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Scary blinked awake to a ceiling that was not her own. Soft sheets scented like expensive lotion covered her body completely, practically pulling her down into the nicest bed she had ever slept in. The itch of day-old mascara forced her hand toward her eyes on instinct, but the motion caused her to bump into something- someone.
She inhaled deeply and shifted her head up to see a surprised, tanned face covered by brown bangs above her. “Sorry,” breathed the woman. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Erica?”
Scary’s brain finally caught up to the situation she was in. She had pre-gamed with some new friends, had a really fruity mixed drink with maybe five shots of Tito’s, and ride-shared to Sig Chi way too late in the night to be even remotely considered fashionable. Not that the frats particularly cared- they always wanted more women there, late (or gay) or not. The night started to get a bit more foggy after arriving, but she remembered everything perfectly fine. Just… maybe not in the right order.
Scary and two random girls begging the DJ to play Chappell Roan. Staring deeply into a lava lamp as three dudes played Guitar Hero next to her. Putting her phone in Erica’s back pocket for safe keeping. Realizing that the girl she was dancing next to was Erica Drippins, the most popular girl in her high school. Explaining to a dude with a horrible perm that yes, Hayley Williams and Hayley Kiyoko were two separate people, and how the fuck can you get them confused.
Walking to AGD hand in hand with Erica after all of her friends failed to pick up their phones. Calling Erica “beautiful” and “dollface” every two seconds because, well, she was, and straight girls do that with each other when they’re drunk. Sending a quick safety message to her group chat of Normal, Lincoln, and Taylor so they wouldn’t freak out when she didn’t come home that night.
Right. She didn’t go home last night. She’s still in Erica’s stupid sorority house, probably embarrassing the hell out of Erica’s stupid sorority roommate for allowing a girl with dark eyeshadow and fishnets in her vicinity.
“Hi,” Erica said plainly, like Scary hadn’t just dissected her entire night in the past second. Erica looked at her a little strangely, eyes wide and flickering up and down, before looking towards the bedside table instead. Interesting. Scary’s too tired to even try to understand that. “I brought you water and Tylenol, in case you need it. I don’t know how many you usually take, so I, um, just laid out two. Let me know if you want more or anything.” Erica shut her mouth quickly, like she felt like she had spoken too much.
Scary was touched by how nice Erica was. Not that she’s surprised or anything, since in high school Erica was one of the few people who didn’t treat her friend group like they were delinquents. They were, to be fair, but Erica and Taylor got along well, so she would say “hi” to all of them in the hallways. It shouldn’t shock her that Erica would lay out meds for her, but Scary’s learned not to trust sorority girls.
“Thank you,” Scary said, sitting up on the bed. She chose not to check if there were mascara stains on Erica’s pillow, because there most definitely were and she didn’t need that guilt hanging over her. Erica sat down with impeccable posture on the edge of her bed while Scary took a few large gulps of water, centering herself. “I appreciate the pills, beautiful, but I’m blessed to not get hangovers. Good genetics, I guess,” she said, joking over the pet name from last night.
Scary peeked at Erica through the glass. Her cheeks were red and she was avoiding eye contact with Scary as much as possible. Now slightly more conscious and hydrated, Scary could take that in properly. What had happened last night? She’s not one to forget, but she may be one to misinterpret.
“I asked you to, um, take off your jeans last night by the way.” Erica immediately flushed deeper, putting her hands up like Scary was holding her at gunpoint. Her makeup from last night was gone, bangs neatly curled and long hair pooling over her shoulder. “Not! Not in a weird way, even though that sounds so- I. I wanted you to be comfortable while you slept, but I didn’t want to impose and touch you like that while you were drunk, so… yeah. I didn’t want you to think anything weird, sorry.” She whipped her hands down, making an abrupt slap noise that clearly startled her as she shoved her hands between her thighs to keep them still. For some reason, Scary distinctly remembered when Erica came out of the bathroom in those light pink AGD shorts last night. She’s choosing to believe it's a complete mystery why.
Putting the water glass down, Scary noticed her jeans and fishnets were neatly folded over Erica’s roommate’s desk chair. Or, she guesses, lack of roommate, since the bed had no fitted sheet and the desk was completely empty.
Scary kind of liked Erica all fidgety, like this. It was cute. She nodded to barely recognize the pants situation, before fully turning towards Erica to pose a new question. No harm in keeping a little one-sided tension in the conversation.
