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“This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.”
— Jack Twist, Brokeback Mountain (2005)
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The water by Gordon’s cottage is almost completely black now that the sun had long set, but Ramona stands watch anyway with arms folded tightly over her chest and her brain working a mile a minute. The visible streaks of glowing light reflecting on the surface warp with the moving tide and her unfocused eyes track their movement halfheartedly, too rattled by the evening from hell she was currently having to fixate on any single ripple. She tries to get lost in the gentleness of the waves splashing against the docks, but it’s just too hard this time. Normally, the hypnotic and repetitive motion would put her in a state of calm, but the pounding bass from the impromptu party Annie had thrown in her honour made it damn near impossible. A small part of Ramona has to hand it to her sister for accidentally arranging a shit show of a rager out of the pure goodness of her bleeding heart, but ultimately she just feels completely disconnected from the whole affair. Even as distracting music continuously spills through the open windows and every so often some douchebag she’s never met before, almost always one of Rory’s obnoxious rich friends, would laugh loudly enough for their voices to carry across the docks and pull her out of her thoughts.
“Idiots.” She mumbles to herself before lighting a spliff and taking a long suffering drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a moment before tilting her head up and exhaling miserably into the wind.
The vibes had gotten more rowdy sometime after midnight. Ramona had felt it in the way the floorboards shook beneath her shoes, a faint vibration that seemed determined to remind her that everyone else was having a good time except her. Every burst of laughter, even every song on Sully’s playlist seemed to grate against every last nerve in her body, and she just wasn’t feeling it tonight.
She’d been trying not to look at Oona for the better part of an hour. Trying not to notice her sitting on the arm of Gordon’s couch, laughing at something Stacey fucking Mallory had said. Though what could possibly be that funny coming out of Stacey’s mouth she had no idea. Nursing a lukewarm beer in her hand, she watched from the corner, her glower turning more resentful between sips as Oona laid it on super thick, shamelessly flirting and giggling with her date as they exchanged teasing touches back and forth.
Ramona still couldn’t believe her luck. That word kept repeating in her mind like a sucker-punch. Her fucking date. She hated how transparent it made her feel. Hated that she’d finally admitted to herself that she had the hots for her best friend, put some clothes on and hyped herself up, only for Oona to arrive at the party holding somebody else’s hand, and dashing whatever little hope she had for them. It was fucking humiliating.
Ramona tried to play it off around Annie and Sully. She’d even managed a few convincing smiles, forcing herself to participate in conversations she wasn’t even remotely interested in, all the while pretending she wasn’t watching the other side of the room obsessively. But every time she dared to look, there was Oona. Trying to hook up with the most boring girl on the planet, completely oblivious to Ramona’s internal breakdown. Or worse, completely aware of it and simply not giving a shit either way. That particular thought had festered somewhere excruciatingly unpleasant in Ramona’s head and wouldn’t let up. This was her home and it was torture being there. So she’d escaped while Annie was distracted with Rory. She had enough self-awareness to know she needed to calm down and remove herself from the situation before she did something incredibly toxic and stupid.
Ramona lets out a deep sigh as she gets comfortable on the ground, the rough wood of the dock scratching against her bare legs. A surprisingly welcome sensation she didn’t even know she missed while she was stuck in Barrie over the last year taking care of Gordon as his health slowly deteriorated. It still hurts to think about him, so she tries not to most of the time.
Resting her head against her palm she casually snuffs out her blunt, sombrely watching the tiny embers disappear, and desperate to be able to do the same. She prays for the party to end soon so she can go back inside, get under her covers, and sleep this fucked up night away. Maybe tomorrow she’d wake up and feel less pathetic. Maybe tomorrow Oona wouldn’t be so fucking beautiful and taking up every waking thought in her messed up head. She scoffs self-deprecatingly. Not fucking likely.
“So this is where you’re hiding.”
“JESUS!” Ramona jumps, whipping her head around and clutching a hand to her rapidly beating heart. “What the fuck, Oona?! A little warning next time.”
