay. With a shy smile and an electrifying brush of her fingers against the inside of Heather’s thigh, the girl ventured, “Well, maybe it can be, though. I mean, we can be best friends, and allies, that kiss.”
Even though it had been obvious that Lindsay was a willing participant in their kiss, her response still surprised Heather. She didn’t mind it? She actually wanted it to happen again? The most likely explanation still seemed that Lindsay was just submitting to Heather’s wishes to avoid her ire. Was it possible, though, that Lindsay was actually into her? Hiding her surprise with an air of bravado and a scoff, Heather accused, “Wouldn’t you rather be kissing Tyler?” Lindsay hadn’t mentioned the jock lately and Heather doubted that they’d still been seeing each other considering she’d barely let the other girl out of her sight, but still. She hadn’t been able to shake that jealousy, not fully knowing whether Lindsay was still thinking of him whenever they were together.
Lindsay gave an apathetic shrug that immediately assuaged Heather’s doubts. “He’s okay, but your lips are way softer. And you smell really nice, like jasmine instead of man sweat.” The girl briefly stuck her tongue out in disgust and giggled, staring at Heather’s mouth distractedly with those big blue eyes like she was just waiting to be granted permission to lean in again.
Heather would be lying if she said that Lindsay’s willingness didn’t do things to her. All she wanted was to kiss the other girl again, but her own stubbornness (and perhaps gay panic) won out for the time being.
“You can’t tell anyone about this, alright?” Heather insisted. “That includes in the confessional booth! If I find out you said anything, you will be so dead to me.”
Lindsay was nodding along, the picture of perfect obedience, leaning in closer all the while.
“And,” Heather added, simply delaying the inevitable, “this doesn’t mean we’re like, dating or whatever, okay? But you can’t go around kissing Tyler too, or whoever else.” Her eyes flashed with cold anger at the thought of having to share Lindsay ever again. “Only me.”
The blonde smiled at that, like Heather had said something particularly adorable. Then a look of sudden doubt flashed over her face, and she asked hesitantly, “What about you? Are you kissing other people? Like… I know you said it’s not a part of the alliance, but are you kissing Beth, too?”
Heather made a face. “Ew, what? No way.” That devil on her shoulder that controlled 99% of her actions urged her to carry on with the bravado, to lord the little power she had in this situation over Lindsay, but this time she dismissed that train of thought easily. “Like you said, everyone else here besides us are losers,” she explained, leaving it at that. (She wondered if Lindsay didn’t like to imagine her kissing anyone else, either.)
Lindsay was smiling radiantly again, eyes sparkling as she continued to gravitate further into Heather’s orbit, still waiting so patiently. With the rules of engagement established, Heather no longer had any excuse to waste any more time.
___
Not that she had had it all fully planned out, but if she had, Heather wouldn’t have thought that anything would change between them besides the occasional makeout sesh. Though that did occur– whenever Heather was positive they were hidden from any prying eyes or cameras, of course– there were other changes, too.
Perhaps most remarkably, Heather’s general mood improved. Although still hot-tempered and not exactly outwardly friendly to any of the other campers, she no longer had the energy or desire to go out of her way to be hostile. She smiled more, laughed more, the full force of her attention focused on Lindsay (except when it came to challenge days, in which case her desire to win kicked back in at full force).
The pair spent even more time together, too, if that was possible. While before (at least in Heather’s case) the time they spent hanging out had mostly been to stave off loneliness and to foster their alliance, Heather found herself now actually wanting to spend every moment with Lindsay. She even missed the other girl whenever she wasn’t around. As embarrassing as it was, Heather struggled to keep her hands off of the blonde even when they weren’t alone. They had gotten into the habit of holding hands wherever they went, and some nights Lindsay wouldn’t leave Heather’s bunk once it was time for lights out. Even though the girls’ cabin would be full of other campers sleeping only feet away, sometimes Lindsay would still steal kisses and teasing touches in the darkness, both girls fighting to muffle their giggles. They weren’t terribly discreet, but they got away with most of the touchiness simply due to their gender. Apparently, Heather learned, girls that were friends experienced significant leeway in what was interpreted as romantic vs. friendly touching.