“No roommate?” Scary asked, crossing her legs under the sheets.
Erica’s head whipped toward the other bed like she had forgotten it was there. “Oh, uh, no. She dropped the sorority pretty early in the semester. Just me!” Fuck, even her forced smile was award-winning.
“Sounds fun. You can do whatever you want in here,” Scary noted.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Erica said shyly.
Scary could tell Erica was getting nervous. “Well, you already have a girl pantsless in your bed, so it sounds like a great deal to me.”
Erica let out a loud, clear laugh. Thank God, Scary didn't want to make her too twitchy. “I don’t think that’s what my sorority sisters would expect me to be doing without a roommate,” she joked.
“What, you’re not kidnapping drunk girls from frats on the reg?”
“Scary!” Erica whisper-shouted, part scandalized and part laughing. She shoved Scary’s blanket-covered knee for emphasis. “I did not kidnap you. I-”
“I know, I know, I remember coming with you willingly,” Scary interrupted, casually covering Erica’s hand with hers and wiggling them back and forth. “Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way. I promise I’m not usually one to go out drunk with no plans to get home, it’s just been… a week.” Scary pulled her hand back and leaned into the headboard behind her, taking note of Erica reluctantly pulling her hand away, too. “Exercise science major, right? And in honors?”
“Yeah,” replied Erica, a little breathless. “How’d you remember that?”
“I told you, I remember all of last night. I wasn’t that drunk.”
“When I asked you for your major, you told me that it was ‘good music and wokeness and other things that would make a frat boy cry’.”
Scary pouted. “Big words are hard when I’m drunk.” Erica laughed clearly, closing her eyes and falling forward slightly. The strap of her tank top dangled precariously on her shoulder. Just to be a tease, Scary reached out and pushed the strap back up, feeling the warmth of Erica’s skin brush against her middle finger. Scary returned to a position with her elbows resting on her crossed legs, face less than a foot from Erica’s. “I’m a music production major with a concentration in popular music, by the way. And a women, gender, and sexualities studies minor. If you can’t tell by the, y’know, everything about me.”
There was still some tension in the air, but Erica seemed a lot more comfortable now, like their dynamic from last night had shifted smoothly into the sober world. She flipped some hair over her shoulder before stating, “I’m sure there are some straight-adjacent people in your program.”
Scary tilted her head in question. “You’d know something about that?”
Erica turned her head to the side, her anxious gaze back on Scary’s jeans. “I’m not sure if I would.”
Great.
Scary knew exactly where this was going and it was just great. Renée Rapp was right about straight girls. Scary was just… not going to get emotionally invested, that was it. She was going to remain the perfect, smooth-talking girl-kisser that Erica expected, and then nothing bad was going to happen ever. That had always worked out in her favor.
Still nervous, but determined, Erica started speaking like she had rehearsed this. “Last night, I was watching you dance out on the floor before you even recognized me. Everything came so… easy to you. Touching the other girls you were with didn’t seem to phase you at all. When I touch a girl,” Erica hovered a finger over Scary’s hand, “my first thought is, ‘oh my god is she going to think I’m in love with her?’. It took me a very long time to realize that that is not a straight thought- not a straight fear. It wasn’t until last night… oh no, this is so much more embarrassing than I thought.” Erica’s hands covered her face and she flopped back into her bed, facing the ceiling. Her pillowy sheets sank as air slowly filtered out of them, mirroring the deep breath Erica was taking. “I was watching you sleep last night. Not in a creepy way!” Her eyes opened wide and she grabbed Scary’s nearest arm with both hands. Realizing what she was doing, she quickly let go like she was burned.
Scary, despite being an asshole, was also an empath. She grasped one of Erica’s hovering hands and relaxed it onto the bed, not letting go. Erica was going through a bit of a sexuality crisis, it seemed, and needed some support.
But also, Scary was kind of an asshole. “It’s a bit hard to watch someone sleep in an un-creepy way.”
Erica whined (ohmygod) and threw her free arm over her face. Her hand held tightly onto Scary’s, still. “My sorority sisters say I toss in my sleep, and it’s because when we do a sleepover I’m in a room full of pretty women, and my brain is telling me they all think I’m in love with them, and you slept so soundly. Because you’re not worried about stuff like that. And I am.”
Scary let a short silence envelop them. “Well,” she started, “at least you know you like girls.”
