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Chapter Text

Ava Silva had purposefully tried to forget everything about her years at the Catholic School she had been sent to at age sixteen. She tried to forget the abusive nuns, and the way everyone avoided her because she was an orphan who had gotten a scholarship out of the blue to join one of the most expensive and elite private schools in Europe, never knowing who the hell had paid for her tuition.

            But there were things or, well, people Ava Silva could never forget. She couldn’t forget the tall, blue eyed and blonde haired girls who always looked at her as if she was insignificant and laughed at her for doing the bare minimum. She couldn’t forget about the nuns believing she was stupid for having dyslexia and ADHD and struggling with her studying, even though she achieved the best grades in their class. And she couldn’t forget about the girl who had stolen her top spot to become valedictorian at the end of their high-school years, the girl who for the two years Ava had been at Saint Melanie’s School for Girls remained a mystery Ava was head set on to resolve.

            She had been a quiet girl, who always kept to herself, and the few words she spoke were always directed at Ava (always dripping with a lot of annoyance). The girl had always been so breathtakingly beautiful to Ava, with her dark hair and round glasses and reserved manners. She had been like some kind of magnet that had attracted Ava in more ways than one. And she had always been one of the few things that had remained at the back of Ava’s mind seven years after graduating from Saint Melanie’s.

            So when Ava was running late for work and almost got ran over by a car after crossing the Fifth Avenue without even bothering to look, she was extremely surprised to see Beatrice Armstrong-Young being the one coming out of the black Bentley’s driver’s side.

*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Ava was stumbling around her apartment, her jeans half up her legs while she was struggling to put on her black hoodie. Fuck, I’m so fucking late.

She tripped over her sneakers, or maybe they were JC’s or Camila’s, falling to the wooden floor with a loud thud and cursing viciously.

“Ava?” she heard JC’s sleepy voice from the sofa, the boy’s infinite legs being the only thing visible from the spot Ava had fallen on. She was unable to move, tangled into her clothes, her only response a groan. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Help me up?” she asked, finally putting her head through the hoodie’s hole.

“No.”

“Asshole.”

She had turned twenty-five years old the previous day, and her friends had decided to drag her out of her apartment on a Wednesday night. Her boss, Suzanne Ricci (known as Mother Superion by her employees) had begged for her to finally put into use the amount of vacation days she had accumulated for the past year she had been working at LateNews Magazine, but Ava had gladly denied it. Now, she had to deal with a massive hangover and arriving late to work.

“How long has it been since you went to visit your uncle?” Suzanne had asked the previous day, before Ava’s friends made an appearance and forced her to go out for a “couple of drinks”.

“Since… Christmas, I think?”

“Ava, that’s seven months.”

“Well, he’s a priest. He has the company of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit with him.”

Vincent wasn’t truly her uncle. He was the head of the orphanage Ava had lived at after the accident, from ages seven to sixteen. And instead of calling him Father Vincent, Ava had decided to call him uncle and the man ended up accepting it. He had been there for her through it all, even after he dropped his position at the orphanage. He had even offered to take her in, but then she got the mystery scholarship in England and Vincent told her they could offer her a better life than him.

He had been so wrong, and he had spent the last nine years apologizing for it, no matter how much Ava told him the bullying she received hadn’t been his fault. The thing was that right after graduating from Saint Melanie’s, Ava got the offer to travel to New York and study a journalism degree there. And so she did, eager to start a new life and eager to be away from… certain people.

Vincent had gone and visited her every once in a while, and Ava avoided going to Spain as much as possible. It brought back way too many painful memories. And though Ava missed the old man, burying herself in her work was her preferred choice to deal with her numerous traumas. Especially when her birthday was the same day as her mother’s passing.

The thing was that JC, Camila and Yasmine had gone to her apartment to have dinner and exchange gifts. But it was summer, and the streets were buzzing with activity, and they had been having a very stressful week (it was only Wednesday) in their respective jobs. So Ava had been easily convinced to go out for drinks, and then they met with Chanel and Randall and Zori, and then Mary and Shannon showed up and… yeah, Ava ended up getting drunk on a Wednesday night, knowing very well that she had an important meeting on Thursday morning.

A very important meeting that was about to start in five minutes, and Ava was still half-dressed, laying on the floor of her apartment with her still very drunk best friend occupying her couch, and her still very drunk other best friend puking on the bathroom.

“I’m so fucking late, oh my fucking God.”

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” Camila said, making an appearance. Her curly dark hair looked like a wild nest, and her skin looked paler than usual. She had a hand around her stomach, and the last thing Ava wanted was for Camila to puke all over the floor.

“Please, go back to the bathroom,” Ava said, struggling with her jeans. Camila sighed, kneeling in front of her and helping her out with the clothes.

“Maybe if you had taken the vacation your boss suggested you wouldn’t be panicking right now,” JC said from the couch. Ava still hadn’t seen his face, but she really didn’t need to. She was sure he looked like a mess, like Camila and herself did.

“I want to die,” Camila said, groaning and laying down on the floor. Ava finally got up, buttoning her jeans and putting on her white converse.

“Please, make sure she won’t puke-” Ava started to say to JC, but he got up from the couch, only wearing his underwear, and made a beeline towards the bathroom. Soon after, she could hear his gagging.

“God,” Ava sighed, letting out an amused laugh. “I gotta run. The both of you can stay here but please, don’t puke on the couch.”

“But what if the both of us feel like throwing up at the same time?” Camila asked miserably from the floor, an arm draped upon her eyes.

“Keep it in, take turns… I don’t know,” Ava took her phone from the counter, which only had a 10% percent of battery. “Fuck, I’m so late.”

“You already said that,” Camila said from the floor, JC’s beautiful gagging sounds in the background feeling like celestial music on a fine Thursday morning of July.

“There’s food on the fridge, leftover pizza,” Camila gagged at the mention of food, “and I bough coffee the other day. I gotta go, love you!”

Ava opened her apartment’s door while Camila groaned something, and she sprinted down the corridor and the stairs. Ava never took the stairs before, since she hated the thought of going up three stories without using the elevator. But she had no time for that, and she was thankful her workplace was only five minutes away from her building.

She got out of the building, immediately regretting putting on a hoodie at the month of July, and she started to run. She crashed against several pedestrians, almost got ran over by a couple bikes, and she almost stumbled upon several children. But the clock was ticking and Ava had no time to lose.

Fifth Avenue was always filled with people yelling to one another and cars honking, but today it looked like every single inhabitant of New York had decided to come out of their apartments and make Ava’s mission of getting at her job in time impossible.

“Come on, come on, come on…” she whispered, looking at the streetlight and waiting for it to turn red. A boy looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed, but Ava didn’t have time to mock him back because the light went green.

She pretty much sprinted, and soon the only thing separating her from her workplace was another crosswalk. Ava believed God had smiled down on her, because it was the first time ever not one single car was on sight. So she decided to be reckless earlier than usual, and started to cross the street even when the light was red.

Eyes focused on her building’s entrance door, she didn’t see the black Bentley stopping abruptly until she felt its front side slightly bumping into her, which was enough to make her fall.

Gasps of horror sounded around her, while other people asked her if she was blind. It didn’t hurt, Ava had simply lost her balance and was already getting up. She heard the car’s door opening, someone getting out erratically while she dusted off her jeans and sighed.

“Are you okay?” someone said, her British accent thick. Ava turned around.

“Oh, yeah, don’t-” and her eyes then widened.

The girl had beautiful brown hair falling down and reaching her mid-chest, her skin was sun-kissed and freckled. Her eyes were wide in worry, and she was wearing an expensive looking dark suit that looked as if it had been specially made for her. Around her neck, a golden chain with a small golden cross rested upon her sternum.

It looked like realization had hit the girl as well, and Ava was unable to speak. She would never forget that face, the soft baby cheeks had turned into prominent cheekbones, her jaw seemed to be sculpted by the Gods. Ava had hoped to never see that face again in her life.

“Ava Silva?” the girl said, her eyebrows furrowed, her soft brown eyes observing Ava’s face and making her feel self-conscious.

“Beatrice Armstrong-Young,” Ava said, as if every single one of the words had been ingrained in her mind with fire.

“Hey!” a male’s voice said, “Can you get the fuck out of the way?”

“Why don’t you go around the car, fucking asshole?!” Ava yelled back, and Beatrice looked horrified. She must be new to the city.

“Ava,” the girl said, and Ava hated the way the word said by Beatrice still filled her body with goose-bumps. “Get in my car, you need to get checked out.”

Ava was too shocked to even make a joke.

“I’m fine,” she said. In truth, she wasn’t and she wished she had followed through Camila’s plan of calling sick at work and staying home all day.

“Are you?” Beatrice pointed at her hand, and Ava saw a cut which was bleeding.

“Oh,” she said, observing it for a few more seconds. “That’s nothing.”

“Here,” Beatrice took out a white cotton handkerchief from her pants’ pocket, giving it to Ava.

“Thanks,” she put it around her hand, pressing down where the cut was. Beatrice smiled softly at her.

“I believe we should get out of the way,” the taller girl said. The cars that had been piling up behind them were driving around, the drivers looking at the two girls with murder in their eyes.

“Yeah, I gotta go to…” her phone rang, and Ava answered. “Mama Supes?”

“Don’t call me that,” the woman said on the other end of the phone. “Meeting’s canceled and we’ve moved it to tomorrow, same hour. You can have your day off.”

“You’ve seen last night’s Instagram stories, haven’t you?” Suzanne let out an amused snort, and Ava sighed. “So I almost died for nothing.”

“I won’t ask questions. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ava,” the line went dead, and Ava sighed. She looked at Beatrice, eyebrow raised.

“Turns out I have nothing to do,” Ava told Beatrice, who let out a small oh. And Ava wanted to slap herself when her mouth moved faster than her brain. “Do you have somewhere else to go?”

“Well,” Beatrice looked at her golden watch, and Ava thought that maybe she could steal it and it would be enough to pay her bills for the rest of the decade. “I was supposed to go on a meeting myself, but it’s in two hours.”

“Since you almost killed me,” Beatrice’s eyes widened in horror once again, “wanna pay for my breakfast?”

“Oh,” Beatrice looked taken aback, just like how Ava felt. She hoped all those theater lessons at Saint Melanie’s paid off well and Beatrice didn’t notice. “Of course.”

“Alright,” Ava made her way towards the Bentley, climbing up to the passenger’s seat. Beatrice stood for a few seconds outside, completely astounded by what Ava had just done. Ava was feeling the same way.

They had met back at Saint Melanie’s, Beatrice had just gotten back from studying abroad in Switzerland and Ava had just gotten a mysterious scholarship to enter the school. It wasn’t like they were friends at the beginning, but they kind of had one another. The both of them were loners, though no one truly dared making fun of Beatrice or, at least, not in front of her. While they mocked Ava at any chance they got, until one day Beatrice told the girls who were making fun of Ava and her half broken sneakers to piss off.

And ever since then, Ava had seen Beatrice as her hero. No one had said anything else to her when she was around Beatrice, so Ava kind of took it upon herself to stay glued to the girl. Who had looked extremely bothered by her presence at any second, but apparently under all that stoic façade there was a warm heart. And Beatrice never told Ava to go away.

At first it had been Ava rambling about anything and Beatrice simply sitting next to her, reading from her book and sighing in annoyance. Then, Ava got Beatrice to talk a little and then she made her laugh a couple of times. And though Beatrice wasn’t one for words and their dynamic was Ava talking and her listening, Ava felt like some kind of special bond had grown between them.

And then she had to go and fuck it up. And Beatrice had gotten really, really angry to the point that the words she had told Ava had accompanied her for seven years, and had been the source of the majority of her insecurities.

There was something different in Beatrice, though. The way she stood looking so confident, the way her hair was freely falling down. The way she dressed as if her sole purpose was to attract women (Ava hated the way it was working), or the way she hadn’t run away the moment she recognized Ava and had offered to take her to the doctor. Ava was still pressing the cotton handkerchief Beatrice had given her on her cut, wondering why the hell the girl accepted the breakfast offer. Ava was wondering why the hell had she done that in the first place.

She hadn’t spent seven years burying deep inside the memory of what had happened and the things she had felt for Beatrice only for them to come back up. And when Beatrice got behind the wheel, Ava almost told her to stop the car and let her go. But then Beatrice passed a hand over her hair, and looked at Ava’s hand with concern, Ava was left speechless.

“So where do you want to go?” Beatrice asked when the silence started to become uncomfortable. Ava blinked slowly at her.

“Huh?”

“Breakfast,” Beatrice’s eyes looked amused. “Where do you want to go?”

“Oh,” Ava hadn’t thought that far. “Uh…”

“There’s this place,” Beatrice said, “called Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“So original,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice snorted. Ava hated the way the sound brought so many memories, or the way her heart fluttered a little.

Beatrice kept driving and none of them said anything else for the remaining ten minutes of their drive. Ava was pretty sure both of their minds were in the same place, wondering why the hell the Universe hated them so much for putting them both through this once again.

Ava took the opportunity to sneak a few glances towards Beatrice and she was pretty sure she was blushing wildly. She looked so fucking hot, with her expensive suit and her expensive jewelry and her dyed hair. Ava remembered it being midnight black, not the soft brown with golden streaks here and there. And her freckles, God the fucking freckles…

“We’re here,” Beatrice suddenly said, and Ava’s cheeks heated up when Beatrice caught her looking.

“Okay,” Ava got out the car, leaving a frowning Beatrice behind. “I’ll just take a quick bite and go, I’m not actually that hungry.”

As if on cue, her stomach roared loudly and Beatrice looked at her with a raised eyebrow. And then she had the balls to smirk at Ava.

“Sure,” Beatrice let out a low chuckle, and opened the cafeteria’s door for Ava.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s was the most beautiful place Ava had ever seen in her life. The walls were painted in a soft blue, the tables were made of a soft wood and the chairs looked like cozy armchairs. There were plants hanging from the walls, which were decorated with vintage photos of the city. Ava almost squealed when she saw stairs going up to a second story which, from the spot she was standing on, saw it was filled with bookshelves and armchairs.

“I’m sure there’s many cafeterias of this kind around,” Beatrice said, looking where Ava’s eyes had focused. “But the coffee and pastries in here are really great.”

“Let’s try it, then,” Ava started to walk towards a free table with two chairs, right next to the window that worked as the cafeteria’s shop window. There were colorful macaroons scattered around, chocolate croissants and cookies of all kinds. Ava felt her mouth watering.

“Those are fake,” Beatrice said, watching Ava as she daydreamed about devouring all the food in the shop window.

“Of course they are. I knew that,” Ava said, feeling slightly embarrassed. And Beatrice smiled softly at her.

She was about to ask to the girl if she had hit her head, or if she had spent the last few years into a coma and had forgotten everything she had said to Ava seven years ago. But she got interrupted by one of the waiters, asking for their order.

“A black coffee for me,” Beatrice said, not even surprising Ava in the slightest.

“Do you make pancakes?” Ava asked, and the young man nodded. Ava side-eyed at Beatrice, who was watching her intently. The girl smiled softly again, letting out an amused chuckle.

“Go ahead, it’s on me.”

Ava had ordered a coffee with cream, a plate of pancakes and a couple of cupcakes for the both of them and Beatrice had watched her with amusement in her eyes the whole time. They sat in silence for a few more moments, until Ava couldn’t hold her tongue any more.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Ava hated the way her voice sounded so vulnerable, or the way one thousand feelings she had buried deep inside came flooding back out.

Beatrice sighed deeply, avoiding Ava’s eyes and playing with her fingers. The girl’s eyes focused on a small stain of coffee in the table, and Ava waited for her to gather her thoughts and say something.

“I…” Beatrice closed her eyes for a second, and Ava hated the way her hands ached to take Beatrice’s and told her it was okay. So she simply interlaced them on her lap, clutching them tightly. “I was an asshole, Ava.”

“Yeah, you were,” Ava’s mouth acted before her brain could, and for a second her eyes widened in terror. But then she remembered Beatrice had said it, and Ava wouldn’t deny the truth. The nuns at Saint Melanie’s had made sure Ava understood lying was a sin.

“I was really scared back then,” the taller girl shrugged her shoulders, her eyes never leaving the coffee stain on the table. “I still am.”

If someone had showed up at Ava’s doorstep twenty-four hours ago and had told her she would be sitting in a cafeteria with Beatrice Armstrong-Young, having some kind of therapy, she would have laughed. But the Universe always had a funny way to interfere with Ava’s life, so she would be lying if she said she was surprised.

“Why are you here?” Ava asked, feeling like it was way too soon to dive into Beatrice’s trauma. “I thought you were in London?”

“Oh,” Beatrice chuckled, nervously, “I was, but my mother slash boss said she needs me here to help take over the company I’m working at. She said it’s time my brother, my sister and I learn to boss people around.”

“Wait, what?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows.

If she remembered correctly, Beatrice’s parents didn’t own any company. In fact, the girl had told her they were diplomats and spent more time overseas than at home. And when Ava had asked her about any siblings, Beatrice had stomred off their dorm. Later on Ava understood why, but unless Beatrice's dead sister had come back from the dead... it didn't make sense.

Beatrice chuckled, understanding Ava’s confusion. “It’s a long story,” the girl took a sip from her coffee. “The thing is, I’ll be in New York for around three months and then I’ll probably go back to London, to boss people around there.”

Ava cut a piece of her pancake, chewing slowly, her eyes never leaving Beatrice’s. She could tell the girl was feeling slightly nervous because of Ava’s scrutiny. After long seconds, Ava swallowed and laughed.

“What’s the matter?” Beatrice asked, turning around to see what had made Ava laugh.

“There’s something different about you, Beatrice Armstrong-Young,” Ava said, her voice coming out slowly.

“Many things have changed, Ava Silva,” Beatrice said, finishing her coffee.

There was a challenge in Beatrice’s eyes, and Ava felt like whatever superior being was controlling all of their simple, mundane lives was looking down on her, holding its breath, waiting for Ava to make a choice.

The Universe really did act in funny ways. Ava accepted Beatrice’s unspoken challenge.

She would discover how things had changed.

*

If someone had jammed a syringe into Beatrice’s arm and tried to take out blood, not even an ounce of it would have come out.

She didn’t even know what the hell had happened, how the hell it had happened. One moment she was driving, and the next she was literally bumping into someone. Someone from her past, someone she had tried to forget but couldn’t. Someone who had filled her with life but had also drained her at the same time.

Beatrice had always hated her photographic memory. Years could pass, and she would perfectly remember something insignificant. She still remembered her favorite handkerchief from when she was a child, its texture and the little bears sewed in it by her grandmother. Her memory had come in handy during her years at University, she never had to stay up until unholy hours of the night to study for her finals. But it also had been torture, for she remembered every single detail from Ava Silva’s face seven years after losing sight of the girl.

She remembered the little scar on the girl’s chin, which she had gotten after falling from her bike when she was only six years old, and the little mole next to it. She remembered the curious brown eyes with so much depth in them, the way her teeth had been slightly crooked when she was sixteen and had given her an even more mischievous smile. She remembered the girl’s eyebrows, which seemed to have a life of their own, and the way her face was always so expressive. Ava’s hair had been longer, and she had grown up slightly to the point she reached Beatrice’s shoulder now.

But Ava had changed too. She used to be so carefree, so full of life. Beatrice, now, felt like Ava Silva was more reserved, not so eager to discover what the world had to offer her. Beatrice remembered the way Ava rambled for hours and hours, about the many places she wanted to visit after graduating University. It was one of the many reasons why she had wanted to do journalism, to travel around the world and discover the mysteries of the planet. Now, she spoke in three-words sentences and was unable to look at her in the eye. Beatrice didn’t blame her.

Beatrice had gotten a glimpse of that Ava from the past, though, when the girl had looked at her face for almost a whole minute, in silence, chewing her pancake slowly. Beatrice had felt as if Ava’s eyes had penetrated deep inside her soul, searching for the secrets she had been hiding for so long and, now, slowly, cautiously but surely were flowing out.

And Beatrice couldn’t help but feel like their personalities had flipped as well. Ava had gone from being an open book to being quite reserved, while Beatrice had been the opposite. She was slowly opening up, letting her heart beat with no constrictions. It had taken her twenty-five years, but Jillian said it was better late than never.

She had wanted to apologize, to tell Ava she didn’t mean any of the things she had said and that she had spent the last seven years thinking of her. She hadn’t wanted to go to New York, and she was supposed to be moving to Barcelona and take over the business from there while her siblings did it from London and New York. But then she had come across an article, signed by Ava Silva, and Beatrice made up her mind.

Before you think she was some kind of creep, the rest had been total and pure coincidence. The first thing she had wanted to do once she had arrived to New York was to actually contact Ava and talk with her about what happened seven years ago. She wanted to apologize to her for hurting her. But her first two weeks in New York had been hectic, and one of her many missions had to wait for a little longer. But then the Universe smiled down at her, something that never happened, and made her bump into Ava Silva herself. Literally.

They didn’t really talk much at the cafeteria, and Ava refused to let Beatrice drive her home. The shorter girl had said it was because she needed to take care of some things, but Beatrice had the faint suspicion it was because Ava needed a second to gather her thoughts while being on her own.

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Ava,” Beatrice said, once they stepped out of the cafeteria. Ava blinked slowly at her, but then a little smile appeared on her lips. It didn’t remain there for a long time, but it had been enough for Beatrice.

“Next time just try not to murder me,” and then Ava said goodbye and left, leaving Beatrice speechless because she really thought there wouldn’t be a next time. Not after what she had done to the girl.

The Arq-Tech building wasn’t too far from the cafeteria, so Beatrice was inclined to get there by foot, walk the rest of the way to clear up her thoughts and process what had just happened in the span of almost one hour. For once in her life, she didn’t really care much if she was late to the company. She was one of the bosses; she could do whatever she wanted. Or that’s what she thought, before anxiety took over her and turned around to take her car and make it in time.

“You’re one minute late, Beatrice.” Lilith said, as a way of greeting her once she stepped into the office the both of them and Michael would be sharing.

“Yes, what’s wrong with you?” the young man said, sitting upon his desk and trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. “I’ve arrived earlier than you both.”

“You’ll think I’m lying if I tell you where was I,” Beatrice said, taking her blazer off and letting herself fall on her white spinning chair. Lilith and Michael raised an eyebrow in sync.

“You finally got laid, sister?” Lilith asked, and Michael gasped in fake outrage.

“Lilith!” he said, putting a hand upon his chest, while Beatrice let out a horrified “What?!”

“My apologies,” Lilith raised her hands, her face far from looking apologetic.

“No,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, and her siblings waited for her to explain her early morning shenanigans. “I literally bumped into Ava.”

“Wait a second,” Michael said, his blue eyes looking confused.

“Our Ava?” Lilith asked, “Ava Silva?”

“The one and only,” Beatrice said, nodding her head and grabbing her anti-stress ball. “I almost ran over her with my car.”

“Jesus Christ, Bea,” Michael chuckled. “I doubt she’ll want to hook up with you if you try to murder her again.”

“Can you two stop putting my name and the word hook up in the same sentence?” Beatrice groaned, as Lilith high-fived Michael.

“That’s actually two words,” the taller girl explained, her almost black eyes sparkling with amusement. “We know that you’re more of a science girl, but please.”

“Shut up.”

Michael and Lilith looked at one another, ready to continue teasing Beatrice, when Jillian entered the room. It was only nine thirty in the morning, but her blonde hair was already up in a messy bun and her blazer was forgotten somewhere else, the sleeves of her shirt up and the first three buttons of her collar were open. She had a dossier in her hands, a pencil between her teeth.

“Kristian messed up again?” Lilith asked, crossing her arms upon her chest. Jillian took the pencil from her mouth and nodded, balancing it upon her ear.

“And the meeting with Duretti is in a week,” Jillian explained, making the other three groan collectively. “Good morning, my children.”

“Good morning, mum,” Michael, Lilith and Beatrice said, making the woman smile brightly even though she looked like she hadn’t slept in three years.

If you took the three of them and put one next to the other, you could tell the only one who was actually related to Jillian was Michael. He had her same blond hair and her same blue eyes, which always sparkled with hunger of knowledge and sarcasm.

Beatrice had met Lilith and Michael back at Oxford University. Lilith had been her roommate, a law student, and they had spent their nights talking about their conservative parents and the way they hated them.

Beatrice’s family were living in France for the time being before returning to England and Lilith’s family lived in Spain, but once the both of them turned eighteen they had decided to go away and study in England. And Beatrice truly believed Lilith was living her same life, after she talked about her family’s views and the way they always put ambition before love.

A truly special bond was forged in the darkness of their dorm, and Lilith was the first person with whom Beatrice allowed herself to open up and share her deepest and darkest secrets. There had never been any kind of romance between them both, their bond became sisterly from the very beginning, and they found a confidante and best friend in each other after spending years feeling alone in the world. It had been so long since Beatrice remembered what it felt like to have a sister after, well... she lost her own biological one. She thought that maybe Ava could be it, a sister in spirit, but the feelings ended up going in what sixteen years old Beatrice believed it was the wrong way. But then, as if God or the Universe had heard her prayers, Lilith landed in her life.

Then, they met Michael at a party, and then Michael told them his mother was the CEO of Arq-Tech and the two girls spent their time questioning the young man about his mother’s shenanigans the loud music and potential one night stands long forgotten. Michael introduced them to Jillian a week after, who offered both Lilith and Beatrice to do internships at Arq-Tech Industries during the summer. The woman had invited them to have dinner at her London penthouse, and after many bottles of red Cabernet Sauvignon, the two girls ended up talking about the tragedy that their families were and the way the both of them had taken the chance to go to University in order to get away from their parents.

And a very drunk Jillian offered herself to be their mother, and a very drunk Michael cried because he had always wanted a sister, and so a little family was born. It had been six years and a half, and neither Beatrice nor Lilith had gone back to their respective families. They didn’t need them.

Though they made sure to remind both girls they still existed.

Beatrice was so grateful for Jillian, Michael and Lilith. If she hadn’t met any of them, she wouldn’t have started to live. Jillian never yelled at her when she confessed she might be gay, Michael got over excited because as a gay man he had always wanted to have a fellow gay best friend and sister. And then Lilith got offended, claiming she was feeling left out, and accidentally came out to them as pansexual.

“Am I really a mother to three raging homosexuals?” Jillian had asked them, raising an eyebrow. Michael looked at the two girls, who seemed as if they were being taken to the guillotine to get decapitated. And then Jillian had smiled the biggest smile Beatrice had ever seen. “This is the best fucking night of my life.”

“Mother!” the three of them had said, and then laughed in relief.

And so for the last few years, the three people in the room had helped her to slowly come out of her shell. Though the many years of trauma were still very much present, and she still had so many insecurities and fears to deal with. But she wasn’t feeling lonely anymore.

“So what are the three of you chatting about instead of doing work?” Jillian asked, dropping herself into the white leather sofa.

“Beatrice bumped into Ava,” Michael explained.

“Literally bumped into Ava,” Lilith added.

Jillian raised an eyebrow and looked at Beatrice, who was clutching her anti-stress ball as if her life depended on it. “Bea? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I,” she started, and breathed deeply. Her siblings and mother waited patiently for her. She closed her eyes, and sighed. “I was on my way here, and then I almost ran over her.”

“You… what?” Jillian let out a confused chuckle. “Is this some new way of flirting? Am I truly that old?”

“Yes, you are,” Michael said, and Beatrice saw the pencil Jillian had been playing with fly across the room and hit him straight into the forehead.

“She crossed the street without looking around,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “Thank God I was slowing down, or else I could really be getting into jail right now.”

“Horny jail,” Lilith muttered under her breath, getting an amused smile from Michael. Now it was Beatrice’s anti-stress ball flying across the room, hitting Lilith into her chest. “Ow, my boobs!”

“Your what?” Beatrice said, raising an eyebrow.

“Bitch.”

“Children, please!” Jillian said, though she let out a snort. “What happened next?”

“I got out the car, people started honking and yelling at us, but it was like the world suddenly got muted when I realized it was her,” Beatrice regretted attacking Lilith with her anti-stress ball. She started to fidget, her stomach knotting.

“And what did you do?” Jillian’s voice was so soft and gentle, noticing the way Beatrice’s anxiety was starting to settle in. Beatrice was still expecting to get yelled at or to be called a monster whenever she talked about her feelings.

Lilith filled a glass with water and put it in front of Beatrice, offering her the anti-stress ball. Beatrice took it, smiling softly at Lilith. “I gave her my handkerchief.”

“The one with the bears?” Michael asked, and Beatrice shook her head.

“No, the expensive one.”

“Oh my God,” Lilith said, while Michael gasped. “The silk one?”

“No, cotton.”

“Was it clean?”

“Of course it was clean, Michael.”

“Beatrice, focus,” Jillian said, and Beatrice nodded.

“She got a cut on her hand, and I gave it to her because she refused to go to the doctors,” she continued to explain. Beatrice had wanted to take Ava’s hand in hers and clean the cut herself, but maybe that would have been too much. She knew for a fact that Ava knew how to throw punches, she had taught her herself, and she hadn’t wanted to risk it. Plus, she would’ve come out as a freak. Imagine telling someone to stay away from you seven years ago, only to end up cleaning their wounds that you had provoked?

“And then?”

“I paid for her breakfast,” Beatrice smiled softly. “I took her to the cafeteria you showed me the other day,” she added, pointing at Michael. He smiled proudly.

“How did it feel?” Jillian asked.

“It felt…” Beatrice went silent, searching for a word. “Confusing.”

“Did she say something bad?” Lilith asked, and Beatrice could feel the defensiveness in the girl’s voice, her body going straighter. Beatrice shook her head.

“She said I was different, which is not bad on itself… right?”

“You are different, Beatrice,” Jillian told her, smiling at her. “A good kind of different.”

“I then offered myself to drive her home, but she said she had some things to do. I suspect she needed to… process everything,” her siblings and Jillian nodded in agreement, and Beatrice breathed deeply.

“Would you like to see her again?” Jillian asked, her voice gentle. Beatrice took a few moments to think about her answer, finally nodding.

“Many things were left unsaid,” Beatrice shrugged, clutching her anti-stress ball a couple of times. “I need to apologize for so many things.”

*

Ava had gone for a walk which ended up being two hours long. And she had spent that amount of time processing everything that had happened. How she had gone from almost being late to a meeting, to almost dying, to bumping into the person who had provoked her first heartbreak to having breakfast with said person. Someone who Ava believed would stay in her past.

When she got into her apartment, she saw JC and Camila sitting on the couch and playing Call of Duty on her PlayStation. She dropped herself next to Camila, who paused the game right when JC was about to kill her.

“What the fuck!” the guy said, but Camila punched him in the arm. Ava’s body had been sinking down the couch, almost falling to the floor, her head looking up at the ceiling and her hands interlaced upon her stomach.

“Ava?” Camila asked, voice gentle.

“I almost died,” Ava said after a few seconds of silence passed.

“You almost what?” JC asked, Camila’s mouth hanging wide open.

“Beatrice,” she whispered. “She almost killed me.”

“Hold on, what?” Ava sat up straight, and looked at her two best friends.

She had met them both on her first year at New York University. Camila had been her roommate, while Ava and JC had dated for a while. But then they discovered they were better off as friends and Ava considered them both her life saviors.

When she had arrived to New York, she had been broken. All her life, she had never been unsure of who she was and who she liked. But then Beatrice Armstrong-Young had made sure to break Ava’s heart and had made sure Ava questioned her whole existence, to the point she had needed to move to the other side of the ocean in order to figure herself out.

Beatrice had surely projected all her insecurities and trauma into Ava, and after almost eighteen years of believing she knew herself inside and out, a single word had made Ava wonder if she actually was a freak and a monster.

When she met Camila and JC and she saw they didn’t have any insecurities, that they didn’t think the same way Beatrice did, Ava slowly but surely started to go back to the way she was before. But when your first love, who also turned to be your first heartbreak, yells at you and calls you an abomination for being yourself things simply get hard.

She was sure of who she was now, of who she liked. She didn’t really hid anymore, not the way she did during her first two years of university. They didn’t call the three of them the Pan Gang for nothing. But the insecurities were still there, buried deep down, and every time she hooked up or developed some kind of feelings for another girl they made sure to remind her of that day in her Saint Melanie’s dorm. The fear of getting called a freak at any moment was there, and Ava hated the impact Beatrice had on her even after all that time.

And the problem for Ava was that she was a damn horndog, and whenever a pretty girl was in close proximity it was really hard for her to keep her hands to herself. She had become skilled at flirting, Chanel had made sure of that, and she felt it was way more easier with girls than with boys. Boys were too direct for her liking, while girls played along to her game. And it made the thing more exhilarating, slowly building up the anticipation. But there was always a small alarm going off at the back of Ava's mind, and many times she had to be drunk to the point of being unable to stand on her two feet to bring another girl into her bed. And it had always to be her bed, her rules, so she would't get heartbroken again.

So when Ava bumped into Beatrice, and Beatrice acted so gentle with her to the point she was ready to clear out a whole hospital so Ava could get her small cut healed, Ava’s chest and mind had been filled with years of buried feelings. Feelings that had only been a slight buzz for the past few years, and Ava had to fight for her life to keep that box tightly shut.

Beatrice was different, and Ava wanted to know why. Beatrice had gone from being beautiful to being beautiful and hot. She had smiled at Ava, she had taken her to eat something and had offered to drive her home. But seven years ago, Beatrice had been yelling at her to stay away from her. And a month later, Ava was packing her bags and moving to New York, missing their graduation.

And she thought life would be fine, that Beatrice would stay in London and Ava would never see the girl who had filled her with insecurities ever again. And after seven years of living in New York, after seven years of hard work and healing, Beatrice dropped in front of her as if it was just another casual day in the office. Acting as if they had remained friends all this time.

Ava hated the way her throat closed up, and the way her eyes filled with tears. She was too tired and too hangover for this shit.

“Babe,” Camila said, softly. “What happened?”

“Did she say anything?” JC asked, his voice filled with concern and protectiveness. Ava let out a sigh.

“I think it would’ve been better if she had punched me in the jaw or something,” Ava slumped her shoulders, and she rubbed her eyes letting out a groan. “I crossed the street without looking, her car almost ran me over. She got down, looking as if she had descended from fucking Olympus itself, and acted like the gentlest person on Earth. She saw my hand was bleeding, gave me this fucking expensive handkerchief, and offered to take me to see a doctor. I said no, obviously, because I only had a small cut on my hand and I was late for work! And then fucking Suzanne had to call and say I had the rest of the day free because the meeting had gotten canceled. So, Beatrice offered to take me to get breakfast and she drove me to the fucking cutest place ever.”

“And…?” Camila asked, her hand resting on Ava’s thigh.

“For a second it looked like she was about to say something,” Ava sighed, remembering the way Beatrice’s eyes never left the coffee stain on the table, her finger circling it.

“Say what, exactly?” JC wondered, and Ava shrugged.

“Fuck me if I know,” Ava said, her voice dripping with annoyance.

“Is that a dare?” Camila asked, and JC snorted while Ava hit the girl with a pillow. Her phone started to ring, Suzanne’s ID (Mama Supes) showing on the screen.

“Consider yourself saved by God almighty,” Ava teased Camila, getting up and answering the phone. “Mother, hi!”

“Hello, Ava. Are you home?”

“Yup. Need me to come over?”

“No need, I was just making sure you could speak.”

“Oh, I sense some homework coming my way.”

“It’s about the meeting we were supposed to have today. You remember the woman I told you we would be interviewing?”

“Your college ex-girlfriend and the woman I've been in love with ever since I was sixteen years old?”

“Ava.”

“Sorry.”

“But yes, Jillian Salvius. She replied to my email today, said tomorrow would be perfect to go and interview her since she’s free. I’ll need you to be the one going, Mary will take the pictures and Kit will probably come help you out.”

“Me?” Ava’s eyes widened, her lips parting into a big smile, her heart doing several cartwheels.

“That’s right.”

“But, what about that football player who went into jail because his car got mistaken by another car involved into a robbery?”

“I know you’ve admired Jill for a long time, after all the report you made about her new advancements in sustainable architecture was the one that caught my eye. But if you would rather go talk to a retired athlete…”

“NO.” Ava heard Suzanne chuckling on the other side of the phone. “Tell me when and where and I’ll go.”

“Tomorrow, ten in the morning, Arq-Tech Industries. Make sure you come here first, so we can talk about the whole thing. I’m sorry it’s rushed, but Jill is a busy woman and if we say no we might have to wait months to get that interview.”

“I’ll come by the office by eight, coffee’s on me. Oh, and Mama Supes?”

“Yes, Ava?”

“Thank you so much, you’re the best Mama in the world.”

“Of course, Ava. See you tomorrow.”

Ava allowed herself to squeal once Suzanne ended the call, spinning her body around, forgetting about what had happened. She lost her balance and fell to the floor, letting out an amused laugh. She soon heard JC and Camila entering her bedroom.

“AVA WHAT’S WRONG?” JC almost yelled, Camila slipping and almost falling to the floor as well.

Ava looked at them from the spot she had fallen onto, heart beating so hard she was sure they could hear it. She was unable to speak, her smile too big. She breathed deeply.

“I’m meeting Jillian-Fucking-Salvius.”

Chapter Text

Nine years ago

The moment Ava got out of the car and stepped foot in the school’s old courtyard, she decided she hated England with her whole heart. Or, at least, she hated the old stone building looming upon her. Which would, apparently, be her home for the next two years.

Forty-eight hours ago, Uncle Vincent had entered her room in the orphanage with an envelope in his hands and a very confused look on his face. In the nine years she had spent at the orphanage, Ava had never received any kind of letter. Her mother had died when she was seven, while they were on a trip to Spain to celebrate Ava’s birthday. She didn’t know her father, and her mother had no family left. So Ava never really expected any kind of correspondence, and Vincent probably felt the same way.

“What’s that?” Ava said, pointing at the envelope. She was laying on her bed, her legs sore after the rehabilitation exercises she had done.

She had been reading an old science magazine, probably from almost ten years ago. There was a blonde woman with the bluest eyes Ava had ever seen on the cover, someone named Jillian Salvius who apparently was the “it” girl of engineering and architecture right now. Truth be told, Ava had picked up the magazine because she had found Jillian stunning, but then she started to read about the discoveries Jillian had done around sustainable architecture and found the woman’s brain way more interesting.

“A letter, for you,” Vincent said, scratching his graying hair. He sat at the feet of her bed, and gave the envelope to Ava.

“A letter for me?” the priest hummed, and Ava took the paper out.

We are pleased to announce you have been one of the chosen recipients of the two years long scholarship our school has been offering for the last ten years. We have been deeply impressed by your grades and work, and we would love to count on you to be a member of our school in order to receive your higher education before you enter University.

We have attached our contact phone and email below, and we wait news of your acceptance.

Francis Highmore,

Headmaster of Saint Melanie’s School for Girls

“Uh, what the fuck?” Ava said, and Vincent looked disapprovingly at her. “Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t think the same.”

“Yes, I did,” the priest said, resignation filling his voice.

“My impressive grades and work? Are you sure they aren’t mistaken?” Vincent shook his head.

“It’s addressed to you, specifically sent to this orphanage…” Ava looked at the envelope, and of course it was addressed to Ava Silva, sent to the orphanage she had grown up at.

“This is so weird,” Ava muttered. “Is there anyone who knows about me being here? A secret relative of mine?”

“I have already called to the school, Ava,” Vincent said, eyebrows furrowed. “I asked them if someone had personally contacted them previous to sending this letter.”

“And?”

“They said they received an anonymous letter, talking about you and how you deserve the scholarship,” Ava let out a muffled sound of surprise, and Vincent looked even more lost by the second.

“What if it’s a trap?” Ava whispered. What if her dad, who she had never met before, had been some kind of mafia member and now his enemies were targeting her?

“I’ve already made sure it isn’t, Ava,” Vincent smiled softly at her, but Ava wasn’t convinced yet. “Accept the offer.”

“What?” Ava wasn’t sure she heard the man correctly.

“It’s your opportunity to get out of here, get the education and future you deserve. Going into that school will be your chance to secure a great future.”

Ava felt her heart breaking slightly, Vincent’s brown eyes looking sad and far from being convinced of his own words. “But… what about Diego? What about you?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Vincent smiled softly at her, putting a fatherly hand (literally, since he was a priest and all) upon hers. “I’ll keep an eye on Diego for you, and we’ll come visit. You know I will retire in a few months, anyway.”

“To go and be the priest of a ghost town in the middle of nowhere,” Ava rolled her eyes, and Vincent let out a soft chuckle.

“I’ll take Diego with me, it’s already settled. You were supposed to come as well, but…” Vincent’s eyes landed on the letter sitting on Ava’s lap. She sighed.

“I suppose going there will be better than staying here…” Vincent nodded and, after a long silence, Ava sighed. “Okay. Fine. Let’s go to England.”

She regretted her decision. It was September, but the weather felt as if it was November. Ava missed the Spanish sun, the warm weather and the birds chirping. She had never been allowed to go out the orphanage, first of all she had been forced to stay in bed for several years after the accident. And once she had gotten surgery, her legs still had been too tender to walk and run and play with the other children.

She was around fifteen years old when she was able to fully walk on her own, a limp overtaking her when she was too tired. The doctor had said her ability to move would get better the more she trained, but the limp would last for the rest of her life. Ava didn’t mind, she didn’t mind if she ended up limping if that meant she could run and feel the air on her face.

The thing is, Ava had felt as if the bed and the orphanage had been some kind of cage that had kept her from going outside and living life. Vincent had promised that once he would retire, he would take her and Diego with him and he would take care of their studies and all. But, after all, Vincent was simply a priest and his income was probably not enough to take care of himself and two kids. So Ava had reached the conclusion that maybe accepting the mystery letter was the best option, though she still was scared someone would end with her life.

If she had thought the orphanage and her bed had been a cage, Saint Melanie’s looked like a prison. The four wings of buildings were tall and dark, three rows of windows on each. They were united in a square shape, a deserted courtyard putting space between the wings. In the middle of it all, there was the statue of a woman who looked in extreme agony. Ava guessed that was Melanie or something.

A black car had picked her up at the orphanage and then it had driven her to the airport. The driver had accompanied her, a man wearing a black suit and sunglasses. He didn’t utter a word through the whole two hours and a half the flight lasted. Then, when Ava landed, another driver wearing the same suit and driving the same car had picked her up and had taken her to the school.

It was in the English countryside, literally in the middle of nowhere. And Ava thought that escaping the place would be impossible, because she would get lost and the nearest town was probably five hours away. She sighed, while the driver stood next to her carrying the bag with the few things she owned.

Ava had the suspicion she wouldn’t have to worry about buying new clothes and sorting her outfits out. She saw a few girls around, wearing black sweaters with white shirts underneath, gray skirts and gray knee-high socks. She wanted to groan so bad.

“Ava Silva?” a woman said, approaching her.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Ava thought to herself when she saw the woman. She was wearing a gray nun habit, her head covered by a matching veil. The only thing visible was her face, sharp and stern, her eyes as black as night. Ava had already had her fill with nuns for the past nine years, she didn’t need more.

“Her dorm is in the third story,” the woman said, pointing to the wing that Ava assumed was where the dormitories and private spaces were. The driver nodded, carrying Ava’s single bag away. “My name is Francis Highmore, but you shall address me as Mother Francis.”

Fucking great.

Ava nodded.

“Have you informed yourself about our institution?” when Ava shook her head, Mother Francis looked at her with disgust. “Queen Victoria founded our institution, and one of her daughters was one of our first students.”

Ava couldn’t care less.

“Ever since then, we have quickly become one of the most prestigious religious schools in Europe. We started as an Anglican institution, but then turned into a Catholic one when the King of Spain decided to sponsor us on 1925.”

Ava wanted to yawn.

“We are devoted to Saint Melanie, ever since our foundation,” the nun stood in front of the Saint’s statue and Ava really thought the woman was about to kneel and pray. “Melania the Younger. She built a monastery for women on the Mount of Olives, and guided them to live a life of purity and prayer. Those are the two pillars in which our institution relies on.”

“Purity and prayer?” Ava wanted to laugh, and she clenched her lips hard so the sound wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She coughed, but Mother Francis saw the way her lips were slowly quirking up.

“Prayer allows your spirit to remain pure, Mrs. Silva,” Mother Francis looked five seconds away from pulling out a gun. “Aside from prayer, our school also focuses on three other important pillars in anyone’s life: learning, attentiveness and leadership.”

Ava thought about the amount of pure thoughts there could be in an institution filled with teenager girls, completely muffling whatever the nun was talking about, trying so hard to keep the laughter at bay.

“We wish for nothing but the best of performances coming from our students,” Mother Francis started to walk away, and Ava followed. “We dedicate five out of the seven hours of prayer to thank God and Saint Melanie for their deeds and for allowing us to see another day. We pray on the Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline hours.”

So Ava would be forced to pray pretty much all fucking day.

“I know you’ve grown up in a Catholic orphanage, so I believe you know what all those words mean,” Mother Francis didn’t even bother to make sure Ava knew what the hell she had just said. “The Lauds and Matins prayers are usually optional, but the majority of our students if not all of them choose to get through them.”

“So they put on an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night and send a prayer for the Big Man?”

Ava let out an amused snort, but Mother Francis was seething in anger. She looked at her, murder in her eyes, but she refrained from sending Ava straight to hell.

“Phones aren’t allowed here.”

“Thank God I don’t own one, then.”

Mother Francis clicked her tongue, probably not appreciating Ava’s gratitude for the man upstairs. The nun continued walking, and then pointed at a girl who was waiting at the other end of the courtyard.

She was also wearing the uniform Ava had seen the other girls wearing, so immaculate compared to her worn jeans and “I love Málaga” shirt, the old gray jacket she had stolen from Diego protecting her from the cold. Her hair was midnight black, perfectly braided, and she was wearing round glasses. Ava always thought round glasses looked silly, but they made the girl look… beautiful.

Her back was straight, her hands clutched behind, and her face was void of any kind of emotion. Ava would lie if she said she didn’t find the girl intimidating, and beautiful. Had she said she found the girl beautiful?

“Beatrice,” Mother Francis said. Beatrice, Ava thought. That name was so beautiful, just like the girl. It fit her. “Meet Ava.”

The only sign of acknowledgement Beatrice offered her was a small but firm nod, and Ava smiled widely at her. “Hey there!”

She was ignored by both of them.

“Beatrice Armstrong-Young is the top student in both your Year and the school,” Ava could’ve sworn Mother Francis sounded… proud. “She's been part of our institution for the majority of her formative years, and she just got back from studying abroad in Switzerland. A true example of everything our school stands for. So she will take it upon herself to show you around, and you shall join us for our noon prayer.”

Mother Francis nodded at Beatrice and then walked away. Ava looked at Beatrice, who had kind of been examining her with furrowed eyebrows, so Ava decided to be very mature and rocked on her feet while offering Beatrice her hand to receive a high-five. The girl looked at the hand, then at Ava, and she didn’t move.

“So,” Ava started to say, putting her hands behind her back but being unable to stop moving. “Top student, huh? Do you speak like… five languages and play six different instruments or?”

“Yes. Follow me.” Beatrice said, her voice low and not even bothering to turn around to make sure Ava was following her. Ava bit her lip, the British accent had always made her feel kind of weak.

Ava hated the way in which her stomach fluttered while she looked at Beatrice walk in front of her. The girl’s back was straightened up, her hands clasped behind. Because of the skirt, Ava could get a small glimpse of Beatrice’s toned legs, and she swallowed audibly.

“Do we have roommates?” Ava asked, trying to fill the tense silence. Beatrice stopped walking, and turned around. The girl looked Ava up and down, as if she was scanning her with invisible X-Rays.

“Yes,” the girl answered, shortly. “You’re mine, in fact.”

“You make it sound as if that was bad,” Ava chuckled nervously, and Beatrice continued to walk. They entered the main building, and Ava guessed it was the wing with all of the classrooms and all judging by the sign in front of her.

“I had the privilege of not sharing my room with anyone,” Beatrice explained, her voice cold and annoyed. Ava hated the way her stomach dropped. “Until now.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me…” Ava muttered, hoping Beatrice wouldn’t hear her. But the girl did, her neck snapping to Ava’s direction and her eyes pretty much filling up with flames.

“Language.” Beatrice commanded, and Ava clenched her lips together.

“Yes, ma’am,” the taller girl rolled her eyes, and pointed at the sign.

“This is the Discere Wing,” Beatrice said, waving her arms around. “It means to learn in Latin.”

“Cool,” Ava said, nodding. The walls were painted in a dark gray, wooden stairs going up and up and up. Though probably every single student of Saint Melanie’s was in this wing right now, you could hear a pin drop.

“Mother Francis has prepared a schedule for you, with all the lessons and subjects you will take,” Ava raised an eyebrow at Beatrice.

“Don’t I get to choose my own learning program?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, as if no one had ever asked her this before.

“The school chooses our learning programs based on our academic record. The orphanage you were staying at probably sent it here already,” Ava let out a humorless laugh, and Beatrice looked at her offended.

“And you agree with that? Not being able to choose what you learn?” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, her face void of emotion.

“The institution has always worked like this,” the girl justified, as if that would fix it. Ava decided to let the subject drop.

“Does everyone know I’m an orphan, or what?” Ava crossed her arms upon her chest. “Is there a banner somewhere welcoming me? With, I don’t know, something like Welcome to Saint Melanie’s, orphan, written on it?”

“No.” Beatrice simply answered, and she left the building again. She didn’t even bother to take Ava around, to show her where her classes would be, to introduce her to anyone. “I believe I’m the only one who knows besides, well, Mother Francis and the teaching staff.”

“For now,” Ava added under her breath, though she was pretty sure Beatrice heard her.

The girl walked towards the eastern wing, which was the smallest of them all. While the rest of the wings were three stories high, the eastern wing was only one story high. They entered it, and Ava was met with some kind of gym.

“This is the dojo,” Beatrice explained. There were girls wearing a Gi, the typical uniform worn to practice karate.

There was a tall woman wearing a black one, a bandana on her head, and she was giving instructions in Japanese. A group of around thirty girls were moving in complete sync, the same blank expression of concentration upon their faces. The only sound in the room was the woman’s instructions, and the stomping of the girls’ bare feet.

“We call this wing the Diligentia Wing,” Beatrice explained, nodding curtly to the instructor and receiving the same type of greeting. “It means attentiveness.”

“And what’s that gotta do with karate?” Ava’s eyes were wide, traveling from girl to girl, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck.

“Martial arts help us concentrate, become attentive to what happens around us,” Beatrice simply explained. “We use this wing not only to do physical education lessons, there also is at least one hour each day dedicated to martial arts.”

“That’s actually… really cool?” Ava smiled at Beatrice, who averted her eyes quickly.

“You will receive a Gi as well as your school uniform and physical education training uniform,” Beatrice turned around and Ava furrowed her eyebrows, confused by the sudden change of topic. Beatrice pointed at the southern building. “The Ducere Wing, where the staff’s offices are located.”

“What does ducere mean?”

“To lead,” Beatrice explained shortly. “Our professors are leading examples for us, and they are the ones who teach us how to become role models and good leaders in the future.”

“Right…” none of them here would be leading the Catholic Church, though. Thank you, patriarchy.

“This one is where the dorms, the study rooms, the refectory and the chapel are located,” Beatrice said, entering the western wing. “The Orare Wing.”

“Oh, I know that one,” Ava said, not excitedly. “To pray.”

“Correct.” Beatrice nodded shortly. “This wing is almost always silent. Each one of the spaces is used to reflect, to rest, and to show silent gratefulness for the opportunity we’ve had into being able to receive the education we do.”

“Discere, Diligentia, Ducere, Orare,” Ava said, pointing each one of the wings in order. “The school’s motto.”

“I see you pay attention,” Beatrice said, eyebrow raised in what Ava guessed was surprise. Ava shrugged. “Follow me. I’ll show you where our dorm is.”

“Are there any elevators in here?” Ava asked, huffing.

Apparently their bedroom was on the top of the building, the last dorm in all of the school and apparently the biggest one because of Beatrice’s status as Head Girl and probably daughter of the richest motherfucker in the British Isles. Ava hoped Beatrice’s answer would be positive.

“No, there are not.” Beatrice said, not even out of breath. No wonder her legs were so toned, the girl probably had requested it herself to be placed on the top of the building. Damn masochist.

They finally reached the upper hallway, each dorm numbered, until Beatrice reached the one at the end. She took out a necklace, a golden key and a cross of the same color dangling from it, and opened Door 310.

Ava let out a gasp. She was sure the Brits would describe what she was feeling right now as positively flabbergasted. Ava, though, would simply call it fucking shocked to the core.

The dorm was separated in two parts, and Ava was sure the second bed on the undecorated side of the room had been untouched ever since Beatrice moved into Saint Melanie’s. The wall was painted in pristine lavender; the floor was made of soft brown wood. It was so different from the way the rest of the school looked like.

Ava looked at what was Beatrice’s side of the room. On the wall there was a mix of all kinds of posters: soccer, bands, art, and surprisingly some activism as well. Beatrice didn’t look like the activist type, but then again she also didn’t look like the type of person who would put up posters of all kinds with no well thought organization whatsoever.

The posters pretty much said save the whales and don’t burn forests, as well as some of the posters portrayed well known women in the world of science. Ava moved her eyes to the massive poster next to them, with… butterflies, in it? Weird, Ava thought, but who was she to judge?

At the end of Beatrice’s bed there was a desk, a silver laptop in the middle and several post-it notes on the wall with little reminders for the girl, the handwriting on them clean and in cursive. Soccer practice at 5pm, piano practice at 7pm. Just like the posters, there was no color coding or anything. The lettering was pristine, yes, but the post-it notes seemed to be chosen randomly and put up in a rush.

At the far end of the room, where Ava guessed now would become no man’s land, there was a keyboard with an open music book on the music stand, two armchairs next to it with a small coffee table where Ava saw a book she guessed Beatrice had been reading. The Stranger by Albert Camus, such a fun book to read at age sixteen.

There was a door on the left side of the keyboard, and Ava pointed at it. “Does that one go to Narnia?”

“No,” Beatrice sounded a little confused. “That’s a private bathroom.”

