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It's Friday night, and for Angela Ziegler, that means getting to stay up late to study. Not that she needs to, exactly. She's already got her amazing GPA that hardly needs improving, but there's really nothing she'd rather be doing.
Except perhaps, being out with Fareeha.
Angela sighs, slumping over her textbook at her desk. She rubs the bridge of her nose, removing her glasses, and gives in to the temptation to check her phone for messages. Nothing. While that's really nothing new, she finds herself slightly disappointed. She sets her mouth in a line, and gently tosses her phone backwards onto her bed, an extra assurance that she won't be tempted again. She returns to her books, and attempts to banish all thoughts of the copper-skinned girl from her thoughts.
Introduced to each other through a mutual friend, when they first met, Fareeha Amari was... reserved, to say the least. So much so that Angela began to wonder had she unknowingly done something to annoy the other girl. However their mutual friend, an old friend and teammate of Fareeha's, Lena Oxton, informed her that Fareeha was the same with everyone she'd only just met. She'd then said, with an impish grin and a coy wink, that Fareeha was even more stoic around cute girls.
So after several months of dancing around the issue, Fareeha finally sputtered out one afternoon in the library that she would like to take Angela out on a date. They went on a date, and another, and another. They became official. They became just what the other really needed. Stable. Reliable. It helped that Fareeha was as candid with her close friends and relations as she was stiff around strangers.
Most of all, Fareeha understood Angela's need for her own space. That one date may require a lot of recovery time. That Angela didn't do the best in crowds, so when they went out, Fareeha would let Angela pick, or select a more out-of-the-way venue.
But she also seemed to understand that, without a little pushing, Angela would do very little of her own volition. The first time Fareeha had invited herself over, Angela had been flabbergasted, and more than a little irritated. She’d tried physically keeping Fareeha out, but there was no way her slim frame would ever be able to budge Fareeha’s muscle.
A tiny, tiny part of Angela was glad for it. Fareeha challenged her, pushed her out of her comfort zone, and no matter how apprehensive she’d be of something, Fareeha seemed to know just how to make things right.
Though just this once she wishes Fareeha wasn't so damn good for her, because it just made her absence all the more noticeable.
Fareeha had been away a few days with the team, and had come back today only to be swept up in party plans to celebrate the team's victory. Angela didn't really know the details, she just know they’re stealing Fareeha away from her, and she kind of resents them for it.
Fareeha had invited her, sure, but they both knew she was just being polite. No force on Earth could convince Angela Ziegler to go out to a wild college party. This was presumably, the reason that Fareeha hasn't texted her at all tonight, but it still irritates Angela as she returns to her work.
Not ten minutes later, there’s a ticking noise at her window. Angela strains her ears listening for a moment. When nothing follows the noise, she convinces herself that she has imagined it, and focuses back on her book. Until she hears it again, there, a light tap, as though...
Buzz
Her phone vibrates from its spot on her bed, muted slightly by the duvet. She shoots up from her chair, and almost tripping over it in her scramble to reach the phone. Her momentum has her half-fall and flop onto the bed, as she unlocks her phone to the message.
"open the damn window ange
im freezing my butt off out here."
Angela frowns down at her phone. Her contacts ID confirms it is from Fareeha, but she’s supposed to be at the party.
"What?"
"look outside ^-^"
Angela scrambles off her bed to the window, and throws it open. There, on the pavement just below her second-floor window, Fareeha Amari is grinning up at her, a clutch of tiny pebbles in her hand. The nighttime fall air is crisp, as she claimed, and the skin on her bare arms is goose-bumped. Angela frowns at her.
"Were you throwing rocks at my window?"
Fareeha quickly drops the pebbles, and they hit the pavement with a light clatter. Her grin remains firmly affixed to her face.
"Nope."
Angela doesn't say anything, just raised a disbelieving brow, which only caused Fareeha to smile wider. Angela steps back from the window to buzz the front door of the dorm building to open, and allow Fareeha enter. When she reaches Angela’s room, she makes herself comfortable, laying across Angela's bed. The blonde, instead of joining her, returns to her desk chair. Fareeha gives her an odd look, but doesn't push the issue. She sits in silence and allows Angela to speak first.
"I thought you'd be at the party, Miss Amari," she inquires, honestly curious. Had Fareeha been thirsting for her company as much as she'd wanted Fareeha? The girl in question barks a laugh, and rolls onto her side so that she's facing Angela, propped up in her elbow.
"It was kind of...boring, really. I don't know," she shrugs with a small smile. "Lately the idea of going out and getting drunk on cheap beer, then throwing it all up a few hours later wasn’t been all that appealing to me tonight. It hasn't been for a while now."
"Why is that?" Angela teases, knowing full well the reason, and having her hopes and suspicions more or less confirmed.
"I've been spoiled by more sophisticated company lately, I think," Fareeha admits.
"Not necessarily a bad thing."
"I never said it was," she agrees, rising from the bed and walking over to Angela. She put her hands on the smaller woman’s shoulders from behind her, and Angela leans her head back against Fareeha's abdomen, closing her eyes and feeling Fareeha's muscles tense slightly at the contact before relaxing. "However," Fareeha begins, and Angela feel the muscles of Fareeha's stomach contract again as she speaks, "it is a Friday night, and," she glances over at Angela's books to confirm her suspicions, "you just had a test in Biology today, if I recall correctly. You need to unwind. We should go somewhere."
Angela frowns, and looks at her clock.
“It’s eleven-thirty.”
“And?” Fareeha moves a hand to gently pull Angela’s hair down from its ponytail and run her fingers through it.
“It’s um, it’s cold.”
“And?” She starts rubbing slow circles in Angela’s hair.
“Honestly, I don’t really feel like moving,” she hums, and Fareeha’s hand suddenly stops. Angela gives a rather indignant grunt at the loss of sensation, and cracks her eye open to see Fareeha smirking down at her.
“Good. We’re having a sleepover,” she declares, moving away from Angela and opening her closet to dig out the sweatpants and baggy shirt she’d left the last time she’d declared an impromptu sleepover. Angela felt just as blindsided then as she does now.
“I- what?”
“Sleepover, ya amar,” she repeats, “we’re having one.”
“But I-”
Before Angela can even attempt to speak up again, Fareeha is pulling her shirt off over her head, and suddenly, Fareeha Amari is standing there, godlike abs on display for all (Angela) to see, standing in the middle of her dorm room.
Then the bra comes off and Angela is pretty sure she completely stops functioning for a few moments.
Fareeha pauses a moment, glancing at Angela’s face, before snorting at her slack expression, and pulling her tank top over her head.
“There’ll be time to drool later, Miss Ziegler,” Fareeha teases as she moves on to taking off her jeans and pulling on her sweatpants. When she’s done, she retakes her spot on Angela’s bed and beckons her over.
Angela sighs, and glances forlornly at her desk, then back to her waiting girlfriend. The desire to curl up against the other woman is too great to resist, and Angela concedes, making her way over to the bed, grabbing her laptop as she goes. She passes it off to Fareeha, who readies Netflix as Angela takes her preferred place in Fareeha’s arms.
She smells of the leather seats of her car, the robust, earthy scent of coffee, and the slightest hint of menthol. It’s a combination of smells that lets her know she’s safe. She places a light kiss on the dark skin of Fareeha’s bare shoulder.
“Thank you,” she mumbles against the other girl, finally feeling the consequences of a string of sleepless nights weighing on her. Farheea wraps her arm tighter around Angela’s waist and pulls her closer.
“Any time, habibi.”