Erica huffed, bangs flying up into the air. “I mean, do I?” Oh no. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just surrounded by terrible frat guys and I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Scary tried to give her a ‘be so for real’ stare, but Erica just kept looking at her with those uncertain, wet, stunning eyes. “Do- do you think if I, like, kissed or- or made out with a girl, I might, like, know for certain?” she asked, clearly nervous.
And here Scary was, caught hook, line, and sinker in the straight girl trap. No way out but through. Not that she was complaining.
Scary stood up from Erica’s deliciously soft sheets, keenly aware that her lower half was bare except for her underwear. Her bedhead was wild and she was happy she didn’t wear a bra last night. Sleeping in that (or worse, seeing it in a pile on Erica’s floor) would have killed her.
She stood between Erica’s legs, keeping a little distance from her laying form. Erica watched her all the while, paying particularly close attention to the snake tattoo wrapping around Scary’s upper thigh. She looked gorgeous like this, splayed out with her shorts ridden up and soft tummy out for Scary’s appreciative gaze.
“C’mere,” she beckoned, grabbing Erica by the palms and helping her stand up. She stumbled as she was practically flung off of the bed, clearly underestimating Scary’s strength. Scary caught her with a hand on her waist, not bothering to step back. “Hi,” she started with a smile.
“Hi,” Erica responded, eyes flickering back and forth between Scary’s. She felt an energy buzzing beneath Erica’s skin, goosebumps starting to form along her arms.
Scary ran her hand along Erica’s side, brushing the hem of her tank top up the tiniest bit to feel the warmth of her waist. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly, voice only occupying the space between them.
“Yeah,” Erica responded, bringing her hands up to rest carefully on the ball of Scary’s shoulders.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah,” she nodded.
Scary tilted her head, looking between Erica’s lips and eyes. They were so close. “Yeah or yes?”
“Yes,” breathed Erica.
Scary resisted the urge to tell Erica good girl and leaned in.
Soft, moisturized lips brushed hers hesitantly, carefully. Scary let Erica take: take what she wanted out of this, and take in the experience of a soft body opposite hers. Erica’s hand migrated to Scary’s cheek, mirroring Scary’s own on Erica’s jawline.
It had been a while since Scary had kissed someone so kindly. Most of her experiences this year had been in frat basements or with hookups while her roommates were out, not teaching an inexperienced “straight” girl how to kiss women. Erica’s lips moved in soft waves, rather than a harsh push and pull. Her tenderness forced Scary to push down some feelings that she didn’t realize were (still) there in the first place. Right, back to being smooth.
After a few kisses, Scary pulled away. Erica stilled as she opened her eyes blearily. “Woah,” she breathed.
“Good?”
Erica nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”
Scary smiled and traced a finger along Erica’s lower lip. “If you had told high school Erica that she would be kissing Scary Marlowe, of all people,” she posed, trying to gauge Erica’s feelings about the situation, “what do you think she would say?”
Erica’s eyes scanned Scary’s face again, taking everything in. She seemed to bring her focus back to the conversation, blinking harshly and replying, “That I should kiss you again.”
That told Scary absolutely nothing, but she was not about to disagree. Erica was a good kisser. Scary liked to be seduced, sometimes. And watching Erica get flustered was really, really cute.
Scary shrugged. “Kiss me, then.”
Erica did not need to be told twice. She surged forward, aiming a little bit to the left, before righting herself with her lips. She threaded her fingers into Scary’s hair, making Scary gasp slightly. She definitely wanted to be seduced.
They moved in tandem for a few minutes, hands gliding over skin and clothing alike. At some point, tongues got involved, and wow, Erica was quite a quick learner. Scary leaned more heavily into the kiss, forcing Erica’s back to bend toward her bed. God, she was so good at this. Scary needed to pull away, now, before anything went too far. They were in a packed sorority house, after all.
Scary practically forced herself away from Erica, running her fingers along Erica’s arms as she left her personal bubble. It did not help that Erica seemed to want to follow her, too. Scary turned around before she could let herself see the daze she had left Erica in.
Scary found her jeans on the floor, pulling them up while trying her damndest to not look behind her and act as casual as possible. She needed to get out of here. Erica was not good for her health.
Stuffing her fishnets in her pocket, Scary finally turned around to face Erica. She had sat down on her bed, arms propping her up and eyes a million miles away. Her face was flush and her lips were glistening. Scary really, really needed to leave.