Not that what she and Lindsay had was romantic. Obviously not. Heather had made that clear after their first kiss, that they weren’t dating or anything like that. So what if they spent all their time together, or if they weren’t interested in anyone else, or if they shared kisses and clothes and occasionally a bed? So what if Heather’s heart leapt in her throat sometimes at the way Lindsay looked at or touched her? So what if Lindsay was the only person that Heather had ever allowed to get that close? It didn’t mean anything. Heather liked the other girl, sure, but maybe Lindsay was right. Maybe BFFs did kiss sometimes, and that was that.
The weeks coasted by, seemingly at a more rapid rate than they had before. The Screaming Gophers won some challenges and lost others– although said losses still infuriated Heather, at least she now had a more constructive outlet for venting her frustrations.
After one particularly brutal loss– due almost entirely to Chris’s last minute re-interpretation of the rules as he was often wont to do– Heather wasted no time in grabbing Lindsay’s hand, yanking her away from the rest of the campers before Chris had even finished explaining the reward to the other team.
The excited gleam in Lindsay’s eyes as she was dragged along just further ticked Heather off.
“Our team was just humiliated, why do you look so pleased? I swear you actually prefer it when we lose,” Heather accused in a low hiss. She led them toward the girls’ cabin, mentally calculating how much time they’d have before the other campers returned.
Lindsay’s eyes widened, like she hadn’t expected Heather to notice, then she gave an unapologetic shrug. “I mean, yeah, can you blame me?” She flashed Heather an irresistibly coquettish smile. “You’re, like, extra sexy when you’re all pissed off.”
Heather grit her teeth, hating Lindsay– but mostly herself– for how painfully turned on she was. Picking up their pace and already fantasizing about exactly what she was going to do to the blonde once they were alone, that pestering little voice in the back of her head wondered if this girl might just be her soulmate.
___
Unfortunately, the dramatic changes in Heather’s overall demeanor did not go unnoticed by their fellow campers.
One morning when they didn’t have a challenge that day, Lindsay left the cabin to take a shower. After waiting what she determined to be the appropriate amount of time to not seem too desperate, Heather made to follow her but was stopped before she could leave by Gwen and Leshawna blocking the doorway.
“Can I help you losers?” Heather demanded once she realized that the two girls weren’t going to move aside for her. The twin glares leveled at her made her nervous, and instantly defensive.
“We need to talk,” Leshawna said, voice already accusatory.
“About you and Lindsay,” Gwen added.
Icy panic crawled its way up Heather’s throat. They knew. They had to know, but how? Had she and Lindsay not been careful enough to keep their PDA strictly behind the line of “just girls being girls”? Or, even worse, did someone catch them in the act? The thought was mortifying. Reminding herself to keep her cool and not make assumptions, Heather resolved to just play dumb. If there was anything that she had learned from her father’s numerous infidelities and shady business practices, it was deny, deny, deny.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Heather replied, keeping her voice steady. She looked over Gwen’s shoulder, wondering if she should resort to physically pushing her way past in order to avoid this conversation.
Leshawna scoffed, arms crossed over that hideous apple shirt she always wore. “Girl, I know you’re not stupid, so quit acting like it. Do you think we don’t see what you’re doing?”
Before Heather could open her mouth to spit out some acidic reply, Gwen chimed in, “You’ve been way too nice to Lindsay lately. Suspiciously nice. We know you’re up to something.”
Unable to help herself, Heather just burst out laughing, relieved now that she basically knew for a fact that they had no idea what was really going on between her and Lindsay.
Gwen and Leshawna exchanged looks, clearly unsure of how to read Heather’s reaction.
“So you think I’m up to something, because I’ve been nice to my friend?” Heather drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Surely you two idiots must realize how insanely paranoid that sounds.”
“Well, ever since we got here you’ve pretty much been Satan incarnate, sooo forgive us for being skeptical of your intentions when you suddenly start acting like a normal human being,” Gwen shot back.
Heather made a show of rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. Have you ever considered that I’m not actually the villain you’ve both made me out to be?”
“You literally made DJ cry yesterday for no reason!” Leshawna exclaimed, throwing her arms out in exasperation.
“It’s not my fault that he’s so ridiculously sensitive!” Heather retorted, raising her voice to match the other girl’s volume.
Gwen touched a hand to Leshawna’s shoulder, presumably to keep the other girl from wringing Heather’s neck. “Our point,” the goth girl reminded Leshawna with a meaningful look.