“Wait…” Ava’s eyes widened. “We have a private bathroom?”

“My parents requested so.” Ava didn’t ask why.

Her eyes moved to two bookshelves sitting on the right side of the keyboard, one of them was empty and the other was filled with books of various themes. Ava recognized books about theology and philosophy, books about history and architecture and science, books about… butterflies, again, as well as the Divergent series and The Hunger Games, The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings, and A Song of Ice and Fire.

Ava let out a gasp when her eyes reached the bottom shelf and she saw a bunch of videogames standing next to one another. She smiled big, turning to look at Beatrice who had been observing her taking it all in quietly.

“You like videogames?” Ava asked, unable to keep calm. Beatrice simply shrugged. “You don’t come off as a gamer!”

“I don’t play, actually.”

“So they’re just for show?” Ava raised an eyebrow and Beatrice didn’t answer to her again. “Why do you have them here?”

“They’re my sister’s,” Beatrice’s voice became oddly distant, her eyes looking at the games once more.

“Oh, you have a sister? There’s another Beatrice walking around, straight back and round glasses and all?”

“Had,” Beatrice corrected her, and Ava didn’t miss the way the girl gulped. Still, no emotion showed on her freckled face.

“Oh…” Ava understood immediately, because it was the same way she talked about her dead mother. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. If you need to talk…”

Ava didn’t expect Beatrice to laugh at her joke about having a doppelganger walking around. In fact, she didn’t expect Beatrice to do nor say anything about it at all, especially after she had used past tense to refer to said sister.

But what she actually didn’t expect, though, was for the girl to look at her as if she was the scum of Earth when she offered her comfort. Her face became red, her eyes shone with anger, and her nose flared. It was the most emotion Beatrice had showed in the almost thirty minutes Ava had known her. She had managed to keep a poker face when her sister had been mentioned, yet Ava offered her a shoulder to cry and...

“Get changed,” was all that Beatrice managed to say, the words choked out. Ava saw the way the girl’s hands were fisted, the way her lips trembled.

Beatrice pointed at Ava’s bed, which she hadn’t even looked at, and she saw the same uniform Beatrice was wearing cleanly folded. There also was a Gi, and a training uniform, as well as different school supplies and a paper with Ava’s schedule.

“I-” Ava started to say, ready to apologize to Beatrice for overstepping any boundaries and thanking her for taking the time to show her around. But Ava didn’t have time, because Beatrice stormed out of the dorm without uttering any other word.

If this would be the only way Beatrice would show any kind of emotion, Ava would rather have the stoicism and poker faces over any rage and choked out words any day.

“Shit,” she muttered, letting out a long sigh and hoping that maybe it wouldn’t be too late to call Vincent and ask him to come pick her up.

*

Ava’s mouth was hanging open, and she was sure there were people wearing fancy suits looking at her with disapproval. Not only because she looked so out of place with her gray beanie, Bowie shirt, ripped jeans and worn out cardigan; but because she was looking like a child on Christmas day.

“What in the futuristic shit is this,” Mary wondered, Kit offering a hum as an agreement.

Suzanne had sent the three of them to do the interview. Ava would be asking the questions, Kit would take notes and Mary would take pictures. She was grateful for that, because if she had been sent alone here she wouldn’t be able to get shit done.

“That’s Jillian’s signature work,” Ava said, her eyes not even knowing where to look. The walls were white, the floor was made of dark stone, futuristic paintings and murals and sculptures everywhere. Ava didn’t feel like she was actually setting her feet on Arq-Tech Industries, but in some kind of museum of modern art. “She mixes her architecture with ecology, using the most sustainable materials possible, and she also is an art nerd so she adds it everywhere.”

“Oh, someone’s done her homework,” Mary said, sounding so little interested in whatever Ava was gushing about, her attention fully focused on the camera sitting on her hands.

“Architecture is art, so…” Kit tried to argue, shrugging their shoulders.

“No, yeah, but you don’t get it,” Ava said gesturing with her hands.

“Exactly, so let’s get going,” Mary said, taking the tripod with her and making her way upstairs. Ava and Kit waited behind, looking at the older girl before she made a U-turn. “I actually have no fucking clue where I’m going.”

“So,” Ava said, sitting down on a sofa she believed belonged to some spaceship. It felt like sitting on stone, but she didn’t care. “I’ve loved this woman ever since I was sixteen. I read an article about her back in the orphanage, but then when I was at Saint Melanie’s, Beatrice had like… every single article Jillian had written on sustainable architecture and engineering printed, and one time I was bored and read about it and I literally fell in love with her again. And then I watched every single interview of hers on YouTube, and-”

“Ava?” Kit said, eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes amused.

“Yeah?”

“We get it, you’re a bottom. But please, relax.”

Ava had always been a rambler, though the first two years of University had been so hard to put a filter on and stomp down the brake whenever she started to talk too much. But then she had let loose once more, while she started to heal and go back to her old self. Yesterday, though, rambling had been almost impossible in Beatrice's presence. She had barely been able to form any full and coherent sentence, too focused on observing the girl and wondering what the fuck was the Universe's problem. Ava gasped at Kit's words though, fake offense displaying on her face, but she decided to keep her hands to herself instead of punching Kit on their arm. “Actually, that’s not true. Ask your mom.”

“Bitch?” Kit almost yelled, and Mary sighed. She sat between the both of them, looking like an annoyed parent.

“I literally hate it when Superion makes the three of us work together,” Ava could tell that Mary was actually enjoying the banter but, as the older between the three of them, she had to act like a responsible person.

“Who’s Beatrice, anyway?” Kit asked, wiggling their eyebrows. Ava opened her mouth to answer.

“That would be me,” that didn’t came out from Ava’s mouth. She turned her neck quickly, feeling it snap and getting severe whiplash from the action.

There she was, in all her glory, looking like fucking Aphrodite getting birthed by the damn sea. Which, okay, that was kind of a weird comparison since the sea foam from which Aphrodite had been born was supposed to represent the discharge from… Uranus’ severed genitals. Ava snorted, trying hard not to giggle. Uranus, she thought, that’s so funny.

She was a twenty-five years old woman, by the way, and her two co-workers and Beatrice were looking at her with slight concern for laughing at her own mental pun.

Beatrice was wearing a white silk shirt, opened down a couple of buttons, the top of the partition between her breasts barely visible but Ava knew it was there. The golden cross necklace was resting against her tanned sternum, this time her hair was in a low bun. Her sleeves were rolled up until her mid-forearm, and she was wearing black skinny jeans.

Ava hated the way her stomach turned and twisted, the same way it did the first time her and Beatrice had met. She had been thinking about it for the last twenty four hours, that first encounter nine years ago and the way Ava somehow found a way to ruin it without even doing anything.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, the three letter word sounding like celestial music. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“That’s Beatrice?” Mary muttered, and Ava nodded.

“Do you think Jade will hate me for drooling?” Kit asked, voice low enough so Beatrice wouldn’t hear.

“You’re not even dating Jade,” Mary pointed out.

“Yet,” Kit argued back.

“H-hey, Beatrice,” Ava said, getting up. Mary and Kit immediately buried the hatchet in order to snort at Ava’s stutter. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh,” Beatrice frowned, looking genuinely confused. “I work here. Didn’t I tell you?”

“I… don’t think so?” if Ava was being honest, she had spent half the time looking at Beatrice’s stunning adult-face when they accidentally (pun intended) ran into one another. She had always been beautiful, but right now Ava failed to find any word that could make justice to the way Beatrice looked.

Ethereal, maybe, though it sounded a bit dramatic. But that was Beatrice’s beauty, the type of beauty Shakespeare wrote about in his dramas.

“Well,” Beatrice opened her arms, and Ava really thought she was inviting her to go for a hug. And she almost opened her arms too, reciprocating what Ava thought Beatrice was trying to do, but then the taller girl dropped them and so did Ava. Though Beatrice's movement had been so gracious, while Ava was sure hers looked as if she'd had a stroke. “Welcome to Arq-Tech. I believe you’re here to interview my mother?”

“Your… what?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows. If she remembered correctly, Beatrice’s last name was Armstrong-Young and not Salvius. Beatrice had mentioned the same the previous day, referring to someone who Ava was sure wasn't Beatrice's mother as her "mother".

“Long story,” Beatrice shrugged and then her eyes finally landed on Mary and Kit.

“They’re here with me. Mary and Kit,” Ava explained, waving her hand dismissively. She could feel the way the both of them looked at her offended.

“Hello,” Beatrice greeted Ava’s co-workers.

“Hey,” Kit said, while Mary replied with “’Sup?”

“Jillian and the rest are waiting upstairs,” Beatrice started to walk up the stairs, and Ava tried so hard (and failed) to not spare a glance to the girl’s backside. She rushed up the stairs, so she could walk next to Beatrice instead. “I apology for making you wait. We were finishing sorting some important things.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Ava said, and Beatrice smiled at her.

“It looks like the Universe wants to bring us back together sooner thant anticipated,” Beatrice told Ava, and the shorter girl didn’t know if it was her imagination or what but Beatrice had kind of lowered her voice, almost whispering, as if she was scheming the fall of an entire empire with Ava.

“Yeah,” Ava said, shortly, and she didn’t miss the slight look of embarrassment on Beatrice’s eyes.

In another life, Ava thought she would’ve felt smug about it. After all, if she had traumas about her sexuality it was mostly because of Beatrice Armstrong-Young. But now, looking at the way Beatrice’s ears slightly blushed at the top and the way she averted her eyes quickly and put her hands in her pockets so Ava wouldn’t see her fidgeting, Ava felt slightly bad. Slightly, only.

“Maybe we should just,” Ava let out a sigh, wondering what the fuck was wrong with her, “exchange numbers and actually text to… you know, hang out and catch up.”

“Oh,” Beatrice said, eyes wide, stopping for a moment. From the corner of her eye, Ava saw the way Kit almost bumped into Beatrice’s ass if Mary hadn’t grabbed them by the arm.

“Sorry,” Ava said, and she felt like that word had been the one she repeated the most when she talked with Beatrice.

“No, no…” Beatrice looked pensive for one short moment, and then offered a small smile. “You’re right. Maybe we should plan this out next time.”

“Yeah,” Ava was betrayed by her facial muscles, and smiled at Beatrice. “Yeah, cool, totally.”

They made the rest of the way up in silence, and Ava hated the way she felt kind of excited over the prospect of getting Beatrice’s number, over the anticipation of being able to text the girl whenever she wanted to. But she wouldn’t, of course not. She would plan a meeting if that’s what Beatrice wanted, to talk about the past and make the girl apologize for what she said.

She’s a Catholic, isn’t she? Ava thought, she has to agree to the whole repent about your sins stuff. And after that, it all will be history and we’ll go our separate ways. Yes, that’s what I will totally do.

*

For some reason, Beatrice couldn’t stop sneaking looks in Ava’s way. The girl simply looked as if she was on a literal amusement park, her eyes wide and trying to be aware of every single detail surrounding her.

Beatrice remembered about the many articles she’d printed back at Saint Melanie’s, still hiding somewhere around her apartment. She had been slightly annoyed at the way Ava had taken possession of them when she forgot to put them in her drawer after she printed them out, but apparently Ava had also grown a hyperfixation over Jillian and they kind of… bonded over the woman?

Sometimes she couldn’t believe her luck, how she had gone from being one of Jillian’s many admirers to befriending the woman’s son to becoming some kind of adoptive daughter to her. It was only in word, Jillian had claimed Beatrice and Lilith as her daughters after taking way too much wine, but the woman had actually acted like the mother neither Beatrice nor Lilith ever had. And she wouldn’t change it for anything else in the word.

Isabella would’ve probably loved Jillian too. She had been six years older than Beatrice, and she would’ve been on her mid-twenties when Beatrice became Jillian’s unofficial daughter. If Beatrice had any idea of who Jillian was, it was because of Isabella. Her older sister had wanted to become an engineer and architect, just like Jillian Salvius, and Beatrice knew Isabella would’ve been totally on board with the whole unofficial-drunk-but actually for real-but without any legal document to prove so-adoption stuff.

Beatrice knew she would’ve never had to go search for a new family if Isabella had been there. They had planned the way Beatrice would join her in Oxford when she would leave Saint Melanie’s, the way Isabella would pull the precise strings to keep Beatrice away from their parents. It was something that had troubled Isabella for a long time, because after all they were their parents, but they never acted like it.

“Am I a bad person for not loving them?” Isabella had asked in the darkness of their Guadeloupe summer home shared bedroom. She was eighteen, a week away from leaving to Oxford, and Beatrice was twelve.

“I think that, no matter how rotten they are, deep down we still love them,” Beatrice whispered back. Isabella was silent for a few moments.

“How do you know, Bea?”

“Because God said so,” Beatrice didn’t hesitate to answer. “He said we must love our parents above anything else.”

“God said many things,” Isabella muttered. “But there’s times where we need to make our own choices.”

That was the only problem she had with Isabella. The more her sister grew older, the more distant she became with the beliefs they had shared once. And Beatrice hated it, because they made her wonder and reflect that maybe her sister had a point.

And then Isabella left to never come back, and Beatrice was left with no one to answer her questions.

Until Ava came into her life like a wrecking ball, like a tornado after having the most serene weather, like a hole opening up in the middle of the ocean and swallowing everything that came close to it.

“Beatrice?” the girl that had been occupying Beatrice’s thoughts for the last years said, a hesitant hand hovering upon Beatrice’s arm.

Ava finally tapped her in the shoulder with her index finger, and it felt like getting electrocuted. Beatrice stiffened unconsciously, and she didn’t miss the way Ava took her hand away as if she, too, had been electrocuted.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, trying to apologize the moment she saw a storm of emotions quickly passing through Ava’s brown eyes. The girl put on a brave smile, though it looked more like a grimace.

“You stalled,” Ava said, taking a couple steps back. Her two co-workers, Mary and Kit, were looking at them both as if they were watching a tennis match.

“Oh,” Beatrice hated the way she sounded so stupid. “I haven’t had much sleep, jet lag and all. Forgive me.”

Beatrice started to walk and made it to the meeting room, where they had arranged it earlier to give it a cozy aura so Ava and her co-workers could feel comfortable. Jillian had moved the couches so Ava could sit on it, snacks and drinks on the coffee table.

“Jillian?” Beatrice said, trying not to call the woman mum like she had been doing ever since she was nineteen.

Jillian Salvius was bended over a sea of documents, Michael and Lilith sitting on the couch. Michael was throwing macadamias up in the air, trying to catch them with his mouth and failing miserably. Lilith was next to him, iced coffee in hand, silently judging Michael’s poor performance.

“Oh, Bea!” Jillian smiled widely at Beatrice. “And company.”

“Holy shit,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice couldn’t help but let out an amused snort. “Jillian Salvius.”

“Ava Silva, if I’m correct?” Ava seemed to forget the little mishap they just had a few moments ago, for her hand found Beatrice’s biceps and she started to tap on it rapidly.

“She said my name, Beatrice. She said my fucking name,” Ava said, finishing her arm-tapping by clutching Beatrice’s bicep. And, all of a sudden, it felt like they were back in their Saint Melanie's dorm room. Beatrice almost squealed in surprise and slight pain, because Ava's grip was surprisingly strong. So she decided to put a hand on Ava’s gripping one, and removed it softly, gently, making sure Ava didn’t think she was grossed out by the contact. She offered a small smile towards Ava, to make sure the message was clear.

God, if only I had done this nine years ago.

“I know,” Beatrice said, softly, and for a second Ava smiled at her the same way she used to do it almost ten years ago. And Beatrice felt her heart hammering hard, her stomach plummeting to the ground. And she found herself smiling wider.

Someone, Beatrice wasn’t sure who, cleared their throat and both girls snapped back to reality. Ava's smile vanished, a look of confusion clouding her eyes, while Beatrice looked at Jillian, a knowing look on the woman's blue eyes. Michael was chewing his macadamia slowly, eyebrows furrowed, while Lilith was sipping slowly from her coffee, one single eyebrow raised in a perfect arch.

“And those things over there,” Beatrice pointed at her siblings, “are Lilith Mateo and Michael Salvius.”

“Hello there,” Michael said, still looking very confused but offering a friendly smile to Ava, Mary and Kit. Lilith didn’t say anything, simply stayed observing the trio. Beatrice shook her head almost imperceptibly, and Lilith sighed.

“Hi.”

“How do you want us to do this, Ava?” Jillian asked, taking the documents in both hands and putting them aside.

“Mary?” Ava asked, looking at the girl. She was wearing a flannel shirt, a bandana on her head and a camera dangling from her neck. Mary hummed.

“Sit on the coach,” she told Jillian. “You too.”

“Me?” Beatrice asked, when she saw Mary was addressing her.

“Yeah,” the girl nodded. “Jillian Salvius and her loving, supportive and very sexy children.”

“And overworked,” Michael added under his breath, making Jillian roll her eyes.

Kit, who had been putting their things on a desk before taking a leather notebook and a pen from their bag, let out a loud snort and then immediately covered their mouth.

“Guys, what the fuck?” Ava asked, her voice panicked, but then Jillian let out a loud laugh as she sat down, Beatrice following behind.

“Don’t worry about it, Ava,” Jillian said and Beatrice didn’t miss the way Ava clenched her lips in order to not let out another squeal. “The formality in this company only applies to the clothes we wear.”

“It’s a family business, by the looks of it,” Ava took a chair, putting it on the other side of the coffee table. Kit decided to sit on top of one of the desks while Mary snapped a picture of the four of them.

Mary clicked her tongue, and then looked at Lilith. “Would it kill you to smile a little?”

“Excuse me?” Lilith raised an eyebrow, and Beatrice saw the way Ava and Kit immediately held their breathing.

“Smiling is a foreign concept for Lilz,” Michael said, looking at his perfectly polished nails.

“Mike,” Beatrice said as a warning, though she was trying to hold her smile when Lilith scowled.

“I can smile,” Lilith tried to defend herself.

“Yeah,” Michael nodded. “When a child trips and falls to the ground.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Lilith rolled her eyes, her twenty-five years old self crossing her arms upon her chest very maturely.

“The life of Jillian Salvius,” the woman said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Beatrice looked at Ava, ready to apologize for the behavior her siblings were displaying, but her stomach filled with butterflies when she saw the soft smile on Ava’s lips, the way her eyes were full of nostalgia. And Beatrice remembered then, how Ava had lost her mother and never met her father. How a priest had taken it upon himself to adopt both her and a boy from her orphanage, Diego, and tried his best to make a life for them. Last thing Beatrice knew, Father Vincent and Diego still lived in Spain. Maybe she could ask Ava to go out for coffee again, after the interview, to catch up and all.

“Looks like a good life,” Ava said, and her eyes met Beatrice’s. Her smile didn’t falter. A small blessing.

“I’m sorry to ruin the fun,” Mary said, who had been secretly snapping shots of the family. Beatrice hoped she had caught her and Jillian looking fondly at Michael and Lilith, how he had smiled brightly and Lilith had smiled for 0.1 seconds at the boy. “But we should really get this thing going.”

“Yeah, her wife Shannon is pregnant and craving food every two hours,” Kit explained. “Thought I would share since we’re talking about family and all.”

Jillian cooed, her lips forming into a pout. “That’s amazing! Boy or girl?”

“We don’t want to know until they’re here,” Beatrice would’ve defined Mary as tough, but right now the girl was looking down at the floor, a soft smile on her lips. “We also want to let them choose whatever they want to be.”

“Modern parenting,” Kit said, shrugging their shoulders. “They need to give my mom several tips.”

“Mother,” Lilith said, putting a hand on Jillian’s shoulders. “Did they come to chat, or to work?”

“You’re so boring,” Michael rolled his eyes.

“I believe we’re the ones stalling them,” Beatrice added, shrugging her shoulders. But Ava seemed to enjoy this way more than going through the list of questions she had probably prepared before coming here. “Forgive us.”

“No…” Ava smiled at her. “This is fine. Actually…”

“Yes?” Jillian asked, when Ava was silent for longer than expected.

“You always get interviewed about your job and achievements in the world of architecture and engineering,” Jillian groaned, annoyed, agreeing with Ava. “And I believe your greatest achievement has been completely ignored.”

“What would that be, Ava?” Jillian raised an eyebrow, and Beatrice found it quite adorable how Ava blushed.

“Family,” Ava finally said, and Jillian smiled. “How would you feel if we talked about that, instead?”

*

The interview had ended up in what Ava would describe as a sobbing festival. Jillian had gotten emotional over talking about Michael, how his childhood had been really hard for both of them because he had been sick most of the time, the struggles she had gone through after deciding to raise him all on her own, how hard it had been for her to travel around and leave Michael behind.

Ava had wanted to ask about Suzanne, if Jillian had ever wished to have Ava’s boss next to her with Michael, but maybe that was a topic that needed discussion over some drinks, which Jillian had promised would happen soon.

“We’ll launch a joint project with Duretti Inc., since we finally got the old man and his lawyer to agree with the contract,” Jillian explained while she walked Ava, Kit and Mary to whatever room she had exiled her three children at in order to carry on with the interview. “The agreement is official, next week we'll have a meeting and sign it all. And so on Wednesday we’ll throw a party, right here, to present it to the world.”

“And I’m invited?” Ava asked, eyes wide. Jillian put a hand on her shoulder, and she felt like screaming.

“You, Mary, Kit and anyone else you want to bring. The more, the merrier,” Jillian, then, lowered her voice. “Plus, free drinks.”

“Shit, don’t do this to me, I’m bankrupt and I’ll have to buy new party clothes,” Ava was sure Jillian already knew the answer she would give to her. She had pretty much been drooling all over the meeting room. “Cool, I’ll ask my friends what they want to do.”

“Tell Suzanne it’s for work,” Jillian then hummed. “And tell her she’s invited as well.”

“Suzanne partying?” Kit laughed, while Mary let out a snort.

“Oh, she was quite the party animal back in University,” Jillian’s blue eyes became clouded with a memory from far away, her smile becoming soft. Ava would have to dig some more. “Ava?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think my children would kill me if you interviewed them?” Ava raised an eyebrow. “You see, you only got my point of view about the whole circus our little family has turned into. I believe it would be interesting if you also had their version.”

“Oh, the victims’ insight…” Ava nodded. “People love that shit.”

“Are you calling me a bad mother?”

A distant memory flashed on Ava’s mind, and she shook her head. “I’ve seen bad mothers. You are, by far, the best mom in the world.”

“Oh, Ava, you’ll make me blush.”

Is Jillian motherfucking Salvius, lesbian icon, architecture and engineering royalty, flirting with me?

Ava opened and closed her mouth several times, while Jillian entered the office her children had been waiting at. Michael was laying on a white coach, throwing a ball up and down the air. This guy was always laying down and throwing stuff in the air, Ava thought. Beatrice was looking at something on her computer on what Ava guessed was her desk, while Lilith was sitting behind another desk and was furiously typing on her phone.

“Is she good?” Jillian asked, pointing at Lilith.

“I think she’s breaking up with Hans,” Beatrice offered as an explanation, her eyes only leaving her computer’s screen to look at Ava and smile at her for one second.

“Fuck that guy,” Michael muttered. “He tried to flirt with me while they were supposedly on a date.”

“Did he?” Kit asked, crossing their arms upon their chest. “Asshole.”

“I know, right?” Michael said.

“Men really ain’t shit,” Mary added, Michael effusively agreeing with her.

“There’s more fish in the sea. Just make sure you catch and eat the right one next time,” Ava tried to offer support. Michael, Jillian and Beatrice went dead silent when Lilith’s eyes landed on Ava, her fingers completely still.

“Uh, actually,” Beatrice cleared her throat. “Lilith is a vegan.”

“Oh,” Ava nodded slowly, feeling like a lamb to the slaughter. Wait, no. Not that. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the vibes,” Kit tried to fix the tense moment, Lilith’s eyebrow slowly arching up.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lilith asked, and Ava heard Kit audibly swallowing.

“I think it’s time we go,” Mary said, putting one hand on Ava’s shoulder and the other on Kit’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. Except you, Lilith. You’re mean.”

“Encountering a lawyer who’s kind is like trying to find a Trump supporter in a gay bar,” Lilith said, going back to her furious typing. Ava sent a quick prayer to whoever Hans was.

“I’ll walk you out,” Jillian said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“No, I’ll do it,” Beatrice got up quickly, almost sending her chair flying. “I, uh… Duretti called asking for you.”

“That motherfucker,” Jillian muttered, and left the room to go to her own office.

“Shall we?” Beatrice said, sending a warning look towards Michael before leaving the office. “How was the interview?”

Mary and Kit walked behind them, as if they knew Ava wanted to have some privacy with Beatrice. Why? She had no fucking clue. And she was annoyed at herself because of it. She could feel seventeen years old Ava being annoyed at her as well, eighteen years old Ava plotting murder.

“Your mom’s amazing,” Ava said, and then her eyes widened. “Jillian, sorry. I meant Jillian.”

“Well,” Beatrice smiled fondly. “She’s my mother, after all.”

“Talking about that,” Ava hid her hands in her cardigan pockets, balancing her tote bag on her shoulder as smoothly as possible. “Jillian made me an offer.”

“And what offer is that?”

“Interviewing you and your siblings,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, “for some extra information.”

“Oh.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Ava stopped walking, and she had the urge to put a comforting hand on Beatrice’s forearm. She had asked that same question to the same girl several times in the past, it had come out of her mouth naturally, as if nine years hadn’t passed at all.

“No, Ava,” Beatrice offered her a small smile, and Ava realized that she barely saw her doing that during the two years at Saint Melanie’s. “It’s the perfect excuse for us to go get some coffee and actually catch up. Plus, Michael loves to brag about his mother so…”

“And Lilith?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows for a second.

“Meet her in a public space, preferably somewhere close to a police station.”

A joke.

Beatrice Armstrong-Young, the girl who had walked around Saint Melanie’s with a straight back and the biggest poker face Ava had ever seen, the girl who had huffed disapprovingly at Ava’s puns about Jesus and had believed herself only second to God, had just made a joke.

And Ava, unable to control herself like it always happened when she had been around Beatrice, laughed the most genuine and loud laugh she had been able to produce in a long, long time.

“Holy shit, Beatrice,” Ava said, wiping a single tear from her eye. Beatrice hadn’t laughed, she simply smiled while a look of pride invaded her brown eyes. “Good one.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Beatrice put her hands on her pockets. “You were quite the comedian, if memory serves me well.”

“Memory serves you splendidly well, mate,” Ava said in a fake British accent Beatrice used to hate a lot. By the way the taller girl rolled her eyes; Ava guessed she still disliked it.

Ava looked back at Mary and Kit who, as if on cue, decided to look up at the vaulted ceiling and pretend as if it was the coolest thing they had ever seen. For Ava, honestly, it truly was.

“Well,” Beatrice finished to walk the last few steps towards the main door, Ava and the other two following behind. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah,” Ava meant it, though she felt as confused as she had felt nine years ago when she came across the estrange marvel that Beatrice Armstrong-Young was.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Beatrice dug out a small card from her shirt’s pocket and then handed it to Ava. “Call or text whenever you need to, for the interview or… anything else, really.”

Beatrice Armstrong-Young was never nervous, or that’s what Ava remembered. She didn’t miss the way her fingers trembled slightly when she offered the card with her handwritten phone number on it, or the way her forearms filled with goose-bumps when her fingers slightly brushed with Ava’s.

Who are you, Beatrice? What have you turned into?

“Yes, expect a text from me around… three in the morning?” Beatrice let out a low chuckle.

“I’ll probably be awake,” Ava already knew that, and she was afraid it was a bad habit she herself had forced upon the girl nine years ago.

Her mind had always been going at one million miles the hour, especially at night, so having a roommate was useful for her to vent and, eventually, Beatrice fell into the bad habit of staying up until late at night talking about anything that crossed her mind.

“Cool,” Ava offered a hand to Beatrice, and the girl took it hesitantly. Ava gave it a firm shake. “Nice chatting with you, lad.”

“Your British accent still needs work,” Beatrice said, and Ava rolled her eyes as a farewell.

She knew Beatrice stood in the company’s entrance and didn’t go back to her office until Ava climbed behind Kit’s car, Mary calling shotgun. And after spending most of her morning sitting in front of her idol, her first woman crush, and discovering one of the most intimate parts of Jillian Salvius, Ava only had one single thought in her mind.

Who are you, Beatrice Armstrong-Young? If you were a mystery before, I don’t know what to call you right now.

But she would discover it. Soon.

Chapter Text

Nine years ago

It looked like October was in a rush to arrive, taking away any summer-like weather which had remained throughout September. Ava remembered the way October felt back in Spain, how the sun still shone brightly and the birds chirped and there were some days where you could still wear a short sleeved shirt. Not at Saint Melanie’s, though. She felt as if she needed another sweater and another pair of socks upon the ones she was already wearing.

The views were beautiful, though. The trees and grass on the countryside had gone from a yellowish-green to full oranges and browns and reds. And though Ava hated the school, she loved staying in her dorm with her cozy blankets reading a book while Beatrice was completely MIA.

Something that Ava had prided herself on was the way in which she made friends so easily. She was charming, and she loved to talk and ask questions, and she didn’t know why but she also had the ability to make people feel comfortable enough around her. It had been like second nature, something she had inherited from her mother.

Her mother had owned a library-cafeteria back in Porto, and for the six years Ava had the pleasure to meet the woman, she had observed the way she always smiled at everyone and asked them questions without being overbearing. She had observed the way everyone smiled back at Patricia, her mother, the way how even the gruffest person in all of Portugal would immediately light up whenever Patricia Silva smiled at them.

Whenever Ava thought about her mother, there was one single word coming up in her mind: comfort. Patricia Silva had been comfort, with her beautiful brown eyes and brown hair that Ava had inherited as well. Her mother had been the warm tea Ava took every afternoon when the weather was colder than usual, her mother was like laying down into a soft bed with fresh sheets after a tiring day, her mother felt like taking a cup of hot chocolate and reading a book in front of the fireplace on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

And so when Ava thought about Patricia Silva, she felt comfort. She thought of the sparkly brown eyes which reminded Ava of freshly brewed coffee (just like Beatrice’s eyes), of her loud and infectious laugh, or the way she danced around their Porto apartment while carrying Ava in her arms, the both of them falling into their small and old couch and laughing until their bellies hurt while Amália Rodrigues played in the background.

So when she lost her mother on her sixth birthday, because a drunk driver decided to collide into them while they were on vacation in Spain during a rainy day of July, Ava had stopped feeling comfort.

She had spent a whole year barely speaking, laying down in a bed without being able to feel anything from head to toe for two years before she could undergo surgery and, thereafter, an exhausting and long process of recovery.

And then Diego came, her new roommate, who was only two years younger than her. And he also had warm brown eyes and a loud laugh, and Ava couldn’t help but feel as if he had been sent by Patricia herself so Ava would feel comfort again.

Vincent had told Ava that pain could make us become the worst version of ourselves, a faraway look in his eyes, while Diego had also voiced the way it was important to keep the good memories close instead of focusing on what had caused us so much pain.

And Ava refused to become anything but the version her mother would have wanted her to be. So she started to fight the pain, and she started to fight to go back to who she used to be. And, at almost nine years old, she decided that she would rather make people smile and laugh over giving them the cold shoulder any day. Because she had seen the big smile on Diego’s face and had heard Vincent chuckling, and she thought maybe it would be worth trying.

So she was kind of shocked when, after Beatrice came back to their dorm that first day they met and barely looked at her direction, the girl didn’t even move a muscle on her face when Ava threw in her natural charm and easy smile to fix whatever she had accidentally broken.

She’s just having a rough day , Ava thought to herself. But apparently Beatrice had a rough day every single day for the month and a half they had been sharing the dorm. Every time Ava attempted to talk, Beatrice put on her headphones and played the music on her MP3 while she studied or read or did anything to avoid communication. Every time Ava made a joke, Beatrice looked as stiff as a cardboard. And Ava hadn’t felt that much lonely ever since she had lost her mother.

It wasn’t only Beatrice, though. Everyone at Saint Melanie’s either avoided Ava like the plague, or they snickered behind her back and threw pitiful but also mocking looks her way. She wondered why, but then she remembered she was surrounded by the daughters of the richest people in Europe and probably the whole world. She remembered one of Queen Elizabeth’s many nieces shared her History lessons, or how the daughter of the Crown Prince of Here and There shared her physical education class.

She had made friends at Saint Michael’s Orphanage because everyone shared one common thing: not having parents. Here, it was the main variable that differentiated Ava from the rest.

The only one who hadn’t made fun of her yet for having a dead mother and an absentee father was Beatrice, and Ava kind of wished she did. This way, the taller girl would’ve shown some emotion towards Ava, and every second they spent together in their dorm (which was mostly in the morning when they got ready to go to class and at night before going to bed) wouldn’t feel as unbearably suffocating as it did.

But not everything was lost. There were days where Beatrice might have been in a better mood, and she offered a hum or a three letters word as response to Ava’s constant questioning and never-ending rambling. And Ava felt slightly better when she realized Beatrice barely interacted with anyone, or the way everyone seemed to be slightly intimidated by the girl.

One time, she remembered how she had gone down for breakfast after the morning prayer and a couple of girls muttered something along the lines of “look at the malnourished orphan”. Ava hadn’t seen her, but Beatrice had been silently walking behind her. She didn’t say anything, simply looked at the girls and they immediately shut up. And Ava couldn’t help but smile smugly at the girls, wiggling her eyebrows, completely ignoring the way Beatrice brushed past her and sat as far away from Ava as possible.

Beatrice presence in any space was quiet but also strong. They shared a few lessons, though Beatrice took a more scientific study program and Ava’s was inclined to social studies. But yet, they shared History class, Spanish class, Latin class and Economics. And while Ava preferred to sit at the back of the room and Beatrice sat almost in the front row, Ava could see the way everyone went quiet when Beatrice entered a room.

They also shared their martial arts lessons, and Beatrice was a pro at it. There was one girl nicknamed Crimson because of her ginger hair which had tried to be better than Beatrice at aikido. Beatrice let the girl have her protagonist moment once, letting her win, and Ava didn’t miss the way the rest of the girls stiffened and held their breathing when Beatrice, clutching her right side, straightened her body and saluted Crimson. The next day, Crimson didn’t have a chance.

“She’s so cool,” Ava couldn’t help but whisper at the girl kneeling next to her, eyes wide and mouth spread in a smile. To her horror, Crimson heard it and the way her blue eyes promised revenge at Ava was a story worth of telling on a Stephen King novel.

Crimson found Ava that same Friday, when she was leaving the library with a brand new book to read for her World History lessons. The hallway in which Crimson pretty much cornered her was deserted at that time of the day on a Friday afternoon, when lessons were over and some of the older girls were allowed to go down to the nearest town for a walk, many others taking the time to hang out in the common rooms.

For being the same age as Ava, the girl was extremely tall and her face looked as if she had seen (and instilled) many, many horrors.

“You,” Crimson sneered, and before Ava could see it coming the girl’s fist collided with Ava’s nose. She fell to her knees, her book flying away and droplets of blood falling into the wooden floor.

“Seriously?” Ava said, refusing to cry, remembering the few movements she had learned back in the martial arts lessons and hoping she would be able to pull them out. “On the nose much?”

Crimson’s foot crashed on Ava’s left side and, this time, she couldn’t help but whimper in pain. Still, she hadn’t missed the way her previous impassiveness had annoyed the girl. “Ow, that one kind of hurt.”

Crimson’s body loomed upon hers, and she saw the girl was ready to grab Ava by the collar when an arm collided with Crimson’s and stopped the taller girl. When Ava’s eyes moved to see who had been her savior, she saw Beatrice wearing comfortable street clothes. Her round glasses were nowhere to be seen, her hair was on a low bun, and her hard eyes promised murder.

“You need a lesson in camaraderie,” Beatrice simply said, her voice cold, her eyes never leaving Crimson’s. The redhead girl smiled viciously at her new prey.

“You’re going to teach me?” Crimson raised an eyebrow, Beatrice’s face remained blank and her breathing was calm. “I’ve already beaten you once,” Crimson added, trying to get a reaction out of Beatrice.

“Sometimes you need to lose a battle to win a war.”

And that was enough for Crimson’s face to match the color of her hair and start another physical fight. She moved her left arm, and Beatrice easily avoided it from colliding against her face moving swiftly aside.

“Left hook,” Beatrice said, predicting and stopping Crimson’s attack. “Right handed chokehold,” Beatrice added, calmly, while she took Crimson’s right arm down and her forearm collided with the redhead’s throat.

Beatrice is a badass , Ava thought (and she was pretty sure she also said it out loud). Despite her nose and side throbbing in pain, despite the blood falling down her nose and onto her shirt, she couldn’t help but smile big at the way Beatrice easily beat Crimson’s ass without getting a hair out of place.

“Bit of an opening on your left,” Beatrice said, not even out of breath, her right leg going straight up and colliding with Crimson’s angry face.

“My right,” Beatrice said, talking about her unprotected right side, casually walking around Crimson while looking down at the girl who was bending over. “Just say when.”

Ava saw Beatrice’s small smirk, looking kind of smug after giving Crimson a lesson. Her eyes then found Ava’s, roaming through the girl’s face and becoming slightly angry. That second of distraction, though, was enough for Crimson to straighten up and lift her left leg so it would collide with Beatrice’s unprotected right side.

“When,” Crimson said, victory written all over her face.

“No!” Ava, feeling as if some holy source of power had overcome her, got up quickly and tackled Crimson to the ground. With the motion, Beatrice also fell on her ass a few steps away.

“Ava!” Beatrice got up quickly, making her way to Ava when she let go of Crimson and sat on the floor.

Ava saw Beatrice’s panicked look and she was not sure if it was because she actually was worried about her, or because she was scared she would get expelled or something for engaging on a physical fight. Plus, the way she had yelled Ava’s name could either be in annoyance, warning or concern.

Beatrice dropped in front of Ava and her left hand was on Ava’s upper right arm, the other was lifting her chin up so she could inspect Ava’s swollen nose. Ava, on instinct, wrapped her hand around Beatrice’s left wrist, suddenly needing the physical contact when Crimson got on her knees and looked back at them both.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Ava didn’t know where the fuck did Mother Frances come from, but she was standing on the other end of the hallway. Her hands were on her hips, eyebrows furrowed and beady eyes traveling from one girl to the other.

Then, she saw the way Beatrice was helping Ava and the way Crimson was muttering several curses under her breath. And Mother Frances immediately assumed that Beatrice had been the one helping Ava, Crimson the instigator of the fight. Which okay, it was true, but it also made Ava wonder who the hell was Beatrice and why did she have such an influence on literally everybody in this school to the point where she was untouchable.

“You,” Mother Frances said, looking at Crimson. “Pack your bags. You’re expelled.”

“But she-” Crimson said, looking back at Beatrice.

Ava would have felt slightly bad for Crimson, after all she was an empath and couldn’t help it, but Beatrice’s hand was still resting on her upper arm. The other one had left her chin already, but Ava could still feel her gentle touch. And that, for Ava, was a second victory in a row.

Mother Frances eyes didn’t leave Crimson. The girl got up, looked back at Ava and Beatrice, and for a second it looked like she was about to spit at them. She only muttered one word, bitch, before walking away. To whom she was referring, Ava still doesn’t know.

“And you,” the nun said, her voice filling with disgust. Ava didn’t even have to ask if she was talking to her. “Go get that fixed.”

“I will accompany her,” Beatrice said, her voice even more authoritative than the Headmistress’. Mother Frances nodded curtly and left. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Ava said, but groaned when her left side screamed in pain. “Fuck, I think she broke my rib.”

“Language,” Beatrice simply said, but Ava couldn’t ignore the way her brown eyes filled with concern. She put a hand on Ava’s left side, touched in a few spots and then hummed. “It’s not broken.”

“Praise the Lord,” Ava said, letting out a small chuckle. This time, she got an eye roll. Progress.

“The infirmary is not far,” Beatrice said. Ava put a protective hand across her stomach and Beatrice separated her body from hers. “Come.”

Ava struggled to go down the stairs, her legs becoming sore. She hadn’t talked to Beatrice about the accident, she hadn’t told her why many days after the martial arts lessons or physical education, she came into the room limping. She hadn’t told Beatrice what the scars on her knees meant when she was sleeping in shorts, and if Beatrice ever caught a glance of the scar that went from the top to the bottom of her back, she never asked questions.

Beatrice, though, offered her a silent arm and Ava took it. She didn’t miss the way Beatrice stiffened, though, even if she had been the one to offer the support. And she was quick to drop the arm once they reached the threshold.

They walked in silence, until Beatrice reached the infirmary’s door. They stood in front of the door awkwardly, and then Beatrice cleared her throat and opened it. She entered first, leaving the door open for Ava.

“Hello?” Beatrice said, looking around the deserted infirmary. When she got no response, she looked back at Ava and tried to mask how uncomfortable she felt.

Ava hadn’t developed any telepathic abilities yet, but she was sure Beatrice was having an internal battle over whether she should leave Ava to her own devices or if she should stay. Ava was hoping Beatrice would stay, scared at the thought of Crimson coming back and stabbing her with some scissors.

“Sit there,” Beatrice pointed at the stretcher, and Ava obeyed. “I believe Mrs. Jarvis isn’t here.”

“Who’s that?”

“The nurse.”

“Oh.”

Beatrice looked around her, and she immediately found a cabin with medical supplies in it. She took a pack of gauze, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a tube Ava guessed was cooling cream. The girl then took a stool and dragged it in front of the stretcher Ava was occupying. She sat down, and her brown eyes looked at Ava hesitantly.

“I can do it myself,” Ava shrugged her shoulders. “You can go do… whatever you do on a regular Friday afternoon.”

I wouldn’t know , Ava thought, since the girl had avoided sharing a space with Ava as much as possible.

To her surprise, Beatrice let out a huff of air. Ava would’ve thought it was an annoyed one, if it wasn’t for the amused sparkle on her eyes or the slight arch of her lip corner.

“You’ve proved to me you need constant vigilance enough times,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, her lips going back to their usual straight line but the spark in her eyes remaining. “Plus, she might find you here.”

“So the first time you talk to me in a month and a half is to make fun of me?” Ava raised an eyebrow and Beatrice’s eyes widened for a second in surprise. Her shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw Ava was joking and then she proceeded to pour some of the alcohol in the gauze.

“This might sting,” Beatrice warned, and Ava didn’t miss the way her hand trembled slightly when it hovered upon her nose.

“I can do it on my own, seriously,” Ava said, but Beatrice shook her head.

“It’s better if someone helps you out,” Beatrice swallowed, and then she gently rubbed the gauze on Ava’s bloody nose.

“Oh, filho da puta!” Ava couldn’t help but gasp, and she looked at Beatrice ready to commit murder.

“Forgive me,” the girl simply said. Ava fisted her hands on her thighs, biting her cheek so she wouldn’t let out another blasphemy.

In different circumstances, Ava would have enjoyed having a pretty and mysterious girl literally rubbing the pain away. But, right now, her eyes were tearing up and she was ready to cry like a damn baby.

Beatrice finished cleaning up the blood, and Ava could feel her nose had stopped bleeding but it felt stuffed and heavy upon her face. Beatrice’s eyes roamed around her face, and they traveled down to the grey sweater Ava had stolen from Diego. Usually, on Fridays and the weekend, they could wear casual clothes around the school and Ava enjoyed it, though it meant being the butt of the bankrupt orphan jokes because she happened to own second-hand clothes.

“You look like a mess,” Beatrice muttered, disapprovingly. Ava couldn’t help but smirk at her.

“You should see the other girl, then,” Ava wiggled her eyebrows and Beatrice, shockingly, let out a snort.

“I did all the work, Ava,” Ava decided that having Beatrice talking to her in full sentences after a month and a half of silence was great, but having Beatrice making dry jokes to her? Fucking awesome.

“Hey, about that,” Ava felt suddenly nervous, her hands fidgeting, while Beatrice took the tube of cooling cream. “Thank you. You could’ve gotten into trouble for me.”

“Yes, I could,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, as if she suddenly had realized that once the adrenaline was gone. “But…”

“Yes?” Beatrice took a few seconds to gather her thoughts and Ava waited.

“I don’t like the way people are treating you,” Beatrice almost muttered those words, as if she was a child who had just been caught breaking some kind of rule. “I’m sorry I haven’t done anything sooner.”

“You don’t have to,” Ava wanted to put a hand on Beatrice’s cheek, but she refrained herself. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“You’re my dorm mate,” Beatrice argued, as if that was reason enough to become Ava’s knight in shining armor. If that happened, though, Ava wouldn’t complain.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Ava said, sniffing and almost punching the wall because it hurt to move her face. “I overstepped a boundary.”

“That… is true,” Beatrice gave up trying to make up an excuse. “But I should also…”

“Beatrice,” Ava wasn’t really used at saying the girl’s name. She usually greeted and addressed her by saying hey or nodding at the girl, because it had felt as if she hadn’t been allowed to say the word. As if she could only call Beatrice by her name after going through some kind of life threatening test. Maybe tackling Crimson had been that test.

“Yes?”

“Let’s just… forgive and forget?” Ava extended a hand towards Beatrice, and the girl looked at it as if she was looking at some kind of biological hazard. After going through another internal battle, Beatrice shook her hand firmly.

“Forgive and forget,” Beatrice said, nodding once, the corner of her lip going up for a couple of seconds longer than usual.

Things shifted after that encounter in the hallway. Ava discovered Beatrice barely stepped a foot in their dorm because the girl was pretty much busy twenty four hours a day, on Mondays and Wednesdays with her soccer and martial arts practice, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays she also had multiple language and musical instrument lessons. On Fridays and the weekend, Beatrice also enjoyed to hide herself in the library and get the assignments they had for the following week all done. So she could fully focus on her extracurriculars and get ahead of their assignments during the following week, and so on and on and on.

Ava truly admired the girl’s willpower, while she decided to pull all-nighters to complete her assignments after neglecting them throughout the week so she could nap and read. Beatrice looked at her disappointed whenever she made a sporadic stop in their dorm between lesson and lesson, prayer and prayer, practice and practice, and Ava was always sprawled on her bed in the most weird positions reading a book or snoring soundly.

Ava was also pretty sure Beatrice had caught on with her struggle to focus, both at class and whenever she was spinning around her chair trying to do work. The evenings were quiet, and Ava would usually be sweating over her homework while Beatrice would let herself be relaxed for once in her life, laying barefoot on her bed, silently reading a book.

Ava would start doing her work, stopping five minutes in and asking Beatrice about her day. “It was good,” Beatrice would always answer, eyes glued on her book, not bothering to elaborate. And then Ava would continue, legs going up and down and fingers tapping on the desk. Sometimes she would hum a song, other times she would turn around and simply ask Beatrice for an answer to whatever question she was struggling to get done.

“Beatrice,” Ava would say, and Beatrice wouldn’t answer. And Ava wondered if the girl was ignoring her again, but then she would look at her and see her ears were covered with earphones. And then a pencil would fly across the room, and land on Beatrice’s lap.

“What?” Beatrice would take an earphone out, eyebrow raised, and Ava would smile innocently even though she had seen Beatrice going into full aikido master mode.

“Help me with the Latin text translation,” Beatrice would look at her, stoically, and Ava would roll her eyes. “Please.”

“Fine.”

The taller girl would set her book aside, take her headphones out, and drag her chair next to Ava’s. And Ava was sure Beatrice noticed the way she furiously blushed because of the close proximity, or the way she stumbled over her words because of the tension and, sure, her dyslexia too. But she 99% blamed it on her constant gay panicking when Beatrice was closer to her than usual, when the girl’s cotton and vanilla scent would fill Ava’s personal space.

But Beatrice didn’t say anything about Ava’s evident struggle. She simply kept a safe space between them, Ava wanted to make a joke about how it was reserved for the Holy Spirit and all, but they weren’t there yet. And Beatrice didn’t look annoyed when Ava stuttered over a word, or when she messed up, or when her writing was too fast and changed the letters. So Ava didn’t want to change that.

“Sapere,” Beatrice would correct her gently, the tip of her finger pointing at the word. Or then she would silently give Ava her rubber, and Ava would furrow her eyebrows, and Beatrice would simply point out she had written a B instead of a P.

“Sorry, I’m stupid,” Ava would groan in frustration, especially after a long day or a long assignment involving long texts and writing. Beatrice’s brow would wrinkle, as if she was suddenly questioning the Universe’s existence.

“You’re not,” the girl would say, and that was enough for Ava to carry on.

Whenever one of the nuns clicked their tongue at her or chose her on purpose to read in front of the class, taking any chance they got to humiliate Ava, whenever one of the rich girls would snicker because she read the wrong word, Ava would swallow the embarrassment down and remember Beatrice saying she wasn’t stupid.

The way the other girls treated her also changed. They didn’t interact with her, after all she still was the poor bankrupt orphan who had gotten into school because of some miracle happening and she still was below them all. But they started to keep their distance and they only looked her way sporadically, especially when Beatrice was around.

Ava knew her and Beatrice weren’t friends, but Ava followed the girl around any chance she got. After Beatrice’s fight with Crimson, Ava felt some kind of strange comfort whenever the girl was around. She was safe, because being glued to Beatrice’s side meant no one would giggle at her whenever she walked around the school, and sharing a class with Beatrice meant that no one would laugh at her for misreading something. So, Beatrice kind of became her protector.

“Where are you going?” Ava asked when Beatrice gathered her things and stood up to leave the study room.

“I have to go to my classic guitar practice,” Beatrice explained to her calmly, already accustomed at the way Ava slightly panicked whenever Beatrice left.

“Beatrice,” at the urgency in her voice, the taller girl stopped her movements. “Crimson’s friends have kind of been following me around.”

Ava pointed at the group of four girls briefly, who of course had been looking their way. They looked like hungry lions, waiting for their prey to be alone and unprotected. Beatrice pursed her lips.

“Come with me,” the girl said, sounding as if reaching that decision had drained her.

“Wait, where?”

“To my guitar lesson, of course,” Beatrice continued putting her things bag in her back.

“But I can’t play guitar,” the taller girl shrugged, as if it wasn’t her problem.

Ava had spent most of her time unable to move properly back in the orphanage, spending most of her days with strained and trembling muscles after the surgery and the heavy recovery she went through afterwards. Not that Ava had told Beatrice, though.

“It’s never too late to learn,” Beatrice supported her backpack on one shoulder, waiting for Ava. She scrambled up, gathering her things quickly, and followed Beatrice out. “Also, I believe you need extra self defense lessons.”

“What?”

“And you look like the type who would enjoy theatre and choir.”

“Are you serious?” Beatrice looked at her, eyebrow slightly arched, and it was enough for Ava to guess that the girl was, in fact, being very serious.

So Ava started to take guitar lessons and she was surprisingly good at it, as well as she joined Beatrice in her aikido, jiu jitsu and muay thai lessons. Apparently, Ava had so much rage and energy bottled up inside of her and spending time punching and kicking and tackling others to the ground worked wonders. Plus, it was a blessing for Beatrice because it tired Ava out and she slept at night.

She also joined theatre and choir, and was surprised to be surrounded by the part of the student body who didn’t believe themselves as holier than thou for owning a couple billion dollars. Sure, they looked at her with pity and the conversations they started with Ava were forced, but at least there was no snickering nor orphan jokes whenever she was present.

Beatrice was also at choir, and Ava fell in love with the girl’s singing voice immediately. She wasn’t the soloist, a girl called Leighton was, and Beatrice stood more in the background rather than the front row as she usually did at class since she was the top student and all. Ava was placed close to her and she could hear her voice clearly. And it was, probably, the last sign she needed to fully confirm Beatrice might have been another gift her mother had sent to her after watching her being separated from Diego.

Ava started to copy Beatrice’s routine of trying to get ahead of her assignments so she could also focus on her extracurricular lessons. Though Ava still saved part of her weekends to be lazy, and she realized Beatrice started to show up more often in their dorm during the weekends and Fridays. Sure, she still busied herself with next week’s assignments, but she now did them in their dorm while Ava was reading or napping.

The company Beatrice offered Ava wasn’t friendly, but it was quiet and comfortable and steady. Beatrice didn’t talk much, in fact she spent most of her time blasting her favorite Vivaldi classics through the headphones attached on her MP3 while Ava was reading quietly.

And it wasn’t like they spent time together like friends do. Ava followed Beatrice around whenever they had to go to the same place, they greeted each other quietly in the mornings and said a quiet goodnight when it was time to sleep. But that was enough for Ava, Beatrice’s quiet presence in her life. And suddenly Saint Melanie’s wasn’t as bad, when she had the girl next to her shielding her from the mean rich girls.

Until the nightmares came back.

It always happened when Christmas or her birthday was around the corner, the bad memories and the pain more present than other days. Ava had made it a point to turn the pain into love and all that, she had succeeded into remembering the good things about her mother instead of that damned day.

Her birthday also marked the anniversary of Patricia Silva’s death, and Ava couldn’t help but remember the six Christmases she only got to spend with her and how it didn’t feel enough, how she wished she could get her mom’s personal signature hot chocolate with marshmallows even when both of them would be old and wrinkly. How she hoped that, someday, Patricia could do that with Ava’s children and maybe even her children’s children. But Patricia Silva barely got time to enjoy the company of her daughter, and Ava Silva barely got time to enjoy the company of her mother.

November had only just begun, Christmas was still away and Ava’s birthday wouldn’t be until July. So she really had no clue why the car crash came up again in her dreams when she was asleep, she had no clue why she dreamed about her mother dying in infinite different ways and Ava could never save her, how that sentiment of guilt she felt on her nightmare had accompanied her for sixteen years.

“What were you supposed to do?” Diego had asked her on her sixteenth birthday, when she couldn’t help but cry because she was only two years away from being an adult. And Patricia wouldn’t be there to see her menina become a mulherzinha. “You were six years old, Ava. It’s not like you could’ve stopped the other car, or drive away, or it wasn’t like you had super powers to stop the pouring rain.”

And he was right, but the guilt remained. And it wasn’t because Ava thought she could’ve done something, she was an actual realist. The guilt was an everlasting presence, because there would come to a point where Ava would have celebrated more Christmas and birthdays than her mother did in her lifetime. And that shit kind of hurt.