Oona comes up beside her, and the hands that were previously shoved into the pockets of her baggy shorts rise in apology, but she hardly looks sorry as she grins down at her. Oona always seemed to be fucking grinning. She could walk into a room where everyone was miserable and somehow make the entire vibe switch up around her just by being herself and flashing a smile. There was something almost unfair about it, the ease in the way she carried herself through the world. Ramona envied that.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Oona smirks through her words. “Annie said you were out here so I came looking.”
Ramona’s surprised she was able to pull herself away from Stacey Mallory for more than five seconds to do so. “You didn’t need to.” She tells her.
“Well I had to make sure you weren’t picking fights with random birds again.” Oona’s smile widens at Ramona’s affronted reaction. “I mean as hilarious as it was I really can’t have you diving into the lake to start beef with the wildlife tonight.”
“What the fuck, dude that was like ONE time.” Ramona responds incredulously. “Also, that psycho goose stole my timbits, the fuck was I supposed to do?”
Oona laughs at that. “You know what, I take it back. You were so valid for that actually.”
“Thank you, I really was.” Ramona accepts her validation like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“So why are you out here by yourself then?” Oona pries. “Surely you don’t find the party that boring.”
Ramona doesn’t really know how to respond so she settles on a half-truth. “I just needed some air.” She finally looks toward her. “I don’t really fuck with any of those people and it was getting a bit much in there.”
Oona hums sympathetically as she sits down next to her, the dock creaking softly beneath their combined weight. She stretches her legs out in front of her before turning slightly, watching Ramona with that infuriatingly warm expression on her face that she only seemed to reserve for her whenever she thought she could get away with it.
“It is a bit of a sausage fest, huh?” Oona admits before whispering conspiratorially. “Next time we’ll tell Annie to invite more girls, that’s always a better time.”
The moonlight caught along the side of Oona’s face, illuminating the curve of her cheek and all the loose strands of curly blonde hair that had fallen around it. Ramona nods noncommittally, half paying attention, and thinks there isn’t a soul in the universe that’s ever been as stunning. She immediately regrets noticing. Trying not to completely dissolve under her stare she forces herself to speak, smiling unconvincingly. “Yeah, more girls.” She looks down avoiding eye contact.
It’s awkward now and Oona’s turned her entire body towards her. “What?” Ramona huffs out at Oona’s prolonged silence.
The curly haired girl shakes her head and shrugs innocently. “I’ve just missed you, man.”
Now Ramona’s the one inspecting her friend. “Well I’m right here. I won’t vanish into thin air if you take your eyes off me.”
Oona bumps her shoulder and laughs at that. It was so effortlessly infectious that Ramona feels the tension in her body loosen despite herself. “I can’t possibly risk that. Just let me enjoy the view, oh my god.”
She tries not to smile at that but she can’t help the way her mouth twitches. And Oona notices immediately, laughing triumphantly before wrapping an arm around Ramona’s shoulders and planting an affectionate kiss on the top of her head in response. Ramona wants to curl up and die as the heat rises to her face. Oona’s arm is warm against the chill of the night, and Ramona can feel the weight of it around her. It’s such a familiar gesture, so painfully ordinary for them. Oona’s affectionate. Oona touches and kisses literally everyone. Still, Ramona’s heart gives one stupid, hopeful little flutter against her will. She really needs to put a stop to it.
“Come on, Oona.” She groans out a warning, pulling away. “I’m not really in the mood right now.”
Oona’s arm loosens its hold but she doesn’t let go. “You’re not in the mood?” Fake gasping dramatically and clutching her chest. “Not even for me?”
”Oh my god, Oona.” Ramona rolls her eyes.
”Babe, I’m hurt.” She continues. “Truly, like absolutely shattered to pieces.”
“You know what I mean.” She responds, unimpressed.
“Maybe I just missed hugging my best friend over the past year, hmm.” Oona’s expression becomes playful. “Is that so wrong?” She asks before turning serious. “And I like seeing you smile, I don’t get to see it much these days, you know. It’s nice.”