Leshawna huffed, eyes raising briefly to the ceiling before settling on Heather again. “Our point is, you better stay away from our girl Lindsay. She’s a nice girl and she trusts you, ‘cause she sees the best in everyone– even in you. Gwen and I know better, so we’re not gonna let you continue to manipulate Lindsay into being your little lapdog.”
Heather would be lying if she said that her cabinmates’ words didn’t unexpectedly sting. She knew she was a raging bitch on her best days, but did they really think she was so evil that she wasn’t capable of being nice to someone without having ulterior motives? At the same time, could she even fault them for thinking that? If she was being honest with herself, she hadn’t really thought she was capable of such a thing, either. Even now, despite her best efforts– was she being nice to Lindsay just for the sake of being nice, or was it to keep Lindsay under her control? Heather honestly didn’t know the answer to that. She wasn’t intentionally manipulating Lindsay, not anymore at least, but maybe Gwen and Leshawna were right– maybe that was just Heather’s nature. A part of her that she couldn’t turn off even if she wanted to.
Ashamed, and angry now at the two girls for making her doubt herself, Heather nonetheless stuck her chin out in defiance. “You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” she said with a humorless laugh. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”
Even though it was basically admitting defeat, Heather turned on her heel and stalked back to her bed. She didn’t feel like joining Lindsay in the shower anymore, even though the blonde was surely waiting for her, wondering what was taking her so long. When Heather glanced over again at the doorway, Gwen and Leshawna were exchanging confused looks and then shrugging, evidently satisfied that their warning had been heard. Once they both left the cabin, Heather released a long, frustrated sigh, draping a hand over her face.
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” a loud, annoying voice suddenly piped up from above her.
Heather jumped at the sound, cursing when she almost slammed her head into one of the beams of the bedframe. She’d thought she was alone in the cabin after Gwen and Leshawna’s departure, but obviously not. Izzy’s head was now hanging down from the top bunk, her wild, long hair threatening to tickle Heather’s face.
“What the hell?” Heather hissed, disturbed both by the girl’s sudden appearance and her mention of a “secret”.
Izzy cackled maniacally, “I saw you guys. You and Lindsay, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Multiple times, actually.”
Heather froze. “No, you didn’t. That’s ridiculous.”
“Yep,” Izzy countered, popping the ‘p’. “I spend a lot of time in the trees around here, and no one ever thinks to check up there. You’d be surprised at all the things I see. Like, you know how Chris always makes Chef cross dress? Well-”
“Shut up!” Heather barked. She covered her face with her hands again and groaned. “This is great, Heather. Just great. First you let two nobodies hurt your feelings, which you didn’t even know you had, and now you find out the crazy girl is stalking you.”
“You’re the one referring to yourself in the third person, so I think that makes you the crazy person,” Izzy pointed out. “But it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about that, either!”
Feeling a migraine coming on, Heather just laid there in silence, trying to ignore Izzy’s rapidfire ramblings about how great of a LGBTQ+ ally she was. She wished that the upper bunk would collapse and put her out of her misery already.
It was only a few minutes later that Lindsay returned to the cabin, her still-damp hair shining like gold in the early morning sunlight and a comically tiny towel wrapped around her glistening body, not leaving very much to the imagination. She was a vision, and even though Heather wanted nothing more than to jump her right then and there– Izzy and her voyeuristic tendencies be damned– she couldn’t bring herself to spare Lindsay more than a fleeting glance.
Hot, unfamiliar shame made her ignore Lindsay’s disappointed pout, as well as the girl’s hand that touched her side in an unspoken, tentative question.
“I thought you were gonna join me,” the blonde whispered after Heather didn’t say anything, hand sliding down a little to Heather’s exposed thigh. She probably didn’t realize that Izzy was there, either– or maybe she just didn’t care.
The touch was electric, and more than a little tempting, but Heather just rolled away from Lindsay, unable to face her at the moment. Unsure when she’d ever be able to face her again.
___
A week went by with Heather constantly avoiding Lindsay’s gaze. It wasn’t like the last time she’d tried to ignore the girl– she still followed their normal routines (well, what was normal for them before their first kiss), and she no longer had it in herself to be outwardly cruel. She didn’t say much to Lindsay at all. She’d brush off any questions or attempts at conversation, staring straight ahead of her, trying to will herself into forgetting the blonde’s existence. Whenever Lindsay tried to touch her, she’d flinch away.