So she felt the cold sweat clinging into her skin and her body moving restlessly on her bed, the sheets crumbled around her and her pillow fell to the ground, before she could open her eyes and realize she was dreaming. Ava knew it was a dream, yet she couldn’t bring herself to wake up.

Ava could feel her rapid breathing, she could feel the tears falling down her cheeks and her uncontrolled sobs. She could feel the same word coming out of her mouth over and over again. No, no, no, no. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, which were closed tightly, and she couldn’t make her body and brain cooperate.

Until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, a soft voice calling her name in the middle of the night.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, and Ava could feel the concern in the girl’s voice and the way her hand’s grip became slightly tighter. “Ava, wake up.”

And, as if on command, Ava let out a gasp and her eyes went wide while she sat up.

Beatrice was kneeling on the ground, raven dark hair falling down and brown eyes looking at her sleepily but concerned. She had turned Ava’s light lamp on, filling the room in a soft orange glow. It was furiously raining outside, the wind knocking on their window as if it was a stranger asking for permission to enter their room. And Ava remembered how that day it had also rained, how the wind had howled, how the drunk driver had lost control and how their old blue Citroën hadn’t been able to stop in time.

“Fuck,” Ava raised her knees and supported her forehead on them, her arms circling her legs and acting as a shield.

This time, Beatrice didn’t correct her language. Instead, Ava could feel the girl’s hand hovering on her back awkwardly, hesitantly, not really knowing what to say or do. She remembered the way Diego had also walked from his bed to hers whenever she had a nightmare, how he shook her awake and hugged her fiercely until she calmed down.

So, as if she was on autopilot, Ava turned towards Beatrice and before she could stop herself she circled the girl’s back and buried her face in the crook of Beatrice’s neck. Her hands clutched Beatrice’s cotton shirt, and she could feel the pounding of the girl’s heart beat through her back. Ava could also feel the way her tears dampened Beatrice’s shirt, but for some reason she was unable to control herself and cried into Beatrice’s neck.

She was a long way from home, from Diego and Vincent and the friends she had made in the orphanage. Shit, Ava even missed the old creaking bed and the nuns that took care of her, no matter how rough and rude some of them were. She missed staying up until after curfew giggling with Diego, how the both of them slowly became hormonal teenagers and started to talk about dating other people and having sex in the future while in the secrecy of their bedroom. How Diego had told her he had seen one of the boys naked in the common shower and how he had kind of liked it, more than the naked girls he saw in the adult magazines the older orphans snuck around in exchange of candy or money. And Ava confessed in the darkness of their room that she might be attracted to both boys and girls, but especially girls made her feel in some kind of way she never felt before.

Ava remembered how Diego helped Ava to write a Valentine’s day letter for Carla, the first girl Ava fell in love with when she was around twelve years old (she discovered she was in love with Carla much later), when her arm muscles still felt like jelly and holding a pencil properly was quite the struggle for her. Diego guided her hand through the paper, while she recited what she had wanted to say.

And she remembered the way Vincent caught her and Carla holding hands and kissing in the hallway instead of being at class when they were around fourteen, how he didn’t yell at them and the only reason he scolded them was because they had chosen a spot where any nun could see they had skipped class. And then Ava found Vincent, and begged him for forgiveness.

“What are you sorry for, Ava?” Vincent asked, his kind brown eyes looking down at her.

“Because the Bible says… it says Adam and Eve,” Ava said, not voicing what had been rounding her mind ever since Vincent had seen her with Carla. And the priest simply smiled at her.

“Don’t ever apologize for loving someone, because God is all about love and acceptance. It’s humans who choose to twist a message that’s loud and clear,” Vincent ruffled her hair, and Ava felt as if an invisible weight had been taken off her shoulders.

For some reason, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do this here. She wouldn’t be able to hold Beatrice by the hand if she wished to, or she wouldn’t be able to write her a Valentine’s Day letter nor kiss her on the cheek. She felt like Mother Frances wouldn’t tell her God was all about love and she shouldn’t be ashamed.

God, she missed home so fucking much. She missed Vincent and Diego, she missed her mom and she missed Porto and the way its port glowed with what Ava believed where fairy lights back when she was little. She missed the smell of the sea, the way seagulls and a bright sun would wake her up no matter what time of the year it was.

And because of that, she cried in Beatrice’s neck. She cried because she didn’t have friends here, because her family was far away and because she had never felt as lonely as she had felt for the last two months.

But Ava didn’t let go of Beatrice, her hands remained clutching the girl’s shirt and she kept sniffling on Beatrice’s neck. She could feel the soft scent of cotton and vanilla that Beatrice carried wherever she went, giving Ava the comfort she was seeking so badly.

Ava felt one of Beatrice’s hands landing gently but also hesitantly on her middle back and the other hovered at the back of Ava’s head for a few long seconds. Ava heard Beatrice breathing deeply and she imagined the girl looking like a knight getting ready for battle. Because, for Beatrice, showing any ounce of emotion was a battle. But then, the hand that had been suspended in the air fell softly at the back of Ava’s head and her thumb caressed her slowly, while the hand on Ava’s back rubbed small circles.

And then Ava cried for Beatrice, because she wondered if the girl had ever been hugged like this before, or if she had hugged someone like this before. She wondered if she missed her older sister, the one who had been the owner of the untouched videogames sitting at the bottom of the bookshelf. Ava wondered if Beatrice’s sister had been the last person to hug her, to make her feel at home. If she too had shared her darkest and deepest secrets with her sister when the rest of the world was asleep, just like Ava had done with Diego.

Ava heard Beatrice swallowing, the way she sighed curtly, and the way she supported her chin at the top of Ava’s head. Every motion, every show of support, feeling as if it drained Beatrice of any energy she could have in her at three in the morning.

Beatrice didn’t say anything, she didn’t ask any questions. She let Ava cry, she let Ava take it all out. The pent up emotion she had been pushing down for two months, the fear she had felt when Crimson had found her in the hallway and Beatrice had beat the girl up, the pain it caused her the way everyone looked at her with either pity or mockery in their eyes. She also let go of the way she had felt on that first day, when Beatrice stormed out of the room and Ava was left standing in an unfamiliar space all on her own.

Ava cried and cried and cried, and she realized that maybe there was more to it than the last two months. Maybe she cried for the children at the orphanage, who wouldn’t have a chance to a bright future like she did now. She cried for Vincent, the way he had looked pained and defeated when he told Ava coming here would be better than staying in the orphanage. She cried for Diego, because now he had to fall asleep on his own and he didn’t have his big sister to defend him from the older orphans.

Ava cried until her eyes couldn’t produce anymore tears, until her head pounded and her nose provoked her sharp pain whenever she sniffed. She cried until there was a dull sensation on her chest, and until it felt like an invisible hand was choking her.

She didn’t know how long she cried on Beatrice’s shoulder, it could have been one minute or one hour, but the girl hadn’t moved. She had remained kneeling on the floor, hugging Ava’s body while it was falling awkwardly from the bed, Beatrice’s body stopping it from completely hitting the ground, holding it firmly. And then Ava separated slowly from Beatrice, her eyes looking at the floor, feeling slightly ashamed.

Beatrice kept looking at her, making sure she was okay but not saying anything. Beatrice’s hands moved to Ava’s forearms, helping her to get out of the bed, and then Ava joined the other girl to the floor and sat with their backs facing the bed. Ava curled her legs up again, her arms sneaking around her knees, while Beatrice crossed hers and interlaced her hands upon her stomach.

Ava wanted to put her head on Beatrice’s shoulder, but maybe that would make the girl uncomfortable. Though this time Ava realized Beatrice didn’t put space in between, and their arms were touching one another. Beatrice didn’t make a sound, she waited for Ava to talk. After all, between the both of them, Ava was the one who was good with words.

So Ava took a deep breath, and let it go slowly through her nose while she tried hard to recompose herself and win some of her dignity back. Though there was nothing undignified into showing emotion, into letting oneself feel broken even if it was for a night and things would be fine in the morning.

“I lost my mom in a car accident,” Ava started, deciding to rip the band-aid out. She wasn’t expecting Beatrice to share her sister’s story, to tell her in which way she had also lost a part of her soul and had felt an unbearable kind of pain sooner than she should. How she experienced something life changing in the worst of ways before reaching the age of twenty. “It marked ten years on July, on my birthday.”

“I’m sorry, Ava,” it had gone away as soon as it appeared, but Ava didn’t miss the way Beatrice’s voice shook slightly. Maybe, after all, Beatrice Armstrong-Young was an actual human capable of showing emotion.

“Yeah, long story short if I hadn’t received surgery I would’ve probably become a quadriplegic. I was… lucky, I guess, that the accident happened when I was a child and my mobility could be saved.” Ava shrugged, Beatrice listened. “The first two years were shit. I barely spoke to anyone, and I was so angry and sad and confused. Mind you, I was only six when she left.”

“I understand,” Beatrice said, nodding slowly, her eyes looking at Ava’s side profile. Ava had no doubt Beatrice understood the pain.

“Then Diego came, my roommate back in the orphanage,” Ava couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “And he made things easy. He was two years younger than me, his mom had died when he was only a baby and then his father got sick and… well.” Ava shrugged. “And he was only six years old when he told me that…”

Ava felt her throat closing up again, her eyes filling up with tears once more. Beatrice, unconsciously, took Ava’s hands and rubbed it softly. She didn’t say anything, and simply waited for Ava to continue.

“He told me that our parents, the people who probably love us the most in the entire Universe, wouldn’t want us to be sad and angry because they were gone.” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, as if she had wanted to argue something, but she remained silent. “So he said that we should try and remember the good memories we made of them, even if we had so little, because they would rather see us smile and laugh over anything else.”

“Quite smart of him to say,” Beatrice smiled softly at Ava, her brown eyes looking so sad they made Ava’s heart hurt for the girl.

“He’s always been the smartest person I know,” Ava explained, smiling fondly. “And ever since then, when I remember my mom, I try to think of the good moments I had with her. But, of course, it doesn’t work all the time.”

“What moments are those?” Beatrice asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. Ava didn’t ask why she wanted to know, for she had a faint suspicion.

It felt as if Beatrice was asking for Ava’s advice, how could she erase the pain of losing a sister. How could she forget the last moments she spent with her, the pain they provoked to her for not trying to seize them and take a better chance to enjoy them. But Beatrice wasn’t like Ava, she didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. Beatrice had layers upon layers, the thickest brick walls Ava had ever seen. Her heart was protected in a cage made of impenetrable iron.

Ava had read something somewhere once, something that said the eyes were the window to the soul. And in that instant, when her eyes locked with Beatrice’s, Ava felt as if that sentence had been written about the girl looking back at her. The brown eyes remained serene, cold-headed, but there also was a storm brewing on the horizon. There was turmoil of thoughts and emotions dancing on Beatrice’s eyes, a caged animal screaming to be freed.

“I remember my mother’s library cafeteria,” Ava smiled, and Beatrice’s lip corner lifted up slightly. “The way she was unable to sit still, and how she smiled and talked with every single person who entered. I also remember our lazy Sundays, how we would watch old movies in black and white, or the way she would dance while preparing a meal and then took me in her arms and spun me around until we fell somewhere in the apartment, crying tears of laughter.”

Ava felt tears falling down once again, slowly. But this time they were happy tears. Beatrice’s eyes fell into her sock covered feet, and she inhaled slowly. “She sounds like a great woman.”

The way the girl talked in present tense made Ava’s heart flutter. “She is.”

“I’ll tell you about Isabella,” Beatrice then said, as if she had gone through a three hours meeting with herself to reach that conclusion. “Not tonight, though.”

“Whenever you want, Bea,” Ava’s eyes widened, and she was about to apologize for overstepping another boundary when she felt Beatrice’s body go stiff. But then the girl relaxed, and smiled softly at her.

“No one’s called me that for quite the long time,” Beatrice said, and Ava sighed in relief.

“Is it okay if I call you that?” Beatrice thought about it, and Ava bit her lip nervously.

“Yes,” the girl finally said. “Yes, it’s okay.”

Then, they fell into silence. Ava felt her eyes getting heavy due to the amount of crying she had done, but Beatrice seemed to be wide awake. Ava took her time to observe her, the way she saw her toes twitching now and then, the way her breathing was slightly uneven or the way her index finger and thumb were rubbing nervous circles on each other.

“Ava?” Beatrice finally said, and Ava hummed. “Do you truly feel lonely?”

“What?” Ava opened one eye, eyebrow raised.

“When you were dreaming, you mumbled something like… don’t go, I’ll be all alone. Do you feel lonely?” There was some kind of insistence in Beatrice’s voice that Ava hadn’t really heard before, the words coming out slightly rushed as if she needed and answer and she needed it now.

“Yeah,” Ava shrugged, “I feel lonely.”

“Oh,” Beatrice said, and then Ava saw the way the girl bit her lip. “Me too.”

“I know,” Ava smiled softly at the girl, and Beatrice looked so confused Ava couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why do you think I’m so annoying?”

“You’re not annoying,” Beatrice said softly, and Ava rolled her eyes but felt her stomach knotting. “I thought you didn’t leave my side because Crimson’s friends scared you.”

“Well, yeah,” Ava shuddered at the thought of the mean looking girls, “but also because I kind of enjoy your silent company.”

“How can someone like you enjoy the company of someone like me?” Ava hated the way those words, the one Beatrice used to talk about herself, were slightly filled with some kind of hatred and disgust. Though she wouldn’t ask about it, not tonight.

“You’re…” Ava thought of a word. “Comforting.”

“Comforting?”

“Yes, you make me feel safe.”

Beatrice’s eyes opened wide in surprise and something similar like pleasure and pride. “Because I can kick ass?”

“Don’t ruin it, Beatrice.”

The girl let out a huff of air, her own version of an amused laugh, and Ava giggled. They went silent once more, until Beatrice spoke again.

“Ava?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not really good at the… friendship thing,” Ava looked at the girl, who inhaled sharply and rolled her shoulders as if she was about to deliver the most important speech of her life. “But I can try for you.”

“Seriously?” Beatrice nodded, first slowly and then more sure of herself and the choice Ava was sure had been kind of hard to make.

“Yes,” the taller girl now fully smiled at her, without opening her mouth, but her lips went up and Ava felt all the oxygen in her body leaving her. “I don’t want us to feel lonely anymore.”

“Hm,” Ava made a show to think of the offer Beatrice had just put upon the table, her index finger touching the tip of her nose and tapping it pensively. Beatrice kept looking at her, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in her eyes. “Alright, deal.”

Ava offered a hand to Beatrice, and the girl rolled her eyes before taking it and shaking it firmly, as if they were actually two business women making one of the most important deals of their lives, the deal that would take both of their companies to the top of the world.

“Deal.”

And Ava, unknowingly, didn’t realize she had entered the lion’s den and was making her way towards inevitable heartbreak.

Chapter Text

Ava Silva: hi!!! this is ava!!!

Beatrice A-Y: Hello, Ava. I like your profile picture

Ava Silva: it’s a cat crying??

Beatrice A-Y: It’s so… you?

Ava Silva: i- okay??

*

Ava and Beatrice didn’t text for the rest of the week. Beatrice was busy finishing up the final touches of Arq-Tech’s partnership with Duretti Inc., which consisted of being able to build sustainable and safe housing for homeless people around New York renovating abandoned buildings and making a home out of it.

Ava, on the other hand, was busy trying to transcript the interview with Jillian realizing that the woman had way more depth than Ava thought, and that you could actually write a whole book about Jillian Salvius’ life.

“We can’t publish it, Mama Supes,” Ava said, sitting in front of her boss. The woman raised an eyebrow, her long brown hair braided. God, Ava definitely had a thing for middle aged gay women.

“Repeat that again?”

“Jillian asked me to extend the interview,” Ava put her hands behind her head, shrugging nonchalantly. Suzanne simply stared at her. “She said I could add information coming from her children, plus the amount of cool things we talked about in only ninety minutes is worth of a book series.”

“We would have to dedicate a whole number to her interview and children, completely ignoring the rest of the news we are supposed to be covering,” Suzanne shook her head, and Ava smirked at the woman.

“I could write a book about her with no problem, her gorgeous face blessing the cover and every single person in the world,” Ava said, letting out a pensive hum. “What do you think about that, Mama Supes?”

Suzanne didn’t look up from her laptop, she simply pointed at her office’s door and Ava understood what she meant. Ava got up, left Suzanne’s office, and walked towards her desk with an amused grin.

Kit was sitting in front of her, music blasting from their headphones, their eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Ava crumbled one of her post-it notes and threw it at Kit, who looked up startled.

“The boss is here?” Kit asked, louder than should be allowed in a workplace.

“Shut the fuck up?” Ava said, a hand covering her mouth to hold back her laughter. Kit’s cheeks blushed. “What are you so focused on?”

“Ava,” Kit said, whispering and looking around before their eyes focused back on the girl. “I need your immediate help.”

“On what?”

“Since you’re kind of a whore yourself,” Kit started, and Ava gasped in offence, throwing another paper at them. “Stop wasting post-it notes.”

“Stop being rude!”

“Okay then, I’m not telling you shit,” Kit crossed their arms upon their chest, rolling their eyes and looking like a child who was about to throw a temper tantrum.

“Good luck figuring out whatever you need help with then,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and turned her computer on. She silently counted, and only five seconds passed until Kit gave up.

“Okay, listen,” Kit passed a hand through their short hair. “I want to take Jade out on a date.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Kit blushed furiously, their eyes landing on said girl. She was standing on the other side of the room, laughing with some of their co-workers, and Ava almost gagged at the lovesick look Jade sent to Kit’s way, who returned it with the same fervor.

“Continue before I throw up.”

“Rude,” Kit rolled their eyes. “I’m looking up for romantic spots in the city, but I can’t decide where to take her.”

“Oh, you want romantic? Ask Juliette,” Ava pointed towards the girl’s direction, who was laughing with Jade instead of getting some work done.

“Juliette?”

“I’m telling you, that girl lived during the Shakespearan era or something. Have you seen her Instagram posts talking about Cal?” Kit snorted at the way Ava shuddered when she remembered the long paragraphs Juliette wrote almost every day telling the world how cool and sexy and smart her girlfriend Calliope was.

“Well, they’ve been pretty much together since they were sixteen so…” Kit then smirked, and completely changed the topic of conversation. “Talking about high school sweethearts, how are things with Beatrice?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Ava said, suddenly remembering she had so many articles to write and some extensive research to do.

“Come on, Ava!” Kit laughed. “I literally have never seen you bottoming as hard as you did with Beatrice.”

“Stop calling me a bottom, it’s homophobic.”

“I’m gay?”

“Congratulations on coming out.”

“You’re so annoying,” Kit said for the second time in less than ten minutes. “So, what’s the deal with her?”

“The deal with her is none,” Ava rolled her eyes, and then pointed a finger to Kit’s direction. “Also, what the fuck is your problem? You know your step-sister and me are a thing.”

“The both of you have been flirting for months and probably haven’t even kissed yet.”

“And yet here you are, trying to make me cheat on her,” Ava knew the argument was stupid, judging by the way Kit looked at her. “We just… Beatrice and I… we have a turbulent past.”

“Oh, Catholic School trauma?” Kit got serious, and Ava sighed.

“Kind of, yeah,” Ava looked at her phone, as if she was expecting Beatrice to miraculously reply to her after leaving her on seen for almost a week.

“How long it’s been? Seven years?” Ava nodded, Kit hummed. “Well, maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet. Judging by the way the both of you almost made out in front of everyone, it’s something you clearly want to do.”

“We didn’t- what the fuck?” Ava opened and closed her mouth several times. Had she been that obvious?

“Dude, she looked at you as if you were a full course meal. And you weren’t even wearing your sexy outfit!”

“Kit Ruby Tanthalos, I swear to fucking God if you utter another word I won’t take responsibility for my actions.”

“Am I lying?” Kit challenged her, and Ava rolled her eyes.

“She’s not like that, Kit. Beatrice is the straightest person alive, I’m telling you.”

“How do you know?” Ava decided to stay silent. She had woken up feeling great, she didn’t want to sour her mood remembering what had provoked the rift between her and Beatrice seven years ago.

“I just… do.”

“Sure,” Kit chuckled softly. “For being so straight, she sure walks around as if she was trying to attract women.”

“You can’t just assume someone’s gay because they wear blazers and silk shirts and…” Ava stopped talking when she felt a blush creeping up her neck, remembering the way Beatrice had looked the last time she saw her.

“I’m just saying, you have the chance to talk to her tomorrow at the party.”

“She wasn’t much of a party girl back in England,” Ava grumbled out, her mind now filled with Beatrice Armstrong-Young wearing expensive suits and golden jewellery that matched perfectly with her sun-kissed skin.

“People change, Ava,” Kit’s tone now was more serious, and Ava sighed. “Whatever happened between the both of you deserves to be talked about, and maybe… you know… leave Elora alone. I don’t want you to be my sister-in-law.”

“I hope you choke on your coffee,” Ava said, before putting her earphones on and focusing on her work.

*

“So,” Michael said, dropping a paper bag in front of Beatrice. She opened it up, and could smell the strong cheese scent coming out of the sandwiches her brother had just brought.

“Do you really wish for me to die that much?” Beatrice said, crunching up her nose. Michael looked at her, confused.

“She’s lactose intolerant, idiot,” Lilith informed Michael, not looking up from whatever she was doing on her laptop.

“Aren’t you the lactose intolerant one?” Michael pointed at Lilith, who simply ignored him. “Lesbians drive me crazy, I swear.”

“Question for the homosexuals,” Lilith said, looking up from her laptop and turning the screen towards them. “Should I buy this suit for the launch party?”

“You haven’t decided yet?” Beatrice asked, masking the horror in her voice. “It’s tomorrow night, Lil!”

“Not all of us are perfectly organized people, Bea,” Lilith argued back. “So?”

“Sure, go for it,” Michael shrugged. “Make me turn into a heterosexual man.”

“You’re disgusting,” Lilith rolled her eyes, looking at Beatrice and waiting for her opinion.

“Don’t you have like… one thousand suits in your closet?” Beatrice said, eyebrows furrowed.

“You stole them all from me when you were hiding there,” Lilith replied to Beatrice, a smirk on her lips while she took out her credit card and proceeded to buy the suit, completely ignoring the way none of her siblings had answered her question.

“Oh, burn,” Michael muttered.

“In hell, next to you,” Beatrice shoved his stinky sandwiches back to his hand.

“Why are you always here, though?” Lilith asked Michael, genuine curiosity in her voice. “Mother literally gave you your own office so you can draw and design shit in peace, why are you always bothering us?”

“It’s my duty as the man of the family to make sure you guys are comfortable,” Michael said, trying to sound as macho as possible and putting an offended hand on his chest.

“Not the gay hand, oh my God…” Lilith muttered, and Beatrice snorted.

It had always been like that, Michael and Lilith jokingly arguing to the point it developed into an actual fight, and Beatrice putting peace between the both of them. If she had to choose, she wouldn’t change a thing.

“Talking about gay things,” Michael said, sitting down on the office’s couch and biting his sandwich. “How’s Ava?”

“How would I know?” Beatrice asked, giving another read to the documents Lilith had prepared to present to Duretti.

“Didn’t you give her your phone number?” Lilith asked, Michael chewing slowly.

“Yes, I did. But that doesn’t mean I have to text Ava all day, right?” Lilith and Michael shared a knowing look.

After all, the both of them had been there for Beatrice whenever she got drunk and ranted how much she had regretted her life choices seven years ago. And it had been them who had reassured her time after time that the fault hadn’t been hers, but her parents’. But Beatrice knew it had been her fault, after all she had fallen into her parents’ beliefs and had let them cloud her judgment.

If only Isabella had been there…

“Scared the wife will get angry at you?” Michael raised an eyebrow, and Lilith hummed. Beatrice decided she preferred it when they were fighting, because when they united forces they became a menace for her sanity.

“Don’t call Leighton that,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, her heart did a little alarmed jump when she remembered she hadn’t texted Leighton in almost three days. She took her phone out and sent a quick message.

Leigh: Miss you, baby! I’ll see you on Wednesday night!

Beatrice A-Y: Hey, love. Sorry, I’ve been so busy! I’ll see you tomorrow night.

“You guys have been together for two years,” Michael reminded Beatrice, and she didn’t know why she felt annoyed at the mention of that fact. “When are you moving in together and all?”

“She’s on tour half the year and stuck in a recording studio the other half,” Beatrice simply said, as if that was reason enough.

“And she lives in London when she’s not on tour, and so do you. So maybe it’s time for the both of you to move in?” Beatrice looked at Lilith, who was raising an eyebrow at her, and she sighed.

“Well, I’m always travelling and working and so is she. I don’t see the point, really,” Michael let out a groan, Lilith nodding in agreement.

“She also said she wants to move to New York,” her brother added, wiggling his eyebrows. “You could stay here, let Lilith run things in the cold and boring weather of England. I’ll convince my mum to let me take care of the headquarters in Spain.”

“Lilith will go to Spain, Michael, get over it,” Beatrice said, strategically changing the subject.

“But I want the sun!”

“You’ll just become a walking lobster, brother,” Lilith said, and Michael mocked her while Beatrice shook her head.

“So, how long since you had sex?” Michael asked, looking directly at Beatrice. She choked on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” her brother simply waited for her answer, Lilith doing the same. “Before... before Leigh went on tour.”

“What?!” Lilith exclaimed, while Michael said, “That’s four months, Bea!”

“Well, she was going from country to country, what was I supposed to do?”

“Go see her?” Lilith asked.

“Have sex with her whenever she dropped around London for a quick break?” Michael added.

“Well, the two times she went back to London I was in Spain…”

Both her siblings looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, and Beatrice was pretty sure there was one single thought inside their minds. Well, maybe actually two: Beatrice is stupid, and Beatrice should break up with Leighton. She only agreed with one of those statements.

Her phone chimed, and Beatrice grabbed it faster than she usually would. She ignored the way she felt slightly disappointed when she didn’t see a text from Ava. Which, okay, Beatrice had left her on seen but only because she didn’t want to annoy Ava. She still remembered the way she wanted to hit herself when she said Ava’s profile picture, a cat crying, suited her.

Leigh: What will you wear? Asking for… a school project…

Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. Leighton didn’t go to school, so why was she… oh, right. She sighed, annoyed at herself.

“Not even sexting? Phone sex? Nada?” Michael kept asking, and Beatrice shook her head.

“Thank god we’re sisters,” Lilith sighed in relief to make a point, “I wouldn’t like to see the way you probably send dirty texts with perfect grammar and punctuation.”

And then, Michael proceeded to pretend he was Beatrice talking dirty to her girlfriend, sounding exactly like a robot, and Lilith laughed until she was bending over her chair and wiping away her tears.

“I’m going to go get actual food,” Beatrice said, standing up while her siblings still laughed uncontrollably.

Beatrice made her way down, putting her sunglasses on when the sunlight almost blinded her. She decided to go by foot, because she needed time to understand why she didn’t even feel an ounce of excitement at the prospect of seeing her girlfriend again after four months of being apart.

*

Beatrice A-Y: Hello, Ava. Jillian asked for your phone number, so I’ll attach hers and this way you can text her. See you at night!

Ava Silva: thanks!

*

Ava Silva: holy shit

Jillian “Motherfucking” Salvius: Hello, Ava. I see Beatrice did her homework.

Ava Silva: holy fucking shit

Jillian “Motherfucking” Salvius: Just wanted to remind you the launch party will start at 8pm.

Ava Silva: anything you need form me?? drinks, food, a wife?

Jillian “Motherfucking” Salvius: You’re funny. All I need is for you to bring your friends, have fun, and look sexy for the ladies and gentlemen.

Ava Silva: say no more!

*

Ava had gone to Camila’s apartment to get dressed, since it was closer to her workplace and, again, she had stayed until later than she should. Even Suzanne had left before her, finally accepting between sighs and groans to go to the party.

Ava had decided to listen to Jillian, and she pretty much told all of her close friends and co-workers to join her for free drinks and a memorable night. The only ones who declined were Mary and Shannon, the latter apparently having a rough day in the land of pregnancy. Ava promised she would drink as much tequila shots as possible to make up for the amount of time Shannon would have to stay sober.

“Jesus,” Yasmine, Camila’s roommate, said.

Ava had decided to wear the same dress she had worn on her college graduation party, a teal dress made of silk with thin straps on her shoulders and a cut on the left side which made her thigh visible. Needless to say, she looked smoking hot.

“How do I look?” Ava asked, deciding to leave her hair down for the night.

“Like a goddess,” Yasmine took her phone out, looking like a proud mother. “Look at the camera and say cheese.”

Ava posed in front of the camera, and Yasmine took several pictures of her. She sound received a notification from Instagram, warning her Yasmine had obviously bragged about having the hottest friends in New York.

It had taken Ava a while to start loving herself, to start liking the way she looked again. The words monster and freak always dangled at the back of her mind. So when she had gone through her closet, she had totally chosen the teal dress so a certain someone would eat the words they had uttered seven years ago. Camila and Yasmine had totally encouraged the petty behavior and the self-love.

“Oh, my God,” Camila said, entering the room with her heels dangling from her hand. “Who are you planning to murder?”

“No one?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, though there was a knowing look in Camila’s eyes. “Jillian told me to bring sexy, so I’m bringing sexy.”

“Let’s be honest,” Yasmine said, letting out a chuckle. “Ava could be wearing a trash bag and she would still look amazing.”

“I’m so jealous,” Camila rolled her eyes, and Ava raised an eyebrow at both of them.

“You guys are kidding, right?” Camila and Yasmine looked at one another, and then at her. “Have you looked at yourselves in the mirror today?”

Camila and Yasmine were about to reply, but then three knocks sounded on the door and the three girls groaned collectively. There was only one person who still knocked on a door instead of ringing the bell.

“JC coming through with the clitoference,” Ava mumbled, while she opened the front door. He was wearing a red bomber jacket and a Hawaiian shirt underneath, with black jeans and matching black sneakers. He looked her up and down, and then hummed.

“Wanna get back together, Aves?”

“And be orgasm deprived for a year once again? No, thank you very much.”

“You’re so fucking rude,” JC complained, while Camila and Yasmine giggled uncontrollably. Ava took her purse, and breathed deeply.

“Are we ready to fuck shit up?” Ava asked, eyebrows wiggling. Camila and Yasmine matched her big smile with equal ferocity while JC hooted like an owl.

“Uber’s waiting for you, ladies.”

They took the elevator and made their way down. The Uber turned out to be a big and large van, Randall, Zori and Chanel already inside sharing some champagne.

“Holy shit, you three!” Chanel let out a whistle, her eyes looking up and down the three girls who had joined them.

“Oh, man… we’re staying bitchless again because of Mrs. Silva,” Randall complained, Camila and Yasmine raising an eyebrow at him. “And you two as well, of course.”

Zori didn’t say anything, she simply lowered her aviator sun glasses and her eyes took Ava’s dress in. Humming approvingly, she covered her eyes again and sipped from her champagne. Ava was sure that they would end up together again in some bathroom stall.

The traffic of New York City at 8pm was as equally crazy as any time of the day, so Ava decided to sit down, drink several glasses of champagne, and try to focus on anything else that wouldn’t be her brain wondering what outfit Beatrice would be wearing tonight.

*

The party was already on full swing while the final guests were arriving. Michael was already stumbling around, his third or fourth glass of liquor half-empty, while Lilith was next to Jillian, talking to Francesco Duretti and his lawyer Adriel, a tall man with long hair and a well trimmed beard.

Beatrice was standing next to the bar, a cold glass of Scotch in her hand. Leighton had been the first to arrive, and while the girl had quite literally thrown herself into Beatrice’s arms, Beatrice herself had been unable to show the excitement she should have shown after four months of not seeing one another.

“What’s wrong with you?” Leighton had asked, after kissing Beatrice as if she hadn’t tasted hot food in ages.

“Just tired,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, and Leighton pouted before kissing her cheek.

“I missed you so much, Bea,” Leighton pecked her again, and Beatrice smiled to hide the slight discomfort she was feeling. She had never been good with public PDA. “I’m sorry I barely had time to text, I either was busy with the shows and interviews or I had the shittiest phone service ever.”

“Well, it’s okay. We called each other often,” Leighton smiled up at her, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.

“God, how much I missed this face,” and again, Leighton was kissing Beatrice. And Beatrice reciprocated, while her eyes focused on the entrance door of Arq-Tech and waited for a certain someone to arrive.

“Leigh!” Michael slurred, walking towards both of them with his arms wide open.

“Oh, Mickey Mike!” Leighton said, laughing and hugging Michael. Beatrice hated the way she, for once, was grateful of her brother’s low intolerance to alcohol.

“You look very excited,” Lilith said under her breath, bumping a shoulder against Beatrice’s. “Sex tonight will be the bomb.”

“Be quiet,” Beatrice punched Lilith’s arm. “And stop being obsessed with my sex life.”

“I get laid more often than you do, and I’m single,” Lilith then smiled widely and hugged Leighton when the girl turned around to greet her.

“Leigh,” Michael said, putting an unsteady hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Come, drinks are on me.”

“They’re free, Michael,” Leighton giggled, and he looked extremely confused at the cocktail in his hand.

“Oh?” he simply said, and Lilith let out a long sigh while Beatrice simply snorted at the young man.

“I’ll take babysitting duty tonight, thank me tomorrow,” Lilith said, before taking Michael by one arm and guiding Leighton towards the other side of the bar.

Beatrice silently sipped from her own glass, one hand in her silver suit pants and her eyes focused in one single direction. People started to come in, sultry jazz music started to sound in the background, and yet the minutes passed while the person she was waiting for didn’t show up.

She had been kind of grateful when Jillian had asked for Ava’s phone number, giving Beatrice an excuse to text the girl back. She hadn’t felt like this before, not even with Leighton, staring blankly at her phone screen rewriting the same text time and time again, deleting it and writing it again. It was an embarrassment, the way she had struggled to say something as simple as Hey, here’s Jillian’s phone number, see you later!

Beatrice should be with Leighton right now, attached to her girlfriend’s side, trying to spend as much time with her after four months of not seeing one another. But Leighton was somewhere else with Michael, probably already tipsy.

Leighton wouldn’t be surprised, though. She knew Beatrice had boundaries, she knew that affection didn’t come easily to her, and that sometimes holding her hand or kissing her cheek took a great amount of effort for that. Thanks, mother and father, Beatrice thought.

So when Beatrice had kissed her briefly after Leighton had almost sucked all the oxygen out of her, or when Beatrice didn’t send one hundred texts saying how much she missed her, Leighton didn’t protest. It had been like that for two years, and Beatrice believed Leighton simply deserved the Universe for the amount of patience and understanding she showed. Beatrice tried to make up for the struggles in the privacy of their bedroom, so she guessed it was a win-win situation for the both of them. Beatrice had someone who understood her, and Leighton received great sex in exchange. Apparently, and according to Leighton, Beatrice had amazing finger skills for spending pretty much half of her life being sexually and emotionally repressed.

Beatrice knew Leighton deserved better, that the girl deserved someone who would love and understand her as fiercely and loyally as she did with Beatrice. After all, a big amount of Leighton’s understanding came from her own struggles. But, for some reason, while Leighton had let herself live once she stepped a foot in college and was able to make her own rules, Beatrice’s heart had remained locked tightly for the longest time and it was very, very hard for Beatrice to let someone unlock it. It was so hard for her to let the walls crumble down, no matter how much she’d promised herself she would, no matter how many times she’d promised her therapist she would open her heart for the rest.

Sometimes she still flinched when her and Leighton walked around the street and the girl held her hand, sometimes she still felt panic raising inside her chest when Leighton pecked her, sometimes she still imagined her parents would burst through the door when her and Leighton made out in the privacy of one of sofa’s. And Beatrice hated herself for it; she hated the way they still held so much power over her even after seven years of emancipation from them. Even if she now was surrounded by a loving and understanding family she had chosen herself.

If Isabella was here, Beatrice would often think, she would probably just come and beat the shit out of me for acting like this.

Beatrice sighed, and sipped from her Scotch, only to splutter it out back to the glass when she saw Ava entering the Hall. It felt like watching a princess entering the palace’s ballroom, surrounded by her court. She recognized Kit, holding the hand of a curly haired girl, a blonde girl with streaks of ginger on her hair walking next to Ava, and a bunch of other people walking behind her.

Ava scanned the room, her mouth hanging open when she saw the blue, purple and fuchsia lights, the fancy looking bar and the amount of people walking and laughing around.

Beatrice felt her mouth going dry, which was weird because she had been drinking, and her eyes couldn’t leave Ava. She looked just so… ethereal, Beatrice thought. She nodded to herself, satisfied with the word choice, completely ignoring the way her pulse quickened in the way it was supposed to do when Leighton had been the one entering that door with her black dress and long blond hair falling down. Beatrice was just simply happy the colorful lights hid the way her face was furiously blushing, or the way she drowned all the Scotch in one take to get some feeling back in her mouth.

Ava’s eyes, then, landed on Beatrice and she didn’t miss the way the girl unashamedly checked her out.

“Another Scotch, please,” Beatrice asked the guy behind the bar.

She kept looking at the young man preparing her drink, completely ignoring the way Ava was making her way towards her (followed by her court). She truly took the whole looking like a princess memo way too seriously.

“Beatrice!” Ava yelled, smile wide. Beatrice saw the way her eyes were slightly unfocused, the way her voice sounded slurred. “Hey!”

“Hello, Ava,” Beatrice hoped her voice didn’t actually sound as shaky as she felt it sounding. She took a long sip, because Ava was looking at her with that old intensity Beatrice still remembered all too well.

“Your style has changed considerably,” Ava simply said, offering her a smile.

“Beaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatrice,” Kit greeted her as if they were old friends, putting an arm around her shoulder. Then, they scrunched their nose up while smiling widely, “Hey.”

“Hey there, Kit. Are you enjoying yourself?” the girl standing next to Kit looked at Beatrice apologetically, separating Kit from Beatrice.

“Sorry, it’s past their bed time, they’re not used to this,” the girl said, her British accent strong. Beatrice waved a dismissive hand at her, offering a soft smile.

“Shut up, Jade,” Kit said before kissing Jade’s cheek and dragging her to the dance floor. “Let’s go dance.”

“Where’s Jillian?” Ava asked, getting on her tiptoes and looking around. Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

“I see, you only came for her?” Ava smiled at her apologetically, shrugging her shoulders, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at the girl. Then, a tall guy with dark hair cleared his throat.

“Oh, yes, the crew,” Ava took Beatrice by the arm, and Beatrice wondered if Ava was doing all of this because she was obviously tipsy or it was all intentional.

I will not over think this, Beatrice thought while she also tried to ignore the way Ava’s touch felt like being touched by fire.

“JC, my ex boyfriend, Camila, Yasmine, Zori, Elora, Alice, Juliette, Randall and Chanel,” Ava said, pointing at each one of them, “Everybody say hello, Beatrice!”

“Hello, Beatrice!” a chorus of voices said in the worst synchronization ever, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at them all and wave.

“Okay, go away now,” Ava shooed them all away, and her friends obeyed her without any question. Which Beatrice found quite hilarious. And hot, but she wouldn’t admit that.

“Would you like a drink, or you’ve already had enough of that?” Beatrice asked, and Ava raised an eyebrow at her. As if nothing had changed in seven years.

“I only got champagne,” Ava explained, as if that was answer enough for Beatrice.

“Oh, fancy,” she said, calling the bartender with a snap of her fingers. “Two lemon drops, if you will?”

“On it, ma’am,” the bartender said, and Ava was looking at her with something close to a fond look in her eyes. Beatrice had to turn around for a moment.

“You remember my favorite drink?” Ava asked, smiling softly at Beatrice. The taller girl shrugged her shoulders.

“I also remember how low your tolerance to alcohol was,” Ava gasped in outrage, putting a hand on her chest, and Beatrice tried so hard not to look at the fully displayed cleavage. She cleared her throat, looking up and getting accidentally blinded by one of the lights.

“I was sixteen!” Ava let out an amused laugh, shaking her head, and Beatrice smiled at her while the bartender served their drinks. Beatrice drowned her Scotch so she could focus on the lemon drop. “Jesus, you really have changed.”

Beatrice was about to tell Ava that she hadn’t been lying, and she wanted to show her. She wanted to apologize for not texting her, for not arranging the so called one on one meeting she wanted to have so badly. But then she felt a familiar pair of arms sneaking around her torso, a pair of lips kissing her neck, and Beatrice suddenly felt as if she had been caught cheating.

Ava’s smile disappeared slowly, changing into a confused frown. Then, as if she needed to do something with herself so she wouldn’t get eaten by the floor, Ava proceeded to almost drink the lemon drop in one take.

“Ava, be careful,” Beatrice warned her, having the sudden need to put a hand on her arm.

“Bea!” Leighton said in her ear, and then walked next to her. “Oh, hey! Your face looks familiar.”

“It… does?” Ava asked, confused, looking from Leighton to Beatrice. “Oh, wait, fuck… Leighton? Leighton Murray?”

“Ava Fucking Silva!” Leighton let out a loud laugh, and then proceeded to hug the girl tightly.

Both Beatrice and Ava had matching expressions of shock, because as long as Beatrice knew her girlfriend and Ava hadn’t been close friends. The three of them had been at choir, and Leighton had probably been one of the most genuine and nice girls to both of them back in school, but they never really became friends. In fact, Beatrice didn’t reunite with Leighton around three years ago when the girl had been hired by Jillian to sing at Michael’s birthday party.

“How’s it going?” Leighton asked Ava, who did a choking sound.

Ava’s cheeks, now, were bright red and Beatrice felt slightly jealous. Not because Ava was unashamedly staring at Leighton’s chest, but because the amount of time she checked Beatrice out didn’t even reach two seconds, while her eyes had been glued to Leighton’s body for almost ten seconds now. Not that she had been counting or anything.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Beatrice?

“I-” Ava cleared her throat. “Good! I heard you’re doing well yourself, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Leighton shrugged her shoulders. “Not that big of a deal, honestly.”

“Right, being nominated for a Grammy and all, no biggie,” Ava joked, and Leighton let out a loud laugh. Ava then looked at the both of them. “So…?”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, and put a hand around Leighton’s waist, suddenly feeling like she should be touching her girlfriend.

“Wow,” Ava let out a cough that masked a laugh and Beatrice, who still liked to think she knew Ava better than anyone else no matter what, could tell it was a dry laugh full of sarcasm.

I know, Ava. I know.

“Yeah,” Leighton squished Beatrice’s cheeks, “our Bea here was playing for our team all along.”

“I see,” Ava looked at her drink for a brief second, and then at Beatrice’s eyes directly. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh,” for whatever reason, Beatrice’s chest hurt. “Thank you, Ava.”

“By the way,” Leighton said, clutching Beatrice’s blazer the same way she usually did when she wanted to start a steamy make out session. “Mama Bear was asking for you.”

“Ah,” Beatrice said, nodding once. She drowned her lemon drop in one take, not missing the way Ava’s eyes didn’t leave her. “I shall answer her call, then.”

“I’ll come, I wanna see if Michael actually drowned the ten shots of tequila he promised. It was nice seeing you again, Ava!”

Leighton left them, and Beatrice looked at Ava. Her mouth opened and closed several times, and all Ava did was hum at her.

“Ava,” Beatrice tried to say something, but she didn’t know why.

“Beatrice,” the shorter girl smiled, finishing what remained of her drink. “It is fine, I’m genuinely happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” Ava didn’t sound much happy. “It must have been hard for you.”

“It… yes,” the both of them fell in a tense silence. Beatrice coughed, and then scratched the back of her head while Ava smiled awkwardly at her. “I should go.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Uh… Jillian is calling me and all.”

“So I heard. Tell her I said hi?”

“Of course,” Beatrice put her hands inside her pockets. “Uh, Ava?”

“Yeah?”

“We…” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Beatrice inhaled. “Coffee?”

“Now?”

“No! You… me… another day?”

“Sure, you have my phone number,” Beatrice nodded, and Ava nodded back at her.

“Okay,” she started to walk towards Jillian’s direction, but then turned around. “I… if I don’t see you again for the night… enjoy yourself?”

“Will do,” Ava put both of her thumbs up, and Beatrice stupidly did the same. Ava snorted, amusedly, and Beatrice smiled at her.

While she walked towards where Jillian was still talking with Duretti, she wondered what the fuck was wrong with her.

*

Ava had genuinely lost count of how many drinks she had taken, but judging by the way her surroundings were spinning and the way she was gripping the bar counter so she wouldn’t fall on her ass was an indication that, maybe, it had been a little too much.

Beatrice has a fucking girlfriend was the only thought occupying her mind. It wasn’t the way Zori had been looking at her as if she was her prey, it wasn’t the way almost every single pair of eyes in the room had fallen upon her (Jillian’s included), and it wasn’t the way Beatrice’s gray-silver suit would’ve matched perfectly with Ava’s teal dress if they had arrived to the party hand by hand.

The only moment replaying on her mind over and over again wasn’t the fact that Beatrice had quite literally choked on her Scotch when she saw Ava entering the room and then approaching her, no, it was the way Ava and Beatrice were having a bonding moment and things felt like they did seven years ago before their downfall until a pair of arms snuck around Beatrice’s torso and then the most beautiful girl in Saint Melanie’s (next to Beatrice, of course) claimed herself as Beatrice’s girlfriend.

Ava felt emotions in the span of one minute that she hadn’t felt in a long while when it came to Beatrice. Shock, hurt, confusion but, most strangely, jealousy. Because maybe if she hadn’t stormed off, if she hadn’t told Beatrice to go fuck herself and never look her way again, and maybe if she had stayed next to the girl seven years ago, she would be the one sneaking arms around Beatrice’s torso and kissing her on the cheek.

And why the fuck is that my fault? Why the fuck should I be the one to stay, after being called a monster and a freak?

Ava took a sip of the orange flavored cocktail she had ordered, not even remembering its name, and drowned it without breathing. She looked at the bartender’s direction, and he looked back at her with concern in his eyes.

“Another,” she ordered, pointing at her empty glass. He sighed and nodded.

“Slow down, tiger,” she heard Elora say. The girl sat next to her, soft smile on her lips but her blue eyes were filled with concern. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m about to have an emotional breakdown,” Ava announced, her words barely understandable. “But I’m holding up like a big girl.”

“You’re doing great,” Elora patted her forearm, and Ava sighed. “Wanna talk about it?”

“At a party?” Ava shook her head, “I invited you here to have fun.”

“We’re the only ones in our group who are not making out with anyone right now,” Elora shrugged her shoulders. “Well, except Zori. I think she kind of wants to make out with you.”

“What about you?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, and Elora snorted in amusement.

“Ava…” Elora put a strand of hair behind Ava’s ear. “You have pretty much been cock blocking me for two months.”

“Because I’m busy!”

“Or, maybe you’re just not interested?” Ava sunk in the stool she was sitting on, almost losing her balance, but Elora caught her. “It’s okay, you know? I… might’ve set my eyes on someone else.”

Elora’s blue eyes looked to the far end of the room, where a young man with slightly long black hair was looking back at her, smiling shyly. Ava raised an eyebrow.

“You’re leaving me for a man?” she rolled her eyes in fake annoyance, while Elora smiled at her.

“Tell me, Ava Silva, who’s the instigator of your newfound alcoholic behavior?”

Ava sighed, sipping from the drink the bartender had put in front of her. “Beatrice has a girlfriend.”

Elora’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, the wheels inside her head working full-time, and she let out a small oh.

“Oh, Ava…” Elora didn’t say anything else, because she already knew how Ava was feeling.

That had been the way their situationship worked. Kit had introduced Ava to their step-sister Elora a few months ago, who also happened to be a therapist. And so Ava and Elora ended up getting drunk, going back to Ava’s apartment ready to undertake some sexy action, but then Ava just ended up confessing to Elora all the pain Beatrice had provoked Ava.

“Do you want me to go punch her?” Elora asked Ava, side-hugging her. Ava snorted.

“You couldn’t even hurt a fly, El,”

“I could for you!” Ava laughed, shaking her head.

“Just go get that man of yours, I’ll go pee and empty the alcohol tank so I can fill it up again.” Elora rolled her eyes, in disapproval, but they went into opposite ways.

Ava realized she didn’t know where the bathroom was, so as she searched for any indications she saw a tall girl supporting her body on the bar counter, a blond young man sitting on a stool with his head upon the counter, soundly asleep. Ava then remembered who they were. Lilith and Michael, Beatrice’s siblings.

Ava breathed in deeply, mentally encouraging herself to walk towards the human tower that Lilith Mateo was. It looked like Jillian Salvius had decided to choose two of the most attractive women on earth to adopt as her children, conceiving one of the most handsome dudes to ever exist. It only felt right, since Jillian looked like that, and it just wasn’t healthy for Ava’s pansexual heart.

Lilith was wearing a black and tight sleeveless dress with a turtleneck. It reached her calves, and Ava could see the slender yet toned legs hiding underneath. Her arms were the same, pure fiber, and Lilith had the sharpest cheekbones Ava had ever seen.

Jesus Fucking Christ, if you’re listening please send some strength down my way. I’m not your strongest soldier.

Lilith was elegantly sipping from her champagne flute, while Michael’s sleeping body was surrounded by shot glasses. Ava, in all of her clumsy drunk state, walked towards Lilith and decided to tap her shoulder. Lilith looked down at her, eyebrow raised, and said nothing.

“Hi,” Ava said, stupidly. Lilith sipped from her glass. “Uh… I have to pee.”

“Okay?” Lilith said, her face blank. “Go piss, girl.”

Ava snorted. “Like the Gossip Girl meme.”

“What?”

“Uh… nothing. Where’s the bathroom?”

Lilith simply pointed a finger up, and for a second Ava thought she meant Heaven. Then, Ava understood Lilith meant upstairs.

“Thanks!”

Lilith simply hummed, going back to her champagne. Her eyes landed onto someone who was on the other side of the room, and Ava followed her gaze. She saw JC and Chanel, dancing with Yasmine and Camila. But Lilith’s eyes were solely focused on Camila, and Ava smirked.

“That’s my best friend Camila,” Ava whispered, and she felt Lilith’s body stiffen. “She’s single and ready to mingle.”

“And why should I care?” Lilith asked, looking back down at Ava.

The shorter girl would’ve felt intimidated if it wasn’t for the slight blush she caught spreading upon Lilith’s cheeks. Ava shrugged, smiling innocently up at Lilith, and then she made her way towards Camila and the rest of her friends.

“Ava Maria!” JC yelled, opening his arms while his body kept on dancing.

Her middle name wasn’t Maria, it was Maeve, but JC thought it would be funny to refer to her as that because of the whole Ave Maria thing and her two years at Catholic School plus the previous years living in an orphanage run by a priest. He was simply just not funny.

“Camila!” Ava yelled taking the girl by the arm. “Do you want to smash?”

“What?! With you?! Okay!” Camila yelled, and Ava laughed out loud. Then, she whispered into Camila’s ear so no one else would hear.

“You see that human tree over there?” Ava asked Camila, and the girl nodded. “She’s been looking at you for thirty minutes minimum.”

“Holy shit?” Camila’s eyes widened, and Ava smiled. “Do you know her?”

“That’s Beatrice’s sister, and I know for a fact she’s freshly single,” Camila didn’t say anything, she simply did a choking sound. “Go get her, soldier.”

Camila saluted Ava and she started to walk towards Lilith. She felt a pair of hands settling on her hips, and she rolled her eyes.

“Ava,” JC said, pouting at her. “Just one chance, please?”

“You had one and wasted it,” Ava said, and JC smiled at her in amusement, letting go of her. The both of them knew it wouldn’t happen, but still loved to flirt with one another. Ava simply loved to flirt with people in general.

“Would you prefer it if I was Zori?” JC raised an eyebrow, “I can act like her. I’ll just shut up for the rest of my life and look at everyone as if they had just killed my whole family.”

“Why is everyone mentioning Zori to me tonight?”

“Girl?” JC crossed his arms upon his chest. “Haven’t you seen the way she’s been looking at you all night?”

Usually Ava would feel the familiar sensation settling at the bottom of her stomach when someone looked at her the same way Zori had been doing all night. Ava was human after all, and she loved it when she felt wanted by someone. She liked to see the effect she had on others, the same way she loved to feel their own impact on her. But for some strange reason she didn’t feel anything.

“Too bad I’m not in the mood tonight,” Ava shrugged, and JC looked at her with concern in his eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Ava, wait,” JC looked at Michael’s direction and Ava saw Lilith had completely forgotten about her passed out brother, too engrossed by Camila’s presence. “Do you think that guy needs a new caretaker?”

“That’s Beatrice’s brother,” Ava said, raising an eyebrow.

“But do you think he needs a babysitter? I have experience.”

“You also have experience in being a slut, Juan Cristóbal,” JC laughed out loud at her.

“Oh, you know me so well babe.”

Ava rolled her eyes, and she made her way upstairs hoping she would find a bathroom soon before peeing herself. Thankfully, she didn’t have to walk much. She entered the bathroom, and she gasped at the way it pretty much looked like the place where Prince William would go to take a quick wee. Ava entered one stall, put paper around the toilet, and sighed contently when she sat down and did what she had come to do.

She cleaned herself up, and she looked in the mirror. Damn, she actually was looking hot as fuck despite her bloodshot eyes and the drunken blush upon her cheeks. And maybe it wasn’t too late to actually go back down and let Zori have what she had been seeking all night. Ava took her phone out, made sure no one was around, and took a quick mirror selfie.

Ava made her way out of the bathroom, opening up her Instagram to post the picture she had just taken, when her body bumped into someone else. She looked up, and saw one of the men who had been talking with Jillian all night.

He had long hair, put up in a neat ponytail, and his beard was perfectly trimmed. He was handsome, wearing and all black suit, but the hungry look in his dark brown eyes made Ava feel immediately uncomfortable. Ava put her phone back to her purse, clutching it tightly against her chest.

“Sorry,” Ava managed to say, looking out for an escape route. The man was looming upon her, hands hidden inside his dark pants’ pockets, and Ava started to feel panicky when he backed her against the wall.