Ramona looks away, unable to hold her gaze. This was the sort of thing Oona did. She flirted. Constantly and casually, and in a way that came so naturally to her, like fucking breathing. A lingering hand on someone’s shoulder, an unexpected compliment, a prolonged look or raunchy as fuck remark delivered with that unmistakable little curl at the corner of her beautiful mouth. Ramona knew this. She knew Oona was like this. And so she knew this meant nothing. That it could only mean nothing.
But that doesn’t stop her stomach from churning with nervous excitement whenever Oona directs all her unwavering attention her way. She wonders when her friend will ever seem to understand the crippling effect she has on everyone. On her. And worries that maybe she understands all too perfectly well already. Ramona can’t decide which truth is worse.
She doesn’t reply and lets an awkward silence form between them until Oona breaks it.
“You’ve just been quiet tonight.” She says, pouting a little for show. “You know I worry when you’re grumpy.”
“I’m always quiet and grumpy.” Ramona dismisses her concerns. “It’s kinda my thing.”
Oona squints her eyes at her contemplatively. “Not with me.”
Ramona glances at her and Oona’s expression softens as they lock eyes, neither of them wanting to be the first to look away. The sounds from the party seem to recede again, swallowed by the distance between the cottage and where they sit by the water. And Ramona becomes acutely aware of Oona’s arm still around her shoulders, of the warmth radiating from her body, of how close their thighs are to touching.
“No.” Ramona relents with a small lift of her shoulder. “I guess not.”
Ramona plays with her hands to quiet her nerves, willing herself to stop fidgeting so awkwardly. Fingers twisting together in her lap, picking absentmindedly at a loose thread on her shirt. Cheers from the drunk party goers carried over to them as the music behind them changed to something more upbeat. The sudden burst of noise makes Ramona flinch a little.
“Jumpy.” Oona notices. She always fucking notices. Oona leans backwards, resting her weight on her arms. “You know.” She says encouragingly. “You could just tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Ramona squirms through her lie. “I’m chill.”
“Babe, you can keep telling yourself that, but you aren’t chill.” Oona clocks her immediately but Ramona isn’t going to make this easy.
“Oh, and you know me so well, is that it?” She sarcastically drawls out in defiance.
“Well enough to know when you’re lying, yeah.” Oona counters back. “Especially when you act like you’re okay in a way that makes it so very obvious you’re pretending.” She watches her knowingly but doesn’t push for a response. “Everyone sees it, Ramona.”
Ramona can only give her a tired look back, she doesn’t feel like keeping up the charade. “It’s just been a really long night, Oona. That’s all.”
Oona tries to hold her gaze, trying to sense how truthful she’s being. And the playful expression on her face dims. For once, she doesn’t immediately tease her. Instead, she continues to study Ramona’s face with an almost unsettling tenderness.
”Listen, Ramona, I know it must be hard being back after everything with Gordon.” She says carefully, most likely trying not to overstep. “And if there’s anything you need to talk about you know I’m.”
Ramona cuts her off, not ready to have that conversation right now. “It’s not that.” She starts. “I mean, yeah it fucking sucks but that’s not, I mean like it’s not about…” She trails off, unsure how to finish.
“So there is something.” She whispers hesitantly. “And you’re just not down to tell me what it is?” She pauses a beat. “It’s not me, is it?”
And Ramona’s heart gives a painful little tug. She can only shake her head.
“Have I done something?”
“No, what? Of course not, Oona.” Not on purpose anyway, Ramona thinks as she tries to assuage her worries, but it’s to no avail.
“Are you sure?” She asks again. “Because you can tell me, I can handle it.”
“Yeah, it’s nothing, I promise, dude.” She lies. “It’s all good.”
Oona nods slowly, but she doesn’t seem convinced. Her eyes linger on Ramona for another moment before she looks away, the faint crease between her brows returning.
Ramona wanted to tell her. God, she wanted to tell her so fucking bad. She wants to say that she’d spent the entire night watching Stacey fucking Mallory hang off Oona’s arm and it was driving her insane. That all she could feel after Sully convinced her to get up and join the party was a burning humiliation and a misplaced fury at Stacey for simply existing in a space she considered sacred to her.