She was being pathetic. Heather knew that, and she knew that she was hurting Lindsay’s feelings by being so cold. It was selfish of her, but that was who she was, right? Wasn’t that who she had always been? Maybe it was because of her parents– because she was raised on the ideology of always putting oneself first, of stepping on other people’s backs to get to the top, of being the best through any means necessary. That seemed like a cop out, though. The most realistic explanation was that of Gwen and Leshawna– that this was just who Heather was. There must be something missing inside of her, that soft, squishy part of her brain that made her care about other people.
She cared about Lindsay, though. She did. Well, she thought she did, anyway. That was the whole problem, and why she couldn’t bear to face Lindsay at the moment. In the last couple of weeks, Heather had been experiencing a whole host of emotions that were entirely unfamiliar to her. Lust, affection, guilt, shame– just to name a few. Even the positive emotions, the ones she felt when she was with Lindsay, were unsettling and uncomfortable in their newness. She didn’t know what to do with them– what to do with herself– so she just shut down.
If it had been up to Heather, she probably would’ve rode out the entire rest of the competition in this same fashion. She barely even cared about winning anymore, that was how truly screwed up and depressed she felt.
As that first week of self-imposed isolation came to a close, though, it became evident that things were no longer up to Heather at all (if they had ever been in the first place). She was washing up in the communal bathroom before turning in for the evening when she became aware of Lindsay’s presence close behind her, crowding her up against the sinks.
“You need to tell me what’s going on with you,” the blonde declared with a stubborn determination and boldness that Heather had never seen in her before. “Last time you were acting weird it was ‘cause you wanted to kiss me, but that can’t be it this time, obviously. I tried to give you space, but you just look sad all the time now, and I want you to tell me why so I can help fix it.”
Heather leaned heavily on the stained porcelain sink she was standing at, her head sagging. She didn’t know what to say. Frustration and disgust with herself made tears prick at the corners of her eyes, which did little to help her feeling of powerlessness.
“Heath,” Lindsay said, softer this time. She pressed into Heather’s back, hands sliding on top of hers. “Please. Talk to me.”
An embarrassing little noise escaped Heather’s mouth– some weird combination of a sob and a laugh. She swallowed thickly, and forced out words that she didn’t fully think through before saying, because otherwise they never would’ve come out. “I’m sorry. I’ve treated you like shit. I’ve treated everyone like shit, pretty much my whole life. I’m still treating you that way, and it’s not fair. I want to stop being like this but I don’t know how. I’m just… really, really sorry. Actually sorry, I’m not just saying it to get my way for once.”
Lindsay’s chin dropped to Heather’s shoulder, and the girl’s long, tan arms curled around her waist. When Heather glanced up to meet Lindsay’s gaze in the mirror, she was surprised to see the blonde smiling. “Wow,” Lindsay murmured, voice filled with awe. “I didn’t know you knew the ‘s’ word.”
It was clearly her attempt at a joke– at lightening the mood. It did the trick, because Heather started to laugh despite herself. She turned in Lindsay’s embrace, forcing herself to look into the girl’s eyes without flinching this time.
“I don’t like most people,” Heather said firmly. “Actually, I don’t really like anyone. Except for you. It’s weird for me. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Hmm,” Lindsay hummed with that same adorable head tilt. “I think kissing me would be a good first start.”
Heather scoffed and pushed at the blonde’s shoulder playfully. “Is that all you care about? God, one track mind much, Linds?”
“You’re a good kisser!” Lindsay smiled and fluttered her eyelashes, leaning in so that their noses were almost brushing. “Don’t you like kissing me, too?”
“You’re so unfair,” Heather complained, curling a hand around the back of Lindsay’s neck to draw her closer.
After a few minutes of losing track of time in the best way possible, they broke abruptly apart at the sound of a toilet flushing. Out of one of the stalls stepped Izzy, beaming at them.
“You guys are so beautiful,” she said wistfully, wiping at a nonexistent tear.
Heather saw red, and not just because of the eavesdropper’s obnoxious hair color. “And I am so going to kill you,” she hissed, already pulling away from Lindsay to grab the little gremlin.