“Oh, no worries,” he said, a thick British accent flowing out. Ava had fallen in love with that kind of accent the first time Beatrice had talked to her, but right now the goose-bumps invading her body weren’t the good kind.

“Could I please… go?” Ava asked the man, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I’m Adriel,” he said, completely ignoring her request. “Are you lost?”

“No,” Ava started to think about all the self-defense moves she had learned at Saint Melanie’s and after that, one of the main reasons she had decided to keep on taking lessons being exactly to know how to deal with this kind of situations. Which was sad, and pathetic, and simply enraging.

Ava remembered the way Beatrice had guided her through the movements, the way the both of them blushed furiously when Beatrice had to touch Ava to help her get the position right. Ava’s eyes roamed around the man’s body, hoping she looked angry enough for him to back off. He had his sides well protected, so Ava’s best option was to raise her knee and crash it against his crotch.

Ava started to count silently, while he kept talking.

*

When Leighton got drunk, she also got extremely horny and became clingy. And Beatrice mentally high-fived herself for deciding to stay next to her girlfriend, giving her the attention she had been silently seeking, instead of sulking somewhere else.

Truth be told, Beatrice also had her needs so the way Leighton was leaning into her, the way she was whispering the promises she would fulfill later on, it was making her feel things she would be ashamed to feel a few years back.

“Why don’t we just go?” Leighton said, kissing her neck. Beatrice inhaled sharply, eyes roaming around the room and hoping everyone was too busy to look at them.

“I can’t, this is my mother’s big night,” Beatrice tried to defend herself, her voice coming out weak and unconvincing. Leighton bit her earlobe, and Beatrice clenched her lips tight.

“Tell her I was feeling sick so you got me home,” Leighton’s lips were close to be permanently attached to Beatrice’s neck. “Bea…”

“Hmm?” Beatrice said, distractingly, as Leighton pretty much devoured her neck in front of everyone.

“I want you so bad, I missed you,” Leighton made sure she gasped the words, putting emphasis to her needs.

“Jesus,” Beatrice breathed out. Then, her eyes landed on a teal dress making its way upstairs, and then she saw a tall man she couldn’t recognize following the girl, who was completely unaware of his presence. “Ava.”

“What?”

“I-” Beatrice looked at Leighton who was looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

Beatrice pecked Leighton on the lips, who spluttered some kind of protest, but she was already on her way towards the bathrooms and didn’t hear the girl. Beatrice had to go through an army of tipsy people before she was able to reach the stairs, and then she got possessed by the spirit of Speedy Gonzales and reached the second story right in the moment she saw Adriel putting two dangerous hands on each side of Ava’s head, supporting his body and making it harder for her to escape.

“Leave her alone,” Beatrice said, rolling her blazer’s shirts up, breathing steadily. Ava turned her head to look at her, eyes wide and scared, while Adriel simply scowled at her.

“Mrs. Armstrong-Young,” the man said, with venom in his voice. “I’m quite busy right now.”

“I said leave her alone,” Beatrice started to walk slowly towards them.

Adriel let out a low chuckle, which chilled her to the bone. Beatrice could see Ava’s body was angling to get out of there, to find somewhere to hit Adriel and run, but she also saw the panic in the girl’s eyes, her quick breathing, and her drunken state would make everything complicated.

“And who are you to tell me what should I do?” Beatrice stopped moving, her eyes finding Ava’s. The girl was silently asking for her to do something, to take him away just like she had done with Crimson nine years ago.

“I’ve heard about you,” Beatrice cocked her head, “and how you can’t apparently enjoy yourself without harassing anyone at a party.”

Adriel clenched his jaw, his body still acting like a barrier but his attention now fully shifted into Beatrice.

“Are you jealous, Mrs. Armstrong-Young?” Adriel tried to taunt her, but she could feel the anger in the way his voice trembled slightly.

“You disgust me,” Beatrice simply said, ready to spit in his face to make her point. Then, Adriel smiled devilishly at her.

“Is it me the only man who you find disgusting?” and then, he used a word Beatrice hadn’t heard in a long while.

The last person who had called her that had been her father, before everything with Ava had gone to hell. Beatrice hated the way her body froze and the way words abandoned her, she hated the way all she could do was fist her hands on each side, while Adriel smiled proudly at what he had just done. A thousand memories ran over her head, reminding her of the time she couldn’t bear her own company.

And then, she saw Ava’s knee raising and colliding with Adriel’s crotch, her arms circling his neck when he bent over and her other knee colliding with his nose. Adriel straightened up, screaming in pain, and then his body launched towards Ava’s with a raised hand. Ava, though, even if she was completely hammered, punched him square in the jaw, hard enough for him to lose balance and fall to the ground.

“Puta merda,” Ava muttered, clutching the hand she had used to hit Adriel. Then, she remembered Beatrice was there and she walked towards the taller girl. Without thinking about it, Ava put both hands on Beatrice’s shoulders and her eyes searched for the girl’s.

“Ava…”

“Are you okay?” Beatrice had heard those panicked words uttered by the same girl seven years ago, in a complete different situation, but Ava had also been holding Beatrice by her shoulders, eyes wide making sure she was unhurt on a physical level.

“I…”

“Beatrice?” Jillian’s voice snapped Beatrice back to reality, and she turned around when she saw her accompanied by a woman who was wearing black form head to toe, brown hair falling down. Beatrice immediately recognized her as Suzanne Ricci, Jillian’s ex.

“Ava, what happened?” Suzanne asked, and Beatrice didn’t ask how the woman knew Ava.

“He tried to…” Ava didn’t say anything else, and the two women immediately adopted understanding and angry expressions.

“Did he hurt any of you?” Jillian asked, walking towards Beatrice. She still felt her hands shaking, the memories vanishing but still making her chest tighten up.

“No,” Beatrice mumbled out. “Ava stopped him.”

With one look at her direction, Ava easily understood Beatrice didn’t want her to say anything about what Adriel had called Beatrice, for everyone’s sanity and, most importantly, the man’s well-being.

“I’ll tell the guards to escort him out,” Jillian said, and then Beatrice’s eyes widened in realization.

“Jillian,” she said, passing a hand through her hair. “He’s Duretti’s lawyer, isn’t he?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“The… the project…” Jillian put a calming hand on her arm, rubbing it softly with her thumb.

“Beatrice, relax. Duretti’s done with Adriel, this will be the perfect reason to get rid of him. The project will remain intact.”

Beatrice nodded, breathing deeply. Jillian’s blue eyes then landed on Ava, making sure she was untouched and unharmed, and then she saw the way Ava’s hand was starting to swell and turn purple.

“Ava, love,” Jillian pointed at the girl’s hand, and she looked at it in surprise.

“Oh,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows. “Yeah, his jaw was kinda hard.”

Suzanne, who had been studying the situation in silence, let out a snort. Beatrice and Jillian couldn’t help but smile at the girl, and Beatrice immediately felt her shoulders relax when she saw Ava was truly fine, at least physically.

“Let me help you with that,” Beatrice offered, automatically taking Ava’s hand. She froze, but Ava didn’t say anything at all. Beatrice hoped the blush on the girl’s cheeks was from the alcohol Ava had been consuming like a champ.

“Okay,” Ava nodded, her eyes looking away, the intensity in which they had been previously looking at Beatrice disappearing slowly.

“I have to go show something to Suzanne,” Jillian said, scratching her nape. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure you do,” Ava said, raising an eyebrow. “Make sure you use protection.”

Beatrice felt her eyes widen when she understood what Ava was implying. Jillian’s mouth was hanging open, while Suzanne raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Do you want to go job hunting, Ava?” the shorter girl clenched her lips, pretended she locked them up and then threw the invisible key away. “Thought so.”

Right after that, a couple of men wearing black suits came up the stairs. Jillian nodded at Adriel’s direction, and the two guards dragged him away. He was mumbling something about getting back at Ava, about her regretting what she had done. Beatrice angled her body to go and kick his face again, but she felt a hand on her shoulder stopping her. Ava shook her head, before she put her hand away.

“Well,” Jillian cleared her throat, grabbing Suzanne by the arm once Adriel was removed from the building. “Have a good night.”

The two women then walked down the hallway and into the elevator, giggling like a couple of school girls, while Ava and Beatrice stood in an awkward silence for the second time in the night.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, while Ava said her name at the same time.

“Sorry,” Ava said, chuckling nervously.

“No, I’m sorry,” Beatrice muttered, and she hoped the girl would understand that the words had more weight and meaning than her apologizing for interrupting Ava.

“Right,” Ava avoided looking at her again. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh,” Beatrice blinked a few times. “That hand needs tending, and I have an ice pack in my office.”

“Isn’t it Lilith’s office too?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, in a desperate attempt to keep the conversation flowing.

“Don’t tell her I said that,” Beatrice smiled, and Ava smiled back at her, and for a moment it felt as if nothing had gone wrong, as if they hadn’t hurt each other as much as they had secretly loved each other.

“Lead the way?” Ava asked, and Beatrice nodded. She walked all the way down the hallway and into the office her and Lilith shared, and she opened the door with her card.

“Welcome to my crib,” Beatrice said, though Ava had already seen the office. The girl snorted, and walked inside while Beatrice turned the lights on. “You can sit on the sofa.”

Ava did as she said, looking around at the office and taking it all in. The plan of the building was sitting on a wall, framed, and the office was filled with different types of shelves with the most random decorations Beatrice and Lilith had been able to put their hands on, totally breaking with Jillian’s black and white and futuristic concept.

“Why do you have a mini fridge with ice?” Ava asked from the sofa, and Beatrice smiled once she had retrieved the ice bag from said fridge.

“Lilith gets cranky if her coffee isn’t as cold as her heart,” Beatrice shrugged, walking towards Ava.

“She’s really special to you, isn’t she?” Ava asked softly, and Beatrice nodded.

“She…” Beatrice took her blazer off, realizing that she didn’t have anything to cover the bag of ice with, and used it as a cloth to protect Ava’s skin from the cold. “It might sound cliché, but she saved my life.”

“I get it,” Ava said after a long silence. Beatrice then looked at the girl’s purple hand.

“May I?” the shorter girl nodded. With one hand, Beatrice took Ava’s hand and with the other she applied the ice after covering it up with her blazer.

“Fuck me that’s cold,” Ava muttered, and then she spluttered some words in Portuguese. “Ah, filho da puta.”

Beatrice chuckled, and Ava looked up at her curiously. “This reminds me of something,” Ava thought for a while, her drunken brain slow, and then a knowing look invaded her face.

“Fucking Crimson,” Ava chuckled, and Beatrice did the same. Then, they were giggling. “You really did beat her up badly, huh?”

“Well… how could I not?” Beatrice stopped laughing, but a smile remained on her face. Ava hummed, her eyes falling into her covered hand which still was sandwiched between Beatrice’s hands.

“So…” Ava’s eyes looked around. “Leighton Murray.”

“About that…” Beatrice started, but Ava shook her head.

“You don’t have to… give any explanations, Beatrice. Or, well… you can save it for Saturday? I’m free on the weekends, so I thought maybe… we could hang out and all then.”

“You really still want to go for that coffee?” Ava frowned at the insecurity in Beatrice’s voice, but then nodded slowly.

“Many things were left unsaid, Beatrice…” the girl shrugged her shoulders. “I think we both deserve a chance to… explain our own version of why we did what we did that night, right?”

“Yes,” Beatrice sighed, “it’s been too long.”

“If I’m honest with you, I think we would’ve run into one another eventually.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm,” Ava said, moving slightly on the couch. Beatrice cleared her throat when she felt Ava’s bare knee touching with her own. “It’s like the Universe wanted us to see one another again, to talk and… maybe… fix things up.”

Fix things up, Beatrice thought, hoping Ava wouldn’t see the way she was trying so hard not to smile like the damn Cheshire cat.

“I actually came here because of you,” Beatrice confessed, and Ava looked at her with wide eyes. “I was supposed to go to Barcelona instead, the thought of living somewhere like New York has always made me feel… anxious.”

“What changed that?”

“I read an article you wrote,” Ava blushed, and Beatrice tried very hard to stay still and not caress the girl’s cheek, “The one about poisoned sausages.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Ava laughed out loud, and Beatrice realized that she had missed the sound so much. It felt as if an empty space of her heart was slowly filling up again. “You could’ve chosen a better article!”

“Well… it got me here, so it was good enough,” Ava’s grin disappeared, and it turned into a bashful smile.

“I remember you said you’re going back to England though, right?” Beatrice nodded.

“Yes, in three months. I’ll manage things from there, while Lilith is supposed to go to Spain and Michael will stay here. Jillian says she wants to take a five years long vacation and travel the world for her own enjoyment instead of doing it for work.”

Ava nodded, as if Jillian had already told her that in the interview they had one week ago, and Beatrice couldn’t help but imagine Ava digging into her purse and taking a notepad out to interview Beatrice right then and there.

“Becoming a CEO at only twenty-five…” Ava was about to ask something else, but Beatrice rose her hand.

“Save it for Saturday, or else we’ll have nothing to talk about.”

“Actually, I disagree. There’s a seven years long Beatrice hole in my life which needs filling,” once Ava finished that sentence, her eyes widened in horror and Beatrice felt her own mouth hanging open.

“Ava?” Beatrice asked, and Ava blushed furiously.

“I didn’t mean to…” she stopped talking once Beatrice couldn’t hold in her snort anymore, and she started to laugh uncontrollably. She felt Ava’s free hand hitting her on her arm. “Asshole!”

“Be careful, I don’t have enough ice,” Ava rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but she soon after was also giggling uncontrollably.

“Jesus, I need to learn how to shut up,” the shorter girl said, wiping at her eyes. Beatrice let out a long sigh, and they fell into a comfortable silence while their eyes stayed on one another.

Beatrice was about to open her mouth again, to ask how was Ava feeling or if she needed more ice. She wanted to ask her something, anything, even if it meant asking her if she was a fan of any sport or what had she eaten for dinner before coming here. But she was interrupted when she heard giggles on the hallway, two pairs of heeled feet walking towards the office in a rush.

Then, Lilith showed up accompanied by one of the girl’s Ava had introduced as her friend. Camila, if Beatrice remembered correctly. Beatrice then saw the way Camila’s curly hair was disheveled, how Lilith’s lips were stained with red lipstick, the way their breathing was ragged and their pupils dilated.

“Oh,” Lilith said, eyes wide. Beatrice had never seen her sister smiling so widely, looking so carefree. Camila simply furrowed her eyebrows, looking from Ava to Beatrice and vice versa.

“Going somewhere, Lil?” Beatrice asked, and she tried not to smile when Ava snorted next to her.

“I…” something that defined Lilith was that she always had a comeback, so Beatrice found it incredibly amusing when words failed the girl.

“Ava, are you okay?” Camila asked, her eyes looking at the hand Beatrice had been tending to. Camila, then, looked at Beatrice and her face went form a concerned expression to a scowl.

“Camila,” Ava warned her, any amusement she had felt a moment ago totally gone. “There was an asshole molesting me, and Bea helped me out.”

Bea.

She called me Bea.

“She did?” Camila asked, needing confirmation. Ava nodded, while Beatrice was silently going through gay panic.

“I punched him, because he’s a homophobe, and now my hand is purple.”

“Did he say anything to you? What did he call you? Where is he, I will fucking murder him!” Camila’s usually soft voice kept rising with every question, and Beatrice would’ve laughed at Lilith for looking genuinely scared if she herself wasn’t feeling the same way.

“Acalme-se, querida,” Ava said, her voice soft. Camila nodded.

“Calm, yeah, I can be calm,” Camila repeated the words like a mantra, breathing in and out slowly and closing her eyes.

Beatrice thanked God when neither Camila nor Ava were looking her way, because the way Ava had asked her friend to calm down in Portuguese had done… things, to her. Lilith, though, was the one looking at her with an amused stare now. Jesus, Beatrice needed to find Leighton and maybe grant her girlfriend’s drunken wishes.

“He didn’t say anything to me,” Ava continued once Camila was calm enough to listen to her friend instead of committing homicide. “He said it to Beatrice.”

Camila’s thick eyebrows furrowed. “But didn’t you say he was a homophobe?”

“I-” Ava looked at Beatrice, horrified, but Beatrice simply smiled at the girl.

“He was,” Beatrice said, and then Camila connected the dots.

“Ah…” Camila nodded slowly. “JC owns me.”

“What?” Beatrice and Ava asked at the same time.

“I said Beatrice had dumped your ass seven years ago because she actually was a repressed lesbian who had a crush on you. I was right.”

“Camila!” Ava said, face-palming herself, while Beatrice made a choking sound.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Lilith said, looking at Camila, and the shorter girl shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, that happens often.”

“Uh, I think…” Beatrice got up, dropping Ava’s hand. “Ava, maybe… I need to… you…”

“Oh, shit, I think I broke her,” Camila muttered to Lilith, who hummed in agreement.

“Bathroom,” Beatrice simply said, and she stormed out the office.

She didn’t know how the hell Camila had known what she had realized almost a year after hurting Ava the way she did, during one of the many nights her and Lilith shared secrets in the darkness of their Oxford dorm.

Beatrice didn’t know if she had become an open book, or if Ava had said anything about their strange situation back at Saint Melanie’s, or if Camila simply had psychic powers. All Beatrice knew was that hearing something she had buried deep inside, coming from someone she didn’t know at all, opened a Pandora box she had promised herself she would close tightly and never look back at it. So she could move on, so she could ask for Ava’s forgiveness and then carry on with life.

“Beatrice, wait!” she heard rushed steps coming from the office, and then she heard a loud thump.

Beatrice turned around, and saw Ava sprawled on the floor while Camila and Lilith looked at the girl in amusement. When a choked sound came out of Lilith’s mouth announcing a laughter attack and Camila saw the promise of a slow and painful death on Beatrice’s eyes, the shorter girl rushed Lilith inside the office and closed the door tightly.

“Fuck, I’m never drinking again,” Ava muttered from the floor. Beatrice sighed, kneeling next to her. “You stormed out on me again.”

“Ava…” Beatrice tried to find the proper way to apologize, but the girl smiled reassuringly at her.

“I get it,” she said, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.”

“I promise I didn’t say anything to her. I mean,” Ava groaned, using her forearms as support but not bothering to get up. “Yes, I talked about you and what happened between us and how it hurt me.”

“Ava…”

“But I… I never made any kind of assumptions, nor I suggested to her that you… that you know…” Ava waved a hand in Beatrice’s direction, not knowing how to formulate what she wanted to say. “Actually, I thought you were straight until a few hours ago.”

Beatrice sighed. Might as well open the Pandora box widely if the Universe won’t stop interferring.

“She’s right,” Beatrice said in a rush, “Camila, I mean. She’s right, I was in love with you.”

“What?” Ava’s voice was barely audible, her eyes moving frantically and trying to decipher what Beatrice was trying to say.

Beatrice nodded slowly, and she saw the way Ava wanted to ask more and know more. “You’re drunk right now, Ava, and this is a conversation I would like for you to remember tomorrow.”

“But… Leighton…” and then Ava understood, and she realized Beatrice had used the past tense, and the way her eyes looked so immediately sad broke Beatrice’s heart.

“I told you it’s a long story,” Beatrice took Ava by the arm, careful not to touch her injured hand, the ice long forgotten behind. “But we’ll save it for Saturday, yes?”

“Yeah,” Ava nodded, looking as if she had just been punched multiple times on the face and was unable to gather her thoughts. “Yeah, okay, Saturday.”

“Do you need me to walk you down?” Ava shook her head, and then took her purse from the floor.

“I… have to do… Zori,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“You have to do Zori?”

“Yes! No! I… maybe?” Ava shook her head, and then smiled at Beatrice as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just confessed she had been in love with Ava. “Thank you for the ice, and defending me. Just like old times, right?”

“Yes,” Beatrice smiled softly at Ava. “It was my pleasure, Ava.”

“Sure, well…” Ava rocked on her feet, almost losing her balance again, “see you on Saturday!”

The girl went down the stairs, and Beatrice sighed trying to ignore the way her brain was correcting what she had just said to Ava. You were in love with Ava? Who are you trying to lie to?

Beatrice looked up at the ceiling, letting out a groan. She needed to find Leighton.

*

“You,” Ava said, making her way towards Zori. The girl raised an eyebrow, sipping from her drink.

“What?”

Ava didn’t say anything else, she simply crashed her lips upon Zori’s and hoped it would make her forget what Beatrice had just said, the way her chest had fluttered and her heart had made a mortal jump inside her ribcage when Beatrice had confirmed that she, in fact, had been in love with Ava all those years ago.

Knowing that Beatrice had loved her in secret, the same way Ava had done with the girl, didn’t fill her with pleasure or happiness. It filled her with pain and anger, because they could’ve had it all but none of them did anything to make it happen. Ava didn’t make Beatrice feel safe enough to let herself love with no bounds, and Beatrice let all those things her family had filled her head with to be stronger than what she felt. And, in the end, the only thing they achieved was to hurt one another and to put an ocean between each other.

When the sun was rising a few hours later, when Ava felt her body sore and still sticky with sweat, and when the only sound filling the space of her room was Zori’s soft breathing, Ava wanted to scream because the alcohol and the sex hadn’t let her forget about anything that was said and done the previous night.

Chapter Text

Nine years ago

Ava was literally bouncing up and down, and Beatrice had to try very, very hard not to smile at the girl’s apparent excitement. She had never really liked much Christmas, not since Isabella had left, because that meant sitting through several family dinners and going through several interrogations about her grades and plans for the future and it simply overwhelmed her. She was sixteen years old, and none of the plans she had for the years ahead were her own.

When Isabella had been there it had been funny. Beatrice had loved watching her older sister telling their ancient aunts her plans for the future were dropping everything and, maybe, become a porn star. There had only been a couple of their cousins, the ones that had been a few years older than Isabella, who had laughed and had joked back. And that made the dinners at least a little bit more bearable.

Beatrice also remembered the way Isabella had made it her own mission to help her put up the Christmas tree in the large and lonely living room at Armstrong Hall, the enormous countryside manor their family used to go to during Christmas time. Isabella would always play Christmas classics, the both of them singing along, and then her older sister would completely neglect the mission at hand only to take Beatrice and spin her around while they giggled uncontrollably.

They always did that when their parents were out at some fancy dinner with the other aristocrats and diplomats, when Isabella and Beatrice were left alone with their nannies and staff. Beatrice loved how they turned a blind eye whenever the girls were home alone, letting them have the fun children their age should have. But Beatrice didn’t love the way all of them got yelled at, for not keeping the girls under control and letting them mess up the immaculate manor. Their parents, though, never asked them to put the tree down. Not because they cared about the girls and the Christmas spirit, but because when they had guests over they needed to look like a perfect and loving family who adored celebrating Christmas together.

And then Isabella left, and listening to Christmas classics or putting up the tree didn’t make any sense anymore. Beatrice stopped looking forward to going back to Armstrong Hall for the Christmas holidays, because that meant she would be alone in the manor while her parents were busy making connections and probably arranging some kind of marriage for her, since she was supposed to be the heir of their fortune and all now that Isabella wasn’t in the picture anymore.

The hot chocolate their cook prepared for her didn’t feel the same if Isabella wasn’t there to share it with her, the way her nannies woke her up on the morning of Christmas Eve to put up the tree didn’t really make much sense.

“You do it,” Beatrice would say, allowing herself to lie in bed until she’d have enough, since her parents were probably somewhere else and wouldn’t come back home until later on.

She didn’t miss the way their staff looked at her with so much pity and sadness in their eyes, the way they would whisper behind her back when they thought she was occupied reading a book or practicing on the piano.

“That poor girl,” they would say, “And her poor sister… she was so young, not even nineteen.”

If it had been for Beatrice, she would’ve stopped playing piano. It reminded her way too much of Isabella, the way her sister had taught her how to play Carol of the Bells, or the way they would sing Queen’s Love of my life, or Elton’s Your song while being unable to finish the lyrics because they were laughing to hard, or changing the words for some silly ones.

She kept playing piano only because her parents told her so, and she didn’t feel like going through their reprimands because she had skipped practice in order to read something or simply go out for a walk in the snow. So she simply played random notes, looking out the window and trying to ignore the dull and empty sensation on her chest, while the cook walked towards her with a big smile on his face and a mug with hot chocolate in it. And she tried very hard to ignore the way his face fell when he came to retrieve the chocolate, and saw it had been untouched.

The Christmas after Isabella had gone away was the last one Beatrice spent at Armstrong Hall, and maybe that was a small indication that her parents had a small ounce of emotion inside of them. Maybe it reminded them way too much of Isabella too, so they decided to ignore Armstrong Hall existed overall. They never put it up for sale, it simply was another of the many properties Beatrice would inherit, another of the many manors they owned which collected dust. And Christmas time was spent at their townhouse located in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, back in London.

But the days were still lonely, her parents busying themselves going to fancy breakfasts and late night parties while Beatrice was left alone in their home, hiding in the library and asking her nannies to not bother her until it would be dinner time.

So, for the last four years ever since Isabella had gone, Beatrice had stopped looking forward to the Christmas holidays. And this year she didn’t even have in mind celebrating them, for her parents had called her the previous week telling her they would be abroad and she would have to stay in London all on her own.

“Eustace?” Beatrice said, when the man’s husky voice sounded in the other end of the line.

“Mrs. Armstrong-Young!” Eustace’s cheery voice greeted her back, and she couldn’t help but smile softly. “I have been told this Christmas it will be only you.”

“About that...” Beatrice sighed deeply, not ready to hear the man’s sadness and feeling slightly guilty when she imagined the nannies and other staff being disappointed.

“You prefer staying over there, don’t you, Bea?” Eustace and her nannies had been the only people Beatrice had allowed to call her by the nickname her sister had used with her after Isabella had left.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice tried to find a quick excuse. “It’s my junior year, so it’s truly important that I focus on my lessons as much as possible.”

“I understand,” the man’s voice was empathetic, but she could feel the hurt through the phone. “Will you call on Christmas Day, though? I’m sure the rest would love it.”

“I will try.”

Their goodbyes were quick, and Beatrice hung up the phone in Mother France’s old office. It was a Thursday night, and the next morning lessons were canceled so the majority of the students could prepare their luggage in the morning in order to leave that afternoon, when the school would be filled with families coming to pick up their daughters up to spend the holidays together.

Beatrice had made the decision of staying at Saint Melanie’s when Ava had told her that she wouldn’t be going back to Spain, because she didn’t really have the money to buy a plane ticket back home, let alone buy another one that would take her back to England after the holidays.

Ava had been pretty happy, though, or maybe she was just a great actress after all the theater lessons she had been taking for the past two months. Their friendship or, well, acquaintance, had improved a lot for the last month and a half. It had been a long time since Beatrice felt comfortable around someone who wasn’t Isabella, or it had been a long time since she let herself become close to someone else.

She used to be a friendly girl, and she made many friends when she had arrived at Saint Melanie’s when she was ten years old. She had found it refreshing, being away of her family and having Isabella there. Her older sister was a junior, Head Girl and captain of the Sports Club and probably the most popular girl in Saint Melanie’s. So when Beatrice arrived, aged ten, Isabella took her around and made sure everyone knew that she was her little sister.

People respected Beatrice, not because she was Isabella’s sister but because she took it upon herself to get a good reputation of her own. She made her own friends and established her own rules, and at age twelve she was already as well respected as Isabella had been. But then, Isabella left and the respect people had for her changed into intimidation.

Beatrice became cold and distant, and she believed the people around her age started to fear her while the older ones who had the chance of befriending Isabella kind of became her own bodyguards. And Beatrice hated it, but it also felt nice to see there was still a piece of Isabella in the school that wasn’t the big picture of her sister smiling in the Hall of Fame, with her date of birth and date of death, and a massive list of everything she had achieved during the eight years she had spent at Saint Melanie’s.

So she slowly started to earn the respect and fear of the other students and the teaching staff, through cold stares and becoming the best of the best in the school, not even using her family’s name nor her sister’s influence once in her lifetime. But that also made her lose all the friends she had gained, everyone being too scared or intimidated of her to even try to talk to her.

Until Ava showed up.

And Beatrice had tried it so hard to mark the distance, to let Ava know this was her territory and she wasn’t allowed to enter it. But Ava didn’t care, because Ava had been the life of the party back in the orphanage she had grown up at, and she’d had a loving and kind mother and then Father Vincent had decided to take care of her and Ava had barreled through life with big smiles and positivity, even if life hadn’t treated her the same way.

And Beatrice hated the way she hadn’t been immune to Ava’s charms, and how she also ended promising herself that if anyone dared to hurt the girl again, no matter how much Ava’s energy annoyed Beatrice as equally as it endeared her, that person would suffer and would pay the consequences.

But every promise had a limit, and waking up on the 22^nd of December at 7 in the morning to Ava blasting Wham!’s Last Christmas was, probably, Beatrice’s tolerance limit.

Beatrice was an early bird, after all she was up by 6 in the morning every day. But today lessons were canceled, and the sisters had allowed them to skip their prayers so they could get ready to go back home. And Beatrice wasn’t stupid, and she had wanted to sleep in until at least seven thirty. But Ava seemed to have other plans.

“What in the world, Ava?” Beatrice groaned, while Ava’s voice was louder than George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley’s ones.

Ava didn’t answer at all, she simply turned around to look at Beatrice and started to perform give the performance of her life, pretending she was holding an invisible microphone at it was just the both of them left in the world.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, Ava pretended to sing, pointing at Beatrice and then at her heart. But the very next day, you threw it away, the girl kept going, pretending she was throwing something into the trash can and then putting a hand on her forehead, as if she was about to faint.

Beatrice snorted, burying her face into her pillow so Ava wouldn’t see she was actually giggling. She then looked back at Ava, only one half of her face visible, and Ava smiled widely at her.

This year, to save me from tears, Ava pretended she wiped and invisible tear away, I’ll give it to someone special, the girl continued, finger-gunning Beatrice while simultaneously winking at her. Beatrice hoped her blush wasn’t visible.

“Tune it down, Ava,” Beatrice said, sighing while the girl kept on performing the song, “Mother Frances will kick us out.”

“Her ancient ass can try,” Ava said, and Beatrice widened her eyes in horror. “I’m faster, stronger, younger.”

“You’re also suicidal, apparently,” Beatrice sat up, passing a hand through her face to wipe the sleep away.

Ava wasn’t performing anymore, she was simply dancing around, and Beatrice saw she actually was cleaning up their bedroom. At seven in the morning which, in Ava’s book, that was psychotic behavior. Yet here she was, dancing and singing and cleaning up their room while Beatrice still slept.

“What’s gotten into you?” Beatrice asked, gluing her eyes to the window at the back of their room so she wouldn’t look at Ava’s legs, covered only by her pajama’s shorts.

“The Christmas spirit and a day free of prayers and stuck-up bitches,” Ava then turned around, eyes wide. “Not you, though, you’re not stuck-up.”

“But I’m a bitch?” Beatrice raised an eyebrow, and Ava gasped.

“Beatrice Armstrong-Young!” the girl said, doing her best impression of Mother Frances. Beatrice shook her head, smiling at the girl.

“I thought you disliked Christmas?” Beatrice asked, when the other night Ava kind of cried after the evening prayers because she realized Christmas was around the corner.

When Beatrice asked her what was wrong, Ava said she always felt down around Christmas time because it reminded her of her mother, the way they used to celebrate it, and how she’d wished the woman was still around to dance to some Christmas classics and drink hot chocolate. And then, the memories of Isabella came flooding back and Beatrice also felt her throat closing up. But she didn’t cry, Beatrice didn’t cry anymore.

Ava also told her it would be the first time ever since she was nine years old that she wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas with Diego, Vincent and the other children of the orphanage. So she wasn’t really looking forward to it, even if that meant her and Beatrice would have the whole school for themselves.

And the fact that Ava was feeling down made Beatrice feel something she didn’t quite recognize, but she knew she didn’t want Ava to feel sad during a time of the year that was supposed to be about happiness and family, even when for Beatrice Christmas had lost any kind of meaning ever since Isabella left.

So after Ava had gone to shower in their private bathroom, Beatrice decided to go search for Mother Frances and ask her permission to make a quick call back home.

“Mrs. Beatrice,” Eustace said, his cheerful voice making Beatrice feel warm inside. “Have you changed your mind?”

“I actually need you to do me a favor, Eustace.”

When Beatrice went up their dorm again, Ava was already fast asleep, with her hair still damp. Beatrice rolled her eyes, losing count of how many times she had told the girl to dry her hair before going to bed because she could get sick. But she didn’t wake Ava up, she simply turned the girl’s lamp off before she turned her own off.

Beatrice only needed to wait two days, and watching the way Ava was vigorously cleaning up their dorm and dancing after she had been crying two nights ago about how miserable her Christmas would be this year without Diego and Vincent told her that Ava had most likely gotten the news.

“My guardian angel,” Ava started to say, kneeling on the wooden floor and reaching for some estranged piece of clothing abandoned underneath her bed, “has answered my prayers.”

“Are you suddenly a believer?” Beatrice said, looking at the girl with a teasing smile. Ava rolled her eyes.

“Frances woke me up at like six thirty,” Ava told her, sitting on Beatrice’s bed. Even in the mornings, she looked extremely cute with her disheveled hair and sleepy brown eyes. Beatrice held her breathing. “Long story short, Vincent and Diego are coming for Christmas!”

Their theater teacher would be extremely proud of Beatrice for the performance she put on. She opened her eyes and her mouth, letting out a surprised oh, and then smiling at Ava, who was literally wiggling like an overexcited puppy.

“Is that so?”

“Yes!” Ava yelled, getting up and twirling around the room. “But do not fear, my beloved Beatrice, I shall include you in all of the Christmas activities!”

So that same afternoon, Ava had dragged Beatrice from their dorm and they were now standing in the middle of Saint Melanie’s courtyard, Mother Frances on Ava’s right side and Beatrice on the left, while Ava remained in the middle with her hands hidden behind her back and being unable to stay still.

When Ava let out a squeal of happiness, Beatrice saw a familiar black car driving through the small road between the school and the nearest town. Beatrice tried to suppress the chilling sensation that she suddenly felt running down her spine, reminding herself that even if it was one of the cars her family owned to travel here and there, they weren’t coming to pick her up.

Soon after, a boy with black hair who was almost as tall as Beatrice and a man with graying hair and round glasses got down from the car, mouths wide, while they looked at the school. And from the periphery of her vision, Beatrice saw Ava running towards Diego and Vincent, almost tackling them down to the ground.

“Ava!” Diego yelled at her, hugging the girl with equal excitement. Vincent simply smiled at her, and then hugged her like a father would hug his daughter. Not that Beatrice knew what that felt like.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Ava said, out of breath. Then, she looked back at Beatrice. “This is Beatrice, my dorm mate and my best friend.”

Beatrice felt a blush crippling up her neck and spreading around her cheeks. It’s the cold, she thought, while she looked down at the ground covered in snow. Vincent looked at her, knowingly, while Diego let out a sound of protest.

“I thought I was your best friend?” the boy asked, and Ava disheveled his hair.

“You’re my brother, dumb ass,” she corrected him.

“Ava…” Vincent said, furrowing his eyebrows, and she immediately apologized.

“Bea!” Ava said, taking her hand and dragging her towards Vincent and Diego.

It was still strange hearing Ava calling her the same way Isabella used to do. At first, she had stiffened and hadn’t known how to react, and then Ava realized maybe she had overstepped another boundary and immediately apologized, but Beatrice for whatever reason said it was fine and she could call her Bea if she wanted to. Now, whenever Ava called her by her full name it simply felt weird.

Beatrice looked at Vincent and Diego, and she nodded at them. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you are the Beatrice, huh,” Diego said, raising an eyebrow at her. “You’re all Ava talks about when she calls us. We literally have no clue of what she does here, except spending time with you.”

“Diego!” Ava whisper yelled at the boy, kicking him on the shin. “Sorry, Beatrice, someone hasn’t learned how to be quiet.”

“That’s fine,” Beatrice smiled at Ava, whose cheeks were burning red. It’s the cold, Beatrice told herself once again.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Ava walked in front of them all, Beatrice following.

“Will I be sleeping here?” Diego asked, fear in his voice.

“No,” Mother Frances answered, before any of them could. Ava and Beatrice looked at her, confused. “Only members of the school shall stay here.”

“What?” Ava protested. “So where do you think they should sleep? Out in the cold?”

Mother Frances stiffened, ready to reprimand Ava, but Vincent put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ava. There’s a motel back in the town, we can go there.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Beatrice said, before Ava could say anything else. “Ava… I have to tell you something.”

“Huh?” the girl asked, and Vincent looked at her.

When she had called Eustace, to ask him to contact with Vincent and Diego in order to invite them over here, she’d told the man to not say who had done that and let them all be happily naïve.

Beatrice didn’t know why she had done it, she’d guessed Ava would simply spend the few days Vincent and Diego would be around with them and Beatrice would spend them alone in their dorm. She hadn’t expected Ava to count with her for their family time, but she’d expected Mother Frances not allowing Vincent and Diego to stay at school. So, just in case, she had an ace up her sleeve.

“I invited them over,” Beatrice explained, hiding her hands inside her pockets. Ava furrowed her eyebrows. “You told me how hard it would be to spend Christmas away from them, and…”

Beatrice was unable to end her sentence, because now it was being her who Ava decided to almost tackle to the ground. The girl’s arms were tight around her shoulders, her head buried on her neck, and Beatrice suddenly didn’t feel cold at all. Slowly, she put her arms around Ava’s torso and patted her back awkwardly.

“Thank you, Bea,” Ava whispered, and Beatrice’s heart tightened when she saw there were tears in Ava’s eyes.

“We’ll grab our clothes,” Beatrice said, clearing her throat once Ava separated her body from hers, “and we’ll go to Armstrong Hall.”

“What’s that?” Diego asked, looking between the two girls with a strange spark in his brown eyes.

Beatrice sighed, and Ava was starting to realize what the place she had just mentioned was.

“That’s my family’s winter house,” she explained, choosing not to call it a manor.

“Won’t your parents be there, Beatrice?” Vincent asked her softly, worry in his eyes. She shook her head.

“They’re spending Christmas away, in Australia,” she wished it didn’t hurt to say as much as it did, and she wished Ava was still hugging her. “So… it’s safe for us to go, don’t worry.”

Vincent and Diego looked at one another, Ava looking at them both hopefully while Mother Frances was watching Beatrice with disapproval in her beady eyes. Then, Diego and Vincent nodded at one another, and then at Beatrice.

“Perfect,” she said, breathing deeply.

Ava and she walked inside and up to their dorm in silence, but she didn’t miss the big smile on Ava’s lips and the way she looked at her as if one thousand Christmas lights had just lit up inside her eyes.

And maybe going back to the place where Beatrice had buried so many painful memories would be worth it, as long as it made Ava happy.

Because that was what best friends did for one another.

*

The way Ava’s jaw was hitting the snowed floor screamed “Ha, you’re poor!” but she didn’t care at all.

Armstrong Hall was a massive manor, something Beatrice had totally forgotten to mention. The girl had claimed no one had really lived there in a few years, because her family had stopped going there for Christmas time (Ava didn’t ask questions), but the house still looked very well taken care of.

The stone walls were covered by green vines, and there was a massive stone staircase that drove them up to the manor’s entrance door. A tall man with white hair and black skin was waiting for them, a bright smile upon his face, and when Ava looked at Beatrice she hadn’t seen the girl that much content.

Ava had wanted to hold her hand throughout the almost two hours drive, which had been a growing urge for the last few weeks. But the fact that Beatrice had seen her crying because she missed Diego and Vincent, and then she arranged their visit here and told her staff to get Armstrong Hall ready for them all because she knew Mother Frances was a bitch and wouldn’t let Ava’s family stay with them at the school had risen the urge of holding Beatrice’s hand at one hundred percent.

Ava had argued with Beatrice when they had gone to gather their things, telling her she didn’t have to bother and they could go back to the old motel in the nearest town. But Beatrice insisted, and Beatrice was extremely stubborn, so Ava completely gave up on her second attempt. And, honestly, she didn’t regret it at all.

The courtyard was massive, with stone statues representing classical mythology deities and creatures, as well as there were trees covered in snow scattered around and a massive fountain in the middle of it all.

The girls, Vincent and Diego made their way up the stairs. Ava was still staring up at the massive front side of the house, the several lines of windows and the massive balconies, when she tripped on one of the stairs and Beatrice immediately gently grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Be careful, Ava,” the girl said, with playfulness in her brown eyes. Ava couldn’t help but smile at her, the fluttering feeling inside her chest harder to ignore.

“Mrs. Beatrice,” the man said, his smile becoming bigger. Ava was expecting him to bow down or something, but the man hugged the girl fiercely and she did the same with him.

“Eustace,” Beatrice called him, once they separated. “I’ve missed you.”

“You have been missed too, dear Beatrice,” Eustace caressed Beatrice’s back, as if he was the girl’s grandfather, and Ava couldn’t help but feel so warm despite of the freezing air.

“This is Ava Silva,” Beatrice said, pointing at Ava. She waved at Eustace, smiling widely, and the man let out an amused chuckle. “And these are Vincent and Diego, her family.”

Her family, Ava thought. She had always seen Vincent as the father figure she never had before, and Diego as her brother. She had always called them her family, especially when Vincent voiced his intention of adopting them both and taking them with him once he would retire from his position at the orphanage. But having Beatrice calling them Ava’s family, acknowledging it without Ava having to mention it, it was special. It made it feel more real, even if Vincent and Diego weren’t Ava’s family yet. Not legally, at least.

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” Eustace said, opening the double door. Beatrice gestured her three guests to enter first, and Ava didn’t hesitate at all when she felt the warmth coming from inside.

If the outside of Armstrong Hall had been stunning, Ava had no words to describe the inside of the house. The receiver space’s floor was made of stone, and the walls were painted in a pristine white and, judging by the smell, Ava could tell it hadn’t been long since they had been repainted. There were two doors, one on Ava’s left side and the other on her right side, and in front of her there was a wide stone staircase with an Y shape, the steps covered with a red rug.

The walls were covered with paintings of men and women Ava supposed were Beatrice’s ancestors, for all of them wore the name “Armstrong”, though only a couple of them looked like Beatrice did. One of them was a man called Anthony Armstrong, who Ava assumed was Beatrice’s grandfather, and the other was a younger guy called Edward Armstrong.

“My great-grandfather,” Beatrice pointed at the painting of a stern looking man, called Frederick. “He traveled to China, fell in love with a woman there, and… yeah. Here I am.”

“Oh,” Ava nodded. Next to the girl’s father portrait there was a blank space, and Ava guessed that’s where Beatrice’s own portrait would go once she would become the head of the house and all.

“Stay here,” Beatrice said, before following Eustace into another room.

“She really is filthy rich, huh,” Diego whispered, getting a disapproving look from Vincent and a slap on his arm from Ava.

There were a couple of coffee tables in the hall, one next to the stairs and four acting like sentinels guarding the two doors on each side of the room. Each of the coffee tables, though, had a vase with fresh flowers in them and Ava wondered how long did Beatrice actually go to make this cold house look comfortable for her guests, and in such short notice.

“Ava?” Beatrice said, and Ava looked to her left. The girl was standing in the threshold, waiting for her guests to follow her.

The three of them entered the room were Beatrice had gone to, and Ava saw there was a fire crackling in the hearth, Eustace pouring hot tea on four mugs while two women were preparing all sorts of snacks for them to eat.

“This is one of the many drawing rooms,” Beatrice explained, “but it’s the coziest one.”

The walls were covered in red paper, paintings of what Ava could identify as the landscape where their school and Armstrong Hall were located in. There was a big chandelier illuminating the room, smaller lights hanging on the walls adding to the glow. The fireplace was made of what Ava assumed was white marble decorated with golden neoclassical motifs, four expensive looking figurines upon it surrounding a clock made of solid gold.

There were several coffee tables around the room, with fresh flowers and black and white pictures upon them. Right next to the fireplace, though, there were two green couches facing one another and a coffee table in the middle with a plate with the snacks and tea Beatrice’s staff had been preparing for them.

At the end of the couches, there were two more coffee tables with huge lamps upon them, and two white armrests facing the fireplace as well. At the other end of the room, Ava could see a wooden piano sitting next to one of the massive windows with red velvet curtains, and several bookshelves made of dark wood filled with many books from classical literature.

When Beatrice saw that none of her guests made a move to sit down, too preoccupied trying to take in every single thing surrounding them, she cleared her throat loudly. The three of them looked at her, and she looked back at them with a soft yet amused smile. “Please, sit down.”

“Yes, boss,” Ava said, half tempted to simply slump down into one of the couches. She sat carefully, though, scared that she would break them. Vincent and Diego sat on the couch in front of hers, and Beatrice decided to take the space next to Ava’s.

“I’ve only seen two rooms from this house,” Diego said, his eyes unable to stop looking around, “but I already love it!”

“We should eat this first,” Beatrice said, pointing at the plates on the coffee table, “and then I can take you on a house tour?”

“Yes!” Diego almost yelled, Vincent putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Forgive him, Beatrice,” the priest said, smiling apologetically, “he’s already got his sugar fill.”

“Oh, then maybe you shouldn’t eat any more biscuits?” Ava couldn’t help but snort, Diego following behind. Beatrice looked at her confused.

“Sorry it’s just…” Ava breathed deeply, “biscuits.”

“What about it?”

“So posh, Bea,” Ava smiled at the girl, who rolled her eyes at her. “Coming back here is bringing the royalty out of you.”

“Ava, for the thousandth time, I’m not royalty,” Beatrice only needed to put her arms across her chest and huff in annoyance, but she kept her composure when she caught Eustace and the two other women looking with amusement at them.

“Is she, or is she not?” Ava asked them, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Actually,” one of the women started to say, “Mrs. Beatrice’s great-great-great-great grandmother was one of Queen Victoria’s daughters.”

“The one who studied at Saint Melanie’s?” Ava asked Beatrice, who grunted in affirmation. “Holy shit! You’re related to Queen Elizabeth?!”

“Ava! Stop it…” Beatrice took one of the tea-cups and drank from it, and then she filled her mouth with one of her so called biscuits in order to not answer anymore questions.

“Whoa,” Diego then said, realization hitting him, “you could actually be a queen?”

“I will not,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, “there’s like… one hundred people ahead of me.”

“So one of Queen Victoria’s daughters married one of your relatives?” Vincent asked, fully invested in the history behind Beatrice’s family.

“The Duke of Armstrong,” the girl answered after swallowing, looking down.

“DUKE?!” Ava yelled, and Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re a fucking duchess?!”

“Technically, my parents are the Duke and Duchess of Armstrong,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, as if this was not that big of a deal. “I will be once they… you know… die. Then the title will pass down to me.”

“My best friend is a literal royal, guys,” Ava told Vincent and Diego, who were looking at Beatrice with wide eyes while Eustace and the other two ladies were shaking in silent laughter at the back of the room.

“I’m not…” Beatrice sighed, not even bothering to finish the sentence. “Can we talk about something else?”

And so they talked about something else or, more specifically, someone else. Beatrice decided to take revenge, and asked Vincent and Diego how was Ava like as a child. And so the both of them made it their personal mission to tell Beatrice every single one of the most embarrassing moments Ava had offered to the world and Ava would’ve punched Beatrice if she hadn’t been so endeared by the way Vincent and Diego made her actually laugh with some of the anecdotes they offered to the girl.

“Did you really try to befriend a cow, Ava?” Beatrice asked with her eyebrows arched.

Ava didn’t know how long they had been sitting there, but the winter wind outside had stopped and the sky looked slightly darker than before. Eustace had filled their cups with tea a couple of more times, the two ladies refilling the plates with more cookies.

“Well, I was ten years old,” Ava shrugged, “and they were mooing at me so I thought they were trying to communicate with me.”

“So you thought the best you could do was to… molest them?” Beatrice bit one of her cookies, trying to swallow down a laugh.

“You’re so annoying!”

Vincent and Diego laughed, and Beatrice simply shook her head while hiding a smile behind her cup. They talked a little bit more, and then Eustace announced that they should get ready because dinner time would be soon.

“Oh, yes,” Beatrice got up, her three guests hurrying to do the same. “Allow me to show you where your rooms are.”

“You’ve prepared bedrooms for us?” Diego asked, sounding as surprised as Ava felt.

“Of course I did,” Beatrice simply explained, as if it was obvious.

“Henry took their luggage and placed it in their rooms, Miss,” one of the ladies said, and Beatrice nodded her head.

“Thank you, Adelaide.”

Ava was simply shocked at the way those three people, who were probably close to reach their seventh decade on Earth, talked to Beatrice with such respect. And Ava was shocked at the way Beatrice’s voice had changed so much from the way she talked to their school mates with coldness, to her talking at the three staff members with such warmth and kindness.

Ava decided she preferred Future Duchess Beatrice to Top Student Beatrice any day, even though at school Beatrice usually talked to her in a softer way ever since Crimson almost had busted Ava’s head open. But still, Beatrice wasn’t warm with her and she was distant, so it was nice to have her teasing Ava and smirking at her because of the exposure her family were putting her through. And she would take it any day, no matter how embarrassing the anecdotes Diego and Vincent offered. She liked making Beatrice smile and laugh, even if it was at her dignity’s cost.

Beatrice showed to Diego and Vincent where would they be staying, and judging by the expressions on both of their faces Ava guessed that the next few days would feel as if they were staying at some expensive hotel like the Ritz.

“Follow me,” Beatrice said, once she made sure Vincent and Diego were comfortable.

She walked down a corridor; the floor freshly polished to the point their shoes made squeaky sounds upon it. The walls were painted in a soft blue, several mirrors and coffee tables with fresh flowers and expensive looking decorations were glued to the walls.

Beatrice finally reached the end of the hallway and she opened one door painted in white. Ava entered the room, and her breath was immediately taken away. The paper covering the wall was a soft pink, white dandelion flowers connected through their branches decorating it.

The floor was made of the same dark wood as the rest of the house, two armchairs sitting in front of a small fireplace. The bed had four posters, the duvet and cushioned headboard matching the colors of the walls while a golden bench sat at the bottom of the bed. In the middle of the room, the floor was covered with a wide soft pink rug, a green circle in the middle of it decorated with yellow water lilies, and a huge letter I embroidered in the center of it all.

In front of the bed, there was a huge vanity and on the left side of the room there was a wide window looking down to what Ava guessed was Armstrong Hall’s garden. There were also several bookshelves with untouched books on them, and a closet that Ava was too scared to open in case she would find untouched clothes in it as well.

“Pink was her favorite color,” Beatrice said, when she saw Ava realizing who’s room this was.

“Beatrice,” she said, softly. The taller girl’s body was leaning on the doorframe, eyes focused on the wooden floor and her arms crossed upon her chest. “I can move into another room, don’t worry.”

“I told them to prepare this one for you,” Beatrice looked at her, the look in her eyes making Ava’s heart clench in pain. Before she could protest, Beatrice walked next to her. “It’s fine, Ava, really. I sleep in the room in front of this one, so if you have nightmares you can always knock on my door and we can talk if you need it.”

Ava was known for not having a filter, for letting her mouth open before her brain processed what she was about to say. So she felt three words forming in the centre of her chest, slowly going up her throat and almost escaping her lips. But Ava, for once in her life, stopped herself and simply smiled at Beatrice.

“Thank you, Beatrice,” she said instead, and Beatrice let out a small sigh of relief.

“I think she hid the videogames in that drawer,” the taller girl said, pointing at said drawer. “Her old console and TV are in the attic.”

“You would let me play with Isabella’s videogames?” Ava hadn’t said Beatrice’s sister name out loud, and Beatrice had only said it in the darkness of their school dorm, a mumble that escaped her lips while dreaming. So when Beatrice widened her eyes, Ava wanted to punch herself.

She remembered the very first time she overstepped a boundary, the way Beatrice stormed off their dorm. And sometimes she still felt like she was walking on thin ice whenever it came to Beatrice, not so sure of what she was allowed to say or to keep for herself. Beatrice was a closed book, and at first it felt like the pages had been glued to one another and it made it impossible to get to know her. But slowly, Beatrice was letting Ava see parts of herself, even if they were minuscule glimpses.

Ava, though, didn’t know if she was allowed to mention Isabella yet, and she was scared that Beatrice would walk away again, that maybe the girl would ask her to get the hell out of her house in the morning. Ava didn’t know why she suddenly was so terrified at the thought of losing Beatrice because she had spoken before she could think it through. She had worked so hard during the past few months to get on the girl’s good side, to maybe not become her friend but someone Beatrice could rely on whenever she needed to be less perfect. And maybe Ava had overdone herself, maybe her good intentions had taken her to a very, very dangerous territory.

“Yes,” Beatrice finally said, and Ava had to ask her what did she just say because she had been too overwhelmed with the panic she had started to feel. “Yes, you can play with her videogames.”

“Are you sure?” Beatrice thought about it for a second, and then nodded slowly.

“I think she would kick me in the ass if I didn’t let you,” the taller girl let out a chuckle.

“Well, we don’t want that do we?” Ava smiled softly at Beatrice, and she sighed deeply. As if she had reached a milestone, and only allowed herself to feel a little bit of pride.

It had been the same thing Ava had done the first time she mentioned her mother, smiling at the thought of the woman instead of feeling emptiness inside her chest. So Ava decided to not say anything, letting Beatrice enjoy the fact that she hadn’t walked away from Isabella and, instead, had talked about her with a fond smile.

“No, we don’t,” Beatrice said, and then cleared her throat. “I need to put my things in order and all. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Yup, meet you in a bit!”

Beatrice left her room, walking the few paces that separated both of them. Before closing her door, the taller girl looked at Ava and, for whatever reason, let out a chuckle and shook her head and then disappeared inside of her own room. And Ava was left there, in the threshold, wondering what had gone through Beatrice’s head that had made her laugh. Maybe it had been the way Ava had rocked on her feet, or the way she had literally waved goodbye at Beatrice.

It didn’t matter, because whatever it was Ava decided she would do it over and over again if that meant Beatrice would smile and laugh when she was surrounded by many painful memories.