That for a second she’d even briefly and unfairly hated Oona for showing up with her so casually and obliviously. Like she didn’t know her mere presence sent Ramona spiralling into a pit of lovesick misery. She wants so badly to confess all these feelings to Oona. But the sad brutal fact is she knows she has absolutely no right to feel anything at all.
Instead, she glances back towards the cottage. “Your date’s probably looking for you. You should head back.”
Oona blinks in surprise. “What? She’s fine. I’m here with you right now.”
“Are you?” Ramona has no idea what she’s playing at but the bewildered expression on Oona’s face only seems to egg her on. “I mean you barely said two words to me tonight until now.”
“Ramona I…” Oona starts to defend herself before Ramona watches the realization slowly settle across her face. And then her mouth curves upward. “Oh.” She says it softly.
Ramona frowns at that. “What?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?” Oona asks like she already knows the answer.
Ramona flushes in embarrassment, willing the docks to collapse and swallow her whole. “No, what? I’m fucking not.”
“You seem like you are though.” Oona raises an eyebrow challenging her claim.
“Well, I’m really really not.” She denies again.
“Ramona, come on babe.” Oona says exasperatedly. “It’s me.” There’s a teasing quality to her voice, but underneath it Ramona hears something else. Something apprehensive yet curious and probing. What does she want from this?
Ramona stares at her then with narrowed eyes, suddenly feeling brave (or incredibly stupid). “Even if I was.” She boldly starts to answer. “Why would you care?” She’s pushing and she knows it. “What would you do about it?”
Oona’s smile falters. It’s subtle. Barely even noticeable. But Ramona sees it before Oona can look away. And for the first time tonight, Oona seems genuinely caught off guard. “I don’t know.” Her answer is quieter than Ramona expects. And the words hang between them awkwardly. Heavy.
The music from the cottage hasn’t stopped pumping, but it seems strangely distant now. Even the water’s gone quiet, reduced to nothing more than a muted rhythm beneath the dock. The air begins to change between them, suffocating in a way, and Ramona’s pulse starts to climb as Oona turns back toward her.
“I just…” Oona stops herself with a shake of her head.
Ramona waits. She doesn’t know what she’s waiting for. An explanation, maybe. A joke? Anything that’ll make sense of the strange look that settles over Oona’s face. But Oona doesn’t give her one. Her eyes move slowly over Ramona’s features. There’s something different in them now. Something uncertain and searching. The flirtatiousness is gone, and in a bizarre turn of events Oona doesn’t seem to have anything provocative to say.
Ramona’s breath catches in her throat as her friend slowly leans into her. Like she’s being pulled forward by something she doesn’t fully understand, like she’s testing the space between them to see if it’ll break. Oona’s face is even closer now. Close enough that Ramona can see the faint shimmer of moisture on her bottom lip, and the way she swallows like she’s suddenly aware of her own mouth. Close enough that Ramona can feel the shift in her breath before she even hears it as it ghosts across Ramona’s lips when she exhales.
The narrowing space between them continues to shrink, bit by bit. Oona’s gaze drops, lingering on Ramona’s mouth, and stays there. Ramona feels the tension burn like a searing hot jolt that shoots straight down her to her core, and her lips part slightly without permission. Oona’s eyes lift again, slower this time, heavier. And for one suspended moment, neither of them dare to move. Ramona’s senses feel so heightened. She can smell the lavender on her warm skin, mixed with something faintly sweet underneath it that she’s never noticed before. It’s tantalizing and disorienting.
Then the arm Oona has wrapped around her shoulder pulls them flush together, and Ramona has to resist the urge to lean in and close the distance herself as their legs brush enticingly. It’s barely anything. But Ramona feels it everywhere. Every nerve in her body seems to wake at once and she begins to feel lightheaded as Oona’s hand tightens slightly on her thigh, fingers flexing and curling inward like she’s trying to anchor herself to this feeling. Her thumb shifts once. Just a small, unconscious stroke against skin, and Ramona’s entire body goes still. The touch is both gentle and commanding and Ramona is unraveling fast. Suddenly all the little things she’s spent weeks telling herself mean nothing feel very impossible to ignore.