“Ha! Good luck with that! The RCMP have been trying to do that for years!” Izzy gleefully shouted as she fled the bathroom, Heather only a few steps behind her, Lindsay’s giggles following them out the building.
___
The next day was challenge day. The girls all gathered in the same spot they always did, where Chris was waiting to announce what today’s challenge entailed. The guys were nowhere to be seen. Before anyone could wonder aloud where they were, though, all eight of them strutted into the clearing. Seven were shirtless, with big red letters sloppily painted on their bare chests– it took a few seconds for them to arrange themselves in the correct order, spelling out “LINDSEY”. At the head of the procession was Tyler, wearing that same stupid tracksuit and sweat headband he always wore, clutching an equally sloppily made bouquet of mismatched and slightly wilted wildflowers.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Heather snarled to Lindsay. “He can’t even spell your name right?”
“Lindsay,” Tyler declared once the guys behind him had fallen into formation, “I don’t know what I did wrong, but you’ve been totally ignoring me the past couple weeks and it really sucks. I want you back, girl.” He thrust out the flowers toward Lindsay, wearing a smarmy smile that he probably thought was charming.
Heather wanted to scream. She thought that she was rid of this Neanderthal for good– she thought that Lindsay had politely turned him down, and that that would be the end of it, but apparently he hadn’t gotten the message. Her head snapped to glare at the blonde, who was frozen in place, eyes wide.
“Oh,” Lindsay said, laughing a little, hand carding through her hair in what was obviously a nervous habit. “That’s really sweet, um…” She trailed off, and Heather realized with smug satisfaction that the blonde had forgotten Tyler’s name, just as she’d predicted.
Tyler looked crestfallen, still awkwardly holding out the flowers. He’d obviously expected Lindsay to fall right into his arms at this “romantic” display. What an idiot. “You seriously don’t even remember my name?” he said, sounding more heartbroken than offended. Slightly muffled snickers arose from the onlooking crowd. “But we had such a great connection! You’re hot, and I’m hot– what happened?”
Lindsay seemed to flounder for an excuse, finally turning her gaze to Heather with wide, desperate eyes that begged for help.
Grateful for the invitation to squish this pathetic little boy underneath her foot like a bug, Heather stepped forward. She resisted the urge to grab the flowers from his hands to stomp on them repeatedly. “Take the hint, meathead. Or are you too stupid for that? Let me spell it out for you, then. She’s. Not. Interested.”
Tyler scowled, arms crossed as if to look tough even though he at least had the common sense to look a little scared of her. “Butt out, this doesn’t involve you.” He turned back to Lindsay with a pleading look. “C’mon, Linds. I know you’re just avoiding me ‘cause Heather is telling you to. But you don’t have to listen to her! She doesn’t control you!"
“It’s not like that,” Lindsay weakly argued, gaze lowered.
Heather felt herself grow frustrated with the blonde— why didn’t she put up more of a fight? Why didn’t she make up some random lie to get him to leave her alone? Or more ideally, just tell him flat out (the more colorful language the better) that she wasn’t interested? But her anger faded when she realized that Lindsay was floundering because she didn’t have it in her to hurt Tyler’s feelings. And it wasn’t like she could tell him the actual truth of it– that she had stopped seeing him because Heather told her to, because she was seeing Heather instead. In her own way, she was probably trying to protect Heather. Because that was who Lindsay was– someone who cared about other people’s feelings.
Unsurprisingly, Tyler was entirely unconvinced. “Like hell it isn’t!” he retorted. “You’re seriously gonna tell me that we wouldn’t still be hanging out if it wasn’t for her?” He pointed an accusing finger at Heather.
“I guess we would, but it’s not that simple, okay?” Lindsay protested, shrugging helplessly. “I do like you, but–”
Tyler sidestepped Heather, reaching out with a massive paw to take one of Lindsay’s hands. “Then what’s the problem? Be mine again, babe,” he crooned, looking deeply into the blonde’s eyes.
That same hot, impulsive jealousy had been rising in Heather throughout this conversation, and this– Lindsay admitting that she still liked him (even platonically), Tyler touching her, calling her babe, a combination of these things– finally sent her over the edge. As had been the recurring theme of the past couple weeks when it came to matters involving Lindsay, Heather found herself acting without any thought spared toward potential consequences.