*

Beatrice had dreaded going back to this home, the last place she got to spend time with Isabella before everything went to hell. She had dreaded opening Isabella’s bedroom door, she had dreaded looking at the way her parents had decided to strip the many posters Isabella owned from the walls, how they had redecorated it as if Isabella hadn’t had pictures and posters and the drawings Beatrice had gifted to her up in her bedroom walls, barely leaving any free space.

So every second she’d spent next to Ava, watching her be completely stunned by Armstrong Hall and then Isabella’s room, watching her interacting with the staff during dinner time as if she had known them since forever, it made things easier. And Beatrice had dreaded the moment it was time to go back to their bedrooms, to turn off the lights and wait for a new day to come.

She had missed this room, the light blue walls their parents had painted sixteen years ago in hopes of having a boy, the soft bed and the dark brown furniture. She had missed the way her bedroom view was the lake where Isabella had taught her how to swim, how the moonlight entered her bedroom and gave it a silver glow.

Yet she couldn’t sleep, because it didn’t feel like her room. When her parents had stripped Isabella’s room naked, they had done the same with Beatrice’s. If she wasn’t there, if Isabella couldn’t have her things up anymore because she was dead, neither could Beatrice.

It had always been like that, when her parents had lost one daughter they pretended Beatrice had been lost too. Because they had never truly wanted her, or at least they hadn’t wanted a girl, so when Isabella was gone they took it as a chance to pretend as if the daughter that had come wrong in so many different ways didn’t exist unless they needed her fr something.

And when they’d had the chance, they sent Beatrice away for two years. Away from England, and from whatever little memories remained of Isabella. And when they had the chance, they had asked Beatrice to not go back home for Christmas. Because her parents had been able to stand the sight of her when Isabella was around, realizing that maybe if their eldest daughter loved their youngest despite of the waste of space she was, maybe they could do the same. But now that Isabella was gone, there was no point in pretending.

Beatrice hadn’t regretted giving this little Christmas gift to Ava, arranging the visit and all. But she’d regretted telling Eustace and the rest of the staff to clean up the house, making it look as if it hadn’t been closed up for almost three years. She knew Ava loved flowers, so she had told Eustace to make sure there were several vases with flowers around every corner. She had also told Eustace to get the maintenance guys to repaint whatever room needed repainting, to dust off the carpets and clean up the windows and trim the vines if they needed it.

To her surprise, Eustace had been secretly keeping the house as pristine as it used to be ever since Edward Armstrong-Young decided to close it up. Eustace had been taking care of the vines behind Beatrice’s parents back, he had been repainting the rooms that needed it, and he had been changing the flowers whenever they dried up and died. Because Eustace had adored Isabella as much as Beatrice did, and for him keeping the house as if nothing had happened was his little act to keep Isabella’s memory alive.

He had disobeyed the Duke and Duchess’ orders in order to make sure Isabella wasn’t gone, at least not in his or the staff’s heart, and he refused to pretend the girl had never existed just like Beatrice’s parents did. And Beatrice hadn’t known what to say when Eustace had sheepishly confessed all of that to her when she had left Ava and her family in the hall for a few minutes, so all she was able to do was squeeze his wrinkled hand and nod her thanks to Adelaide and Emilia, who had taken it upon themselves to prepare warm tea and bring out biscuits for Ava and her family, while John the cook worked over time in the kitchen to make Ava’s favorite food: arroz de marisco, porco preto and pastel de nata.

The way Ava’s beautiful face had lit up, especially when John the cook had taken out a slice of pastel de nata for all of them and she devoured it even if she had claimed her stomach was about to explode, had simply been worth it. It had been worth it to fight the dull ache Beatrice had been feeling ever since she stepped inside Armstrong Hall, and the way her mind had filled with painful memories when she had showed Ava where she would be sleeping.

And spending the next week at Armstrong Hall with Ava and her family would be worthy, and it would be fine because she had the girl next to her. And Isabella would love Ava, so the thought of the girl sleeping where Isabella did wasn’t as hurtful as Beatrice thought, or the way that Ava was starting to fill Beatrice’s life back with color instead of black and white wasn’t as scary as she’d thought it would be.

But the moment she turned the lights off, the moment Ava closed the bedroom door and Beatrice laid in bed all alone, it all started to go away. Beatrice had been sleeping alone for the past four years, the dorm she had shared with Isabella for two years back in Saint Melanie’s had become hers and only hers until Ava landed into her life.

And Beatrice realized she had forgotten how it felt like to sleep alone, without someone who stayed asking the most random and deep questions until three in the morning. For the last few months all she had wanted to do was to throw a pillow at Ava, to tell her to shut up and sleep, and now she simply missed the girl’s voice or the way she had this odd habit of singing a song in Portuguese in order to fall asleep.

The first thing Beatrice had done when she got into the car was to turn her phone on, since they weren’t allowed at school and Mother Frances kept all the students’ phones hidden inside a locker and never gave them back unless it was necessary, until the term finished, and if the students needed to call their families they could always use the community phones.

They were a distraction, according to the Headmistress, and they could stir someone away from their goals. And it wasn’t like Beatrice had someone to text, after all she didn’t have friends except Ava and they spent pretty much all their time together except when they didn’t share a lesson or an extracurricular activity.

So Beatrice turned around and took her phone from her nightstand, opening her messaging app, and suddenly realized her and Ava never exchanged phone numbers because, after all, they didn’t have the need. Beatrice had expected they would do that on Christmas break, to maybe text one another once in a while, but then both of them ended up spending Christmas together. So Beatrice couldn’t text Ava to know if she was awake, and she didn’t want to get up and knock on the girl’s door in case she was sleeping.

Beatrice knew she wouldn’t sleep, because the thoughts and memories were too loud, and the wind outside was starting to become a nuisance. She didn’t want to wake anyone from the staff up, because she knew they were exhausted after they had been readying the house for the unexpected stay.

Beatrice used to have so many hobbies she’d left behind ever since Isabella died, because she now would become her parents’ heir and she wouldn’t have the same amount of time she had for “silliness”, as their parents had described the things she enjoyed.

She got up from her bed, and walked towards one of the chest of drawers next to her desk. She opened the last drawer, and rummaged through the clothes she had purposefully left behind with the hopes that maybe, one day, she would get to come back here. And she immediately found what she was searching for, the leather bound journal she had also left behind.

She opened it up, and read the handwritten words Isabella had left on the first blank page of the book.

Happy tenth birthday BeaBoo,

I didn’t know what to get you, because you’re a grown up now and I believe getting you toys would actually get me in trouble. So since your imagination is depthless and infinite, I decided to get you this journal, where you can write your little stories and happily draw your thoughts, since you always say it’s easier for you to draw them other than express them out loud. This way, I won’t have to yell at you anymore for finding your doodles on my study notes!

Happy birthday, baby booger. I love you so much.

Bella.

Beatrice skipped through the pages she had drawn and written upon, where the thoughts she didn’t want to revive and drawings she didn’t want to look at remained there permanently with Isabella’s handwritten note.

When she found a blank page, Beatrice sat down and took a pencil from the pencil-case she had also found hidden next to the journal. She took a deep breath and pictured what she wanted to draw, though it didn’t need much effort because Ava’s beautiful face was ingrained inside her mind. Having a photographic memory, for Beatrice, it was a bless and a curse in equal parts.

So Beatrice nodded once, and then her hand started to draw.

*

Diego, Vincent and Beatrice were already down eating breakfast when Ava joined them, announcing her presence by letting out a long and loud yawn. Vincent and Beatrice raised an eyebrow at her, Diego choking on the sausage he had been munching at.

“Bom dia,” Ava said, sitting next to Beatrice. Her stomach growled loudly when she saw several plates containing typical British breakfast food, like sausages and toast and beans.

“Buenos días, Ava,” Vincent said, sipping from his coffee. “¿Como dormiste?”

“Incrível,” Ava replied in Portuguese, “Eu dormi na cama mais confortável que já existiu!”

“E il cibo è così buono,” Diego added in Italian, letting them all know the food he was eating was amazing. Ava groaned in agreement.

“Ava, cuida tus maneras,” Vincent told Ava, asking for her to be polite with her manners.

“Me desculpe, pai,” the girl said, swallowing.

“Visne aliquid bibere capulus, Ava?” Beatrice asked, and Ava dramatically slowed down her chewing, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Cosa ti ha detto?” Diego asked Ava, his voice low, and Beatrice snorted while Vincent shook his head in amusement.

“I asked Ava if she wants to drink some coffee,” Beatrice explained, and then looked at Ava with an arched eyebrow. “Someone has been neglecting her Latin, I see.”

“Deixe-me em paz,” Ava rolled her eyes, offering her mug to Beatrice. “It’s way too early for your lessons.”

“Learning is constant,” Beatrice said, going back to her own food. She cut the toast in four perfect triangles.

“It’s the holidays, Bea,” Ava complained, mouth full, making Diego snort in amusement.

“I promised I would give you both a house tour,” Beatrice told Ava and Diego, “maybe I could do that later? And we can end up in the library, so we can get some studying done.”

“You’re so fun to be around,” Ava replied, sarcastically, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“Beatrice, can I ask you a question?” Vincent said, interlacing his fingers upon the table. The girl nodded. “How many languages do you speak?”

“A fuck ton,” Ava said to the priest, owning disapproving looks from him and Beatrice.

“I can speak English, Cantonese, Mandarin, German, French, Russian and Spanish,” Beatrice explained as if it was no big deal. “Plus Latin, and a little bit of Ancient Greek and Hebrew.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Diego muttered, and Ava nodded her head in agreement.

“Well, my parents are strict and I’ll probably have to travel around a lot in the future,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, biting from her toast and chewing slowly. “Plus, I really love learning languages.”

“Actually, Ava can speak several languages too,” Diego pointed out, and Beatrice hummed.

“The orphanage had many kids from around Europe,” Ava explained Beatrice. “It’s not like I can speak the languages fluently, but I can understand them.”

“And what languages are those?” Beatrice asked, her focus fully on Ava. She swallowed her food, sipping from her coffee at the intensity of Beatrice’s eyes.

“Well, as you know I can speak Portuguese, Spanish and English,” Ava played around with the food in her plate, the way Beatrice put her chin upon her fist and was looking at Ava as if she was analyzing her making Ava feel slightly uncomfortable, “but I also understand French, Italian and German.”

“That’s impressive, Ava,” Beatrice said, and Ava wasn’t expecting that at all. She kind of expected Beatrice to hum, or maybe tell her that wasn’t enough and she needed to learn ten extra languages.

“Oh, thank you?” Beatrice smiled at her, and Ava smiled back, completely ignoring the way Diego and Vincent shared a knowing look.

When they finished eating breakfast, Vincent told them he would go out for a walk and take some time to sketch the landscape around, something he loved to do. Meanwhile, Beatrice took both Diego and Ava on a house tour.

Ava decided that, even though there seemed to appear a new room every two steps they took, Armstrong Hall was the most beautiful house Ava ever had the pleasure to visit. Not that she’d visited many houses aside from the small apartment back in Porto where she and her mother lived at.

Ava didn’t know much about Beatrice or her family, aside from the fact that her parents were pretty much absent the whole time and they sounded like big time assholes, but Ava didn’t expect at all for the rooms in this house to be painted in bright colors. Knowing what she knew, she was expecting for Amrstrong Hall to be a dark and gloomy house, cold and uncomfortable. But she didn’t expect the cozy sofas and armchairs, the beautiful flowers decorating the house, or the vines covering the outside walls.

Ava had lost count of how many drawing rooms there were in the manor, but she claimed one of them as her favorite. It was probably the smallest one of them all, the walls painted in a soft blue which reminded her of the sea back in Málaga, or the Douro River in Porto. It also had a wooden piano, almost untouched bookshelves, and a fuck ton of landscape paintings which all were signed by one Armstrong or the other.

“There’s always been a keen interest for art in my family,” Beatrice explained when Diego asked why there were so many paintings about the same landscape over and over again. “And they all apparently loved that landscape. I think the only exception are my parents, though.”

“They don’t like to paint?” Diego asked, turning around and taking in the beautiful drawing room.

“They prefer the art trade over the art making,” Beatrice shrugged. “Let’s continue.”

They continued with the tour, Beatrice taking the time and effort to explain to them the usage of every single one of the rooms. The biggest drawing room was used when they received important guests, such as the Prince of here and the Duchess of there, and the smallest ones were mostly for the less important visitors or for the family to use them to simply chill out. Probably the room they used the less was the ball room (yeah, a fucking massive ball room), which Beatrice’s family only used during Christmas Eve, when they celebrated a ball filled with aristocrats and royals and stuff. You know, the typical thing to do on a Tuesday night.

When they reached the library or, well, at least the smallest one, Ava let out a massive gasp. The walls were made of bookshelves, surrounding every single corner of the room except the wall with a fireplace on it. In front of said fireplace there were two armchairs made of velvet, and a wooden desk in the middle of the room. At the top of every wall, there was a mural of what Ava recognized as some of the classical myths she had been studying during her Latin and Classical literature lessons back at Saint Melanie’s.

“Wow,” Ava said under her breath, Diego letting out a whistle of appreciation.

“This is my favorite room of them all,” Beatrice explained, a soft smile on her lips. “It’s where I usually hid when we had guests over, or after...”

Beatrice didn’t continue, and Ava didn’t ask her what did she mean. After her sister died, that was what Beatrice almost said, she had used this library and the many stories it sheltered as an escape from reality. Ava had done the same when the memories of the accident decided to cloud her mind, or when her legs hurt a little too much, or when the limp lasted longer than it usually would and it reminded her over and over again that, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she was broken.

“When my grandfather lived, he used to hate that type of gatherings as well,” Beatrice continued, pointing at the armchairs in front of the fireplace. “I would run away, and he would make it an excuse to come find me so he wouldn’t have to go back there and deal with people he barely knew. And then we would just sit here, and he would read to me until I fell asleep.”

“He sounded like a cool dude,” Diego told Beatrice, and the girl nodded.

“He was a cool dude,” the taller girl said, letting out a chuckle.

Ava smiled at the girl, happy that at least she had one fond memory about her family, or someone who hadn’t seen her as an asset to get whatever they wanted. And then Ava felt sad, because she realized Beatrice had lost probably the two most important people for her, the ones who made her feel comfortable and safe and had given her the happiest memories she had.

“Ava, are you okay?” Beatrice asked, looking at her. Ava then realized her eyes were wet, the tears threatening to fall.

“I just love books so much,” she said, high fiving herself for being able to find an immediate excuse.

“You can take the ones you want back to the school, if you would like. You can even bring them back to Spain whenever you go back there,” Beatrice said, and Ava suddenly realized that she would eventually have to go back to Spain, maybe for the Easter holidays or during summer time.

It was kind of funny, when she first had arrived at Saint Melanie’s she’d wanted to get the hell out of there and she’d been counting down the days until Christmas to leave and go visit Vincent and Diego. Now, the thought of going back to Spain and not being able to share a space with Beatrice, even if it was in silence, kind of pained her.

“Really?” she said, instead. Beatrice nodded.

“No one’s reading them, anyways, and all they do is collect dust,” Ava smiled widely, letting out a squeal. She would make sure to come back here and choose what books she wanted to take away. “Alright, now come here.”

Beatrice walked towards one of the bookshelves at the back of the room, Diego and Ava looking at her confused. If Ava had to use an adjective to describe Beatrice it would be guarded, responsible, but never mischievous. And the glint she had on her eyes right now, the way one of her eyebrows was raised in challenge, and her lips were curling up in a devilish smile was so unlike Beatrice.

“Ready?” Beatrice asked, her voice going down several octaves. Diego and Ava looked at one another and then at her.

“For what?” Diego asked, voice low, as if they were planning the downfall of an Empire. Beatrice didn’t say anything, she simply turned around, pulled one book, and the bookshelf made a clicking sound.

The bookshelf made a clicking sound?

“No fucking way,” Ava said, smiling widely. Beatrice opened the secret passage effortlessly, as if the bookshelf made of solid wood and filled with heavy books wieghed only a couple of pounds.

“Follow me,” Beatrice said, entering the secret corridor.

They walked a few steps until they reached the end, encountering the steepest stairs Ava had ever seen. They were made of stone, like the corridor, and they went up in a spiral. Beatrice walked first, using her phone as a torch, Ava and Diego following behind. After a couple of minutes, they reached a wooden door and Beatrice opened it.

Inside, there was a large and massive room filled with antiques and old furniture, paintings covered with a cloth and broken mirrors. The attic was made of wood, the floor was made of wood planks and the beams were made of wood. Even the frame of the large circular window at the end of the room was made of wood. So Ava, who was the least superstitious person on Earth, decided to knock on wood every time she accidentally saw a broken mirror.

“What are you doing?” Beatrice asked her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Knocking on wood?”

“Why?”

“Broken mirrors,” Diego explained, and Beatrice looked even more confused than before. “We’re really supersitious down in Southern Europe, and a broken mirror is a sign of bad luck.”

“Oh...” Beatrice nodded, and Ava shrugged. Beatrice had her own beliefs, of an almighty God who was supposed to look out for humanity and protect them from all bad. Ava believed in the power of wood and salt to protect her from the bad.

“Oh, shit!” Diego gasped, pointing at the corner of the attic. There was an old sofa, with a TV covered in dust in front of it and what Ava recognized as an Xbox resting next to said TV.

“Yeah,” Beatrice smiled at Diego, “that was my sister’s secret spot.”

“Can I play some time?” the boy asked, almost jumping up and down his feet.

“Of course,” Diego smiled at Beatrice, clapping his hands.

“Yay!” Beatrice snorted at Diego’s excitement, and then her eyes found Ava’s. But Ava was way too occupied looking at what suspiciously looked like a Christmas tree, covered by a blanket.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Beatrice muttered, a wide grin appearing on Ava’s face.

“Can we?” Ava asked, and Beatrice sighed.

“If I say no, will you agree with me?”

“Not a chance!” Beatrice let out a groan.

“Ava, it’s all dusty and heavy and taking it down will give us so much trouble,” Beatrice started to list the many reasons why they shouldn’t take the Christmas tree down, nor the decorations, but Ava was really good at turning her hearing off whenever someone gave her several reasons to not do something she really wanted to do.

“There’s three of us,” Ava said when Beatrice was finished. “One takes the top, the other the middle, and the other the bottom. We bring it down, and then we come back for the decorations.”

“The stairs are dangerous,” Beatrice argued, and Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“I love the danger,” the shorter girl said, and the taller one simply let out a defeated sigh. “Please?”

“Fine,” Beatrice muttered, rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she added, her voice slightly louder and crossing her arms upon her chest.

“You’re the best!” Ava clapped, almost hugging the girl and kissing her cheek, interlacing her fingers so she could refrain herself.

After a lot of grunting, sweating and cursing, the three of them managed to bring the Christmas tree down to the red drawing room and, one hour later, they were putting down the last box of decorations when Vincent and Eustace entered the room covered in snow and with their noses red because of the cold outside.

“What are you three doing?” Vincent asked, looking at the mess they had created with a very fatherly look in his brown eyes.

“Putting up the Christmas tree,” Diego explained, as if it wasn’t obvious judging by the massive tree standing in the middle of the room.

“Did you bring it down all by yourselves?” Eustace asked, concern dripping from his voice.

Beatrice, who had two strands of hair falling down her face and her sweater sleeves were rolled up (Ava was trying so hard not to blush), came out from behind the tree and put her hands on her hips.

“Ava made us,” the girl said, as if Eustace and Vincent would scold Ava and wouldn’t let her go outside for the rest of the week. To Beatrice’s surprise, the butler laughed loudly.

“Good,” he said, “this house was missing the Christmas spirit.”

Ava smiled proudly at Beatrice, Diego laughing at the taller girl when she rolled her eyes in annoyance and went back to sorting out the Christmas decorations they would use.

It took them almost another good hour to start decorating the tree. Beatrice had arranged the decorations in color themes: red and white, blue and gold, or green and silver. Ava and Diego had another idea, which consisted of simply putting up every single decoration possible without following any kind of theme.

Beatrice almost had a nervous breakdown, because if they were about to decorate the tree, they needed to do it properly and it needed to look fine and not like “something Jackson Pollock would do”. In the end, though, they all decided to be civil with one another and they agreed on parting the tree: Beatrice would take the left side and decorate it as she wished, Diego and Ava would take the right side and turn the tree into a Pollock-worthy piece of art.

It was the ugliest Christmas tree Ava had ever seen, one side perfectly decorated and the other one filled with so many things it was so surprising the tree was standing tall instead of falling on its right side because of the difference of weight. She loved it so much.

“There’s one thing missing,” Beatrice said, breaking the silence. She rummaged through one of the boxes, and took out a golden star from it.

“Who will put it up?” Ava asked.

“With Isabella, we had this tradition of putting it up together. We could try?”

Beatrice and Ava took the coffee table between the coaches and dragged it towards the front side of the tree. Then, the three of them tried to get on it and reached for the top of the tree. The only one who was able to reach the top was Beatrice, Ava having a short stature she had inherited from her mom and Diego still in the process of growing up.

“I have an idea,” Diego said, both girls looking at him. “Beatrice, get in the middle and try to put it on. Ava and I will grab your sweater, and this way it will feel like the three of us are doing team work.”

“So I will basically be doing the job, and you two will own the credit for it,” Diego and Ava nodded, and Beatrice hummed. “Sounds good.”

Beatrice got on her tip-toes, the golden star between her hands, while Diego and Ava grabbed on each side of Beatrice. Ava, with the excuse of making sure Beatrice didn’t fall down or anything, decided to sneak a hand around the girl’s waist and completely ignored the way Diego let go, allowing Ava to be the only one holding Beatrice in place.

The boy got down the coffee table, putting his hands on his hips and looking at the way both girls struggled to get the star on the top of the tree. Ava’s hold around Beatrice’s torso became tighter when the girl rose a little bit more on her tip-toes, afraid the both of them and the tree would fall down and would break the seven-hundred years old vase that Ava was sure Beatrice’s family owned and used as a decoration.

“A little bit more to the left,” Diego said from the floor, and Ava moved Beatrice’s body to the left, her hands on each side of the girl’s torso. “No wait, to the right!” Diego corrected, and Ava moved Beatrice’s body to the right. “Yeah, okay, go up,” Beatrice got on her tip-toes once more, stretching her arms up, Ava tightening her grip when she felt the girl almost losing balance. “Okay, put it on!” Beatrice did it, and then she got back to her feet, and Ava counted to five until she let go from Beatrice hoping that the girl thought Ava was simply making sure Beatrice was balanced and there was no danger of falling down.

“How does it look?” Beatrice said, not looking at Ava and joining Diego on the floor. Ava stood at the top of the coffee table, probably wearing the most stupid and lovesick expression of all time.

“Perfect,” Diego said, and Ava didn’t miss the way he had winked at her once Beatrice had joined him.

You sneaky little bitch, Diego.

Ava looked at Beatrice, ready to apologize if she had overstepped any boundary, and she felt her breath catching on her throat when she saw Beatrice already staring right at Ava’s soul, her freckled cheeks as red as the drawing room’s wall. The girl cleared her throat, and Ava descended from the coffee table.

While the three of them put the furniture back to its place, one of the ladies that had been preparing their tea yesterday came into the room and gasped when she saw the tree. She put her hands on her chest, a bright smile on her face, and looked at the three of them.

“It looks marvelous!” she said, and Ava couldn’t help but smile big at the woman.

“Thank you, Adelaide,” Beatrice said, her face going back to her regular sun-kissed color but the tips of her ears still slightly red.

“I have missed this sight,” Adelaide added, and Beatrice nodded as if she was agreeing with her. “Is there anything you need?”

“I don’t think so,” Beatrice looked at Ava and Diego, who shook their heads. Adelaide turned around, and then Beatrice stopped the woman. “Actually...”

“Yes, Mrs. Beatrice?” the taller girl bit her lip, one of the little signs of nervousness she showed when she forgot to put up her calm and collected facade. The other things Beatrice did when she was nervous that Ava had discovered were looking down to the ground with her eyebrows furrowed, and crossing her arms upon her chest to hide her fidgeting.

“Could you please ask John to prepare us hot chocolate?”

Ava didn’t know why, but Adelaide seemed to tear up at the mention of hot chocolate. She nodded, apparently unable to speak, and disappeared from the room. Ava looked at Beatrice, confused, and she didn’t miss the nostalgic look on the girl’s face.

“Long story,” she simply said.

A few hours later, they all were sitting around the dinner table happily muching to the food John had prepared, the sweet flavor of the hot chocolate he had prepared still lingering on Ava’s lips.

Diego had found an old record player up in the attic, with some long forgotten vynils. The voice of Aretha Franklin was sounding in the background, while the four of them were happily talking with one another. Beatrice had also asked Eustace, Adelaide, John the cook and Henry the driver to join them at the table. They had been hesitant at first, but sat down with them anyways. Then, the other lady who had been there the previous morning who had introduced herself as Emilia, and a few of the other members of the staff who had been on kitchen and gardening duty also sat down, and the table was filled.

The staff all shared the stories they had collected over the years they had been serving the Armstrong family, and all of them seemed to have very happy and fond memories from Beatrice’s grandfather. Her grandmother and her parents were never mentioned, though, and neither was Isabella. Beatrice’s older sister was like some taboo topic for all of them, someone who shouldn’t be mentioned for the sake of everyone’s well being.

Beatrice didn’t say anything, she simply listened to the stories with a soft smile on her lips, chuckling here and there and looking fondly at Ava whenever she threw a question to the members of the staff who, in exchange, answered it happily.

“I think I know what your perfect job would be,” Beatrice told Ava, the shorter girl shivering when she felt Beatrice’s low voice on her ear.

“Enlighten me, Your Royal Highness,” Ava said, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“A journalist, because you never shut up with the questions,” the girl said, and Ava gasped at her in fake outrage.

“Actually,” she said, after Beatrice looked unamused at her, “that’s like on my top list of career options.”

“And what are the other options?” Beatrice asked, genuine interest in her voice.

“Law, criminology, phylosophy, theology...” Ava started to list down the many options she had, and Beatrice shook her head in amusement. “What about you?”

“I’ll probably study politics,” Beatrice shrugged, “and economy. So I can follow my parents on their diplomacy steps, and I can learn how to take care of the many lands we own.”

“And that’s what you want?” Ava asked, and the girl looked at her in the same way she did when Ava asked her if she agreed on letting someone else choose what she had to study instead of making her own choices.

“No,” Beatrice admitted, as if she was admitting she had committed several crimes, “but what other choice do I have?”

“You have many other choices, Bea,” Ava said, and Beatrice wanted to say something but Eustace spoke before she could.

“Mrs. Beatrice, why don’t you play something on the piano?” Beatrice, who was sipping water from her glass, choked and her eyes widened. She coughed, her freckled cheeks turning bright red.

“Me?” she asked, stuttering, and Eustace nodded. “Oh, well... if you wish so...”

“Come on,” Ava whispered to Beatrice, bumping her shoulder against the girl’s. Beatrice looked at her for a few seconds.

“Join me?” Beatrice whispered back at Ava. Why were they whispering neither of them knew since the rest were silently looking at them, waiting for Beatrice.

“What? Fuck no,” Ava shook her head to emphasize her answer.

“Why not? You’re getting better at playing the piano,” Beatrice argued, and Ava sighed.

“Yes but... only when it’s just the both of us!”

Ava had started to join Beatrice for guitar practice, and then one day Beatrice played the piano with their tutor and Ava pretty much fell in love with the way her fingers had caressed the keys so expertly, gently, her eyes closed in concentration and the slight wrinkle between her brows an indication of the passion and emotion Beatrice showed whenever she played an instrument.

When they had gotten back to their dorm, Ava pretty much demanded Beatrice to teach her how to play piano and, ever since then, whenever they had a free moment the both of them would sit down and Beatrice would teach her the basics.

Apparently, Ava had a bit of a talent for music. She had been able to skillfully play the guitar within a few months, and though she found piano a bit harder to play, she was getting there. But whenever she had to play an instrument, it was always her and Beatrice and their instructor, or maybe only the both of them. It was never the two girls and a full crowd watching.

“Ava, I haven’t played piano in front of this amount of people in four years,” Beatrice said, her eyes looking at Ava pleadingly. “We’re in this together.”

Ava bit her lip and then Beatrice did something Ava never thought she would see the girl doing, mostly because it was something Ava would do and not Beatrice. So the taller girl literally pouted at her, giving her the puppy eyes, and Ava felt her heart fluttering inside her chest and her stomach dropping and her lips turning up in an involuntary smile. Was this how Beatrice felt whenever Ava did that, or did the girl actually feel annoyed?

“Fine,” she said, letting out a sigh. “But if I mess up that’s on you.”

Beatrice nodded, getting up, and Ava followed behind. There was no piano in the dining room, so all of them walked towards the red drawing room and, once everyone sat down close to the piano, Ava and Beatrice sat on the bench.

Beatrice opened the fallboard, breathing deeply, while Eustace took a bottle of what looked like liquor and served everyone except Diego, Vincent telling him he didn’t want to consume any alcohol.

Ava looked at Beatrice expectantly, who passed a hand upon the keyboard and dusted it off. The girl looked thoughtful, probably going through her mental piano music repertoire. Then, Beatrice nodded to herself letting Ava know a decision had been made.

“Carol of the Bells?” the girl asked Ava, and Ava hummed in agreement.

 It was one of the songs they had been practicing, Beatrice always taking care of the higher and most difficult notes, Ava taking care of the lower and easier ones. It was also one of Ava’s favorite carols, because it reminded her of her mother and it also reminded her of the time her pinky finger accidentally brushed with Beatrice’s index one time while they were playing it in the privacy of their dorm.

“Yeah, okay,” Ava smiled at Beatrice.

“I’ll start, and you pick up after me?” Ava nodded once again, and Beatrice returned the gesture.

Beatrice closed her eyes and she rolled her shoulders, taking a deep breath before she started to play the first few notes. Ava was mesmerized by Beatrice, just like every time she watched the girl play piano. The way she caressed the keys, the way her breathing was steady and her back impossibly straight, the way her head fell slightly to the side listening to the sound as if it was a lover whispering sweet nothings on her ear.

And Ava was so, so, mesmerized by the girl she almost missed the moment where she was supposed to enter by a few seconds. But she didn’t, because they had practiced this song so many times that Ava’s fingers automatically fell upon the keys, and they played away, acting as a chorus of the notes Beatrice was playing.

She didn’t know when or how it happened, but Beatrice opened her eyes and looked at Ava. And for the rest of the song, their eyes were glued to one another, their fingers moving expertly upon the keys, and their lips curled up in matching smiles. And for a moment, once they were done, Ava almost lifted her head up a little to join her lips with Beatrice’s.

Ava did have the faint suspicion that what she felt towards Beatrice had stopped being a friendly kind of affection some time ago, probably after Beatrice beat the shit out of Crimson and then took care of healing her almost broken nose, and Ava knew that the friendly feelings she had felt were slowly developing into something else, but it had been so easy to ignore until now.

Now, when their fingers stopped moving and they looked at one another for longer than it should be allowed, when Beatrice took her hand for a second, squeezing it in gratefulness, and then turned around to the crowd and smiled bashfully when they all started to clap, Ava knew.

Ava knew she was falling in love with someone who was unavailable in so many levels, and Ava also knew she was deeply and royally fucked.

*

It was the second night in a row for Beatrice where she was unable to fall asleep, this time for a whole different reason. She had always found so much comfort in playing the piano before Isabella had left, and then she’d completely stopped until Ava asked Beatrice to teach her how to play the instrument.

The first time Beatrice sat next to Ava in the small keyboard they had in their dorm filled her with nostalgic memories, and sadness, but she had felt comfortable. She had found comfort in the way Ava furrowed her eyebrows and her tongue poked from the corner of her mouth, something she did when she was fully concentrated, trying to figure out the notes scale and getting frustrated when she didn’t turn into Yiruma on her first try.

And Beatrice found comfort during the days where they spent their free time practicing on the piano, watching Ava become more and more confident by each day to the point where she was able to play a few songs by memory. The girl was surprisingly good at learning how to play new instruments, and Beatrice suspected that maybe it was on the girl’s genetics. But Beatrice didn’t want to ask about Ava’s mother, or the girl’s estranged father, because she knew it would develop into talking about her own family and Isabella and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want Ava to realize what hid underneath the many layers Beatrice had built, the reason why her parents barely acknowledged her existence.

Beatrice hadn’t expected Eustace to ask her to play something on the piano, knowing that it could be painful for her, and she hadn’t expected that Ava would end up accepting her plea of help (pulling through with the puppy eyes and all). She also hadn’t expected the things she started to feel inside, the way her heart hammered so hard against her chest or the way her stomach fluttered as if an army of butterflies had attacked her.

Beatrice was convinced she’d felt all of that because she’d also remembered how Isabella used to occupy the place Ava had occupied, how Isabella had been the one guiding Beatrice through the notes and how they always ended up playing multiple duets on the piano, to the point they ended up giving a concert to the staff whenever their parents were somewhere else, celebrating Christmas Eve with people they barely knew.

There had been something different, though, from when it was Isabella playing piano with her. It had been the way Ava had looked at her when they were done, the way her eyes were shining and her lips turned up in a soft smile, as if the girl had seen something in Beatrice she couldn’t really name. And Beatrice had automatically blushed when Ava’s stare intensified by each second, especially the moment she took Ava’s hand and squeezed it in thanks, not even thinking about it. And Beatrice had the sudden need to look away, clear her throat, and get up from the piano bench.

Beatrice had been thankful that after their little concert it was already time to go to bed, and she was thankful she was able to put some distance between her and Ava. She didn’t know why she had felt so suddenly overwhelmed with foreign emotions, why her heart started to climb its way up her throat when Ava had looked at her with those wide, puppy eyes.

Maybe it was because Ava had been her first real friend after Isabella left, and she had forgotten how it felt like to have a friend in your life, though she wouldn’t say that to Ava because she didn’t want to show any kind of weakness or softness.

Maybe her body wasn’t used to have someone to look at her as if she actually deserved to breathe the air she breathed, instead of having someone looking down at her with a scowl on their faces, or having someone looking at her from a distance, whispering how sorry they felt because Beatrice had lost her dear sister.

So Beatrice had spent almost two hours trying to find an excuse or, well, an explanation to the way her heart still seemed to be making somersaults inside her chest whenever she thought about the way her fingers had accidentally brushed with Ava’s, or the way Ava had looked at her as if she was expecting Beatrice to do something when they finished their concert. And her chest hurt a little when she remembered the way Ava had looked slightly lost and hurt when Beatrice had gotten up from the piano bench, dropping the girl’s hand quickly, and keeping a bit of a distance between them.

Why Beatrice had done it, she didn’t know. She only knew some kind of red light had gone off inside her brain, telling her to stay away, because she would only hurt the girl and ruin the girl’s life just like she hurt everyone else.

Though her room was pretty much one of the biggest ones in the house, its four walls suddenly seemed to close in and suffocate Beatrice. She got up, put on a robe, and made her way towards the only space in Armstrong Hall where she feel safe enough.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting on the red velvet armchairs, watching the flames dance and the fire logs cracking because of the heat. She only knew her brain had gone from speeding at one thousand miles the hour, to going completely numb. If a bomb had dropped next to her in that instant, Beatrice would probably not even notice it, too submerged in her own thoughts and self-pity.

She somehow heard the door opening slowly, and she knew who had entered the room before she could even look behind her. Beatrice was so used at Ava’s presence, she could pretty much tell where the girl was in a crowded room. So Beatrice didn’t even bother to look behind her, Ava’s soft and familiar steps making their way towards her, sitting on the armchair next to hers.

Ava put her feet up, her knees against her chest and her arms circling her legs while her chin rested upon them. She looked at the flames for a few seconds, and Beatrice allowed herself to look at Ava. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her eyes looked tired, and yet the soft orange glow of the fire hitting her face, the reflection of the flames dancing on Ava’s deep brown eyes, they made her look even more beautiful and ethereal than she already was.

Beatrice looked away, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

“Hey,” Ava said softly, as if she was scared she would wake the whole household up.

“Hi,” Beatrice replied, looking at the flames, unaware of the way her grip on the armchair became tighter.

“I heard you leaving your room,” Ava explained, as if she had read Beatrice’s mind, “I waited for you to come back, but when you didn’t I figured something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Beatrice said, knowing Ava could see through her bullshit.

“Okay,” Ava said instead, and Beatrice could see from the corner of her eye that Ava was looking at her with concern.

“It’s just…” Beatrice sighed.

She had never been good at expressing her feelings, and the only one who had made her feel comfortable enough to do so had been Isabella. Now, though, she had the urge to tell Ava whatever was going on inside her mind or, well, at least a part of it. She wasn’t ready to fully open her heart yet.

“You don’t have to say anything, Bea,” and it was the nickname, the softness in Ava’s voice and the faint understanding that broke Beatrice and opened the Pandora box without her consent. And before she could stop herself, it was too late.

“The last time I played that song in front of the staff was four years ago, with Isabella,” Beatrice explained, her voice coming out in a rush as if it had been desperate to get out, as if telling Ava one of the many reasons she had been so overwhelmed after they had finished their little concert was a matter of life or death.

“Oh, Beatrice…” there was no pity in Ava’s voice, because Ava had also been looked at and talked at the same way Beatrice had been looked at and talked at when she had lost Isabella. Ava knew what it was like to be treated as if you were made of glass, as if you would break at any second, so there was no pity in those two words but understanding.

“It was also the last time I saw her,” Beatrice added, deciding that there was really no point into keeping it to herself. She’d already gotten started. “When she started University in Oxford, she’d only come back home during the holidays and summer. I was already at Saint Melanie’s, and visitors aren’t really allowed there unless it is a special occasion. So the both of us would only see one another during the winter break and spring break before spending all summer together.”

“Shit, that must’ve been hard,” Ava shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. “The few months that I’ve been away from Diego sucked, so I feel you.”

“It was hard, yes,” Beatrice shrugged, “but I kind of used my… position of power in the school to call Isabella almost every weekend.”

“Oh, I knew there was a rebel hidden underneath all that perfection,” Ava teased her, and Beatrice let out a snort. She looked at Ava, who was already grinning at her, and Beatrice felt once more that sensation upon her chest she’s gotten while playing piano.

Shit. Stop it.

“I went back to Saint Melanie’s after winter break, and she went back to Oxford,” Beatrice continued, she interlaced her fingers and swallowed audibly. Ava’s grin disappeared, and this time she didn’t tell Beatrice she didn’t have to keep going. She simply waited, while Beatrice went through all the pros and cons of opening up to Ava.

Pros, we’ll become closer.

Cons, we’ll become closer.

Beatrice nodded to herself, and closed her eyes. It was the first time in four years that she would tell someone what had happened to Isabella, how she lost her sister and best friend in the blink of an eye, how she’d lost the only person that made her life brighter and easier and colorful.

She could do it, couldn’t she?

*

Four years ago

Spring break was coming closer and that only meant one thing: she and Isabella would be back together, and this time their parents had decided they would spend that time at Armstrong Hall.

When it was spring, they usually went down to their chateau in France or they spent it in their Italian villa. This time, though, their parents would be busy attending receptions and hanging out with aristocrats in England so they’d made the decision to go back at their winter house.

Beatrice was excited about that, because the landscape at Armstrong Hall was extremely beautiful during winter. The trees were filled with snow, the ponds were covered with ice (Isabella and her went ice-skating, giving Eustace and Adelaide several reasons to suffer a heart attack). So, now, she couldn’t wait to see the trees blossoming with flowers, their garden looking green, the spring sun entering through the red drawing room’s windows.

Isabella had turned eighteen a few days ago, and yet her sister had promised Beatrice they would spend every single minute they had during their break together. They were six years apart, one aged eighteen and the other twelve, and yet the age difference was simply a number for them. Their favorite hobby was to spend time with one another, whether they were children or old and wrinkled women. They were each other’s best friend, and that would never change.

“What are you so smiley for, Beatrice?” Leighton asked her, an eyebrow arched. They were at the dojo, packing up to go back to their dorms and get ready for the noon prayer. Beatrice smiled wider.

“Spring break is coming!” she simply said, and Leighton looked at her confused. “Bella is coming back from Oxford.”

“Will she come pick you up like she did on Christmas?” there was a faint glint on Leighton’s green eyes, her freckled cheeks blushing wildly, and Beatrice raised an eyebrow at the girl.

“You look more excited than I am?” Leighton choked on her own saliva.

“She’s so fun to be around,” the American girl explained, “plus, she was one of the most popular girls in school. It was cool meeting her!”

“Yes, I suppose,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

She had never understood why everyone seemed to sigh and almost faint whenever Isabella had been around school back in her Senior Year, and maybe it was because Beatrice was so used at Isabella’s greatness it didn’t have the same effect on her as it did with the rest.

The hours passed by quickly, and it soon was dinner time. Beatrice swallowed her food at the speed of light, not looking very much lady like, and once she was done she made a beeline towards Mother Frances’ office and waited for the phone to ring.

It only passed one minute until the first ring sounded.

“Izzie?” Beatrice asked, and she heard her sister’s warm chuckle on the other line when she used the nickname Beatrice herself had chosen and claimed for the older girl.

“Hey there, you little booger,” Isabella greeted her, her husky voice filled with love. Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Not so little,” she argued back, “we got our medical check-up yesterday. I’ve grown three inches.”

“Shit, that’s impressive Bea. Now you can reach my kneecaps!”

Isabella wasn’t the tallest girl on Earth, in fact she was quite short, but Beatrice still had some growing up to do and therefore Isabella acted as if she was an eight food giant.

Her sister’s hair was a beautiful brown, her skin was sun kissed and freckled just like Beatrice’s, with sharp features and the Armstrong slim figure. Beatrice, though, still owned her babyish features. Her cheeks were still full, her face round, and she had been prescript to wear glasses last summer. She didn’t feel ugly, though, because Isabella made sure to remind her every single time she was the most precious little booger on Earth.

“Shut up,” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Also, watch your language.”

“I won’t tell mother and father if you don’t,” her sister whispered on the other line of the telephone.

“That makes no sense,” Isabella then giggled, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh back at the girl. “Leighton asked me if you’ll come pick me up. Will you?”

“Of course I will,” Isabella’s voice softened. “My friends got me Taylor Swift’s newest album for my birthday, so I’ll ask Henry to drive us around while we sing along.”

“You know I’m not her biggest fan, but sure…” sometimes Beatrice felt as if she was the older one.

She was way more calm and collected than Isabella, who was a ball of never-ending energy, and yet she couldn’t wait to drive around with her older sister, singing whatever song was playing. Beatrice loved watching Isabella sing at the top of her lungs, making Henry or Eustace or any of their staff dance around with her or sing along the lyrics even when they didn’t know them. And Beatrice had to be the one to take Isabella’s hand, ask her to calm down, and let them carry on with their jobs.

“Did you get any other birthday gift?” Beatrice asked, and Isabella squealed.

“I’m going surfing!” she almost yelled on the other side of the phone. “There’s this girl called Cassie, she’s from America but her family moved here a couple of years ago. She’s also really cute, and she also loves surfing. So we decided to go next Thursday, before we pack our stuff up and leave for spring break.”

“What do you mean she’s… cute?”

Beatrice had the faint suspicion Isabella had been hiding something from her for a while now, but she never asked. Whenever she talked about the girl friends she had made in Oxford, she usually referred to them as “cute” or “beautiful”. She never used words like “smart”, or “responsible”. And during the two years she had been at Saint Melanie’s with Isabella, before her sister left, Beatrice had seen the way she interacted with one of her friends. How they always were so close to one another, giggling and blushing.

Beatrice didn’t approve of that, because the Bible never mentioned it was okay so Beatrice assumed it wasn’t. She had always been told it had been Adam and Eve, and for her that was the only correct answer when it came to love. Her mother and father had one another, her grandfather had her grandmother, and all the people they surrounded with were husband and wife.

So Beatrice was kind of worried that maybe Oxford and the friends Isabella was making there were becoming a bad influence for her sister. Their parents had wanted her to attend university at Cambridge, because after all it was the place where all of the Armstrong clan had studied at. But Isabella had always made her own choices, and at age fourteen she had decided she wanted to go to Oxford. And their grandfather, who was the head of the family back then, allowed her to do so. And their dad wasn’t one to oppose his father, so even when Grandfa had been gone, the decision Isabella had taken and he had allowed still stood.

But Beatrice loved Isabella so much, she was willing to look past whatever was going on with her sister. After all, it was only a phase and her older sister would end up marrying a good man, carrying on with the family line. It was the right thing to do, the only thing allowed, and though Isabella could be slightly irresponsible at times and a rebel at heart, Beatrice knew she would end up maturing and settling her head.

Isabella told her how her birthday celebrations were, how she got drunk for the very first time, owning a disapproving sigh from her younger sister. Then, she asked Beatrice how her week had gone and listened to everything that Beatrice told her. How she had gotten the best grade in their Latin exam, how she would most likely become captain of the soccer team next year, or how she’d already started to look up possible careers at Cambridge.

“You’re not going there,” Isabella said, disapproval in her voice. “You’ll come to Oxford, with me. You’ll study whatever the hell you want, since you’re the youngest and won’t have to be the head of the family one day.”

“But that’s not allowed, Izzie. I’ll be your right hand when you’ll become the Duchess, and I’ll have to help you out. How can I do that if I don’t know how to manage the family stuff?” Isabella let out a long sigh and Beatrice could picture her rolling her eyes and putting her arms across her chest.

“Will you at least come to Oxford?”

“I could try, I guess.”

They ended up talking about everything that passed through their minds, giggling and making up plans of whatever they would do during the time they would spend back at Armstrong Hall. Isabella told her she had this idea of throwing a spring ball she wanted to call after Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers”, how the only guests would be the both of them and their staff while their parents were waltzing away somewhere else. Beatrice found the idea ridiculous, but she was totally on board because doing anything with Isabella was bound to be an adventure of a lifetime.

When Mother Frances entered her office and cleared her throat, Beatrice let out an involuntarily sigh.

“Oh, is the basilisk there?” Isabella asked, her voice low enough so Mother Frances wouldn’t hear. Beatrice choked on air.

“Izzie!” her sister snorted and Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Yes, I have to go.”

“That’s fine, baby booger. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yes!”

It was strange the way how the week seemed to pass slower whenever something exciting was about to happen to you, no matter how much you prayed to make the twenty four hours go by faster.

Isabella hadn’t called throughout the week, which was kind of weird, but Beatrice guessed her sister had been busy finishing up her University papers and packing up for spring break. Plus, she’d said she would be going surfing on Thursday so she probably had spent all day out and hadn’t had time to call to let Beatrice know at what hour she would come and pick her up.

It was Friday afternoon, and Beatrice was the only one left in the school’s courtyard waiting to get picked up. She was playing with some pebbles she had found, passing them from one hand to the other, getting on her tip-toes to see if she saw Isabella running through the school gates and apologizing for being late. Mother Frances was standing next to her, looking annoyed because she probably had more important things to do, but Beatrice kind of didn’t want to be alone because the more she waited, the surer she was something bad had happened.

There was a dull sensation in her chest, a feeling of dread she’d felt when their father had told her and Isabella their grandfather was sick. It was a feeling of faint knowledge, that something dreadful was about to befall the Armstrong-Young family. But what, Beatrice didn’t know.

The thing about Isabella was that she was never late, not after spending eighteen years getting prepared to become a future Duchess. But she was especially extra early when it came to Beatrice, always being the first one to pick her sister up, so when Beatrice had seen everyone’s family coming except her sister she knew something was wrong.

At last, though, she saw the familiar black car coming from the road, and she smiled widely. Maybe she had just been over thinking, and Isabella simply had found so much traffic since almost everyone was leaving the country to go spend spring break somewhere else.

Her smile dropped when the car stopped in front of her, and it was Eustace the one who got out instead of Isabella.

“Eu-Eustace?” Beatrice asked, hating the way the stutter that had been accompanying her ever since she was little came back in full force when she was worried, completely throwing the job her tutors had done out of the window.

“Mrs. Beatrice,” the man said, smiling at her. Beatrice could tell something was very, very wrong by the way his eyes didn’t shine. Eustace’s eyes always had a spark in them that made anyone feel immediately happy and comfortable, so the fact that said spark was nowhere to be seen made Beatrice feel uneasy.

“Where’s Isabella?” she asked, looking at the car’s window and hoping that maybe her sister was inside waiting for her.

“Change of plans,” Eustace said, his eyes finding everything more interesting than Beatrice’s face. “Come, it’s getting late.”

Eustace carried Beatrice’s luggage and put it inside the car’s truck while Beatrice climbed inside, Henry simply offering her a short nod, the grip on the wheel strong.

They drove away, in silence, which was something as equally uncommon as the way Eustace had looked at her. The man usually talked with her whenever he was the one picking her up, and Henry always played on the records Beatrice suggested. This time, she didn’t suggest any and he didn’t offer to put on the radio.

Henry, though, was driving unusually fast. As if he had received a direct command from the Duke and Duchess to pick Beatrice up and get back to Armstrong Hall immediately, without wasting any minute.

The familiar silhouette of the manor quickly appeared at the other end of the road, and when they entered the driveway Beatrice’s anxiety rose at the fact that not even one single member of the gardening staff was there, attending the Magnolia trees.

Henry parked the car in front of the main door, Eustace got out of the car and Beatrice followed behind, feeling like some kind of lost puppy. The man put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her inside, as if she had never entered this house before.

“Your mother is waiting in the red drawing room,” Eustace told her, before he went back outside and helped Henry to carry Beatrice’s luggage inside.

Beatrice walked the few steps from the receiving space to the red drawing room, and there she was. Sophia Young was looking out the window, a cigarette between her index and middle finger, one arm crossing her stomach and supporting the other upon it. The last time Beatrice saw her mother smoking was when their finances dropped, and they almost went bankrupt.

“Mother?” Beatrice said, and her mother’s eyes traveled from whatever they were looking at outside to her youngest daughter standing awkwardly in the threshold.

“Beatrice,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. There was no scowl in her face, no immediate questioning about her grades. “Say hello to your grandmother.”

Beatrice turned around, and she saw Amelia Armstrong sitting on one of the coaches, a glass of Scotch in her hand. Beatrice had despised the woman so much, and she blamed her for turning her dad the way he was. All the coldness Edward Armstrong had came from his mother, not even inheriting an ounce of the kindness Beatrice’s grandfather had.

“Hello, grandmother,” the woman simply nodded at her, sipping from the liquor.

Beatrice then heard her father’s faint voice coming from the drawing room nearest to theirs. Something that described Edward Armstrong perfectly was the way he was always silent. He was silent when he was angry, he was silent when he was content and satisfied. And when he talked, his voice was always cold and close to a hiss. Sometimes it reminded Beatrice of a snake.

Now, though, his voice was raised and it was booming around the house. What he was saying, Beatrice didn’t understand. He was speaking fast, stuttering over his words, so different from his usual slow and void of any emotion way of speaking.

As if he had felt Beatrice’s presence, her father stopped talking. She heard a door opening, and then closing. Rushed steps walking towards the red drawing room, and then the sight of her father took her aback.

His black hair was disheveled, far from the perfect gelled comb he always wore. He was wearing a shirt, the first three buttons down, and there were bags under his red-rimmed eyes. He looked exhausted, desperate, so far from the perfect image he had worked so hard to show for the last forty-five years of his life.

“Beatrice,” he said, his voice not the usual hiss but something similar to it.

“Father,” Beatrice replied to him. He passed a hand through his hair, and then played with the collar of his white, wrinkled shirt. It looked as if Edward Armstrong was trying to recompose himself.

“Sit down,” he said, pointing at one of the sofas. And then, he said a word he had never used with anyone in his life. “Please.”

Beatrice sat down on the couch in front of her grandmother. Her mother stayed where she was, and Beatrice realized the woman’s shoulders were slouched and not as straight as a cardboard like they usually were.

Her father stood next to the couch awkwardly, not knowing if he should sit down next to his youngest daughter or simply tell her whatever he needed to say from a distance. At the end, he decided to sit next to Beatrice, leaving enough space between the both of them.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, when her father didn’t say anything. His eyes snapped back at her, widening in surprise for a second, not used at his daughter to speak to him without his permission nor direct invitation.

“Isabella,” her father said, deciding to cut straight to the point.

Oh, Izzie, what did you do this time?

“What about her?”

“As I’m sure you already know, your sister went surfing yesterday,” her father said, his voice trying to go back to the familiar slowness and coldness. But he was nervous, Beatrice could tell.

Multiple scenarios started to form at the back of Beatrice’s mind. Has she finally run away? Did she miss her train, and that’s why father is so angry at her? Has she decided to stay in Oxford instead of coming here?

“Yesterday there was a storm, around afternoon,” Edward Armstrong continued to speak, and Beatrice got taken aback at the sudden change of topic. What did the weather have to do with Isabella? “And, of course, there were dangerous seas.”

It started on her fingertips, and then the numb feeling spread towards her upper body and then her lower extremities. There was a sharp pain inside her chest, maybe provoked by the way her heart started to punch it as if it wanted to get out, and then her surroundings started to spin and her stomach curled inside her torso and there was a buzzing sound inside her ears that muffled whatever was going on outside.

She didn’t hear what her father explained to her, except a few words. Missing, no body was found, presumed death. Beatrice felt her breathing pick up, and it seemed as if her lungs couldn’t keep up with the rhythm.

Is this what a panic attack feels like? Is this how I die? Am I going to die?

Her father had stopped talking and from the corner of her eye she saw his hand was hovering in the air, awkwardly. She felt her mother turned around slightly, a wrinkle between her eyebrows which didn’t make it clear if she found it annoying how Beatrice had decided to have a full panic attack at the news of her older sister being lost at sea or if she was actually worried for Beatrice. Her grandmother had her eyes casted down, as if the news had pained her, as if she actually had an ounce of emotion inside her heart.

“Beatrice,” Edward Armstrong said, uttering the word as if it was the first time he said it, as if it was a foreign language for him. “You must calm down,” he commanded, but Beatrice heard the slight stutter in those four words, the way his hand shook slightly.

“Is she dead?” Beatrice heard her own voice as if her spirit had left her body, as if she was watching the scene from behind a crystal screen and the sound was muffled. “Is Isabella dead?”