“You have any markers around here?” Scary asked.
Erica’s eyes landed on Scary again, staying a little longer on her chest than before. She didn’t question the randomness of her statement at all, still a little too buzzed from their kiss. She stood up, heading to her desk at the foot of her bed. “Yeah, um, over here,” she said, digging into a drawer and revealing a dark pink art marker.
Scary took a few steps toward the desk, finding herself way more close to Erica than necessary, and plucked it from her hand. “Thanks,” she responded, uncapping it. Scary grabbed her phone off of the charger on Erica’s desk and shoved it into her pocket. Erica must have put it there after Scary fell asleep. Her kindness was not helping Scary’s case at all.
Scary took hold of Erica’s arm and started writing. “What are you doing?” Erica asked.
“Leaving you something to remember me by,” Scary responded wittily, carefully writing her phone number on Erica’s arm with the pink marker. “In case you, y’know, have any more questions about kissing girls.”
Erica chuckled as Scary set the marker down, but kept a loose grip on her arm. “I might have a few.”
“I hope so,” Scary replied, trying to hide how genuine she was. Erica didn’t need to know that Scary thought she was the prettiest girl in school when they were teenagers. Or that Erica was somehow calling back a lot of ideas from her past. Being this close to her made everything Scary had daydreamed of seem a lot more possible than it had in 10th grade.
Scary placed a hand on Erica’s collarbone, dragging it down until she was just above Erica’s chest. “Can I leave you something else, too?” Erica tilted her head in confusion, but her wide eyes were locked into Scary’s. Scary smiled and slightly pushed down the hem of Erica’s tank with one finger. “Are you okay with not wearing low-cut tops for a week?”
Erica seemed to finally catch on to what Scary was saying and put her fingers back into Scary’s scalp, this time at the base of her neck. “Super okay with that,” she responded.
Involuntary shivers ran down Scary’s spine as she pushed herself further into Erica’s space, dropping wet kisses along her jawline. She wanted to leave a kiss on those soft lips again, but that would be absolutely begging for something she could not have. Instead, she let herself bite and lick and kiss down Erica’s neck until she reached the hem of her tank top.
Erica was reactive, much more reactive than any girl Scary had ever been with. She gasped and whined as Scary focused on a particularly low point on her chest, restricting herself to above her hemline. Scary felt something tighten more and more in her stomach with every noise Erica let out, hands shaking as she held herself up against the desk and grasped Scary’s hair. Erica was messing with her mind and yeah, no, she absolutely had to get out of here. Right now.
Scary pulled herself away abruptly, like her lips would burn if they touched Erica’s skin any longer. She ran her thumb over the patchwork mess of hickeys along Erica’s chest, one particularly dark mark standing out on her tan skin.
“Thanks,” breathed Erica. Scary looked up to find her eyes blown wild, lips flushed, and smile wide. She needed to see her like that again before they both graduated, said the devil on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” responded Scary, as normally as you could after giving a hickey to your high school crush. She patted her pocket, making sure her phone was in there, before taking a step toward Erica’s door. “See you on campus?” Scary needed to leave.
“Probably at a frat sometime, realistically,” Erica replied, righting her shirt with a laugh.
Scary nodded and chuckled politely. “Yeah, probably.”
A brief pause came between them. Scary clearly wanted to go (Erica clearly wanted her to stay, the devil supplied).
Someone had to break the silence. “Down the stairs, take a left, and out the door, yeah?” asked Scary.
“Yeah.” Erica shifted on her feet. “Need me to walk you out?”
Scary waved a dismissive hand, already pulling on Erica’s door handle. “I’m fine, no worries.”
In a romcom-coming-of-age teen drama, this is where Scary would rush to Erica, kiss her on the lips, and run out the door. Scary knew that could absolutely not happen. Erica was seeing Scary through rose-tinted glasses, she wasn’t in love with her, and Scary had to get home. She’ll pass all of the sorority girls on her way out and they won’t even bat an eye- because why would they? Scary and Erica were two friends from high school who happened to sleep in the same room for one night since Scary was drunk and couldn’t drive home.
If she chose to, Erica could go right back to living her straight fantasy and only kiss girls when she was drunk enough to call it a joke.
Erica waved, a little desperately. “I’ll text you,” she said.Scary nodded, skeptical, and closed the light pink door behind her. This ‘Erica’ situation was not going to end well.