She doesn’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s Oona. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s the fact that neither of them can seem to stop themselves anymore. And somehow that makes everything feel more real and raw. They are so unbelievably entwined. Ramona can almost feel the shape of the kiss before it even happens and her eyes slip shut in anticipation, aching to feel Oona’s lips against hers as their foreheads softly rest against each other.
This is it. Ramona thinks. For once, something she’s wanted doesn’t feel completely impossible. This is happening. Oona nuzzles deeper into her, her nose grazing and tickling Ramona’s invitingly until they both can’t take it anymore, finally giving into their every want and need. But it’s a fleeting brush of their lips. A barely there touch. And then Oona’s soft, involuntary whimper is almost drowned out by a voice cutting through the night, shattering their moment.
“Oona?”
They jerk apart and Ramona instantly feels cold. The warmth that had gathered around her seems to disappear all at once, leaving her exposed beneath the crisp night air, like something inside her’s been ripped out and now she’s left hollow. Oona stands up so quickly she nearly stumbles over her feet. “Stacey Mallory!” There’s something almost comical about the panic in her voice. But Ramona couldn’t laugh. She could hardly even breathe.
Stacey looks between them. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t.” Oona says far too quickly, and Ramona stares at her in pained disbelief. Oona refuses to look back. The rejection isn’t even deliberate, but somehow that makes it hurt more. Like she’s not even worth the effort of pretending.
“I was just checking where you were,” Stacey continued. “Everyone’s wondering if you’re coming back in.”
“Yeah, of course. Just give me a minute.” Oona replies. Her voice is already different. Already masking whatever had just been happening between them.
“Okay.” Stacey accepts. She turns away, then pauses. “Don’t take too long though.” She says it over her shoulder as she disappears up the dock.
The silence that follows lands heavier than the interruption. Ramona glares at the water. The surface gone back to its slow, hypnotic movement, completely indifferent to what’s just happened. Like it didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. Her face feels hot, but the rest of her feels strangely numb, like her body hasn’t decided what to do with itself yet. Her thigh still tingles where Oona had gripped it thirty seconds ago, but even that sensation feels foreign now, like it belongs to someone else.
All she wants to do is jump in and sink to the bottom. To disappear into something that doesn’t require her to ever feel this way again. Instead, she hangs her head and quietly says. “I um… should go back inside.” Her voice doesn’t sound like hers either. It sounds flat. Stripped of any emotion.
Only then does Oona turn back towards her. “Ramona…” The softness in her voice almost breaks her.
“I’m tired.” She mumbles softly, urging herself not to cry. The words come out carefully. Controlled. She feels her hands start to shake.
Oona takes a step toward her. “Ramona, you don’t have to…” She reaches out a hand and Ramona easily dodges it. The movement small but final.
“I’m fine.” Another lie. But this one feels different. She’s trying to guard herself. She walks past her before Oona can try again.
“Ramona, please.”
She doesn’t allow herself to be pulled back in. She can’t. She knows she’s too weak to resist her so she refuses to look back. Because she knows if she does, she’ll buckle under Oona’s wide eyed concern and her soft, open expression that had almost completely wrecked her from the bottom up. And she doesn’t trust herself not to fall apart if Oona looks at her like that again.
She doesn’t see Oona standing there alone by the water, watching her retreating figure disappear into the cottage. She doesn’t see Oona press her lips together as she touches two fingers to her mouth. She doesn’t see the confusion that briefly crosses Oona’s face, like she’s trying to solve something she doesn’t have the capacity to understand. And she definitely doesn’t see the moment Oona’s expression changes.
Because by the time Ramona reaches the party, she’s already decided what happened. Nothing. A cruel fucking trick derived from an embarrassing little fantasy she’d allowed herself to have because she was lonely and jealous and stupid. And she keeps that thought close. Holds onto it for dear life and repeats it over and over again until she starts to believe it.
Except Ramona could still feel Oona’s hand on her thigh. Could still feel the warmth of her breath and lips. Could still remember the way Oona had looked at her when there was no flirty joke left for her to hide her feelings behind. And that was the part Ramona couldn’t explain away. No matter how hard she tried.