One time, her father had asked something to Beatrice and she had replied that she didn’t know the answer. And she got a look of disapproval, as if Edward Armstrong had expected for both of his daughters to be born with the whole world’s knowledge. In their family, not knowing something wasn’t allowed because it made you look ignorant and weak and unprepared to take over the world, even when you didn’t have any intention of doing so.

So when her father answered he didn’t know if Isabella was alive, when Beatrice felt the defeat and the weakness in his voice, when he became what he had punished his daughters for becoming after so many years, Beatrice knew all hope was lost.

And from that moment, there was a massive hole inside her heart that she never achieved to fill, no matter how much she tried. And life lost any meaning, any purpose. Any dream she had, she gave it up. Because that afternoon, Beatrice occupied Isabella’s place as if her older sister had been an old vase that had fell and got broken, and Beatrice had been another vase to replace that one with. And from that day, Beatrice let go of any goal of her own she had and worked hard to become the heir her parents deserved, the heir that Isabella never wanted to be.

Somehow, Beatrice always knew this was bound to happen. That one day, she would end up occupying Isabella’s place. She had been unconsciously preparing herself, especially when she got older and saw the way Isabella despised her future and every single action she took was to piss her parents off, slowly but surely, leave behind the place she was meant to occupy.

Beatrice only wished it had been different. She wished that, for once, Isabella carried out with her constant threats of running away.

*

“They found her body a week later,” Beatrice continued her story. She knew she was crying because she could feel the dampness upon her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. Ava had reached over, and she was holding her hand, her cheeks equally wet. “We buried her, and then my parents moved on as if nothing had happened.”

“Beatrice, I’m so sorry,” it was the only thing Ava said, and for Beatrice it was enough.

People had said they were sorry Isabella had died, but no one ever told her they were sorry for Beatrice because she had to stop being a child at the age of twelve. No one had told her they were sorry because she had become her family’s asset to assure themselves a future, that she had been secretly selected by many of her family’s aristocrat friends to marry one of their sons, to make their riches bigger. No one had told her they were sorry because she had been forced to lose herself, or because she had been feeling as if dying had been Isabella’s last act to piss their parents off, to prove them wrong, to show them they had no control over her anymore.

“Thank you, Ava,” Beatrice said, smiling softly at the girl. “Coming here just… it reminds of that afternoon, and the way my parents decided to completely ignore the fact this had been the only space where I’d felt safe. And every single time I enter that red drawing room…”

“Why did you make us come here, then?” Ava asked, not in anger but with sadness in her beautiful brown eyes. “If this place makes you feel like that?”

“Because I didn’t want you to spend your Christmas in some old motel,” Beatrice shrugged, her heart taking the reins over her brain. “You deserved to spend a cozy and comfortable Christmas, with your family.”

“Damn…” Ava looked at Beatrice as if she was inspecting some weird species and Beatrice was about to ask her what was wrong. “You truly do have emotions, after all.”

Despite herself, Beatrice let out a snort and Ava smiled proudly at her, for making the girl laugh after relieving the most traumatizing moment of her life.

“Shut up, Ava,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, and Ava leaned back on her armchair.

“Yes, Duchess,”

“Stop it!” Ava giggled, and then they fell in a comfortable silence. Beatrice felt her eyelids getting heavy, suddenly remembering that one of the many reasons why she preserved herself from crying was because of how exhausted it left her.

“Hey,” Ava said, making Beatrice open her eyes wide. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, no…”

“Rude?” Ava put a hand upon her chest, making Beatrice smirk. “Christmas is like, two days away. And there’s a very important factor missing.”

“What factor is that, Ava Silva?”

“Presents!” Beatrice arched an eyebrow at Ava, who was rocking on her armchair, almost falling off into the fire. “Christmas gifts, Beatrice. We’re missing them!”

“You want to exchange gifts?” Beatrice asked, in confusion, and Ava nodded at her.

“Of course! It’s Christmas, silly. What’s Christmas without gifts?” Beatrice hummed at the girl, her eyes staring at the flames.

“What’s your plan?”

“I say we could go down to visit the town tomorrow,” Ava shrugged. “Maybe go get some gifts there and all but, of course, it has to be a secret.”

“I think that could be fun,” Beatrice said, after considering it for a few moments. “We’ve spent too much time in here, going outside could make us some good.”

“Yes!” Ava clapped, smiling widely at Beatrice, and she couldn’t help but smile back at her.

Ever since she had lost Isabella, she had seen life in only black and white. Now, ever since Ava had entered it, she was starting to see colors once more.

And Beatrice Armstrong-Young had never been this scared of anything ever since Isabella had died.

Chapter Text

Wherever she went, Ava was always late. And it didn’t matter what she did, how many hours earlier she woke up in the morning or how much early she started to get ready to leave her apartment and make it in time. It was simply some kind of chronic condition, being late everywhere.

This time it wasn’t different. She and Beatrice had finally agreed to go get the promised coffee on Saturday, agreeing after Ava beat the shit out of Jillian’s associate and Beatrice took the time to heal her up for the second time in their life. It was weird that it happened twice, though this time it had been Ava beating someone up to protect Beatrice. It wasn’t like she suddenly forgot what Beatrice had done to her, and she hadn’t forgiven the girl at all, but she couldn’t stand homophobic white men and she believed that beating them up should become an Olympic sport. Call her weird.

She swears to God, if there even is one, that she had gotten up early on purpose and on a fucking Saturday so she wouldn’t be late and she wouldn’t have to look at Beatrice furrowing her eyebrows in disapproval, like she used to do whenever she was late to class.

Ava had gotten into the shower, and then she didn’t spend several minutes trying to figure out the perfect outfit for the occasion. She also didn’t spend time getting her make-up done, not much but enough to look formal. And Ava also didn’t walk slower than she usually would because she had realized that, according to her calculations, she would get to the cafeteria they had gone to a few days ago one hour earlier than she was supposed to. And she didn’t want to look desperate, nor eager to meet up with Beatrice. Because she wasn’t desperate, nor eager.

So she had decided to walk around the cafeteria’s neighborhood, making time, and then she had found an antique shop and entered it. There were many vases around, looking like the expensive ones she had found at Armstrong Hall nine years ago. There were also massive clocks made of wood and gold, and several decorations that had been worthy to occupy space in Beatrice’s family manor.

Ava was walking through the aisle where the owner had put all the paintings, and her heart skipped a beat when she found a familiar one. The sky was a mix of blues and grays and oranges, the green and yellow and brown hills surrounding a familiar looking manor with vines upon its walls. And then she looked at the signature, A. Armstrong ‘92, and it was all the confirmation she needed.

“Who brought this painting here?” Ava asked the shop’s owner, who had been walking behind her talking about the other art pieces.

“Oh,” the old lady looked at it for a few minutes, “a young woman, a couple of weeks ago. She brought this one and several others that got sold already.”

“Oh…” Ava nodded, not knowing why Beatrice had tried to get rid of a painting her beloved grandfather, the only relative she had liked aside from her sister, had created.

She walked around the shop a little bit more, her mind filling with the memories of those days she’d spent at Armstrong Hall, and holding back a squeal when the woman took her to an aisle filled with film cameras. Ava, then, spent several minutes going through the aisle until her mouth fell wide open. In front of her, there was an Olympus Vintage 35mm labeled from the 1970s but looking brand new.

“How much?” she asked to the woman, her hand hovering upon it, scared that it would break if she touched it.

“Well, this one is surprisingly one of the cheapest we have,” the woman explained. “We sell it at only 270 dollars.”

“I’ll take it,” Ava said, and then she looked at the black leather watch Vincent had given her for her twenty-second birthday and she gasped at how late it was. “Can I come get it later?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll save it for you.”

Ava thanked the woman, and pretty much sprinted out of the shop when she saw she was almost twenty minutes late. Thankfully, Breakfast at Tiffany’s was only a couple of streets away from the antique shop and Ava arrived there soon enough.

She entered the cafeteria, almost ripping the door from its hinges, and walked inside. She could feel her breathing coming out fast, her armpits getting sweaty after the small marathon she had run. Was her hair intact? Did her make-up melt? Why was she worrying about that?

Ava scanned the room, and she saw Beatrice sitting on the table they had occupied the last time they had been here. She was looking down at her phone, eyebrows furrowed, and a slightly angry look upon her face.

“Oh, fuck,” Ava muttered, getting a few looks from the customers.

She ignored them, walking towards Beatrice, ready to give the girl some excuse until she saw her angrily typing on her phone. Ava, then, sat down slowly and silently and waited until Beatrice was done. Unable to be still, her fingers drummed upon the wooden surface and Beatrice looked up. Her expression softened, but there was still an angry wrinkle between her eyebrows, her lips forming a straight line.

“Ava, hello,” Beatrice said, her voice coming out slightly rushed. “Give me a sec.”

“I’ll give you all the secs you need,” Ava replied, and then Beatrice’s eyes widened and Ava’s mouth fell open. “Seconds, all the seconds you need.”

Beatrice nodded at her, before she went back to her phone and finished to type out whatever scolding she was doing. This time, though, Ava didn’t miss the way the girl’s lips were slightly smiling or the way her fingers slowed down. Ava felt her cheeks burning up, and she covered her face for a moment pretending she was wiping away some sweat. Beatrice put her phone back on the table, and smiled at Ava.

“Thank you for coming,” the girl said, her voice soft, but still looking angry.

“Sorry I was late,” Ava said, believing that the source of the girl’s discomfort was her. Beatrice, then, seemed to realize what was going through Ava’s mind and she shook her head.

“I’m not angry at you!” Beatrice immediately said, slightly panicked. “It’s just… I got a text from…”

“It’s okay,” Ava said, trying to suppress the way she had an idea of who had texted Beatrice even after all the time they had been separated from one another. She didn’t know how to feel at the fact that she didn’t have to ask anything to know, the way that silent connection and understanding remained untouched.

“What took you so long, anyway?” Beatrice asked, trying to make light conversation.

“Oh, I got lost in this antique shop a couple of streets away from here,” Ava decided to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, completely hiding the fact that she had been attacked by memories when she had seen Beatrice’s grandfather painting.

“Treasures of Olympus?” Beatrice asked, and Ava nodded. “Ah, yes, I know it.”

“I know you do,” Ava blurted out, and then had to restraint herself so she wouldn’t punch at her own face.

“You saw the paintings?”

“Painting, in singular,” Ava explained, shrugging. “The others apparently got sold.”

“Damn, where’s my money at then?” Beatrice let out a nervous chuckle, and Ava raised an eyebrow at the girl.

“I’m sure you don’t need any more money,” Ava said, her voice coming out harsh for no reason. Beatrice, now, let out a surprised laugh and Ava closed her eyes. “Fuck, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“It’s fine,” Beatrice said, “waitress is coming.”

The waitress, in fact, came and chirpily asked them what they wanted to order. Beatrice ordered a coffee accompanied by waffles, while Ava ordered the strongest coffee they had plus half of the breakfasts menu. Beatrice simply looked astounded at her, but didn’t say anything. After all, the girl was very familiar with Ava’s appetite.

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Ava took the chance to look at Beatrice. Ava felt slightly embarrassed because she had gone through her wardrobe over thinking what would she wear, going for a white tank top, jeans and a denim jacket. Beatrice had also opted for something neither too fancy nor too informal, wearing a stripped short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans. Her hair was down, shining in the same way the golden antiques at Treasures of Olympus did, and her sunglasses were poking out from the shirt’s breast pocket. She was so fucking stunning it made Ava angry.

“So…” Beatrice said, clearing her throat, “how was the rest of your week?”

“Well, I spent it transcribing Jillian’s interview on my laptop and going out to interview the most uninteresting people in all of New York,” Ava explained, and Beatrice let out a snort.

“Will your interview with Jillian continue?” the taller girl asked, and Ava nodded.

“She’s way too interesting,” Beatrice hummed in agreement, “sitting down with her for around two hours just wasn’t enough.”

“Are you going to interview me today?” the girl asked, while the waitress came back with their orders. Ava shook her head.

“Nah,” she said, after she eagerly sipped from her coffee and had to hold back a moan of satisfaction. “I think we should take it easy today.”

“I agree,” Beatrice said, cutting her waffle in four perfect triangles. Ava snorted, remembering the way Beatrice always did that when they ate breakfast nine years ago, and the taller girl looked at her questioningly until her phone screen lit up.

Unintentionally, Ava’s eyes peeked at the girl’s phone and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the name Edward Armstrong flashing upon the screen. It was kind of sad the way Beatrice hadn’t named her father’s contact with something like “Dad” or “Sperm donor”.

“Is everything okay?” Ava asked when Beatrice’s eyebrows furrowed again and she was starting to look annoyed once more. The girl sighed.

“My… father,” she explained, as if calling the man like that was hurtful to her, “there’s something going on with the family’s finances and he’s blaming me for it.”

“I thought you didn’t work for your family?” the other girl smiled sadly at her, and Ava immediately regretted her question.

“Can’t really escape them, honestly,” Beatrice explained, after swallowing a piece of her waffle. “I was cursed by having useless cousins, and I’m still his heir after all. I still have to look after the family’s finances and all even if I’ve put distance between them and I.”

“Well, that sucks,” Ava concluded, her mouth full of pancake, and Beatrice chuckled at her.

“It does, yes,” Beatrice said, before her phone screen lit up once more. “Oh, bloody hell,” the girl muttered, taking the phone.

Ava, whose body always acted before her brain could make up a decision, shot her hand towards Beatrice’s direction and wrapped her hand around Beatrice’s wrist.

“Uh,” Ava said when Beatrice looked at her with wide eyes. “Listen, the both of us haven’t seen one another in so long and we’ve got many things to talk about. So… I have an idea.”

“An idea, you say?”

“Yup,” Ava let go of Beatrice’s arm, feeling grateful the girl didn’t hiss at her for touching her. “Let’s turn our phones off.”

“I wish I could,” Beatrice let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head, “but I have to attend to this and also check my emails for work,” and Beatrice kept ranting about all the things she needed to focus on.

“Beatrice,” Ava said, cutting her off. “Shut up and turn your phone off.”

“Ava, I can’t do that! What if I’m needed?”

And Ava, taking this as a personal challenge, called Suzanne right in front of Beatrice, who looked at her with the most confused look Ava had ever seen upon anyone’s face.

“Ava?” Suzanne said on the other end of the line, suspiciously sounding as if she had been exercising a lot.

“Mama Supes,” Ava said instead, making a mental note to ask questions on Monday. “Just letting you know I’ll be unavailable all day today so I won’t answer to your calls or texts.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, now pass me Jillian.”

“What?!” Suzanne sounded panicked, and she heard a muffling sound in the background which sounded like a thud.

“What?” Beatrice mouthed at Ava, looking even more confused than before. Ava raised a finger and, after some more strange sounds on the other line, Jillian spoke.

“Ava Silva,” the woman said, sounding breathless.

“Jillian Salvius,” Ava said, smirking. Beatrice covered her face in embarrassment. “Just letting you know I’ll be hanging out with Beatrice today, and I’ll need you to tell your other two children and clients to leave her alone. Capisce?”

Jillian snorted on the other end of the phone. “That’s no problem for me, Ava. I will let everyone know Beatrice is off limits today.”

“’Kay, cool!” Ava said, and then said goodbye to both Jillian and Suzanne before hanging up and turning her phone off. She looked at Beatrice, eyebrows arched, and the girl shook her head.

“You’re awful for doing that,” the girl said, amusement in her eyes, while she too turned her phone off.

“Yeah, you called me that a few times in the past,” and then Ava froze, and Beatrice smiled sadly at her.

“I did,” Beatrice admitted, putting her phone upon the table again. Ava stuttered, trying to form an apology, and Beatrice shook her head. “No point in denying the disgusting things I said, Ava.”

“Well, I guess we’re starting strong,” Ava sipped from her coffee and then bit one of her pancakes. “Do they serve liquor in here?”

“Oh, do you intend on delving into our repression and traumas right on?” Beatrice asked, fidgeting upon the table. Ava let out a sound of surprise.

“Your repression, Beatrice. I was never repressed until you called me all of that.”

And there they were again, the feelings of anger and betrayal and hurt Ava had buried so deep inside for the last few years. All the feelings she had gotten so good at ignoring, at pretending that night never happened, until the Universe had thrown Beatrice back at her and everything she had tried to suppress came back in full force.

Beatrice was looking at her plate, shame upon her face, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip. And Ava wanted to tell her she was sorry, for letting all out without giving any kind of warning beforehand. Her eyes were looking at Beatrice, her body unconsciously angling away from the girl’s space just in case she decided to lash out on her just like the first time Ava overstepped a boundary, or the last time they spoke to one another all those years ago. Beatrice didn’t do any of that, though, and the girl simply let out a defeated sigh which kind of broke Ava’s heart.

“That’s true,” Beatrice admitted, her index finger tracing the border of the coffee mug sitting in front of her. “I’d been fighting so long to ignore what was buried deep inside me, and your presence heightened my feelings and… I was so scared of who I was, the monster my parents made me believe I was, I couldn’t help but blame you for the way everything in my life seemed to go wrong after meeting you, after four years of hard work to become what… who my parents deserved.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Ava said, her voice coming soft even if she was feeling anger inside. Anger at Beatrice, at Beatrice’s parents and at herself. “And they never deserved you, anyways.”

Beatrice smiled sadly at her, and then sipped from her coffee. “Is it okay if we start talking about something else before getting deep into all of that?”

“Yeah,” Ava said, nodding. She wanted to talk with Beatrice, she wanted to know what the girl had been up to for the past few years, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if she got angry on the first hour and ended up running away. Just like she always did.

“So…” Beatrice shrugged, “how are Diego and Vincent?”

“Still living in Spain,” Ava told her, smiling involuntarily at the mere mention of her family. “Vincent has fully retired from the church, though he still gives sermons now and then in the town he’s living at. He bought a small house in Valencia with his retirement money, with a garden where he grows plants and vegetables and everything.”

“Yes, I remember he talked about becoming a farmer once he would retire,” Beatrice recalled, a fond smile upon her face. Ava hummed.

“Diego decided he preferred to play football over continuing his studying once he turned eighteen,” Ava continued explaining. “He joined this amateur team from the town Vincent and him moved at, after he took a year off to decide what he wanted to do with his life. A scout saw him play, fell in love with him, and he joined a bigger team. He’s currently playing in Seville right now.”

“How long has it been since you last saw them?” Beatrice asked, and Ava dramatically looked up at the ceiling.

“Months,” she said, finally. “But they’re supposed to come visit during August, since Diego will have the month off and all.”

“You haven’t visited them at all?” Beatrice said, eyebrows furrowed, and Ava knew that look.

It was the same look the girl had given her nine years ago when Ava told her she wouldn’t be able to travel back to Spain for Christmas because she didn’t have enough money to pay for the plane tickets. And then Beatrice had taken it upon herself to bring Ava’s family to England, and Ava had spent the best Christmas of her life ever since her mother had passed away.

“I’m not poor, you know? Not anymore,” Ava said, suddenly feeling as if she had to defend herself and her bank account.

“I didn’t mean to imply that, Ava,” Beatrice told her, sounding apologetic, and Ava sighed. She really needed to go back to her yoga classes.

“I just am kind of addicted to work,” she shrugged, and Beatrice let out a humorless chuckle.

“And you dared to make fun of me for being a workaholic?” Ava rolled her eyes, Beatrice sipping from her coffee mug with an arched eyebrow.

“I didn’t make fun of you!” the shorter girl defended herself, Beatrice letting out a sarcastic hum. “I just simply think today should be about us, about… the past.”

“I don’t like the past,” Beatrice muttered.

“Me neither,” Ava breathed deeply, eating the last piece of her pancake. “What about you, though? How did you meet Jillian?”

“Oh, I thought that was reserved for the interview?” Beatrice asked, and Ava shrugged. “Through Michael, actually. I met him at a party, he said his last name was Salvius, invited Lilith and I over so we could meet his mother and… yeah.”

“That’s it?” Ava asked, unimpressed and disappointed. Beatrice snorted.

“I’ll save it for the interview, since you said today is about us.”

“Okay then…” Ava finished her coffee, and Beatrice waited for her to continue. “I have a question I’ve been wondering since we ran into one another. Or, well, you ran over me.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose, by the way,” Beatrice raised her hands in a defensive mode, and Ava arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, didn’t you?” she hummed, “and here I thought your sole purpose of coming to New York was to finally murder me for all the sleepless nights I gave you.”

She didn’t know why, but Ava blushed at the way she had worded that, making it sound as if she had given Beatrice a total different type of sleepless nights. Needless to say, she had been a hormonal teenager once and she had found Beatrice so beautiful sometimes her mind had gone there. And she thought those thoughts had completely vanished from the back of her mind, but alas here she was telling Beatrice she would give her all the “secs” she needed and reminding her of spending nights with no sleep. She was a mess, and she had gotten laid a couple of days ago. Why was her mind acting as if she needed sexy action as soon as possible?

Ava shook her head, begging her brain to focus. “Anyways, the question I have. You said you found me through an article and that’s one of the many reasons why you came here. So, I was thinking… did it never occur you to search me up on social media?”

Beatrice let out a chuckle. “It might come as a surprise, but I don’t actually own any social media.”

“You don’t?” Ava gasped in shock. “How do you manage to survive? What brought you to take this decision?”

“Well,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t like social media or the way people act on it, the way it’s used to act judgmental and holier than thou.”

“Oh, I know someone who used to act holier than thou,” Ava looked at Beatrice, arms crossed upon her chest, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Anyways,” Beatrice continued, “then I got with Leighton, who happens to be one of the most famous nepotism babies out there, and I really begged for her to keep us private. At least from the eyes of the world.”

“Hm… yeah, makes sense and I’d probably ask her the same. Fans can truly become the most disrespectful people ever even when they claim they do it all for love and admiration,” Beatrice nodded, and Ava looked at her for several seconds until the girl blushed slightly.

“What?”

“Since when are you gay?” Ava asked, and Beatrice made a choking sound that would’ve been amusing if Ava didn’t suddenly feel a sense of betrayal brewing deep inside her chest. Not jealousy, not at all.

“Since… always, I guess?” Beatrice chuckled nervously, “it’s not like a cult took me in and converted me into a lesbian.”

“I mean,” Ava inhaled air, “I guess it was kind of obvious back then, judging by the way you always blushed and looked away when I was walking around in my sports bra, or the way you acted like damn Kaz Brekker whenever I tried to hold your hand.”

“Who?”

“I’ll tell you another time.”

“Oh, okay…”

“Or also when we kissed and the next day you… well,” Beatrice looked down, shame invading her face once again, and Ava sighed. “But back then I decided to act blind, convincing myself that you did all of those things because it was wrong in the eyes of God Almighty and stuff. I tried very hard not to think you acted the way you did because I disgusted you, but because you were a prude and everything.”

“Now that’s quite rude, Ava,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, and Ava arched hers. “Not that you’re lying… about the prude part, I mean. I was quite the prude, wasn’t I?”

“You made me wear those ugly knee-high socks because I showed a little bit of my ankles, Beatrice. Be for fucking real,” Ava, unintentionally, started to giggle at the memory and Beatrice changed her expression into an amused one, joining Ava in her laughter.

“Yes, I remember that and the way you asked me if I’d been born during medieval times,” Ava snorted louder, covering her mouth with her hands, her laughter increasing when Beatrice looked around them with alarm. “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry, but that was so funny,” Ava said, her voice coming out breathless because of the laughter. “Bloody hell, Ava! Cover your ankles, will you?”

“Oh, God…” Beatrice covered her face with both of her hands, leaning back on her chair, and Ava continued laughing. After a few seconds, she calmed down but an amused smile remained upon her face.

“Talking about Him, Capital H,” Ava said, breathing deeply to get rid of whatever remaining laughter she had left. “Are you still a hardcore Christian?”

“Oh,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. “Actually, yes I’m still a believer. So is Lilith, and that gives Michael and Jillian a lot of teasing content. Especially when I’m supposed to be a woman of science, according to them.”

“Understandable,” Ava said, letting out a small chuckle.

“I believe in God still, yes,” Beatrice explained, her face becoming serious. “But I don’t believe in the Church.”

“Oh?”

“It was the Church, my parents, and the nuns at Saint Melanie’s the ones who planted all those hateful beliefs inside my brain. And I heard that discourse so often, I ended up wholeheartedly believing it even if deep down I knew it was wrong,” Beatrice sighed, and Ava decided to remain silent. “The only one who thought differently to them was Izzie, and the older we got the firmer her beliefs got. It reached the point where she would confront our family when they made hateful comments, and she would always tell me I needed to build up my own beliefs and not simply go with what was familiar for me. Because then I would become a bird trapped in a cage.”

Ava looked at the way Beatrice was openly talking about Isabella, not even an ounce of pain on her beautiful brown eyes. She was so different from that scared teenager Ava had met all those years ago, the one who stormed off a room whenever Isabella was mentioned or the one who found any plausible excuse to avoid talking about herself or her dead sister. Ava remembered the way Beatrice had asked her once how was she able to talk about her deceased mother so openly, and Ava had told her how she did it so she would remember Patricia Silva in a positive light.

And Ava wondered if Beatrice had avoided speaking about Isabella because maybe she’d thought her older sister had gone to Hell, and therefore her disgraced sister wasn’t allowed to be mentioned. Because Isabella had a mind of her own, Isabella had spoken a truth Beatrice couldn’t accept, and therefore Isabella ended up where the non-believers went, where Ava would probably end up going as well if Heaven and Hell truly existed.

And maybe now Beatrice, who had grown up and had tried to break free from the cage she had been shackled in, was able to speak about Isabella because she knew her sister only tried her best to also break free, to stand up against the hate their family felt towards the way Isabella hadn’t turned out to be what they had hoped she would become. And maybe Beatrice was able to speak about Isabella without storming off the cafeteria because she too had managed to stop her family from turning her into a toy, into an object, because she had broken free from becoming what Isabella would’ve become.

And maybe Beatrice only wanted someone to be proud of her, even if that someone was a person who no longer walked amongst the living. Just like Ava had done her whole life ever since her mother died in that accident, she tried hard to become the best version of herself she could so her mother could be proud of her, even if it was from up above or down below or whatever it was that you went when you died.

“Ava?” Beatrice said, her body angling closer to Ava’s.

“Huh?” she said, blinking slowly.

“Are you okay?” the taller girl was looking at her with worry in her beautiful eyes. “You dissociated very hard.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

“About what?”

About how proud they would be, Isabella and my mother.

“An article I gotta write, about this athlete who got falsely accused of stealing a car. Shit’s wild, Beatrice,” Ava let out a nervous chuckle, and she could tell Beatrice didn’t believe her. But the girl didn’t ask anything.

“What about you?” Beatrice asked. “Is there anyone special in your life?”

“Not really, no,” Ava shrugged. I feel like I’m unable to love and be loved because of you and what you said. “I just love freedom, you know?”

“So that girl you left with the other night…” Ava’s eyes widened, and Beatrice blushed as if she wasn’t supposed to say that.

“You saw?”

“I… well, I was making sure Adriel didn’t molest you anymore, in case he escaped from the guards and all,” Beatrice cleared her throat, and Ava had the faint suspicion now it was the girl the one who lied.

“That was Zori,” Ava explained, unable to understand why she had the need. “We’re not girlfriends or anything but… we like to have fun.”

“Oh, right,” Beatrice nodded.

“So… Leighton. How did that happen?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, and Beatrice smiled shyly at her.

“We reunited two years and a half ago. I was on a working trip to Paris, and she was there giving a small gig at this wine bar called Parigi Caffè,” Beatrice explained, and Ava supported her chin upon her fisted hand. “She recognized me and I recognized her, and we talked about how the both of us decided to make our own paths. Her parents wanted her to take over their business and all, her brother Nico was a mess and they thought she would be a better option. Leighton didn’t want that, she wanted to become a singer and an actress and… well, she’d enough money of her own to do that. The difference between her family and mine is that her parents ended up accepting her as who she was and what she wanted, because she had Nico to help her with everything and… well, Henry and Mimi are simply trying their best.”

“She was always the nicest girl in Saint Melanie’s,” Ava remembered the way Leighton had welcomed her at the choir and theatre clubs, the way she never ever judged her and even defended her a couple of times. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Beatrice said, eyebrows furrowed, looking and sounding extremely unhappy.

“Are you… unhappy?” Ava asked, and the other girl’s eyes widened. After some stuttering, Beatrice managed to form words.

“No!” she said, her voice high pitched. “It’s just… well, this is kind of like my first serious relationship after accepting who am I and… it’s complicated.”

“Relationships shouldn’t be complicated, Beatrice,” Ava muttered, not knowing why she had the sudden need to know more, to know if Beatrice was on the verge of breaking up with Leighton or if she truly was happy.

“We both spend so much time traveling,” Beatrice tried to defend. “Whenever she’s not on tour, she’s in the studio. And whenever I don’t have a work trip, I’m buried inside my office revising projects and going from meeting to meeting.”

“And the both of you have been doing this for… how long?”

“Two years,” Ava raised an eyebrow.

“Two years going on like this?” she let out a dry chuckle, and Beatrice looked confused. “Damn, that’s impressive. You truly must love one another deeply.”

“We understand each other well, and we enjoy each other’s company,” Beatrice tried to defend her relationship, and Ava nodded. She decided that maybe they weren’t in a space where they could openly discuss Beatrice’s relationship.

“What about before Leighton?” Ava asked, “was there someone else? Any hook up?”

“A few girls at university, yes,” Beatrice explained, as if she was confessing a crime. “Nothing important but enough to help me… discover myself, and try to start accepting what I am.”

What you are is beautiful, Ava thought. And then she mentally punched herself, scolding for the way she was unable to think straight whenever there was a pretty girl sitting close to her.

This is Beatrice who we’re talking about, Ava reminded herself. The first person you ever fell for and then destroyed you.

“I really want to know more about that,” Ava said, trying to silence the many thoughts plaguing her mind. “Why don’t we pay all of this and go?”

“Where are we going to go?” Beatrice asked, getting up at the same time Ava did.

“Well, first I need to go back to Treasures of Olympus and get something I just bought. And then… I don’t know, we shall see?” Beatrice didn’t look convinced, and Ava rolled her eyes. “What, are you still having mental breakdowns if your whole month isn’t meticulously organized?”

“That’s not…” Beatrice sighed, knowing it was a lost battle. “Fine, let’s just go pay and then we’ll see what we do.”

“Cool!”

While they made their way towards the counter, and while they fully argued over who would pay for their breakfast (Beatrice secretly slipped her credit card to the waitress and paid for everything), Ava tried to ignore very, very hard the way her stomach filled with butterflies and hopefulness at the prospect of spending more time with Beatrice, completely ignoring the way her brain’s alarm went off and told her this was a very, very bad idea.

*

Beatrice had been secretly pinching herself underneath the table, trying to reassure herself that this wasn’t a dream and she was actually sitting in front of Ava Silva, nine years after that disastrous night. Of course there had been so much tension, of course Ava had called her out several times in the hour and a half they had spent talking, and it was all well deserved.

Beatrice only hoped that somehow throughout the day she would simply have the chance to explain Ava why she did what she needed to do, or at least she hoped she could explain a part of it and maybe ask her to hang out another day and continue talking about that, trying to fix whatever was fixable. Honestly, Beatrice would be happy by simply having Ava in her life again. Maybe not as a best friend, but she would be happy if the girl simply was… there.

Now they were walking side by side, making small conversation while they made it towards Treasures of Olympus to gather whatever Ava had claimed t buy by impulse. Beatrice had to go to the antique shop anyways, so she was just happy to tag along and hear Ava complain about Suzanne and the stupid people she had to interview, claiming that Jillian’s interview was actually her first big job and she had so many ideas for it.

“Ideas like what?” Beatrice asked, while they were waiting for the street light to turn green.

“Well, as I said before I just think Jillian is a very interesting person,” Ava shrugged, cleaning her sunglasses before putting them on. “And she’s wrote many books about her job, but how many books have been written about her?”

“You want to write a book about Jillian?” Beatrice asked, eyes wide behind her own sunglasses. Ava nodded, unsure.

“You think it’s too much?” the girl asked, and Beatrice what a loss of words because she wasn’t expecting Ava to ask for her opinion. She wasn’t even expecting Ava to demand of her to turn her phone off, as if the girl was planning on dragging Beatrice around New York for the day.

“No,” Beatrice said, once she recovered. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“I told Mama Supes we would need a whole publication dedicated to her, and she said no,” Ava continued explaining, hiding her hands in her denim jacket pockets. “They were ex girlfriends, did you know?”

“Yes, Jillian told me after the party the other day,” Beatrice let out a chuckle. “I’ve never heard her stuttering or looking like a mess before, except when talking about Suzanne.”

“Hmm… interesting,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice looked down at her. “Anyways, I haven’t told Suzanne I want to actually turn all those interviews into a book. I’m scared she’ll say no.”

“Why would she say no?” Ava let out a long sigh, and then shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, LateNews Magazine is focused on… magazines, only. I would have to find someone interested enough into publishing a book, I would need contracts and all, and it’s just… too much, you know?”

Ava started to walk before the light turned green, too lost on her thoughts, and Beatrice had to lunge forwards and grab her by the arm. Ava squealed, and then she understood what was going on when she saw a car swerving aside, beeping at her.

“Jesus Christ, Ava,” Beatrice said, breathlessly. “Do you have a death wish or something? This is the second time you almost get ran over!”

Ava, instead of apologizing or looking shocked she almost died for the second time in a week and a half, looked up at Beatrice and she started to shake with laughter. Beatrice, who hadn’t let go of Ava’s arm yet, softened her grip but didn’t let go until the light finally turned green and then walked to the other side of the street.

“What’s so amusing?” Beatrice asked, and Ava tried to calm down.

“Old Beatrice just came through,” the shorter girl shrugged while Beatrice let go of Ava’s arm. “I think I would’ve died several times back at Saint Melanie’s if you haven’t been around.”

“Oh, I know,” Beatrice rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, and Ava shook her head with an amused smile on her lips.

Beatrice preferred this, the teasing and smiles over Ava’s well justified anger towards her. It simply felt familiar, as if nothing had happened between the both of them nine years ago. But Ava seemed to realize the same, and the smile disappeared while her body stiffened slightly. Beatrice didn’t miss the way Ava side stepped, putting a bit more of distance between them.

“Anyways,” Ava continued, clearing her throat. “I don’t know if Suzanne would be up for me to write a whole book about her ex girlfriend’s private life, and I feel like doing it as a side job would kind of look like betrayal to the magazine.”

“Well, if you decide to do it… just know Leighton’s brother, Nico, owns a publishing company aside from the many other companies his family have,” Beatrice offered the information to Ava, and the girl hummed in thought.

They finally reached Treasures of Olympus and made their way inside, and Beatrice closed her eyes for a second taking the scent of the shop in. She loved it, the smell of old books and the sight of many, many treasures given up by their owners, thinking that old junk really had no use anymore on modern society.

She had wanted to decorate the apartment she’d rented with as many antiques as possible, after all she had grown up surrounded by them and she loved them because her grandfather had spent hours and hours talking about the history behind each one of them.

It had pained Beatrice a lot when she had to give up many of the old paintings her old relatives had created. She’d been noticed by Eustace how her father was thinking on throwing them all away now that he suddenly remembered Armstrong Hall existed and wanted to renovate it to give it a more “modern light”, and Beatrice thought all those Anthony Armstrong paintings would have a better life being hanged upon someone else’s living room. She didn’t really have a home, traveling all around the world for a longer time that she stayed in her London penthouse, so she did what thought would be best to save all those art pieces, gifting it to people who would truly appreciate them instead of having them abandoned in a corner of her apartment she couldn’t decorate because she would go away in three months.

Beatrice had come upon Treasures of Olympus almost by accident, when she was hunting for a cafeteria, and she immediately thought this would be the best temporary home for her grandfather’s legacy. And it had pained her a lot when Michael had driven her here with his van, the truck filled with the art pieces she pretty much gave up for free.

“You know mum would gladly put them up around her multiple homes, right? Even if it doesn’t match with the aesthetic,” Michael said, when he saw Beatrice blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay once they had given all the paintings.

“It’s fine, truly,” she lied, but Michael decided not to say anything.

There were so many memories attached to all those paintings, of her grandfather sitting both Isabella and her down and starting to explain to them the technique he or whoever had painted the piece had used. He also told them stories of his childhood, how he sometimes incorporated elements of the memories he had made in China during the first few years of his life he had lived there.

And Beatrice thought that maybe one of the many reasons why she had given up the paintings, aside from them possibly and needlessly collecting dust in a corner of her temporary apartment or being hung up on a wall of a home which wasn’t truly her home, was because they were a big part of her past which only brought her pain and bad memories. And maybe selling the paintings was a good way of letting go from those memories.

“Mrs. Armstrong-Young!” Sophia, the owner of the antique shop said once they entered the building. “Came back with more goods for me?”

“Sadly, no,” Beatrice smiled at the woman, taking her sunglasses off. “I’m just here as… an escort?”

Sophia looked at Ava, and her face immediately lit up the same way it did whenever someone entered her shop to make business. Beatrice could easily imagine the symbol of the dollar appearing on Sophia’s eyes, as if the woman was part of a cartoons show.

“Ah, yes, I know this young lady!” the woman said, walking from behind the counter and approaching Ava. “Came to collect the camera?”

“Yes, and to give up my left kidney for it,” Ava joked, and Sophia laughed in a semi-villain way. Beatrice shook her head.

“Follow me,” the woman said, and Ava started to walk next to her. When she realized Beatrice wasn’t following them, standing in the threshold and looking unsure, Ava made a motion gesture with her hand, inviting Beatrice.

They walked towards the section of the shop filled with vintage film cameras, and Sophia took the only one with the tag off which had apparently been reserved for Ava. Sophia and Ava started to talk about all the functions it had, how marvelous that camera was, and how Ava had such a good eye for the “good stuff”, as Sophia called it.

And Beatrice was too busy trying to ignore the way her chest ached when she saw the way Ava had her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, soaking every word Sophia said in. How Ava was actually an expert in cameras, especially old vintage film cameras, how she understood every single one of the technical words Sophia threw her way, and how she replied with technicalities of her own.

Beatrice’s chest didn’t hurt because she didn’t understand a thing the two women were saying, but because she realized that she had missed a big chunk of Ava’s life. Back in Saint Melanie’s, Ava never showed any interest into photography or collecting vintage film cameras, so Beatrice realized it must’ve been an interest the girl had developed after their fallout. And Beatrice wondered how many more things she had missed, how many interests Ava had picked up and then completely abandoned in the span of the nine years they hadn’t talked to one another.

“Beatrice?” Ava said, and Beatrice looked at the girl with wide eyes, trying to ignore the way Ava had tapped her in the shoulder to pick up her attention, the way the girl’s brief touch lingered on her shoulder as if it was a burning mark.

“Sorry, what?” Beatrice said, blinking, and Ava looked at her with an expression of both amusement and confusion.

“The paintings, Mrs. Armstrong-Young,” Sophia repeated, “they got sold quickly.”

“Oh, yes, so I’ve been told!” Beatrice smiled at the woman, ignoring the way a faint feeling of regret sat at the back of her mind.

“All of them except one,” Sophia said, with furrowed eyebrows. “But that’s my fault, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t sold that one because I wanted to speak with you first,” Sophia started to walk back to the counter, Ava and Beatrice following the woman. She rummaged on a drawer until she took out a note, the paper looking yellow with years.

“What’s that?” Ava asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Beatrice wondered if that was how she looked when she was about to embark into a new interview.

“I found it at the back of the painting, it fell when I put it upon the window shop,” Sophia explained. “Did you know the painting had a secret compartment at the back of the frame?”

“It did?” Beatrice asked, Ava letting out a gasp of delight.

“That’s so cool!” Ava said, and Sophia hummed in agreement. “Was your grandfather some sort of spy or something?”

“No…” Beatrice said, taking the note from Sophia’s hand, “but he had an interest for riddles and mystery overall. There was a recurring rumor in our family which said he had filled Armstrong Hall with secret rooms and corridors, but I never really found any.”

“Except the one in the library, remember?” Ava asked Beatrice, eyes wide and smile wider. Beatrice couldn’t help but smile herself, remembering the way they had struggled to bring down the Christmas tree from the secret passage to the attic.

Truth was, there had been a wide set of stairs at the very end of the corridor where the library had been located. But Beatrice had found the secret passage with Isabella when she had been little, after their grandfather had made up a game of riddles and clues they had to solve to get there. The man had constructed that space secretly, and his granddaughters had been the first ones to know. And instead of taking them by the hand and show them, he had to do it in the most dramatic way possible. Isabella had kind of inherited her whole dramatic personality from their grandfather.

“Yes, I remember,” Beatrice said, her voice soft. And, for a moment, it felt as if it was only her and Ava in the antique shop, looking at one another with soft smiles on their faces while memories replayed inside their minds.

“You make a lovely couple,” Sophia said, and both their heads snapped towards the woman’s direction.

“We’re not a couple,” Beatrice said, voice alarmed, while Ava replied. “Oh, hell no.”

And it was the way Ava said those three words that made Beatrice’s heart sunk into the depths of the ocean. As if the simple image disgusted her and she couldn’t bear the thought of her and Beatrice being together as something more than friends. And Beatrice thought that it shouldn’t hurt her as much as it did, because she was in a happy and committed relationship with Leighton. But still, it felt as if her heart had been made of glass and it had just broken into one million tiny pieces.

“Oh, my bad,” Sophia said, furrowing her eyebrows at the way Ava had reacted.

“Anyways,” Ava said, clearing her throat and taking her wallet from her tote bag. “Do you accept credit cards?”

Ava paid up, and they left the shop soon after. Ava hung the camera around her neck, looking like a tourist who had landed in New York for the very first time. And Beatrice was simply walking next to her, hands on her jeans pockets while her eyes were focused on the ground.

“This is so cool!” Ava said, as if nothing had happened as if she hadn’t almost thrown up at the thought of her and Beatrice being a couple.

“Huh?” Beatrice said, blinking at Ava, and the girl furrowed her eyebrows.

“The camera, Beatrice,” Ava explained to her, pointing at the object, “I’ve been searching for one of these for the longest time! But they were so expensive wherever I went.”

“Since when do you have an interest in photography?” Beatrice asked, and Ava looked slightly surprised at the curiosity in her voice. As if she’d never expected that Beatrice would care anymore about her interests.

“It started at college,” Ava explained, her eyes sparkling in the same way they used to do when she talked about the things she enjoyed. “Camila, my best friend, always loved photography and filming, after all she’s trying to make it big inside that field. And since we were roommates, I had to listen to her talking for hours and hours about all of that, and she’d to hear me talking about the newest videogames in the market. She became a videogame aficionado, and I started to develop so much interest in photography.”

Beatrice nodded at Ava, hoping that the girl didn’t notice the way she had slightly scowled (but immediately recovered) when Ava called Camila her “best friend”. It used to be me, Beatrice thought, her best friend and her roommate and the one with whom she shared all her newest interests.

But not anymore, because Beatrice had managed to single-handedly ruin the most important thing she ever had in her life after Isabella had left.

*

Ava had asked Beatrice if she had something else to do during all day, and Beatrice said she didn’t since Ava had taken it as her personal mission to cancel all the job related plans Beatrice had. So she suggested they go and get some film stock at one of her favorite shops, and Beatrice simply nodded and tagged along.

It gave Ava some sense of familiarity, the way she suggested they do something and Beatrice wouldn’t even question it before tagging along. There had been a time, during the first few stages of their friendship, where Beatrice would list all the reasons why they shouldn’t do something or go somewhere. But after the Christmas they spent at Armstrong Hall, after Ava suggested they go get Christmas presents for each other, Beatrice never really questioned her intentions anymore. Sure, she would give her a silent warning with her eyes and her shoulders would stiffen, but she did it anyway. And Ava, back then, thought that was a sign that Beatrice shared the same feelings Ava felt towards the girl. Oh, how wrong she had been.

“So how do you develop the photos?” Beatrice asked, after being silent during the time they’d spent at the photography lab where Ava usually went to get her supplies.

“Oh, I do it at home,” she explained. “You see, my friend Yasmine is an expert chemist. She taught me how to develop the necessary materials to develop film, and then Camila helped me to ready a darkroom in my apartment. I had a guest room I didn’t use at all, so I turned it into a darkroom.”

“That’s impressive,” Beatrice said, and Ava shrugged.

“You know, it’s kind of part of the whole journalism shenanigans as well,” Ava continued explaining. “Sometimes I’ll just go do interviews by myself, my film camera and my journal becoming my best friends.”

“That’s extra work, though”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind. Hiding in my darkroom and developing pictures is kind of therapeutic for me,” Ava said, as she opened a small compartment at the back of the camera and put a roll of film in it. She readied it professionally. “Let’s see what this baby can do.”

She looked around her, and smiled widely when she saw a couple of girls sitting on a bench. One of them was giving the other a bouquet of flowers, and Ava focused the camera on them before she found the perfect zoom and clicked the shutter. Beatrice looked at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Beatrice asked, voice low, and Ava couldn’t help but snort at the girl.

“Maybe I’m entering my paparazzi era,” the shorter girl said, and Beatrice rolled her eyes. “You know, photographing love is one of my favorite past times.”

“Photographing love?” Beatrice repeated, when they started to walk again without any clear direction.

“Yeah,” Ava shrugged. “Parents walking with their children, friends laughing with one another, people being in love… all that kind of stuff.”

“And why is it your favorite thing to take pictures of?” Beatrice wondered, not an ounce of judgment in her voice but pure and genuine curiosity. Ava got reminded of themselves from nine years ago, her chest becoming a turmoil of mixed feelings.

“Well, I don’t really know…” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, realizing that no one ever asked her that question before. Normally, it was her asking the questions and others answering. “I guess it is because maybe, for me, it’s the last genuine thing remaining in this world. We’ve destroyed it slowly, and yet love prevails. So I guess I like to take pictures of it, to remind myself that maybe this world isn’t as ugly as it feels sometimes. It’s also the fuel that kept me going through life at the worst moments of my insignificant existence.”

Beatrice stopped walking, and Ava looked at the girl. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes on Ava’s, and her hand twitching on her side as if she wanted to do something with it and was having a mental debate about if she should or shouldn’t move her hand. Then, the girl shook her head.

“Your existence isn’t insignificant, Ava,” Beatrice muttered, as if it had taken her a while to make up that sentence. Ava bit her lip.

“Do you really think that?”

Ava knew her existence was insignificant knowing there was a whole Universe looking down at them, knowing there were thousands of millions of wonders happening around the world any second. Ava knew her existence couldn’t compare to a butterfly batting her wings and creating a storm somewhere else in the world, Ava knew her existence couldn’t compare to the two random people in a random point of the world meeting each other for the first time and falling in love, and Ava knew her existence couldn’t compare to the fact that maybe someone had just met their soul mate somewhere else, or maybe someone had just adopted their first official pet. Ava knew that her standing in the middle of the street, looking at the girl who had occupied every single one of her thoughts for the last few years, couldn’t compare to any of the many wonders happening right now in the span of three seconds.

And yet, having the first person she had ever been in love with and the first person she had ever hated with her whole being telling her that she wasn’t insignificant compared to all the beautiful things going on the world amidst chaos and general hatred made Ava feel way too many things. It made her fingers and arms and legs tingle as if an army of ants were marching upon them, it made her cheeks burn like they did when she had been facing the Sun for too long, it made her stomach twist and knot every time it did whenever a beautiful human looked at her. The worst part, though, was that she smiled at Beatrice. She smiled at the girl who had put her through the second worst period of her time, the girl who had made her question herself and her whole existence after uttering one single word during a rainy night.

“I do,” Beatrice said, as if the fact that Ava’s existence wasn’t insignificant was pretty much obvious and general, basic knowledge.

Hey, do you know Ava Silva?

Oh, yeah! The girl who’s existence isn’t insignificant, right?

Yeah!

Something inside of Ava switched, and amongst the chaotic storm of emotions provoked with a couple of words uttered by Beatrice there was one single emotion standing: relief. And it felt as if Ava had waited almost nine years to hear those words, to hear Beatrice telling her she wasn’t insignificant after Beatrice herself had been the one to make Ava feel as if she hadn’t mattered at all.

And Ava thought her reaction would be to laugh dryly at Beatrice, to remind her that she didn’t think that way nine years ago, to throw at Beatrice’s face that she had been the one who had made Ava feel worthless and like the most disgusting creature God or the Universe or whatever superior force was up there had created.

And yet, none of those feelings were on sight and Ava simply felt relieved as if she had been waiting for Beatrice to say that, to let her know that she hadn’t meant it, that she never believed any word of the ones she’d said that night in their Saint Melanie’s dorm.

“Well,” Ava said, once she felt calm enough to utter a word.

Beatrice was holding her breath, as if saying that she didn’t think Ava was insignificant had taken all the oxygen away from her, as if it had emotionally drained her or as if it had been compared to running a marathon. Beatrice was fidgeting, chest going up and down rapidly, eyes looking at Ava’s face and waiting for some kind of reaction. Yelling, tears, laughter or Ava storming off like Beatrice did the first day they met, Ava didn’t know. But Beatrice was simply standing there, ready to deal with whatever way Ava would react.

“I think your existence is pretty significant too,” and Ava didn’t expect that reaction from Beatrice, the way the girl turned her head back and laughed the way Ava had never seen the girl laugh before, not even when she’d managed to peel some of those layers nine years ago.

And Ava couldn’t help but laugh as well, for what she didn’t know. Maybe they laughed because they had managed to spend almost three hours talking with one another without murdering each other, maybe they laughed because all they had needed to do was to find one another again in the most random of ways, tell each other they mattered, and laugh off the many feelings they had accumulated for the past years. Maybe laughing was the first step towards unlocking the sealed door Ava’s heart had become. And maybe that was Ava had needed all this time, a good laugh with the person who had meant the whole world and Universe to her.

And maybe now, after laughing in the middle of the street like two crazy people would do, it would be easier to sit down and simply talk. It would be easier for Ava to let go of all the things that had been plaguing her for nine years, slowly but surely, and it would be easier for Beatrice to listen and apologize. And Ava needed some apologizing to do as well. But maybe laughing would make it all easier, and maybe her mother, who had spent the thirty-six years she got granted on Earth laughing and smiling, had had a point all that time.

Laughter and love, Ava thought, those are the most beautiful things we have left in the world.

Once they were done, both girls let out a sigh of relief. There it was, that word and that feeling once again. And they looked at one another, the ghost of a smile dancing upon their faces. Beatrice’s eyes sparkled in a way Ava had never seen before, and the crushing weight that Ava had been silently carrying and purposefully ignoring for the past few years was slowly disappearing.

“Lunch?” Ava asked, and Beatrice nodded. “Cool, follow me.”

Ava eagerly started to walk, as if she had some sort of powerful energy source that had gotten recharged by the sunlight, and Beatrice walked behind trying to match Ava’s fast strides.

“For being gay,” Ava said, looking over her shoulder and making Beatrice almost trip, “you sure are slow as fuck, Beatrice.”

“What does my walking speed have to do with my sexuality?” Beatrice asked, her forehead wrinkled with confusion, and Ava laughed out loud once again.

“You don’t know about the gay walk?” Ava asked, eyebrow raised, and Beatrice shook her head. “Do you live under a rock?”

“I don’t own any social media, remember? So I’m pretty much ignorant about everything related to pop culture,” Beatrice explained to her, and Ava made a mental note of not ending the day without creating some sort of social media account for Beatrice.

“Well, there’s this long going myth which says gay people have a super walking speed,” Ava told, and Beatrice let out an incredulous snort. “But you might be the exception to the rule, actually.”

“Oh, I can walk fast if I want to,” Beatrice arched an eyebrow in challenge, and Ava smirked at the girl. “I just need to know where I’m going.”

“Right, I forgot this is your first time in New York,” Ava said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, it’s not!” Beatrice tried to defend herself, “I’ve come here other times, this is just my first time having enough time to explore the city.”

“You can hardly explore the city if you spend all your time hiding in your office,” Ava argued back.

“Well, there’s just so many things to do and Jillian has named me Engineering Director,” Beatrice tried to defend herself, and Ava laughed again.

“I’m kidding, Bea,” she said, before the girl would start to fight for her life.

She had called Beatrice “Bea” a few nights ago, when she was drunk and overwhelmed by the way she had beaten Adriel up, and Beatrice hadn’t corrected her or anything because she had also been tipsy as well. This time, though, it had come out unconsciously and Ava hoped Beatrice wouldn’t punch her or anything. To make sure it was okay for her to use the nickname, though, she looked at the girl. And Beatrice proved to Ava that the especial bond they had shared, where they had pretty much been able to read each other’s minds without uttering a word, hadn’t gone away.

“It’s fine,” Beatrice simply said, not asking any questions nor clearing up what she meant. And Ava didn’t have to ask any questions neither. “But will you tell me where are we going?”

“There’s this secret park close to this zone we’re at,” Ava explained, “I like to go there when I feel slightly overwhelmed and the four walls of my darkroom get a bit suffocating.”

“Oh…”

“There’s usually food truck in there, and spaces to sit down and talk,” Ava added, putting emphasis in the last word. Beatrice nodded, understanding what she meant.

“Why don’t we call an Uber?” the taller girl asked, and Ava looked at her.

“Are you serious?” Ava asked, Beatrice nodding very seriously, “you want to drive around when we’ve been blessed by this weather and this sun?”

“That will take us a while, won’t it?” Ava stopped walking, crossing her arms upon her chest, Beatrice almost crashing with her smaller body.

“Do you have somewhere else to go, Beatrice?”

Beatrice looked down at Ava, a few seconds passing between the question and the answer. A shy smile appeared on the girl’s full lips, her brown eyes looking like the color of melted bronze when the sun hit them.

“No, I don’t.”

*

It too them almost an hour to get to the park, because Ava got distracted several times and missed some of the directions. In her defense, she usually walked to the park taking a different direction since her house was on the other side of the neighborhood, and she got some of the directions mixed up. Beatrice, though, didn’t complain nor told her they should’ve taken transport to get there. She simply and happily walked next to Ava, not minding the several stops they took so Ava could photograph various things, or Ava could stop and pet several dogs they came across along the way.