She took a step forward and gave Tyler one single, hard shove into his chest. It was only enough to make him stagger back, but it succeeded in its intended purpose: to get him away from Lindsay. “Don’t you dare touch her, and definitely don’t call her babe,” Heather hissed, barely holding herself back from trying to claw his eyes out. “Want to know the truth? She dumped your sorry ass because you’re a pathetic, gross loser! And newsflash, she’s upgraded to dating me now!”
Everyone was stunned into silence– both Heather and Lindsay included. Shit. Why had she said that? At least the cameras hadn’t been turned on yet, but still– there was no way she could take this back. But did she even want to take it back? It was almost liberating to have said those words out loud, though as she met Lindsay’s wide gaze, she regretted not being able to talk to her about it first. Like, mixed signals much? They’d agreed– well, Heather had decided for them– that they weren’t dating, and now she was declaring to the whole world that they were? What about how Lindsay felt? Heather had let her emotions get the best of her, again, and now she’d be totally humiliated if Lindsay rejected her in front of everyone.
Her initial shock having worn off, though, Lindsay was now beaming. “Wait, really?” the blonde squealed, grabbing Heather’s hands and bouncing on her heels. “You wanna be girlfriends? Like, officially and everything?”
Heather’s entire world narrowed down to the girl standing in front of her, who was looking at her with such genuine excitement. “Yeah. If that’s okay with you,” Heather added, for once in her life not willing to make a totally unilateral decision. Her face was flushed down to her neck, and she felt embarrassingly shy– another first for her.
“Duh!” Lindsay giggled, eagerly throwing her arms around Heather’s neck to bring her in for a sweet, lingering kiss.
The outburst of chatter from the campers around them interrupted their moment.
“That’s hot,” Duncan crowed, followed by an “Ouch!” after Courtney whacked him over the head.
“This can’t be happening,” Tyler moaned into his hands, DJ and Geoff sympathetically patting him on his shoulders.
“I guess that explains the weird noises in the girls’ cabin in the middle of the night,” Bridgette mused with a shrug. “I just thought it was haunted or something.”
A couple of the other girls murmured in mildly disgusted agreement.
“This… actually kind of makes sense,” Gwen admitted, both her and Leshawna looking vaguely apologetic.
“I’m still in the final three alliance, though, right?” Beth clarified nervously. “Right, guys? Guys?”
Heather squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Their little bubble now having been popped, panic threatened to claw its way up her throat as a knee-jerk reaction.
The panic had nothing to do with Lindsay specifically– why should she feel ashamed to be dating the second hottest girl at camp? It was more to do with the simple fact that she had shown weakness– had revealed a chink in her armor, so to speak, to her fellow competitors. Just a couple weeks ago, she had been laser-focused on the competition– she had a rigid gameplan that she hadn’t intended to deviate from in the slightest. She’d use and abuse anyone she could to secure the grand prize, because other people didn’t mean anything to her. All that mattered was winning. Simply put, developing a soft spot for anyone went against everything that Heather stood for, everything she was. Something had changed in her, like her brain had been rewired. Okay, maybe not changed that much– she was still of the opinion that most people deserved the vitriol she hurled their way– but still.
It was almost funny, how silly the whole thing was. Heather was such a cliché– regaining a little bit of her humanity through catching feelings for a girl. It made a lot more sense now, why she’d always felt such apathy, even disgust toward guys, especially when it came time to having to kiss her boyfriends. Kissing them had only been a transaction. Kissing Lindsay was… different. She’d never felt any particular interest in women, either, so maybe it was just Lindsay she liked for all she knew.
“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked, quiet enough so that only Heather could hear, one of her hands going to Heather’s cheek with a touch as gentle as a feather.
Heather cracked a smile, the one she saved just for Lindsay. Her Lindsay. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Just thinking about how you’re so gonna get it later for saying you still like Tyler.”
Lindsay grinned back, tongue peeking out from her teeth. “I didn’t mean it,” she said, in that cute, faux innocent way that drove Heather crazy.
Rolling her eyes, Heather slung an arm over Lindsay’s shoulders and turned to face Chris. She’d been surprised he’d been so quiet, but it was because at some point he had motioned silently for the cameras to start rolling, that bastard. Heather didn’t really care.
“So, are you going to tell us what the next challenge is, or what?”