Something had switched in Ava, and Beatrice didn’t really know what it was though she had a faint suspicion. Maybe the solution to whatever had happened to the both of them had been sitting down and then walking around, maybe the key to solving all their problems had been to go into an antique shop and then get some film for Ava’s camera, maybe the solution had been talking about how love was one of the few good things remaining in the world, or how none of them were insignificant compared to all the things the Universe had to offer.

Beatrice decided she didn’t want to question what had changed between the span of one minute, in fear she would ruin it. She was convinced they would have enough time to talk about it, because they were approaching noon and none of them had showed any intention of going back home, nor stopping whatever adventures were waiting for the both of them.

It had been several years since Beatrice had time to relax, her brain not reminding her of all the things she had to do nor all the projects she needed to review and supervise. It had been so long since all she had to worry about was to not lose sight of Ava, to walk around and explore what the city had to offer. It had been so long since she’d let herself enjoy the warmth of the Sun, taking the time to walk somewhere else instead of calling up an Uber so she would get to her destination faster, with no time to lose, so she could dedicate more hours to her job.

It was nice. To feel the July warmth upon her skin, to take time to look at the many colors surrounding her and the many sounds filling the city, reminding her there was a whole world out there to explore, reminding her that she was alive and breathing and so were all the other several million people living in the same city she would call her home for the next three months.

Home has always been temporary, Beatrice had said. But this time, walking around the street and paying attention to what was surrounding her actually felt like home. She never truly had a home during her childhood, for whenever she wasn’t living in London with her family she was occupying a dorm in some boarding school. The only person who had made it feel like home had been Isabella, until she had gone. And then Ava had landed into her life, and made that lonely dorm feel like a little home of their own as well. So maybe, Beatrice thought, home wasn’t truly a space but a person. And maybe Beatrice could make of New York a home, with Jillian and Lilith and Michael.

“What are you thinking?” Ava said, once she finished taking several pictures of a dog which was shamelessly sunbathing in the middle of the street.

“About home,” Beatrice said, and Ava raised an eyebrow. “About how maybe New York can become my first home.”

“Aren’t you leaving in a couple months, though?” Ava asked, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“I am, but maybe I can call it home for that time?” the shorter looked at her, humming in thought, and then nodded slowly.

“But maybe then you won’t leave?”

“Would that be so bad?” Beatrice asked unconsciously, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows once again. Beatrice tried to ignore the blush occupying her cheeks, the way lately her mouth moved before her brain could give it the green light.

“New York isn’t really that bad, actually,” Ava said after a few long seconds of silence. “So I guess it wouldn’t be that bad of a choice to make it your home, even if it’s temporary.”

“I’m tired of temporary homes, Ava.”

“Well,” Ava snapped a picture of a lost balloon flowing in the air. “Maybe you could ask Jillian to let you stay here, only going to London every once in a while?”

“Hmm…” Beatrice pursed her lips, “well, maybe my mind changes. We’ll see what I do.”

They dropped the topic, and continued walking towards wherever it was that Ava’s secret park was hiding. They finally reached their destination, and Beatrice felt all the air leaving her lungs.

The place was truly a secret park, with a secret entrance and all. There was an old stone arch between two buildings, giving entrance to some sort of tunnel. They entered it, and once they reached the other side they were welcomed by a small park, surrounded by tall buildings as if they were sentinels guarding their queen.

The park was bathed in greens, filled with bushed with many colorful flowers. There were small ponds around, connected by small rivers with wooden bridges acting as a connection between the different sections of the part. Beatrice also saw different food trucks offering all kinds of food from different cultures, families walking around and people sitting underneath the trees, reading or simply enjoying the beautiful day they all had been granted with.

“This is amazing,” Beatrice said, and Ava nodded at her. Then, she felt Ava’s smaller hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Come on, I’m starving and I’m craving some Pad Thai,” Ava said, pretty much dragging Beatrice to one of the nearest food trucks.

They walked upon one of the narrow bridges, and Beatrice gasped when she saw water lilies floating around the small, artificial river. “Oh my God, Ava look!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ava said, though her lips widened in a smile. “Cool, isn’t it?”

“So cool,” Beatrice couldn’t help but gasp, and Ava laughed amused at her.

They finally reached the Thai food truck, and Beatrice got immediately hit with memories of when she had gone to Thailand for business the previous year, how the food she had consumed had been one of the memories she was able to remember from that three-days long trip that had gone by a blur.

Ava asked for the Pad Thai she had been longing for, Beatrice deciding to get a Som Tam salad, the dish she immediately thought of when Ava had suggested they attack the Thai food truck first.

Once they got their reusable food containers, they searched for a place to sit down and eat and decided to move underneath one of the many trees around the park. Beatrice recognized it as one of the typical Maple trees you could find in Japan, the crimson leafs standing out amongst the green.

“We call this park the Centre of the World,” Ava explained once they sat down underneath the tree, “because so many beautiful cultures encounter one another through the two best things this world has to offer.”

“And what would those be?” Beatrice asked, after she swallowed her first spoonful of her Som Tam salad, an explosion of different flavors and sensations filling her mouth and making her feel the happiest she felt in the last twenty-five years of her life.

“Food, and music,” Ava told her, raising her thumb and index finger. Then, she looked at her middle finger unsurely and ended up raising it as well. “And nature.”

“God bless all three,” Beatrice said, unable to slow down her eating. Ava chuckled at her.

“Amen, sister.”

They sat in silence, happily munching their lunch and looking at the people walking around. Men and women in sports attire taking a break from their running, children licking ice cream, couples walking hand in hand, even dogs playing with one another while their respective owners talked and laughed.

If Beatrice had to choose one word to describe what she was feeling right now it would be comfort, despite of the way her feet hurt from all the walking or the way the sun heat was getting stronger the more the day advanced.

But she found comfort sitting underneath the Japanese maple tree, watching people going on with their lives, happily eating her Som Tam salad and sipping from the cold water the owner of the food truck had given them for free. And she, of course, felt comfort sitting next to Ava.

The shorter girl was sitting with her legs crossed, her food container balanced in one hand and the wooden fork picking up the food she had ordered, bringing it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, her brown eyes focusing from one person to the other, and her brow had one single wrinkle in the middle. Beatrice knew that expression well, Ava always did it when she didn’t understand something written on her paper or when she was concentrating on something, as well as her brow wrinkled when she was thinking hard about something.

“What are you thinking about?” Beatrice asked, as if she and Ava had sat underneath the tree every single day for the last nine years. Ava swallowed.

“All these people,” the girl said, voice low, “isn’t it strange how each one of them have stories of their own, how they’re the main characters of their own life movie, but at the same time they’re the background characters of my movie, or your movie?”

Beatrice looked at the girl, and she thought how this was Ava simply being Ava. Ava discovering the world, wondering about the Universe, voicing the most random yet deepest thoughts her beautiful brain could formulate. And Beatrice smiled secretly, because it used to be her the only one who got to have that glimpse through Ava’s mind and now she got to hear once again what was happening inside, what was Ava thinking about.

“Yes,” Beatrice finally said, “that’s actually something I think about often. How everyone goes on with their lives, having their own struggles and victories on a daily basis, and it’s just so strange because we’re solely focused in ourselves it isn’t until you sit down and do some people watching that you realize you actually aren’t alone in the world.”

“And then the fact that you’re a whole ass human being, a creature who walks and breaths and moves and loves and cries and… simply feels, it just hits you right in the face,” Ava added, and Beatrice nodded at her.

“And you need to sit down for a second, take a deep breath and simply say wow before carrying on with your day,” Ava hummed in thought.

“I personally prefer holy shit, but yeah I get what you mean,” Beatrice chuckled, and Ava smiled at her.

“Having deep conversations at one in the afternoon is actually pretty nice,” Beatrice said after they ate in silence for a little more. Ava, who had finished her lunch already, put her sunglasses on and laid down with her hands behind her head.

“We used to have the best deep conversations at one in the morning, remember?” Ava asked to Beatrice, and the taller girl groaned.

“How could I forget?” she said, and Ava looked at her with fake annoyance.

“You loved them, don’t lie,” Beatrice arched an eyebrow, and Ava chuckled. “Come on! I remember the way you always ended up asking a random question of your own after asking me to shut the fuck up.”

“Well, sometimes you asked actual interesting questions so I couldn’t just drop the topic, could I?” Beatrice supported her back against the tree trunk, knees up and hands laced around them.

“See?” Ava smirked with triumph, “you loved it.”

I loved you, Beatrice thought. She’d loved Ava so much she’d been willing to give up her sleep so she could only hear Ava ranting over whatever what was going on in her mind. She’d loved the way Ava’s voice started eager and high, and it became slower and huskier whenever she started to fall asleep. Sometimes she would stop talking mid-sentence, and a soft snore would tell Beatrice that Ava had been defeated by exhausting. And she went to sleep as well, knowing that they would pick the conversation back in the morning.

She’d loved Ava so much, plain and simple, and it was so easy to see now. Beatrice remembered how the girl’s presence and energy were a balm for her exhaustion and stress, how sometimes the only thing she was looking forward after she met Ava was to go back to her room, to have the girl bouncing around and talking about whatever had happened to her that day. She’d loved Ava so much, she suddenly started to focus on the littlest of things that life had to offer. One time, Ava had cried over seeing a butterfly and told her how her mother had explained butterflies were a representation of the spirits of those who had left, coming back to check out on them and make sure they were happy.

“She came to meet you,” Ava had said, looking at the beautiful butterfly with blue and black wings. “Say hi?”

“Hello, Mrs. Silva,” Beatrice had said, and Ava had smiled so big Beatrice’s heart almost gave out. On a regular day, before meeting Ava, she would’ve felt stupid for saying hello to a butterfly.

Beatrice had loved Ava so much it had overwhelmed her, and she’d loved Ava so much to the point she couldn’t keep it a secret from her family. And that on itself had been the downfall of their friendship, the sole reason while Beatrice had done and said all she did nine years ago. It was the sole reason why she had decided to break Ava’s heart and spirit into millions of tiny pieces, breaking herself while she was at it and ruining the only good thing she had in her life after Isabella.

If only Isabella had been there, maybe I wouldn’t have hated myself for loving you so much.

“What are you thinking about?” Ava said, voicing the question Beatrice had asked her a few moments ago.

Beatrice blinked a few times, gathering her surroundings and realizing that she was sitting next to Ava, nine years after that terrible, horrible night. And maybe Ava had a point all those years ago, the way little butterflies and the littlest things in life were signals of those who weren’t here anymore, like Patricia Silva or Isabella or her grandfather, simply checking up on us and making sure the people they had left behind were doing fine.

“I was thinking about that blue butterfly we saw back in Saint Melanie’s,” Beatrice told Ava, and the girl supported her body on her arms.

“The blue one? The one I said was my mom and made you say hello to it?” Beatrice nodded, and Ava smiled at the memory. “It was one of the happiest moments of my life.”

“Do you still believe in that?” Ava didn’t ask what she meant, she simply nodded. “I do, too.”

“You do?” Beatrice nodded.

“Remember I had a massive poster with the different butterfly species back in our dorm?”

“Oh, yeah. You know each of their names and characteristics by memory.”

“Well, I thought it was a sign. Meeting you and believing the people who left us turned into butterflies to check up on us, and me being obsessed with butterflies during my teenage years,” Beatrice smiled at Ava, and the girl returned the gesture.

“Are you still obsessed with butterflies?” Ava asked, and Beatrice shook her head.

“No, but I still greet them.”

And, as if on cue and as if the Universe had been listening to their conversation, a white butterfly landed on Beatrice’s knee. She held her breathing, and Ava sat upright trying not to scare the creature. The butterfly remained on Beatrice’s knee, and she offered it her index finger so it could climb on top of it. Understandingly, the butterfly did as Beatrice hoped.

“A Pieris rapae,” Beatrice said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the butterfly, “also known as the cabbage butterfly.”

“Such an ugly name for this beautiful baby,” Ava said, snorting, and Beatrice agreed. “Oi mãe, como vai?” Ava whispered, greeting her mom and asking her how was she doing. Beatrice couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Hey, Izzie,” the taller girl said, getting a look full of softness from Ava.

The shorter girl reached for the butterfly, trying to caress it, but as if it had decided they needed privacy it flew away. And both of their hands remained hovering in the air, eyes glued to one another.

“Beatrice,” Ava said, at the same time Beatrice told Ava she was sorry. “What for?”

“Everything,” Beatrice said, breathing deeply, Ava still looking at her with confusion. “For what happened that night, for never asking you to forgive me, for not finding you earlier. I’m sorry I broke you, Ava, and I’m sorry I let you spend all those years… thinking I hated you.”

“You didn’t hate me?” Ava whispered to her, and Beatrice shook her head.

“I told you I used to be in love with you, don’t you remember?” Ava bit her lip when Beatrice asked that question, as if she’d tried to erase that memory from her mind.

“Yes, but… I thought you meant before I… before that night. And I thought that after that night, you started hating me.”

Beatrice hated the way Ava’s eyes looked down, the way her voice sounded with shame and sadness. I did that, Beatrice thought, I made her feel shameful and sad for having feelings. Many times before Beatrice had found herself wishing a time machine was an actual existing thing, so she could use it to travel back in time and fix the mess she had created in only a few seconds.

“I thought I hated you,” Beatrice admitter, her hand acting before her brain could, taking Ava’s hand softly. “But it turned out all that time I simply hated myself.”

Ava didn’t pull her hand away, but simply wrapped her fingers around Beatrice’s hand and caressed her knuckles. And Beatrice felt one hundred of emotions she hadn’t felt in a long while, emotions that she’d thought were gone, emotions that were supposed to be provoked by Leighton and not Ava. And a knot in her throat formed, but she didn’t let go. Because she’d been waiting nine years to be able to hold Ava’s hand again, even if she avoided touching the girl at all costs back in Saint Melanie’s.

“There’s so many things I want to say,” Ava told her, looking at the way her finger went up and down the ridges of Beatrice’s knuckles. She chuckled, “and, funnily enough, I don’t know where to start.”

“Wherever you need, Ava,” Beatrice squeezed the girl’s hand in reassurance. “I promise this time I won’t go anywhere.”

“I just…” Ava looked up at Beatrice, and her brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. And Beatrice simply wanted to go back to the past and knock some sense into teenager her, for hurting and breaking the precious being that Ava Silva was. “Even if you caused me so much pain, and anger, even if I’ve spent the last few years of my life hating you I… I missed you a lot, Beatrice.”

“I missed you too, Ava.”

“And you were a fucking idiot,” Ava said, sniffling, “because I was crazy in love with you, and you were crazy in love with me, and we ruined one another so badly.”

“I know, Ava.”

“And you let your fucking family get in between, because I know the things you said weren’t inside of your heart,” Ava continued, and Beatrice simply shut up and listened to the girl. “Because you hated yourself, yes, but I know that if you had let me we would’ve figured it all out.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because we were in fucking love, Bea.”

“We also were seventeen… when that happened,” Ava let out a dry chuckle, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“You never had trouble to defy your family whenever you felt like it. Hell, you even chose Oxford before Cambridge, Art History before Advanced Mathematics. And yet, when your precious God and the amount of Catholic brainwashing they performed on you got in between, you lost yourself.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything, feeling too ashamed because every single one of the words Ava was saying were true. It had always been her family, it had always been the way Isabella had gone away and Beatrice, only at twelve years old, had to learn how to protect and defend herself from the world. To the point where she had been willing to ruin the best thing that ever happened to her.

“The thing that hurt me the most was that I knew you didn’t really mean any of it, even if you thought you did,” Ava continued, shaking her head and not letting go of Beatrice’s hand. “We only had a couple of months left before going to University. You could’ve easily applied to New York University with me, with the amount of credits you had. We could’ve run away, just like we planned to when we got drunk for the first time. And yet you chose them, instead of freedom.”

“What would’ve you done, Ava?” Beatrice asked, her voice not accusing, but with genuine curiosity on it. What would’ve Ava done if her mother had been alive, if her mother had told her she was disgusting for being in love with a girl and she needed to step away from her?

“For love and freedom? I would’ve done anything,” Ava said, and Beatrice didn’t doubt her.

Someone who didn’t know Ava Silva the way Beatrice had the privilege to do would’ve told the girl it was easily done than said. But not for Ava, not for the girl who loved a good challenge. Ava would’ve truly done anything, she would’ve put up a fight if there had been someone who didn’t let her become who she wanted to be. Even if it was her mother, or her best friend.

“So you saying all that amount of bullshit you said, no emotion in sight, repeating what your parents had said as if you were a damn robot hurt way more than the thought that you, maybe, truly believed all of that,” Ava finished, letting out a long sigh, as if she had been waiting nine years to say all of that.

“I’m sorry, Ava,” Beatrice repeated again, but apparently Ava wasn’t done yet.

“And the fact that you didn’t run after me?” the girl let out an humorless chuckle, “the way you didn’t come running to the airport the day I left, skipping graduation, to tell me that you regretted everything you’d said? That fucking sucked, Beatrice.”

“Me not pulling some grand romcom move?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, confused, and Ava nodded.

“The only thing that kept me going after that happened was the thought that maybe you would do all of that, that you would give the middle finger to your family and run to Spain and then New York with me,” Ava shrugged. “I almost lost my plane waiting for you.”

“I would do it now, Ava,” Beatrice told the girl, though she knew the information was useless. “If that happened, I would run after you and I would beg you to stay with me.”

“Well,” Ava let go of Beatrice’s hand and smiled sadly at the girl, “it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

Beatrice wished that statement didn’t hurt as much as it did. “But is it too late to fix this, thought?” she asked, pointing at the both of them. Ava shrugged.

“Not too late to fix it, no,” the girl said, “but too late to go to the way it was.”

Beatrice nodded, understandingly, but her chest was still invaded by a dull pain. She truly, truly, truly wished time machines existed.

*

Ava had been laying down on the grass for a while, humming some Taylor Swift tunes to herself, when she turned around to ask Beatrice what she wanted to do next and she saw the girl peacefully napping. Ava couldn’t help but smile softly, deciding she wouldn’t wake Beatrice up and she would stay there until the girl stirred awake.

To Ava, Beatrice had always looked exhausted all the time. When they were sixteen, she remembered the dark circles underneath her eyes, and the way they still seemed to remain with her all these years after. So Ava let the girl recharge her energy under the sunlight, and she realized she didn’t really care how much it took Beatrice to wake up. She enjoyed the calm and quiet, the Sun warming her up, the laughter of the children around her.

Ava sat up, and she rummaged through her tote bag before she found her copy of The fellowship of the ring amongst the hundreds of things she hid inside the bag. She opened the book, worn out and wrinkled pages were a witness of the many hours she had spent reading the book series over and over again when she was a child. Vincent had sent them to her a couple of months ago, when he had been cleaning up his house where Ava had left some of her stuff whenever she visited him in Spain.

She was daydreaming about Legolas when she heard Beatrice letting out a soft snore, and Ava’s mind got overflowed with many memories remembering the way sometimes she would just stop talking about something in the middle of the night when Beatrice made the same sound, or the way during spring break nine years ago when they had been talking over the phone on the official fourth anniversary of Isabella’s passing and Beatrice had made the same sound on the other end of the line (Ava had decided to not hang up, falling asleep listening to Beatrice’s breathing).

Ava couldn’t help herself, and maybe Beatrice would hate her for it but she didn’t care at all. She took her brand new camera, which had been carefully sitting next to her, and snapped a picture of the sleeping girl. Sleeping beauty, Ava thought she would name the photograph if she ever developed it.

She sighed, now that she’d some time alone to think, forgetting about the elves and the dwarves and the hobbits for a moment. She did let go of some of the things she’d been hiding deep inside, some of the things she’d been feeling after Beatrice broke her in many more ways than Ava thought it was possible. It felt like her life had been divided into two periods: Before Beatrice and After Beatrice, and right now they were kind of merging together, feeling as if suddenly Cleopatra had been walking around Brooklyn.

Imagine how would you feel if suddenly fucking Achilles entered a coffee shop and asked for a couple of shots of Espresso, or how would it feel if all of a sudden Moctezuma was driving the car next to yours. That’s how Ava had been feeling ever since her little encounter with Beatrice, as if the past and the present had been merging together and she’d never been this much confused in her whole life.

And the things she’d told Beatrice underneath the maple tree? They’d only been the tip of the iceberg, and Ava decided to cut herself short because if she had to tell everything she’d buried deep inside for nine years they would be here for the whole week. And Ava was kind of enjoying the civility between them, the way they had been able to grab lunch and talk and now they were simply there, next to one another, and it didn’t feel like suffocating. The anxiety Ava had been feeling the previous day and the previous hours before meeting with Beatrice had been slowly fading away, and she had been feeling more and more comfortable to the point where she’d been able to joke and laugh.

She truly believed it wasn’t too late to fix whatever had been broken between them both nine years ago. They were adults now, living totally different lives from the ones they lived nine years ago. Beatrice wasn’t wearing several layers of armor around anymore, but Ava was and, for whatever reason, she was willing to peel down said armor if it meant she could have a little bit of Beatrice back in her life.

Ava wanted to laugh, to punch herself, because she’d promised herself she would never forgive Beatrice. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t talk to her again, and if for whatever reason the Universe put them back together she would bring out a machete and cut the girl’s head off.

Yet here she was, snapping a picture of a sleeping Beatrice, feeling her chest fluttering as if it had been invaded by an army of cabbage butterflies, and hoping the day wouldn’t end because, deep inside, she really didn’t want to say goodbye to Beatrice. Not yet. Because all those years she’d spent being angry at the person who had mattered the most to her, she’d also spent them secretly hoping they would meet one another again. And yes, maybe she’d planned to cut Beatrice’s head off, but she’d also dreamed many times of them holding one another close even if it was only for one last time.

And maybe all those poets had been right, saying that you never forget your first love and that a part of your heart always belongs to them, for better or worse. Maybe a part of Ava’s heart would always belong to Beatrice, and maybe there would always be a part of her who would want to fix what had been broken and who would want Beatrice back, even if it was as a background character in their life story.

Ava shook her head, trying to get rid of all those soft and lovesick thoughts. Beatrice didn’t deserve Ava to get on her knees this early in the new steps towards… reconciliation, for lack of another word. Ava wouldn’t be as weak as she’d been after Beatrice had broken her heart, remembering the way she had been sulking in every corner of Saint Melanie’s watching Beatrice go on with life or remembering the way she’d hoped Beatrice would confess her undying love for her under the rain, or the way she would imagine Beatrice dramatically running to her when Ava waited for her flight to Málaga, skipping the airport controls and all so she could beg Ava to please not go.

Ava would never get on her knees to ask for forgiveness, or to ask for another chance. No, she hadn’t done anything to ask for forgiveness because she hadn’t been the one breaking anyone’s heart. And Ava wouldn’t ask for a second chance now that Beatrice was out and proud, and still dealing with one million traumas but at least she didn’t storm out of a room anymore and was willing to speak.

Ava wouldn’t get on her knees for Beatrice Armstrong-Young. Or would she? Fuck, Ava thought, stop thinking about that please. She didn’t know how, but her mind drifted from her begging for Beatrice’s forgiveness to her begging for… a different thing, still involving Beatrice. She’s taken, Ava reminded herself, and you’re not a home-wrecker Ava Silva.

“Ava?” Beatrice asked, her sleepy and husky voice making Ava feel things that the nuns at Saint Melanie’s wouldn’t approve of at all.

Ava looked on her left, where Beatrice had been resting, and she saw the girl stretching her arms up. Beatrice’s shirt rose slightly, but it was enough for Ava to get a glimpse of the toned stomach underneath. Beatrice didn’t have a six pack, and she didn’t look like damn Arnold Schwarzenegger on steroids, but the way her stomach was shaped told Ava enough about what Beatrice did on her spare time. And Ava knew that the hours Beatrice didn’t spend burying herself under a pile of projects to supervise, she spent them on a gym getting some cardio done. And maybe that’s why the girl looked so sleep deprived, carrying around strong black coffee and sipping from it as if she was a vampire sipping from a bag of blood.

I wish I did cardio with her, Ava thought. Then she closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and hoped her brain would stop producing horny and very unholy thoughts every time she saw a pretty person being close to her. A pretty person with a body sculpted by Myron himself.

“Ava?” Beatrice asked once more, this time more serious, looking at her with concern.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, and her eyes looked so soft whenever she was sleepy. Ava remembered the way she’d loved it so much, how they shone more than usual whenever Beatrice was reaching her energy limit.

“Yes,” she said, and the way her voice came out as a squeak didn’t really prove her point at all. She cleared her throat, “Yes.”

“Okay,” Beatrice said, smiling softly at her. And then she did something that Ava believed could fall into the list of actions considered as emotional terrorism. Beatrice fisted her hands, and scratched her eyes with them to get rid of whatever remaining sleep was left on her body.

“Good nap?” Ava asked, focusing her attention on closing her book and putting it back in her tote bag very, very slowly.

“Oh, yes,” Beatrice replied, letting out an adorable yawn. Fuck my life. “Guess I was really tired.”

“How did you spend your Friday night?” Ava asked, trying to change the topic of conversation. It didn’t work out, because Beatrice looked at her sheepishly as if she was a kid who’d just been caught stealing candy. “You’re so fun to be around.”

“Hey, I can be fun!” Beatrice tried to defend herself, eyebrows furrowed, looking super offended. Ava couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m sure you can,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ll show you one of these days,” Beatrice argued back at her, getting up. She offered a hand to Ava and they looked at one another, unsure.

“I can get up on my own,” Ava said, and when she tried to get up her legs were so cramped she fell back on her ass. “Oh, come on, not when I’m trying to make a point.”

Ava should’ve known this would happen. She’d known she should’ve walked around a little, getting up and stretching her legs every once in a while instead of remaining seated and unmoving them, too focused on watching Beatrice sleep peacefully underneath the maple tree.

Ever since the accident, after surgery and rehabilitation, she’d been told her legs wouldn’t always act the way she needed them to act. They would get easily cramped, there would be days where she would be limping everywhere she went (especially if she hadn’t slept enough). There would be times where her back would hurt so much, starting at the base of her nape and going all the way to her toes, she couldn’t move at all from bed and she needed to call either Camila, Yasmine or JC to take care of her as if she was a damn toddler. The worst part whenever that happened was the way going to the bathroom to fulfill her basic needs was a damn nightmare. And other times, if the weather changed too often, she would feel as if she was carrying around two blocks of concrete instead of two legs.

Ava had been living in this situation for a bigger part of her life compared to the seven years she’d gotten to walk and run and jump without fearing the next day she would’ve to spend it laying down on her bed. And yet, whenever her legs decided to not cooperate with her, she still felt extremely embarrassed.

It was fine when it happened when she was alone because she’d been sitting on her couch for too long. She would just stay there until the pain would subside a little and she was feeling good enough to support herself around the furniture until she made it to her bedroom. When there was someone around, though, she got extremely self-conscious.

It had happened once back in Saint Melanie’s, where Ava had overworked herself too much during their aikido lessons and the next day her legs were so cramped it was so hard to move. And Beatrice had looked at her the same way she was doing now, offering a hand to her and not saying anything. Ava had refused the help as well that time, sitting on her bed and waiting for her legs to act, and Beatrice hadn’t moved at all, waiting until Ava would give up the tough act and would let Beatrice help her.

“You overworked yourself,” Beatrice had said nine years ago when she had accompanied Ava to the bathroom so she could shower. “Will you be okay, or do you need my assistance?”

It hadn’t been sexual in any type of way, and Beatrice had said it so innocently and without any hidden intention she was so confused when Ava blushed wildly and stuttered she would be fine. She’d almost melted to the ground when she imagined Beatrice looking at her being naked, helping her clean up, washing her hair and then wrapping a towel around her body. So Ava had decided to shower, trying her best to clean herself with one hand while she used the other to support her failing body on the wall.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” present day Beatrice said, still standing up and offering a hand to Ava. Ava arched an eyebrow at her, and then she realized she had crossed her arms upon her chest as if she was an angry toddler. “Let me help you.”

“I’m fine, seriously,” Ava waved a dismissing hand, “I just need a second.”

“Okay,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, hiding her hands inside her pockets and looking away. One second turned into one minute, and one minute turned into three.

“Fuck,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice looked at her once more. Ava sighed, raising both of her hands. Beatrice let out a chuckle, taking Ava’s hands gently and helping her to get up slowly.

Ava thought she couldn’t embarrass herself anymore, but then her body apparently had a different idea and decided to lose its balance. Thankfully, though, Beatrice was in front of her and was fast enough to wrap both of her arms around Ava’s waist, not letting her fall.

“Sorry,” Ava said, involuntarily putting both of her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders so she could have some sort of support.

“Don’t be,” Beatrice told her, a soft and yet amused smile on her lips. Ava wanted to smack it away, but she couldn’t help but return the smile and then snort.

“These damn legs, you know how they are,” she tried to make some excuse, and Beatrice’s smile simply widened.

Their faces were millimeters away from one another. It wasn’t the first time they found one another in this position, bodies impossibly close and breaths meddling together. The last time they had been this close, it had ended in a very, very bad way. And Ava still could feel the way her legs wouldn’t respond to her brain’s commands, and she knew that if she pushed away she would fall on her ass. And she had no other option but to stay like that, with Beatrice’s hands firmly supporting her by the waist and her hands clutching the girl’s shoulders so she could have some sort of balance.

And the way Beatrice was looking at her… God have mercy. The girl’s eyes were a soft brown, freckled with golden sparks. Her cheeks had a galaxy of their own, and her lips were the perfect shape, not thin and not too full. Her cheekbones were sharp, her jaws looking as if they had been chiseled by the Gods themselves. Her hair looked so soft, matching the color of her eyes. And her shoulders were filled with muscle, her hands firm and confident, her legs slightly spread so she could be balanced in case Ava fell once more.

“Hi,” Ava said, voice low, and Beatrice let out a small chuckle.

“Hello, Ava,” the girl replied, gently. “How are the legs feeling?”

“Bit better,” she said, and Beatrice hummed.

“Good enough for me to let go?” Ava nodded, swallowing the sound of protest she almost let out. “Slowly, okay?”

Ava’s hands went from Beatrice’s shoulders to her biceps, while Beatrice took a couple of steps away from Ava, not letting go of her waist. First, she dropped one hand and then the other, Ava still holding onto the girl’s arms. Beatrice’s hands wrapped gently around Ava’s wrists, and she separated them from her arms slowly and gently, making sure Ava was able to stand on her own.

Ava put her arms down, Beatrice’s hands still wrapped around her wrists in case she lost her balance once more. The girl looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised, asking a silent question. Ava almost choked when she felt Beatrice’s thumbs stroking the inside of her wrists, trying to tell Ava it was okay, trying to make her feel better.

“Good,” Ava said, and Beatrice nodded once, her hands unwrapping from her wrists slowly.

She’s trying to make sure I don’t fall again, it’s okay, Ava tried to convince herself when her heart almost stopped beating when Beatrice’s fingers caressed her skin one last time before they unlatched themselves from her.

“Fine?” Beatrice asked, voice low, and Ava hummed. “Can you move your legs?”

Ava flexed her legs, at first slowly and then more quickly. She wriggled her toes, her ankles, and then stretched her hips to one side and the other. There was still a dull pain going from her hips to her ankles, a faint humming in the middle of her back where the injury had affected her the most, but it was nothing she couldn’t deal with. It would be gone in a few minutes, after she moved a little bit.

“Thank you, Bea,” Ava said, and Beatrice smiled shyly at her.

“Don’t worry about it, Ava,” Beatrice said, while she took Ava’s tote bag from the grass and their empty food containers before throwing them in the nearest trash can.

“You don’t have to carry it for me,” Ava said, pointing at her bag, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders but didn’t give it back. The first time Beatrice had seen Ava like this, nine years ago, she had accompanied the girl into all of her lessons while carrying both of their things, not minding for once if she was late to her own lessons. “Stubborn.”

“Just trying to help, Ava,” Beatrice offered her an arm, and Ava took it before rolling her eyes and muttering how Beatrice was being overly dramatic. The truth was that she actually needed the support, still not trusting her legs, and it seemed like Beatrice knew it.

“So what are we doing next?” Ava asked, when they started to make their way out of the park. Beatrice smirked at her.

“We wait for your legs to get better,” the taller girl said, “and then I’ll show you how fun I can be.”

*

“Holy fuck,” Ava said, supporting her body on the railing.

When Beatrice had told her she would show her how fun she could be, Ava didn’t expect for the girl to sneak the both of them into Arq-Tech and go all the way up the terrace. She had expected them to maybe go to a club, maybe Beatrice would show her she was fun and commit a felony, but Ava wasn’t expecting this. And she suddenly realized she would take it over anything else.

The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in soft oranges and reds and giving the buildings around them a silver glow. It had taken them a while to get there, because Beatrice had insisted they take a cab when Ava’s legs were still cramped, but Ava had argued she didn’t need a car when she could make it on her own.

When Beatrice had pulled out her access card, though, Ava didn’t protest when she suggested they take the elevator. It had been worth it, watching Beatrice deactivate all the alarms as if she was some kind of secret agent, also looking slightly nervous because she had never really sneaked into a building for nine years.

“You’re not technically sneaking, though,” Ava had tried to comfort the girl. “Not when you literally are one of the CEO of the company.”

“I know, but it feels weird when the building is deserted,” Beatrice had said, and Ava didn’t miss the way her fingers were twitching inside her pockets.

“You want me to pretend you’ve never sneaked here during the weekend to get some work done?” Ava raised an eyebrow, and Beatrice shook her head.

“I do it from home,” the girl confessed, and Ava groaned.

“Jesus, Bea! Can’t you like… take some rest?” she asked, unable to keep the laughter at bay, and Beatrice smiled shyly at her.

Then they made it to the top of the building, and all banter was gone when Ava got gifted with the amazing views. She walked towards the railing, Beatrice a few steps behind and still carrying Ava’s things. And, for once in her life, Ava was at a loss of words.

“Sorry if this is my version of having fun,” Beatrice said breaking the silence, and Ava could hear the self doubt in the girl’s voice.

“Hey, this is fucking amazing,” Ava reassured her, and Beatrice inhaled softly. “Seriously, wow.”

“Take a picture?” Beatrice said, pointing at the camera hanging from Ava’s neck. The shorter girl looked at the Olympus film camera, and then arched an eyebrow.

“Wanna try it out?” Ava said, taking the camera on her hands.

“Oh, you would let me?” Ava snorted, because she knew that if Beatrice had been the owner of the camera she would’ve never let Ava hold it for obvious reasons.

“I trust you with delicate things,” Ava said, offering the camera to Beatrice. The taller girl took it, as if she was holding some ancient relic, eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh…” Beatrice said, turning the camera around her hands, and Ava couldn’t help but let out a snort. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Beatrice Armstrong-Young, professional piano player, martial arts champion, and connoisseur of several languages not knowing what to do. “How do I do it?”

Ava walked towards Beatrice, and she turned the camera around the girl’s hands, not letting go. She could hear her heart thumping hard against her ribcage, the faint sound of Beatrice’s own nervous heart overwhelming Ava.

“So you put your eye here,” Ava said, stupidly, “index finger on the shutter and then, if you need it, you can use your other hand to adjust the objective before clicking the shutter.”

“Hmm… okay,” Beatrice hummed. Ava dropped her hands, not walking away, while Beatrice brought the camera up to her face and got ready to take a picture of New York’s skyline.

She could see Beatrice furrowing her eyebrows, her left eye closed while she used her right one to look at the frame she was about to picture. Her left hand adjusted the objective carefully, and Ava could see Beatrice’s tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. Ava, for the hundredth time in the day, felt her spirit leaving her body while watching Beatrice do something as simple as taking a picture.

“All right,” Beatrice muttered, bringing the camera down and looking at Ava. “I think I did it right.”

“We shall see when I develop the film,” Ava said, taking the camera back from Beatrice and hanging it around her neck.

Beatrice put both of her arms on the railing; supporting herself and watching the sun go down slowly, while Ava watched her carefully. She looked so different in so many ways, she looked so free while Ava couldn’t help but realize she was the one trapped in a cage she had been slowly building all on her own for the past few years, burying whatever she felt deep down instead of dealing with it like Beatrice had apparently been doing.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ava almost whispered, and Beatrice turned her head to look at her. Ava didn’t look away.

“Of course, what is it?”

“When did you become free?” the shorter girl said, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“I don’t think I’m fully free, honestly,” Beatrice said after a few seconds of silence. “I just think I’m less caged than before.”

“Funny,” Ava said, not even an ounce of fun in her voice, “you became more free while I started to feel trapped.”

“Ava…”

“So?” Ava asked, this time turning to look at the dimming sun, “when did it begin?”

“After you kissed me,” Beatrice confessed, and Ava’s eyes widened. “I know it’s strange, given my reaction and all, but something inside of me broke. Some kind of glass cage I had been trapped in.”

“Well, you could’ve told me back then so I could’ve saved years of therapy and insecurities and self-hatred,” and there it was again, that feeling of anger she used to feel whenever she thought of Beatrice and that damned night where everything went to hell. It was less intense now, after the day they had spent together, but it was still there. It wouldn’t magically disappear because she and Beatrice had spent so much time together, because she had said some of the many things she’d buried inside.

“I was so scared, Ava,” Beatrice confessed, and the way she sounded so vulnerable made Ava look at her again. The unbreakable Beatrice, the girl who had it all under control and had walked around as if she owned the world, was now looking down at her interlaced hands, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, her eyes glistening. “I still am scared.”

“Scared of what?” Ava knew the answer, but she wanted Beatrice to say it. She wanted Beatrice to do what she hadn’t done nine years ago.

“Of me and what I felt, of you and what you made me feel,” Ava wished that past tense didn’t hurt as much as it did, but she didn’t say anything and let Beatrice speak. “The moment I protected you from Crimson, when I secretly promised myself I would never let anything bad happen to you ever again, something inside of me broke. And I didn’t know how to deal with it, but you were way more important than whatever I felt. So I did what I had done ever since Izzie died, and I buried everything deep inside completely turning off my feelings. But it got harder with time, and that night before spring break went in a way it wasn’t supposed to go. And I thought that maybe we needed the spring break separation, so the both of us would refocus on what was important. I thought I would… pretend it never happened, and you would do the same.”

Ava swallowed and the memories were still fresh even if it had been almost nine years of that evening. She had been replaying that moment time after time, wondering what had been so wrong in kissing the girl you were in love with. Because Ava had always had the faint idea that Beatrice might’ve felt the same way as she did, and Ava had hoped that maybe the alcohol would’ve made them confess and work to be together even if there were many obstacles in their way. She never expected things would go the way they went, though she should’ve known. But they were seventeen years old, they were naïve and scared.

What would happen if I kissed you now?

“If you tried to pretend it never happened,” Ava asked instead, her voice trembling, “why did you say all of that the day we came back to school?”

“I…” Beatrice sighed, closing her eyes, “I wrote it on my journal. I wrote how we snuck out because I was having a bad day, how we got drunk and we kissed. How it made me feel, and why I chose to avoid you. How I hoped that those ten days apart would fix it, how you would realize it didn’t have any meaning and how I thought I would be able to pretend it never happened and it had simply been a stupid mistake the both of us committed because we were just sad and lost and confused.”

“It wasn’t a mistake for me, Beatrice,” Ava said, her chest filled with a sharp pain. Beatrice sighed.

“It wasn’t for me either, Ava, no matter what I tried to tell myself,” the taller girl explained, and Ava waited for her to elaborate. “That’s exactly why I wrote it down, because I realized it wasn’t a mistake. And I thought that maybe if I wrote it on my journal, it would be some sort of relief and it would help me refocus on what was important and simply forget about it.”

“Did it help?”

“For a few hours, yes,” Beatrice let out a huff of air, “and then when I went to sleep my thoughts were filled with you, and your lips kissing me over and over again, and I hated myself for the way I wanted it to happen once more. Because back then I thought it shouldn’t be like that, I thought it was wrong.”

Do you still want it to happen again, Beatrice?

“And I thought that…” Beatrice shook her head, “I thought that maybe if I kissed you again it would be confirmation enough for me to realize I was being stupid, that it was simply just a silly game and if we kissed once again the both of us would realize it was incorrect. It was as if our first kiss had been a curse, and a second kiss would be the potion that would… cure us.”

“And why didn’t you kiss me again?”

“I wrote those thoughts too, first thing in the morning,” Beatrice completely ignored the question, or so Ava thought. “And then I went out with my eldest cousins, because they always complained how we didn’t have our… girl time anymore ever since Isabella died. When I got home, my parents had found the journal and, of course, they had read it all.”

“Oh, Beatrice…”

“They saw the drawings I had done, of Isabella and the things that reminded me of you. They saw the little poems I wrote about you, unaware that they screamed lesbian because I thought they were just simply friendly feelings that would go away if I wrote it down. And then they read the almost ten pages I wrote about me creating a mastermind plan so we could kiss once again, so we could realize it had been stupid and that way we would get out of our stupor.”

“What did they do, Beatrice?” Ava was feeling anger once again, but this time it wasn’t directed at Beatrice. It was directed at the two disgusting human beings who had called themselves her parents, suddenly realizing that maybe Beatrice hadn’t meant any of it and it had simply been her acting like a robot, repeating the words someone had told her. Maybe, Ava realized, Beatrice had called her a monster and a freak but in truth she was telling all those things to herself. Beatrice had been so fucking damn stupid for believing her parents, and Ava had been so fucking damn stupid for letting Beatrice unleash her anger on her, and they had been so fucking damn stupid for letting go of one another.

“They said they had known it all along,” Beatrice chuckled dryly, “all their lives, they had known I was broken. When I was little, it took me longer than other children to learn how to speak. And when I talked for the first time, thanks to Izzie because she was the only one who didn’t see me as useless, I stuttered. And that stutter remained with me for the longest time, and it’s still there somewhere buried deep inside.”

Ava remembered that stupid night, the way Beatrice couldn’t help but be unable to get out whatever insults were brewing inside of her heart. And Ava thought it had been the anger, the disgust she’d felt, but maybe it had been Beatrice’s long-term struggle all along. The way Beatrice had tackled it in the same way she did whenever she felt something she didn’t want, pretending it didn’t exist and burying it so deep inside it became invisible to her. Maybe Ava had learned to cope that way after Beatrice broke her because they’d spent so much time together, they had been connected so deeply she simply became a mirror.

“They never wanted me to begin with,” Ava didn’t care if Beatrice was going from one topic to the other, reliving memories she’d probably told to the therapist she’d found. Ava had hoped Beatrice had said all of this all those years ago, and she didn’t mind if Beatrice was almost one decade late. “They always hoped I would be a boy. The Armstrong-Young line had always produced at least one male heir, so when my parents had two girls they thought the line was broken and it was because of me, because I failed on my first important task as their child. And they thought I had cursed them because after me they were unable to produce any other children, and then by some miracle when my mother was around forty-two years old she got pregnant again. It was a boy this time, but she lost him right after entering the second semester. And, somehow, it was my fault. Everything was my fault, I was a monster in their eyes and I was the reason why our family got broken.”

“That’s not true, Beatrice. You’re not a monster, you never were and never will be, the same way you will never be broken,” Ava couldn’t help but take Beatrice’s hand, who had decided to let the tears fall down freely.

“But I am, Ava. Broken, that is,” the taller girl said, and Ava didn’t know how to tell her she was wrong. Because Ava was broken too, and she didn’t know how to fix herself. “I know now I wasn’t a monster, that disabilities and fucking homosexuality exist and ignoring them won’t fix shit. What truly made me a monster, what truly broke me, it was them. All along.”

“It was, Beatrice,” Ava whispered, caressing the girl’s hand and feeling her own cheeks wetting. “Do you want to continue?”

“Can I?” Beatrice chuckled, and Ava nodded. “It’s just… I haven’t seen my therapist in a while, she’s in London and everything. Jillian, Lilith and Michael try their best to be my therapists whenever it’s needed, especially the day we ran into one another and I arrived at work hyperventilating. But we’ve all been busy and I haven’t wanted to burden them, so I tried to focus on other things but-”

“Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe,” Ava said, letting out a chuckle. “You’re not burdening me, and the whole point of us hanging out together was for us to… talk.”

“But I’m not letting you talk, Ava,” Beatrice said, her voice softer, her breathing slowing down.

“I already shared my piece of mind before, at the park,” Ava shrugged, “and of course I have so many more things to say, but I’ve been dying to know what the hell went wrong for nine years. So I would rather you let it all out instead of me doing the talking.”

“Does that mean we’ll hang out another day so you can do the ranting?” Beatrice smiled, her tears still going down, and Ava returned the smile before sniffling.

“Oh, you bet your ass we will,” the both of them chuckled. “Carry on, please?”

“This would be easier if I was drunk,” Beatrice muttered, and then she breathed deeply before continuing her story. “The thing is, those two believed me broken for so many reasons. My gender, my stuttering, the way I seemed to have a soft heart and they thought I was the main instigator of the fact Izzie never wanted to be in the place she was, as the unrequested heir of our family, because of course if I had been a boy they wouldn’t have to choose Isabella, who only wanted to live life at its fullest without worrying about standards and all that shit. And she wasn’t allowed to do that, so instead of taking it out on me she took it out on them by loving me through it all, and pissing them off at any chance she had.”

“I love her so much,” Ava said, and Beatrice snorted. “And I wish she’d been there for you, because I’m sure she would’ve kicked your ass and no hearts or friendships would’ve been broken.”

“You’re right, Ava,” Beatrice agreed, before carrying on with her story. “They always suspected about my… nature, as they worded it. My father, he used the same word as Adriel did the other night, to describe me. He said I had been born a girl, but I had the characteristics of a boy and that made me disgusting and… unnatural.”

“The characteristics of a boy?” Ava said, her voice rising louder by each word. Beatrice simply shrugged.

“You know, the whole Adam and Eve propaganda. Apparently me being a lesbian makes me have the characteristics of a boy because, of course, only men are allowed to like women,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, and Ava didn’t say anything because she truly didn’t want to offend the dude upstairs. “It took me meeting Lilith and Michael and Jillian to realize they were wrong. Lilith is pansexual, both Michael and Jillian are gay. I had never truly met someone like them before aside from, well, you and Isabella.”

“Hold the fuck up,” Ava rose both hands, Beatrice’s mouth hanging open cutting off whatever she was about to say. “Isabella?”

“I suspect she… wasn’t straight, to put it somehow,” Beatrice said, eyebrows furrowed. “If it had been now, if Isabella hadn’t died, I could’ve had the chance to know for sure. But when I realized that, aged twelve, I believed it was a sin and so I decided to look the other way and hope Isabella would cure herself or whatever bullshit had gone through my mind.”

“Damn,” Ava whistled, “you truly were and homophobic homosexual.”

“I was brainwashed, Ava.”

“Same shit, man,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, but she still smiled at her.

“And yet, after meeting them and hooking up with a girl for the first time and all, I still had the faint thought I wasn’t truly gay and I was simply confused,” Ava hummed, and Beatrice arched her eyebrows.

“Did you ever try to do it the heterosexual way?” Ava asked, and Beatrice didn’t even have to ask her to elaborate.

“No, never,” Beatrice chuckled, “though I thought about it, thinking maybe it would fix myself up and I would realize I had simply been confused all along.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Beatrice,” Ava couldn’t help but laugh, and Beatrice couldn’t help but do the same.

“Hey,” the taller girl said, nudging Ava’s shoulder. “What do you say we go and grab some dinner? I need to eat before I continue this.”

“Ditto,” Ava said, her stomach growling on cue. “And drinks, we need drinks to talk about this.”

*

It was Beatrice’s turn to choose her place to eat, and though she had only been in New York for a few weeks, she already had another favorite spot aside from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

The first night she’d been in New York, Lilith had taken her and Michael to this restaurant specialized into making Spanish food. Lilith’s mother was from Spain, her father from Colombia, and she only said she wanted to make honor to the Mateo Castillo blood running through her veins through consuming as much Hispanic cuisine as it was possible.

“Sharing it with the gays, to piss them off,” Lilith had said, raising her glass of sangria as if she was a queen giving her blessing to the knights before they went into battle.

The restaurant had been close to ArcTech, so Ava and Beatrice didn’t have to walk much to get there. Beatrice didn’t ask Ava, but she knew the girl was kind of grateful they didn’t have to walk a long distance. They had been going around for a long time, and Ava’s legs already had a “lagging episode”, as Ava had put it. Beatrice didn’t want to pressure the girl and, this time, she knew she wouldn’t have to argue much if they had to go a long way and a cab ride had been necessary.

Marcos Tapas was the name of the restaurant, and they could already hear the cheerful guitar music coming from it. Marcos, the owner, had moved to New York a long time ago. He had fallen in love with a Mexican woman called Juliana, as he had told Lilith, and they had decided to open up this restaurant where they served the best Mexican food Beatrice had ever tried before, with Spaniard tapas while flamenco dancers entertained the crowd and, every once in a while, Juliana called up her brother and his mariachi band to give the customers a concert.

“Last week, they made this flamenco versus mariachi battle,” Beatrice told Ava as they sat down in one of the wooden tables covered by a plaid tablecloth. Marcos had carved all the furniture by himself, being the son of a carpenter and all. “They just ended up drunkenly singing the most known tunes in the Hispanic musical panorama.”

“Why didn’t I know this place existed?” Ava asked, looking around, eyes wide.

The walls were painted in a soft earthy yellow tone, the floor covered in terracotta tiles and the handmade wooden furniture giving it a cozy aura. At the end of the restaurant there was a small stage, with two men sitting on stools and playing soft guitar.

Beatrice could hear the majority of the customers speaking in Spanish, a sea of different accents filled with its typical musicality that had tainted Ava’s own accent all those years ago.

Now, though, Beatrice realized you practically couldn’t even tell Ava had been born in Portugal and had been speaking both Portuguese and Spanish her whole life, except in a few specific words where you could tell Ava hadn’t been born in New York City, not was a native English speaker. Beatrice had always found Ava’s accent so charming, as if it was a soft melody playing to make her life better and brighter.

Beatrice could hear that hidden accent whenever Ava pronounced letters like the r or the e, she could sense the way Ava tried to correct herself or the way how living nine years in New York had pretty much given Ava an almost native English speaker aura. But though she tried to correct herself whenever she mispronounced something, whenever she used a word in either Portuguese or Spanish, she never hid where it came from. No matter how painful the memories Ava had of Spain and Portugal could be. She was proud of where she came from.

“Do you like it?” Beatrice asked, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Oh, I love it,” Ava said, dreamily, while Marcos himself approached them.

“Beatrice!” the man said, his smile wide and friendly, “brought a friend today?”

“Yes, this is Ava Silva,” Beatrice said, and Marcos smiled down at her.

“Un place conocerle, señor,” Ava said, with a perfect Spanish, and the man’s eyes filled with delight.

“Española?” he asked, and Ava shook her head.

“Portuguesa,” Ava corrected, and Marcos nodded as he had known all along.

“My favorite,” the man said, offering a wink towards the girl. “Best place to taste the best wine.”

“Especially in Porto, man. I’m from there,” Ava informed him, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at the pride in her voice.

“I should’ve known judging by your accent,” Marcos said, sighing, disappointed on himself. Then, he smiled big and looked at the both of them “Well, what will it be ladies?”

“Do you still make that tapas menu?” Beatrice asked.

“Yes we do!”

“With the sangria wine included?”

I want Ava to feel as if she was, well, at home is what Beatrice didn’t tell Marcos.

“As many sangrias as you wish, Beatrice,” the man said, wiggling his eyebrows. Beatrice rolled her eyes, remembering the last time she had been there with her siblings. Lilith had to pretty much drag them both out of the restaurant, Marcos helping the girl out.

“Damn Brits,” Lilith had muttered, as if she hadn’t been born and raised in Great Britain despite of her parents not being from there, as if her British accent wasn’t the strongest and most posh between the three of them.

“Tapas and sangria sound fucking amazing right now,” Ava said, pretty much salivating at the mouth.

“I’ll be back in a bit, ladies,” Marcos announced, making his way towards the kitchen. Beatrice filled Ava’s glass and her own with water, before taking a sip from it.

“Talking about tapas,” the taller girl said, “when are you going back to Spain?”

“Not soon,” Ava said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Camila is from there as well, and the both of us were supposed to go next month, but she got this offer to present a photography exhibition and it might be her ticket to fame, and I got offered the whole thing with Jillian and… well, maybe it won’t be next month after all.”

“I’m supposed to accompany Lilith there soon, as the director of the engineering department and all…” Beatrice drank the rest of the water with one sip. “Next month as well.”

“Oh,” Ava nodded, slowly.

“Yeah,” Beatrice said, filling her glass once again.

“Where will you be going?” Ava asked, her body angling closer to Beatrice’s.

“Barcelona, to check the new Headquarters there,” Beatrice explained, “Lilith is supposed to work between Spain and North America, just like I’ll be doing from London, while Michael will stay in New York.” Beatrice explained, Ava nodding slowly at her.

“That sounds cool, Jillian counting on the three of you to keep the company going,” Beatrice nodded in agreement, while Ava took a sip of cold water.

“And you said Vincent was living down in Valencia, right?”

“Mhm…”

“The train takes around three hours and a half, if you take it from Barcelona,” Beatrice info dumped Ava, not sure why she was saying any of that. Ava looked at her with her big brown eyes, supporting her chin on her fisted hand, a smirk appearing on her lips.

“Keep talking, pretty girl,” Beatrice felt her cheeks blushing, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, sorry Bea… I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, Ava,” it wasn’t really fine, especially not in the way her heart fluttered and her stomach jumped. It hadn’t happened in so long, not even when Leighton flirted with her. Oh God, Leighton, Beatrice thought when she realized the girl hadn’t even crossed her mind in all day. “But yeah, if… if we’re still on good terms by then and everything…”

“Why so little faith?” Ava said, chuckling, and Beatrice shrugged.

“I have a long history of fucking things up, Ava,” the shorter girl sighed, not disagreeing with Beatrice.

“I do too, Bea,” Ava said after a few moments of silence. “Maybe this is our chance to stop doing that, huh?”

“I hope so, yeah.”

The both of them engaged in small conversation while they waited for Marcos and their food. Ava asked Beatrice about the places she had traveled to, sharing how she wished she had enough time to visit everywhere she wanted to go. Beatrice said how her travels were mostly for her job, how she pretty much went from her hotel room to the office and stayed wherever she got sent to for no more than a couple days. Ava, then, listed all the places she wanted to go and how she had been begging Suzanne to send her away for the longest time.

“I just want to brag, you know? I want to make people die of jealousy,” Ava said, making Beatrice huff in amusement while Marcos approached.

“Señoritas, I’m back!” he said. He was carrying a wooden trolley, a jar of freshly made sangria on it and the plates with their food making both of the girls’ stomachs roar in hunger.

Jamón serrano, cheese, Spanish omelet, meatballs with tomato sauce, patatas bravas, croquetas, fried squid rings, and all sorts of delicious looking food was set upon the table. Ava’s eyes were wider than usual, and Beatrice was pretty sure the girl was close to growling and jumping the food as if she had been a starved lioness.

The first time Beatrice had come to this restaurant, she couldn’t help but remember the girl and the way Ava always talked about the amazing food Southern Europeans cooked compared to whatever spiceless food the Brits had decided to turn into their main meals.

“All those spices they stole,” sixteen years old Ava would say, munching on the peas as if she was eating concrete, “and yet their food tastes like this.”

“Glad you didn’t include me in the colonizer category, Ava,” Beatrice would tell to the girl, amused, and then Ava would throw a pea at her, getting scolded by whatever nun was supervising they ate all their food.

Beatrice had wanted to take Ava here ever since they decided to see each other and talk, secretly praying for things to go well so she could end up showing Ava the place that had reminded Beatrice of her.

Once Marcos was done putting down all the plates made of terracotta in front of them, and once he was done filling up their glasses with sangria, the man winked at them.

“One last thing,” he said, raising a finger. He then took out a small candle from his apron’s big pocket, and a lighter. He set the candle between them both, lighted it up, and wished for them to enjoy the food.

“He’s nice, isn’t he?” Beatrice said, watching the man walk away and trying to ignore how the only tables with a candle on them were the ones occupied by couples.

Marcos, who was greeting everyone as he made his way towards the kitchen, had the ability to remember everyone who entered his restaurant, no matter how many hundreds of people did it in a day. This place was truly one of Beatrice’s favorites, but the way the man was trying to set them up made her blush slightly. Thankfully, Ava decided to stay ignorant at the fact and dug into the food.

“And this shit is delicious,” Ava said, her mouth full of patatas bravas. “God, the sauce is on point!”

“Calm down, Ava,” Beatrice said, chuckling, before she took a sip of her sangria. “Holy fuck,” she couldn’t help but mutter when the fruity taste filled her mouth.

“I know right,” the other girl groaned.

They ate happily, trying to get a taste of every single one of the tapas Marcos had served to them, and their glasses emptied and got refilled by sangria multiple times in a short period.

Lilith had warned her and Michael about how sangria was one of the most dangerous drinks out there the first time they went here. The red wine was mixed with fruits like oranges and apples, sometimes peaches, sugar and brandy were added and the coldness of the ice combined with the sweet taste of both the wine and the fruit probably was what made sangria so addicting, what made it go down your throat so easily to the point you lost count of how many glasses you had consumed.

So Beatrice and Ava were soon giggling, happily eating, their cheeks blushing and eyes bright because of the alcohol they had consumed. Marcos came to visit them a couple more times, refilling their jar with more sangria, laughing with them.

“I missed this so much,” Ava said, and Beatrice wasn’t sure if she meant the wine or them being together.

“Ava?” Beatrice said, after she drank her third glass of sangria. “What do you want to do after this?”

Ava looked at her for a few moments, biting a slice of orange and her eyes never leaving Beatrice’s. And the way Ava bit the orange, the way some of its juice fell down her chin, the way her teeth pierced it softly and her lips closed around the fruit to suck the juice away, made Beatrice feel things she hadn’t felt in a while.

A familiar pressure sat at the bottom of her stomach, her cheeks feeling as if there were ants walking upon them, her mouth becoming dry despite of the amount of sangria she had consumed.

“Well,” Ava said, the way her voice was low an indicative that she was also reaching the limit of her sobriety. For Beatrice, though, all day had felt as if she had been too drunk, unaware of everything she’d done and thought, the moments passing by in a blur. “I don’t really want this day to end, and it’s annoying.”

“Why is it annoying?” Beatrice asked, eyebrows furrowed. Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“Because I’m supposed to hate you and be angry at you,” Ava explained to her, chuckling. “Yet here I am, not wanting to go home because that means our little date is over.”

“So this is a date?” Beatrice snorted, and Ava rolled her eyes. “I’m taken, Ava.”

“Oh, I know you are,” the girl sighed, the tone of her voice unrecognizable for Beatrice. “Though you don’t act like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was Leighton Fucking Murray,” Ava said, refilling her glass. “I would never shut up about it.”

“Well, I’ve been with her for two years I think the honeymoon phase has already gone by,” Beatrice argued, and Ava looked at her from above the rim of her glass as she sipped slowly.

“Are you in love with her, Bea?” Ava asked, after she drank all of the sangria in one take. Beatrice made a choking sound, taken aback by the question.

“I love her, yes,” the taller girl said, and Ava shook her head. “You think I don’t?”

“Oh, no, I think you do,” Ava said, and Beatrice was even more confused than usual. “But loving someone and being in love are two different things.”

“Are they, now?” Ava nodded, and Beatrice hummed. “Enlighten me, please.”

“By personal experience,” Ava’s voice went down a couple octaves, the same way it used to do whenever they were about to have one of their deep conversations at three in the morning. “You can love many people, but you can only be in love with a few.”

“I agree,” Beatrice said, “but I still don’t get your point.”

“It’s just,” Ava groaned, passing a hand through her hair and looking up at the ceiling. “Love comes in so many different ways, right? You can love your friends and the company they bring to you, you can love your pets and the amount of comfort they give you, you can love your family and the way they’re there for you. You can love your job, your city. You can love nature, and food. You can love getting drunk on a Saturday night, and you can love having good sex even if it is with someone you met a couple of hours ago. But… being in love? That involves meeting someone who’s special enough for you to… to be willing to change whatever fucked up ways you inherited from your absentee father, you’re willing to try and fix whatever trauma your dead mother left for you. Being in love with someone means you want to heal your wounds, and you’re willing to make them laugh and smile even when your own world and heart are broken into one hundred million microscopic pieces. Being in love with someone means that you’re willing to change for the better, because they’re the only good thing existing for you, they’re your better half and your soul mate, and they deserve only the best things the Universe has to offer, so you’ll do anything that’s in your power to make them feel that way.”

Ava barely took a moment to breathe, so once she was done she let out a long sigh, refilled her glass for the fifth or sixth time, and drowned it all with one sip. Beatrice, though, was looking at the girl with wide eyes, her mouth hanging slightly open, her heart hammering hard against her chest.

Beatrice might have been tipsy, but she understood perfectly what Ava meant. The things she had done nine years ago so Beatrice could peel off her layers, the way she was there for Beatrice and tried her very best to understand her and be patient with her, it was all because Ava had been as much in love with Beatrice as Beatrice had been with Ava.

Beatrice had told her the other night, how she had been in love with her nine years ago. And saying it had felt like lifting a weight that had been crushing her down for years, because she had been drunk and had no filter nor any sense of self-control when that happened, but also because she had been dying to tell Ava. And because she thought Ava had gotten over it, so Beatrice informing her of that little detail wouldn’t matter much.

But the way Ava had said all of that told Beatrice that maybe Ava hadn’t moved on as easily as she thought, the same way that Beatrice had tried her best to move on from the Portuguese girl with deer eyes and a golden heart. But she would be lying to herself, and she would be lying to the Universe, if she said she had completely forgotten about Ava in that sense.

“So, tell me,” Ava said, making Beatrice snap back into reality. “Are you in love with Leighton, or do you simply love her?”

“Ava, I…” Beatrice didn’t know what to say, feeling as if someone had just slapped her so hard all thoughts had disappeared from her brain. She blinked rapidly, drinking from her sangria. Ava didn’t say anything, she simply sighed.

“It’s not me who should hear that, actually,” Ava said, and Beatrice understood the implication in her voice. She had always hated the way Ava could see through her so easily, how nine years ago she had feared she would be unable to hide her feelings for the girl any longer because of this same reason.

“You’re right,” Beatrice whispered, playing with the rings around her fingers. “Lilith and Michael have been telling me for a while. She deserves better than me.”

“Hey,” Ava moved her hands and they landed upon Beatrice’s, a soft smile upon her lips. “You’re good enough for her, but maybe the both of you are simply not meant to be. It happens sometimes, you know? It happened to me with JC, we realized that maybe we worked better as friends even when the both of us thought we were in love with one another.”

“Did it really?”

“Mhm,” Ava squeezed Beatrice’s hands softly, “but Leighton needs to know all of this. Or, well, maybe what the both of you need to do is talk things through, spice it up a little… I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Beatrice nodded slowly, “she tries so hard to keep things going, she gives her everything and I give nothing in return. She went on tour for four months, and I didn’t even bother to go and see her, not even when we were in the same city. All we did was text and facetime, and I could see she was hurt but…”

“Beatrice,” Ava’s voice suddenly was urgent, “I’m not doing this to force a break up and then take advantage of it, by the way. I just…”

“I know, Ava,” Beatrice was the one squeezing the girl’s hands now, trying to reassure her. “Everyone around me has been telling me the same thing, and I didn’t want to listen. But maybe I should, for Leighton’s sake.”

“I’m sorry if I ruined the mood, Bea,” the shorter girl said, and Beatrice could see the self doubt invading Ava’s eyes.

“You haven’t,” the taller girl said, smiling at Ava, “you did what any good friend would do.”

“Oh, so now I’m a good friend huh?” Ava teased her, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“I forgot how much you love it when people praise you,” Beatrice said, and she didn’t miss the way Ava’s cheeks blushed and her eyes widened, how quickly she let go of Beatrice and cleared up her throat. Well, that’s odd.

Ava leaned back on her chair, crossing her arms upon her chest and looking at the people outside. Then, a smile appeared on her lips and the girl let out a chuckle, shaking her head as if she had just remembered something funny.

“What?” Beatrice asked, confused, looking out as well to see what was so funny.

“I wrote you a letter, you know,” Ava said, looking back at the taller girl. “After graduation, before I went to go get my flight.”

“You did?” Ava nodded, slowly. “Why didn’t I receive it?”

“Because it’s been hidden on my night stand all these years,” Ava explained, “I put it inside your luggage when you weren’t around, but then I panicked and I took it back. Now it’s hidden on my underwear drawer.”

“Oh, thank you for the information,” Beatrice laughed, nervously, and Ava smiled at her. “Will I ever get to read it?”

“I doubt it,” Ava then hummed, arching an eyebrow, “though if there’s something I learned from Justin Bieber, is that you can never say never.”

“Jesus Christ, Ava,” Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at Ava’s comparison, and the shorter girl smiled proudly at Beatrice.

“Señoritas,” Marcos said, showing up once again. He took the empty plates and put them back on the trolley. “More sangria?”

“I think we’ve had enough of it to last us all summer,” Beatrice said, Ava nodding in agreement.

“Well, allow me to offer you desert,” he said, taking two cups of ice cream from the trolley and offering it to the girls.

“Please, yes,” Ava said, as if their stomachs weren’t close to exploding. Marcos put the cups on their table, giving each other a spoon and taking away their glasses and empty jars.

“And some orujo,” Marcos also said, filling two shots glasses with a yellow liquor. “In Spain, we usually take this to officially put an end to the meal.”

“Gracias,” Ava said, once her glass was filled. Marcos winked at her.

“Beatrice,” the man said, a soft smile on her lips. “I like her, bring her more often around here, yeah?”

“Oh,” Beatrice blinked a few times, and Ava choked on her ice cream. “Of course.”

“Bien,” Marcos said, and then pointed at the ice cream and orujo. “This is on the house, by the way. Enjoy!”

“Second time someone said we’re a couple today, huh,” Ava said, once Marcos had left. Beatrice laughed nervously. “Maybe we really do look good together, after all.”

“Ava…”

“Okay, okay,” the girl said, raising her hands and smiling at Beatrice.

Beatrice, though, couldn’t help but agree with her.

*

“One last stop, please?” Ava begged, looking at Beatrice with those damn puppy eyes.

“Ava, we’re already drunk enough,” the taller girl argued, putting back her wallet inside her pocket. She had insisted to pay for dinner, and Ava almost fought her for it, but Beatrice told her she could pay next time.

“Bea, come on!” the shorter girl said, raising her arms and huffing. “Let me get you some drinks, at least. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you for being a millionaire.”

“You paid for lunch, remember?”

“And you paid for breakfast and dinner,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Beatrice looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “You pay for two meals, I pay for two meals.”

“I don’t think having drinks can be considered as a meal, though,” Beatrice argued at the girl, and Ava groaned.

“Okay, can you stop being so logical for one second?” Ava put her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders, making the girl almost stumble on her steps. “Please? Just one drink?”

Beatrice breathed deeply, pursing her lips and rolling her eyes. She put her hands inside her pockets, “Fine.”

“Yes!” Ava fist bumped the air, clapped her hands, and then proceeded to hook an arm around Beatrice’s own who, at that right moment, was feeling like she was going through the longest rollercoaster ride of her life.

One moment they were reminding each other of the mistakes they had committed, the next they were having the deepest of conversations, and then they acted as if nothing had even happened nine years ago. Needless to say, Beatrice was fucking confused.

But would she tell Ava to unhook her arm? Would she tell Ava to stop begging her to go get drinks? No, she wouldn’t. Would Beatrice drag this night for as long as she could? Yes, she would.

Beatrice hadn’t really had much time to explore the night life in the Big Apple, and honestly it wasn’t like she was much of a party girl herself. Sure, she enjoyed going out with her friends every once in a while, she liked trying new restaurants or having a drink with Leighton after a long and exhausting day in the office, but she wouldn’t really feel like she missed a big opportunity if she didn’t go and get that drink.

With Ava, though, it was different. Beatrice didn’t know what it was, but she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t tell Ava no. Well, she had never been able to deny anything to the girl, but right now she felt as if denying Ava her drinks would bring her immediate bad luck for the next twenty five years of her life. It felt as if Ava was in a life or death situation, and Beatrice had the power to keep Ava alive by joining her for drinks.

So Beatrice let the girl hook her arm around her own, and she let her drag Beatrice around the New York night life, chatting about whatever crossed her tipsy mind. And Beatrice simply listened to the girl hoping that the hours would go by slowly, not wanting for tonight to ever end.

For Beatrice, it had been quite possibly one of the best days of her life. A day she had started to dream of right after Ava had gotten into that plane and didn’t land back into Beatrice’s life until nine years later.

And then, thinking about Ava and planes woke a memory up. A memory she had kept to herself for a long time, a memory she never told anyone except Lilith during one night after they came back from a party, the first time she kissed someone else who hadn’t been Ava. It had been the same kind of situation, her and the girl who’s name she didn’t even remember sitting on a coach, drunk, and kissing. It had been around a year and a half since she’d kissed Ava, and something that looked like a promise of mischief ended up being a trigger for Beatrice. And when Lilith ran behind her, when they finally got home and she was able to speak, she confessed to Lilith what happened the day Ava went back to Spain.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, cutting the girl off form whatever she’d been talking about.

“Yeah?” the girl said, blinking at her. Beatrice breathed deeply.

“I did it,” she muttered, after a few seconds of silence. Ava furrowed her eyebrows.

“Huh?” Ava asked, and then, her eyes widened. She looked around before she approached Beatrice and whispered. “Are we confessing to committing a crime, now? Because one time, back in college, I was craving candy and stole a bag from the store downstairs.”

“We are not… wait, what?” Ava gasped, as if she had just confessed committing the worst crime anyone could ever imagine on national television.

“Oh, shit, erase that form your memory right now,” Beatrice couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

“We’ll talk about that in another occasion,” Ava groaned, “but no, that’s not what I meant to say.”

“What did you mean to say, then?” Beatrice inhaled, realizing that now it was way too late to backtrack.

“I did come,” Ava’s eyes widened, and Beatrice realized what she’d said. “To the airport, Ava. The day you left, I came after you.”

“You did?” Ava asked, as if she had suddenly sobered up.

They stopped walking, the shorter girl standing in front of Beatrice, looking at her with those big eyes that were capable of holding so many emotions at once Beatrice got easily overwhelmed.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why didn’t I see you?” Ava asked, after trying to assimilate the bomb Beatrice had just dropped on her. “I waited until the last moment, almost missing my flight.”

“I… I was late, Ava,” Beatrice let out a humorless chuckle, “it seems like I’m always late with you.”

“What made you change your mind? Because I know you wouldn’t make that choice all on your own, someone had to threaten you to stop being so stubborn,” Ava crossed her arms, that angry glint upon her eyes once again.

“Leighton,” Beatrice confessed, remembering the girl had pretty much acted as a human barrier between the school’s door and Henry’s car, to avoid that Beatrice got into the car and left Ava behind for ever more.

“Leighton?” Beatrice nodded, “your girlfriend Leighton?”

“The one and only,” Ava opened and closed her mouth multiple times, until all that came out was a sound mixed between the words huh and what. “She had known the whole time, what we felt for one another and tried to ignore. She actually was silently cheering us on, which I should’ve known by the way she interrogated me multiple times during choir and football practice. But I was naïve, and also didn’t want to realize what-who I truly was, so I completely ignored her and she gave up on making me… how did she say… see the light.”

“Wow.”

“But when she saw something was wrong between us, when you announced you would be moving to New York and all and saw I didn’t do anything…” Beatrice shrugged, and Ava shook her head bewildered. “When I finally made up my mind and asked Henry to turn around and drive towards the airport, it was too late.”

“Or maybe too early,” Ava muttered, eyes on the cobblestones, her brow furrowed. Beatrice didn’t have time to ask her what she meant, because Ava took her arm once more and walked her towards the nearest club.

The club was already filled up with people, the low bass of the music filling the space and echoing inside of Beatrice’s chest. The room was dark, lightened up by purple and pink neon lights. Ava took Beatrice’s hand, interlacing their fingers together, and Beatrice hoped no one in here knew her or Leighton because they would totally get the wrong idea if they saw Ava confidently guiding Beatrice around the club while simultaneously holding her hand like any lover would.

“Oye, Juan Cristóbal!” Ava yelled, and then a familiar looking boy who was serving drinks behind the bar counter smiled wide at them. Beatrice recognized him from the other night at the launching party, the way he had been flirting with Michael and… taking care of him, as her brother had said.

Great, her ex boyfriend, Beatrice thought. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt a pang of an unrecognizable emotion seizing her chest. And even if the guy seemed to be really nice, always smiling, Beatrice couldn’t help herself when she felt dislike towards him.

“Ava María!” he said, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. That wasn’t even Ava’s middle name, it was Maeve, originated from Irish and it meant intoxicating or “she who rules”. Beatrice had done her research when Ava shared it with her, and she felt like it was very fitting. For reasons that she shall not disclose, she will not say why she felt that way.

Lively Intoxication, that was what Ava’s name actually meant. And Beatrice had never felt a name fitting a person as much as Ava’s name fitted her. It was as if the Universe had created Ava to its own image and perfection, as if when Patricia Silva had brought Ava into the world, whoever was up there had banned Ava from owning any kind of flaw.

“Bea?” Ava said, waving a hand in front of Beatrice’s face.

“Huh?” the taller girl said, blinking at Ava, realizing she had been staring at the girl’s face while she was quietly analyzing her name.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked, chuckling.

“Yes, forgive me,” Beatrice cleared her throat, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows but faced JC again.

“You remember JC, right?” Ava asked, raising her voice so Beatrice could hear her over the music. JC waved a large hand, smiling widely at her.

“Mike’s sister!” he said, pointing at her once he seemed to recognize her. “Rebecca, right?”

“Beatrice,” she corrected him, while Ava snorted in amusement. “My name’s Beatrice.”

“Oh, fuck, yes sorry! I was kind of drunk when Mike told me,” JC looked at her apologetically, scratching his nape.

Since when does he call Michael like that? How long have they been talking? Why hasn’t Michael said anything at all?

“What do you have for us, Juan?” Ava asked, planting both her hands on the bar counter and getting on her tip toes as if she was trying to get a sneak peek on whatever drinks JC had available.

JC leaned down towards Ava and Beatrice automatically fisted her hands. Thankfully, they were hidden inside her pockets. “Whatever you want, babe, it’s on the house!” Ava looked up at Beatrice, and the taller girl shrugged. Ava promised to pay, so Beatrice didn’t mind to drink whatever Ava chose.

“Two Cosmopolitans,” Ava said, raising a couple fingers with one hand and spanking the bar counter with the other.

“Alright, tiger, you got it!”

JC disappeared down the other side of the counter, taking the bottles he needed, while Ava looked at Beatrice with furrowed eyebrows.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ava nudged her arm, and Beatrice pursed her lips.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” she lied, and Ava arched an eyebrow.

“Bea.”

“Ava.”

“Stop acting grumpy.”

“I’m not…” Beatrice let out a sigh, knowing that it was impossible to pretend, not when Ava still knew her like the back of her own hand.

And then, not knowing if it was the combination of the sangria and the orujo they had taken, or if it was her nostrils inhaling alcohol right and left, or if it was simply Ava honoring the meaning of her middle name, Beatrice asked Ava if her and JC still were a thing.

“What? No!” Ava said, laughing as if Beatrice had just told her the funniest joke ever invented. “Why are you even asking that, Bea?”

“I don’t know, the way he looks at you and all I guess,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the way she felt. She hadn’t even felt like that whenever someone looked at Leighton with that much desire and lust, the conversation she had with Ava an hour ago coming back to her.

“JC is one horny and flirty motherfucker, he looks at everyone like that,” Ava explained, looking fondly at the boy while Beatrice started to calm down. “Would it matter to you?”

“What would matter to me?” Beatrice asked Ava. The club was already pretty dark, but Beatrice could’ve imagined she saw Ava’s pupils dilating, her eyes becoming darker. She swallowed.

“If I had a thing with him?” Ava’s voice became low, but Beatrice could hear it loud and clear, as if the whole club had gone silent waiting for her to react, to say something.

“Uh, well,” Beatrice looked anywhere but at Ava, still sensing the girl’s eyes burning holes on her face. “It’s not really my business, is it?”

“Yeah,” Ava’s voice now sounded defeated, even if it was only for a millisecond. “I guess is not.”

“So, is this Cosmopolitan drink any good?” Beatrice crossed her arms upon the counter, supporting her body, Ava doing the same next to her.

“You’ve never had one?” the shorter girl asked, and Beatrice shook her head. “It’s fucking orgasmic, Bea. You’ll love it!”

“Okay, Ava,” Beatrice said, laughing at the girl, whatever anger and jealousy she had been feeling subsiding even when JC came back with two cups. The liquor was a soft pink color, sugar around the cups rims, a curled lemon peel hanging expertly from the side.

“Bon appétit, ladies!” JC winked at them both before he went to attend someone else.

“Alright, let’s make a toast,” Ava proposed, raising her own cup. Beatrice did the same, waiting for the girl to think of something. “To old friendships.”

“No, wait,” Beatrice said before Ava could take the first sip of the drink. “To new friendships.”

“Hmm,” Ava hummed, nodding slowly and smiling, “I like it. To new friendships!”

Both of them took a long sip, their expressions matching when the bitter taste of the vodka filled their mouths. They put the cups back on the counter, Ava letting out a dry cough.

“Damn,” she said, wiping her lips with her thumb and making Beatrice blush wildly. Thank God for the darkness. “I will never get used to the taste.”

“It’s good,” Beatrice said, running her tongue upon her lower lip to get rid of the remaining taste. “I like it.”

They kept on talking about whatever went through their minds, drowning the Cosmopolitan down, and asking JC for more drinks. He prepared them for them, Ava sliding bill after bill upon the counter, until Beatrice told her to stop. JC, though, kept giving them drinks and promised to them they would be for free if they didn’t tell his boss.

“Remember when you confessed to me that you were royalty?” Ava slurred, pointing a clumsy finger at Beatrice.

“I’m not royalty!” Beatrice argued back, supporting her head on her fisted hand. Her body was buzzing with energy, her surroundings blurry, feeling as if she was floating.

“You said you’re the Queen’s granddaughter!” Ava raised her hands, a wide smile upon her face.

“Ava, the Queen died,” Beatrice chuckled, “and I didn’t say I was her granddaughter you’re just making shit up now.”

“I swear to God, your best friend, that you told me that!”

“Did you just call God my best friend?” Beatrice started to giggle, Ava following her, bending down and almost losing her balance.

“Am I lying?”

“God and I are not on speaking terms, actually.”

“Damn… big RIP to that friendship.”

Beatrice then stared at Ava, her face blank of emotion, and Ava did the same to her. Then, slowly, their mouths curled up until a smile became a grin and they were laughing uncontrollably again.

“Beatrice,” Ava took both of her hands, the grip strong so she could remain steady. “Bea, let’s go dance.”

“You want to dance? I can’t even walk straight Ava, I’m too drunk.”

“Babe, you can’t walk straight in any situation,” Ava took Beatrice’s hand, dragging her to the dance floor.

“That was so rude.”

“Is this allowed?” Ava asked, trying to point at herself and Beatrice. “Dancing?”

“Why would it not be allowed?”

“Well, we kind of hate each other right?”

“I don’t hate you Ava,” Beatrice said, furrowing her eyebrows, her hands falling on her sides.

“Good, because I don’t hate you either.”

“You don’t?” Ava shook her head, “not even a little?”

“After today? Nah, I don’t think I hate you anymore Beatrice.”

“Well, that went faster than I’d planned,” Beatrice muttered, and Ava laughed at the girl.

“What, you had a whole mastermind plan figured out to win back my friendship?” Ava asked, and Beatrice stupidly nodded at her. Ava then rose on her tip toes and her lips fell upon Beatrice’s ear. “Let me tell you a little secret, Beatrice. You wouldn’t have to do much to win back my friendship, the first day we saw one another again I knew that fighting would be useless and we would end up finding our way into one another because the Universe planned it that way because, if it hadn’t, then why did we find each other again? Anyways… the thing is, I would’ve made you sweat for it but… I don’t think I can do that anymore, actually.”

Ava separated from Beatrice, but their faces were only a couple of inches apart from one another. Beatrice could feel the sweet scent from the several drinks they had coming out from Ava’s mouth, her lips slightly parted, her eyes glued into Beatrice’s. She gulped, her pulse almost as loud as the bass coming from the speakers.

“You really would make me suffer like that, Ava?” Beatrice said, her voice low, their bodies dangerously close. “You would make me beg for it?”

“Beatrice…” Ava let out a sound which was between a nervous chuckle and a shiver, making it sound like something completely different which made Beatrice’s mind fill with wild thoughts.

“Let’s dance,” Beatrice said, and her hands interlaced with Ava’s before she brought them up and put the girl’s arms around her neck.

“Beatrice…” Ava warned her again, but the way she said it encouraged Beatrice to keep going.

“I just want to dance with you, Ava,” Beatrice said, her voice coming out almost breathless, the hot exhale of air Ava let out hitting her like a tornado. “Please.”

“Okay…” Ava said, her arms around Beatrice’s neck finding a comfortable position while Beatrice sneaked hers around Ava’s torso and brought their bodies together. Their foreheads softly collided with one another, none of them moving away. The tips of their noses were caressing each other. “Bea?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not to be trusted when I’m drunk like this,” Ava said, her eyes glued on Beatrice’s lips. “And I’m kind of dying to.. do something we might regret.”

“But we won’t do anything, will we?” Beatrice finished Ava’s thought, and the girl swallowed.

“There’s something you need to do first, remember? She doesn’t deserve to be hurt,” Beatrice nodded, knowing what Ava meant.

“And then, what?” Beatrice asked, feeling Ava’s forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“I don’t know,” the shorter girl confessed. “We’ll take it slowly.”

“What will we take slowly, Ava?”

“Anything you want,” Beatrice could feel Ava’s hand fisting around her hair, maybe a drunken promise of one of the many things she wanted to take slow.

“I want you,” Beatrice confessed, hoping that none of them would forget in the morning. “I’ve always wanted you.”

“I know, me too,” Ava said, and it was very hard for Beatrice to not dip her head down and devour Ava’s mouth, to show her how much she’d missed her in all those years, how much she was regretting letting her slip away.

Leighton, Beatrice thought. Leighton doesn’t deserve this. Talk to her first, and then do whatever you need to do.

“I’m so sorry, Ava,” Beatrice said, and she could feel her voice breaking. Ava opened her eyes, looking up at her, and fuck if that didn’t make it harder.

“What for?”

“Everything,” Beatrice separated her head from Ava’s. “Hurting you, making you feel the way I did. As if you weren’t worth of love, as if you were a monster.”

“Beatrice…”

“You’re not a monster, Ava. You’re not a freak, or sick. You’re beautiful, you’re gorgeous and smart and kind. And every single day for the last nine years I regretted all the words I said that night, because I hurt the most precious thing I had in my life, and I ruined you and me and us.”

Beatrice felt the tears falling down her face for the second time that day, and Ava immediately moved her hands and wiped them away. The girl brought her face closer, as if she wanted to kiss Beatrice’s cheeks, but she refrained herself. She was fighting this damn battle as hard as Beatrice was.

“Beatrice, it’s okay. We toasted to a new friendship, to a new beginning. None of us will forget that, I will never let go of the way I felt and you will never let go of the way you felt. But we can work it out, we can fix things slowly. I told myself it would never be the way it was, because I know that if we give each other a chance we will not be friends. Whatever we become, it will not be friends or acquaintances. It will be way more than that, because it was always meant to happen.” Ava’s thumbs caressed Beatrice’s cheeks, drawing invisible circles upon them, and Beatrice got lost in Ava’s eyes.

“I will work to fix this as if my life depended on it,” Beatrice promised, smiling down at Ava. “I will do whatever it takes to have you back in my life and to heal the wounds I provoked. That will be my sole mission for the next three months I’ll be here.”

“And I will let you, Beatrice Armstrong-Young. If only you promise me one thing.” Beatrice looked down at Ava, drunk with the liquor they consumed and the girl’s existence.

“Anything.”

“Promise me that you won’t run away this time, Beatrice. That you won’t be late if things go wrong,” Ava’s arms circled Beatrice’s neck once again, and she buried her face on the space between Beatrice’s jaw and shoulder. Beatrice felt a shiver going down her spine, her hands circling Ava’s waist and bringing her as close to her as she possibly could.

“Never again, Ava, I promise.”

*

They stayed at the club a little bit longer, dancing glued to one another, until Beatrice felt Ava yawning a couple of times. Then, she decided to call up an Uber and take the girl home.

“This is the first time since I moved into that apartment where someone brings me home, and not to do funny business,” Ava told Beatrice once they entered the Uber, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh.

“Will you be fine, though?” Beatrice asked, taking Ava’s hand. The girl nodded at her, not letting go.

“Though you could come inside, make sure I make it towards my bedroom and all. We could have a couple drinks if you want?” Beatrice chuckled when Ava looked at her hopefully.

“Ava…” the taller girl said, shaking her head. “I can help you if you need so, but no more drinks.”

“And no sleep over, right?” Ava asked, pouting.

“Not yet,” Beatrice replied, not needing to voice anything else for she was sure both of their minds had gone to the same place.

It was funny, the way their day had started in quite the awkward note when Ava had rushed into Breakfast At Tiffany’s, apologizing for being late. She had made several remarks about the things Beatrice did wrong, and then they went to buy a camera and walked around until they found a space comfortable enough to sit down and try to open up their hearts and do the talk they had needed so much.

And then Beatrice took Ava to her favorite spot in the city, and watched her happily take pictures of the sunset, and all Beatrice could think about was how she could do that forever, to watch Ava become the happiest person alive with the simplest and most beautiful things on Earth.

And they had only needed to spend almost seventeen hours together, from ten in the morning to three in the morning, for their hearts to start to find their way into one another. And maybe all they had needed to do was to sit down under a maple tree, to watch the sunset and eat the best food they ever tasted. Maybe all they needed was to drink to loosen up their tongues, to open up their hearts, to take off the armors they had been carrying around for way too long.

And maybe Ava had a point, and maybe she was right when she said the Universe had created them both to find one another in this life and the next. Maybe Ava was right, and they actually were twin flames who had gotten lost while trying to find one another. And maybe the nine years apart had been necessary, cruel but necessary, for them to realize that they were each other’s missing piece.

And it wouldn’t be easy, but something both Beatrice and Ava had in common was that they loved a good challenge. And they needed to make up for lost time, to share the many things they had kept hidden at the bottom of their own oceans. Ava needed Beatrice to finally fully heal her wounds, and Beatrice needed Ava to make her feel as if her existence wasn’t a burden and she truly was worthy of love. And they needed one another to be whole again, because they were broken in many ways and, for a time, they had been each other’s glue, the one that had kept the pieces together.

They sat at the backseat of the Uber, Ava on the far left and Beatrice on the far right, the empty seat between them both taken by their interlaced hands. Beatrice felt extreme guilt, because Leighton was somewhere in New York and Beatrice hadn’t even thought of her in all day. Her phone had been turned off all day, calls unanswered and messages unread. And the first thing she would do the next morning would be to call Leighton, to ask her to meet up and do what she should’ve done a long time ago when she stopped to feel full whenever the girl was around.

Leighton deserved the best the Universe had to offer, and Beatrice wasn’t it. Not when she knew she would end up hurting the girl, and if all those nine years of constant flagellation had taught her something was the importance of communicating, the importance of telling someone whatever was brewing inside your heart, no matter how hard it was.

And Leighton would be hurt, and so would Beatrice because she loved being around her. But the both of them had known it would be a losing game, the both of them had tried to keep things alive and well, but they simply weren’t made for one another. Not in the way Ava thought the Universe made her and Beatrice to find each other.

Tomorrow, Beatrice thought. Tomorrow I’ll sit down and I’ll think about all of this, about what should I do, about what’s the best strategy. Let me enjoy these few last moments with her, now.

The car finally reached the building where Ava lived. And the girl let out a sigh, her brain most likely filled with the same thoughts as Beatrice had been thinking about. What’s next, now? Pretend all those nine years didn’t happen? Pretend I didn’t call her a monster and caused her to go through one of the most painful times of her life?

“Bea,” Ava said, squeezing Beatrice’s hands. “Are you coming?”

“Could you please wait here?” Beatrice asked the driver, who nodded at her. “Thank you, it won’t take long.”

Both girls entered the building and took the elevator. When they reached Ava’s floor, they walked down the hallway silently until they made it to her apartment’s door.

“Well, this is my place,” Ava said pointing at the door. They had sobered up during the ride, and yet Beatrice felt as if she should join Ava inside and make sure everything was fine with her.

“You feel okay?” Beatrice asked, hands inside her pockets. Ava nodded. “No puking or anything?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” Ava said, biting her lip nervously and rocking on her feet. “You?”

“I’m fine too,” Beatrice smiled slightly, and Ava nodded at her.

“How long do you think he’ll wait?” Ava asked, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“How long do you intend to have me kidnapped?” Ava let out a loud laugh, making Beatrice giggle as well.

“I know I said you should make sure I make it safe to bed, but…” Ava inhaled slowly, and Beatrice nodded understandingly.

“Not a good idea,” she said, and Ava nodded.

“At least for now,” the shorter girl reassured her, though Beatrice didn’t need reassurance. She knew both of them would work overtime to make things right.

“I had fun, Ava. Thank you for doing this, for… talking with me,” Beatrice thought that using the verb talking defined perfectly what they had been doing all day, trying to ignore that if Beatrice’s romantic situation would’ve been any different she would most likely be making sure Ava made it safely to her room.

“Today was amazing, Beatrice,” Ava said, taking her hand. “I know at the beginning I was a little grumpy, and I’m sorry I made some comments that might’ve complicated things but… it was great, really.”

“I’m glad you feel this way, Ava.”

Both girls stood awkwardly in front of Ava’s door. One of them didn’t want to turn around and open the door, the other didn’t want to walk down the hallway and go home. None of them wanted this night to end, and there were many ways in which they could carry it on.

Not yet, Beatrice.

“Well then,” Beatrice said, nodding her head once. “Good night, Ava.”

“Yeah,” the shorter girl said, smiling nervously. “Good night, Bea.”

Ava turned to face the white door of her apartment, and Beatrice started to walk away. She counted the steps she took, not trying to look desperate to go away but also letting Ava know she was struggling to leave her there.

One step, two steps.

Beatrice heard Ava taking out the keys from her bag, the jiggle the only sound in the hallway.

Three steps, four steps.

The key entered the keyhole, but Beatrice didn’t hear it turn. She didn’t hear the door unlock, nor Ava stepping inside her apartment. But she didn’t turn around.

Five steps, six steps.

Beatrice felt as if her heart was inside her ears and not her chest, because Ava had stopped moving and she heard the girl cursing under her breath.

Seven steps, eight steps.

“Beatrice, wait,” Ava said, her voice coming out in a rush, as if it took every ounce of energy in her to pronounce those two words.

Beatrice stopped, and she turned around. Ava had both of her hands flat upon the white door, her face hidden by strands of brown and golden hair. Judging by the way her shoulders were going up and down, she knew Ava was battling against something, or someone.

“Ava?” Beatrice asked, her voice echoing in the hallway.

“Fuck,” she could hear Ava muttering.

The girl straightened her body, and while Beatrice swallowed audibly, Ava turned around and, for a second, none of them moved. Then, Ava started to walk towards her at a quick pace, and Beatrice braced herself to receive the girl.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, and I hope Leighton doesn’t hate me for this because I actually like her, but if I don’t do this I feel like I’ll die,” Ava said, while her body moved towards Beatrice’s.

Beatrice didn’t say anything, she simply nodded at Ava before both of their mouths crashed against each other and all of the anger, the distress, and the pain they had felt for the last nine years were present on their kiss.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not like he first one they shared when they were seventeen had been. It was hungry, and desperate, and angry. Ava’s hands were buried on Beatrice’s hair, grabbing it as if her life depended on it, while Beatrice’s hands grabbed Ava’s shirt and brought the girl’s body closer to her, trying to fill the need of feeling Ava’s body without having to be naked.

Beatrice’s hands made their way down Ava’s legs, and the girl instinctively wrapped her legs around the taller girl’s torso. Their bodies then crashed against the wall, their mouths never leaving one another. Ava hissed in pain, biting down Beatrice’s lower lip and making the taller girl unashamedly moan loud enough to make Ava go crazy and return the round as loud and clear as Beatrice’s one.

And they kissed one time, two times, three times. And Beatrice asked for forgiveness. Forgive me Leighton, for not loving you enough. Forgive me Ava, for loving you way too much. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

“Bea,” Ava gasped, separating their lips in order to breathe in some air. The girl looked at her, her body still trapped between the wall and Beatrice. Her lips were red and swollen, and she could see a single drop of blood on the lower one. Beatrice, tasting the metallic flavor of her own blood, knew it had been hers.

Ava’s pupils were so dilated they almost were the size of the girl’s iris. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest going up and down rapidly as if she had just run a marathon. Beatrice’s hands were on each side of the girl’s head, Ava’s body supporting itself by wrapping her arms and legs around Beatrice.

“Bea, we need to stop. This is not okay, Leighton-” Beatrice closed her eyes, trying to ignore the hurt inside her chest when she thought about the way Leighton would feel betrayed, the way her green eyes would fill with sadness even though they had known all along their love had an expiration date.

“I know,” Beatrice muttered, supporting her forehead upon Ava’s. “But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” Ava reassured her, “but we have to. You have to talk to her.”

“You already said that many times, Ava,” Beatrice clawed the wall, having the faint sensation that she would leave a mark on it.

If I cannot leave a mark on Ava, I will leave it on the wall.

“Let’s go home,” Ava said, “you go to yours, I’ll go to mine. You fix whatever you need to fix, and then…”

“Then what, Ava?”

“We’ll see.”

Beatrice inhaled sharply, and let go of the air slowly. She nodded, bringing her hands upon Ava’s legs and helped the girl unwrap herself from Beatrice’s body.

“Don’t walk me back,” Ava said, and at Beatrice’s confusion she smiled. “I don’t know how much more I can control myself, Beatrice.”

“This is painful,” Beatrice said, and Ava nodded. “I will see you soon, though?”

“Yes,” the shorter girl squeezed Beatrice’s hands, before kissing the tip of her nose. “Let me know how it goes?”

“Of course.”

Ava smiled at Beatrice, and started to make her way back towards her apartment. Beatrice, though, moved fast and wrapped her hand around Ava’s wrist, gently. The girl turned around.

“One more, and then you can go.”

“Beatrice…”

“Please.”

“Fine.”

Beatrice leaned down, the kiss starting as gentle. Her tongue then prodded Ava’s lips, and the girl opened her mouth to welcome Beatrice. Their tongues danced together and their lips caressed one another with a gentleness Beatrice had never experienced before. She had only kissed Ava thrice in her lifetime, and once again the shorter girl was honoring her middle name.

Intoxicating.

“Bea…” Ava chuckled, separating her lips from Beatrice’s. “Please.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling down at Ava. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Bea,” the girl said, softly. She then got on her tiptoes, and kissed Beatrice’s cheek. And then she moved lower, to the space that connected her jaw and her neck, and Beatrice felt her body filling with goose-bumps.

“Ava…”

“Okay,” Ava said, separating her body from Beatrice’s. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Beatrice said, and Ava laughed. “I should go.”

“Yes.”

“I will see you soon?”

“Yes.”

“Sleep well.”

“You too.”

“Bye, Ava.”

“Bye, Beatrice.”

*

Ava closed the door with her body and she remained standing there, her body glued to it, eyes wide looking at the darkness that was bathing her apartment. She smiled, and then she grinned, and then she giggled and started to twirl around her living room until she crashed against her couch and fell upon it.

Her heart was beating hard, her cheeks were a blushing mess, and her brain was empty of any thought. She stared up at the ceiling, her fingertips caressing the ghost of the touch Beatrice’s mouth had left. How many nights had she dreamed of that before she got to kiss Beatrice for the first time? How many nights had she spent regretting what she had done, and what it cost her? Why was she feeling as if she was sixteen again, and the girl she had an incurable crush on had just kissed her for the first time ever?

Ava had asked for romance, for drama. Ava had asked for Beatrice to run behind her, to make a big entrance and beg her to not take that flight to New York. And Ava had gotten romance, and drama, and almost having sex in the middle of the hallway.

She bit her lip, trying to hold the bubble of laughter that came up from the bottom of her stomach, but she was unable to.

And then all giddiness was gone, and she remembered the way Beatrice had gripped her legs and her torso as if she was an illusion that would disappear at any moment. She remembered how Beatrice had kissed her as if this was their last night on earth.

She remembered Beatrice’s tongue barreling inside Ava’s mouth, how her body had crashed against the wall and she had moaned because of the embarrassing amount of pleasure the action had caused to her, and because Beatrice had done the same and it had driven her fucking nuts. She wasn’t sex deprived and, in fact, she was pretty active in the field. But none of the people who she had brought home had made her feel like making out with Beatrice did. And if kissing her felt like that, she couldn’t imagine how it would feel to…

Ava got up.

“Stop,” she told herself, feeling the wetness between her thighs. “Don’t think about that yet. It will probably be a long time until...”

It won’t, the devil on her shoulder said. Ava knew the possibility of them sleeping together sooner than later was there in the open, after what had happened in the span of five minutes back in the hallway. And if anyone could read her mind right now, they would be scarred of the amount of wild images that plagued it.

“Oh, man, I’m fucked…”

Ava made her way towards the bedroom, the way the wet sensation seemed to grow by each step she took, the way it rubbed against her clit and she couldn’t help but imagine it was Beatrice’s tongue going up and down, it made the trip from her living to her bedroom almost unbearable.

Ava put the camera carefully upon her chest of drawers, her tote bag falling on the armchair next to it. She got rid of her clothes, feeling the way she was dripping, how it was slowly making its way down her thighs. She needed to do something about this.

She opened the first drawer from her night stand, and she saw the worn out paper envelope hiding underneath her underwear.

“One day, she’ll read you,” Ava promised to the letter she wrote nine years ago. She dug down her drawer, and she finally found what she was searching for. She felt the length of it, wrapping her fingers around the silicone.

It had been there for a while, Ava hadn’t used it because she hadn’t really needed to. But now it was a desperate time, and it needed desperate measures. And, fuck, she missed her not so little friend.

Ava pulled it out, meeting the white and blue vibrator, and she hummed.

“Hello there, old friend.”

She laid down, going up and up the different intensities, and she let her imagination go free until she felt satisfied enough, until her body arched upon the mattress and her fingers almost broke from gripping the sheets with such intensity, until she moaned Beatrice’s name in the darkness and loneliness of her bedroom.

*

Beatrice hadn’t felt this turned on in a while, and the first thing she did when she arrived to her still half empty apartment was to walk from one side of the living room to the other.

Her hands were upon her head, trying to massage her scalp in hopes that maybe her blood fluid would reach her brain because, apparently, her brain had decided to completely stop working and act reckless.

When her adrenaline went down, she realized what she had done. Beatrice had turned her phone on, immediately getting flooded with too many notifications. She’d wanted to text Leighton, tell her the truth, but then she realized it was almost four in the morning and the girl was most likely sleeping, trying to get rid of the still lasting jet lag.

Leigh: Lilith told me you would be out all day and you most likely wouldn’t be able to answer. I hope you’re not too tired and that you get enough sleep. I love you!

When Beatrice read those three last words, she felt her heart falling to the ground and a cold sweat running down her back.

“I’m so fucking cruel,” Beatrice muttered to herself, starting to pace around. “I’m the worst person alive, oh my God. I’m literal scum, I deserve to get hit by a thunderbolt, I deserve to wet my sweater’s sleeve while I’ll wash the dishes, I deserve to step on a dog’s dung while I walk on the street.”

The thing was that, given the chance to repeat what had happened during those five last minutes she’d spent on Ava’s hallway, Beatrice would do it again. She would kiss Ava again, she would slam her body against a wall and she would let the girl bite her lip while she pretty much moaned into her mouth.

She regretted hurting Leighton, she regretted the immediate decision she’d taken after her and Ava tried their very best to stop themselves. But she didn’t regret kissing Ava, not after waiting nine years to do it again, believing it simply was a fool’s hope.

It had been magical, and it woke something inside of Beatrice that had been asleep for a long time (judging by the wetness she was sensing between her legs). But she wouldn’t do anything about it, because then she would truly feel guilty for masturbating while thinking about someone who wasn’t her girlfriend.

“Fuck,” Beatrice muttered.

She sat on the coach, unblocked her phone and searched for Lilith’s number. She knew the girl would most likely be awake, hopefully at home and not getting hammered anywhere or something… worse. She clicked on Lilith’s name contact, and waited.

“What?” she heard Lilith saying cheerfully from the other end of the phone.

“I did something bad,” Beatrice confessed.

“Are you quoting Taylor Swift at… four in the morning?” Lilith asked, confused, and Beatrice groaned.

“I kissed Ava, Lilith! I cheated on Leighton,” Lilith went silent, a couple of long seconds passed.

“Damn, I kind of like Leigh,” Lilith sighed, and Beatrice groaned.

“Lilith!”

“Jesus, calm down tiger!” the other girl said, matching Beatrice’s raised voice. “Acting as if I was the one who kissed someone else…”

“Stop it.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised, though,” Lilith muttered, and Beatrice arched an eyebrow.

“Come again?”

“I mean…” Lilith sighed. “I had a feeling that you coming back to New York, running into Ava, and deciding to meet up could either end with her sending you to the ICU or…”

“Or?”

“Or the both of you jumping one another, and not in the violent way,” Lilith concluded, and Beatrice laid down on her couch. She put an arm upon her eyes, and let out a long sigh. “What will you do?”

“Obviously talk to Leighton. Thankfully Ava has more sense than I do.”

“She had to be the one stopping you? Bea, you whore!” Lilith laughed, and Beatrice wanted to punch someone and then curl up in a ball and cry.

“I should’ve called Michael, at least he has empathy,” Lilith stopped laughing, though Beatrice still could hear the laughter on Lilith’s voice.

“What do you need, little sister?”

“Lunch. You, Michael and I. I need to plan how to break up with Leighton,” Lilith snorted, and Beatrice really wanted to strangle the girl.

“Will you truly organize and carefully plan your break up?”

“It’s been two years, Lilith. I can’t just drive by her hotel and tell her ‘Hey babe, what’s up? I’m fine and, oh by the way, it’s over. Bye!’” Lilith was laughing again, and Beatrice truly wanted to simply open the window and throw herself down.

“Oh, God, you truly have a sense of humor after all,” Lilith said, and Beatrice simply waited for her sister to stop laughing. “Fine, sorry. Lunch it is.”

“This is a mess, Lili. Why did I even bother to come here?” Beatrice said, feeling completely defeated.

“You asked for it, idiot,” she could see Lilith rolling her eyes. “I told you it was most likely a bad idea, especially because the thing that made you make up your mind was an article, Beatrice. Don’t wanna say I told you so, but I told you so.”

“You’re very helpful.”

“You’re very stupid.”

“I know.”

Lilith and Beatrice were silent for a few moments, the events of the whole day replaying over and over again at the back of Beatrice’s mind, the feeling at the bottom of her stomach and between her legs a reminder or what she and Ava almost did.

“Hey, Bea?”

“Yes?”

“I’m happy you’re starting to live again, though. Going out, having a couple of dreams, finally fixing up your mistakes.”

“Your timing couldn’t be worse, Lili.”

“Listen, it will be fine, alright? We’ll make a PowerPoint presentation to explain Leighton the situation, you’ll apologize to her but you’ll also tell her it needs to end because both of you aren’t really happy and then you do… whatever you wish to do. Or should I say whoever you want to do?”

“Thank you, Lilith,” Beatrice said, and Lilith made fun of her for a couple more minutes before they hung up.

Beatrice sprawled upon the couch, suddenly feeling drained. Regardless of everything, of the embarrassing emotional breakdown she just had over the phone, it had probably been the greatest and happiest day of her life.

She looked towards her left, at the black and white photograph of Isabella and her laughing with one another when they were children. And Beatrice couldn’t help but smile, despite of the dread she was feeling and the guilt.

“Oh, how I wish you were here to knock some sense into me.”

When Beatrice opened her eyes again, the sun was shining brightly.

Chapter Text

Beatrice’s leg was going up and down as she waited for Lilith and Michael to show up. Her fingers were interlaced, her forehead supported upon them looking as if she was praying before getting her meal. Honestly, she needed some good praying for her soul.

She hadn’t slept at all that night. First of all, her mind had been plagued with the sporadic make out session Ava and she had in the hallway, and then she wondered what the fuck was wrong with them and how the hell did they go from barely being able to look one another in the eyes to almost having sex in a public space.

And then she thought about Leighton, how she had barely texted her in all day during her little shenanigans around New York with Ava, how she barely texted her at all ever since she got up from bed and got ready to go and get lunch with Lilith and Michael.

Truth was, she needed to vent and having lunch with her siblings seemed like the best option last night. But Beatrice wasn’t hungry at all, there was a knot on the mouth of her stomach which had even given her a struggle when she tried to drown her coffee that same morning.

She heard the bell of the diner she had chosen to meet at ringing, and when she looked up she saw her siblings entering the space. Lilith was glowing as usual, wearing a red dress. When she took her sunglasses, Beatrice realized Lilith’s eyes had some kind of different spark which had been there ever since the launching party. Beatrice was sure it had to do with a certain curly haired girl who was Ava’s best friend, and she wanted to punch herself because she hadn’t even asked her sister if there was something going on between her and Camila, aside from a sporadic one night stand.

Michael, on the other side, looked as if he had gone to war and came back all in the span of twenty-four hours. His usually prettily combed golden hair looked disheveled, there was stubble around his jaw and his eyes were covered with sun glasses, hiding dark circles underneath, contrasting with the paleness of his skin.

The both of them sat down in front of Beatrice, and she looked from Lilith to Michael. She opened her mouth, and Michael raised one hand.

“I need whiskey first,” Michael announced to his sisters, and the both of them arched an eyebrow at the guy. “JC is insatiable I’ve barely slept in four days.”

“Aw, you’re not a virgin anymore?” Lilith asked, putting a hand on Michael’s arm.

“Shut your mouth,” he muttered, snapping his fingers at the waitress before ordering the strongest whiskey they had.

“Have you eaten anything?” Beatrice asked, and Michael shook his head.

“The goal is to black out and finally get some rest,” he explained to the both of them. Both girls nodded, understandingly, and then Beatrice looked at Lilith.

“What about you? You look… happy,” Lilith furrowed her eyebrows, as if the concept of being happy disgusted her.

“Ew,” she said, reading Beatrice’s mind. “I’m just in a good mood, which doesn’t equal to happiness.”

“Camila’s that good huh,” Michael muttered, yawning. Lilith looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m just happy your bottom heart is content!”

“Say that again, little bitch,” Lilith fisted one hand as a threat, and Beatrice raised hers in order to put peace.

“Michael, they flip flop,” both of her siblings looked at her.

“They… what?” her brother asked, and Lilith’s face was slowly going from a scowl to something similar to laughter.

“Flip flop?” Beatrice said again, her voice trembling slightly. “You know when they both…” she did a motion with her hands, raising one and then the other, trying to make them understand.

“What is she doing?” Michael whispered to Lilith, who couldn’t help but snort.

“Damn, your brain really is damaged after making out with Ava,” Lilith said, and Beatrice’s mouth hung open while Michael yelled “What?!”

“Lilith!” Beatrice was the one almost punching Lilith this time, who covered her mouth with both of her hands while Michael looked from one girl to the other.

“Beatrice, explain yourself!” Michael demanded, whisper yelling at her. “Making out with Ava? Are you cheating on my girl Leighton with the girl who broke your heart?”

“I broke her heart, Michael,” Beatrice tried to explain patiently, “and… it was a slip!”

“Oh, yeah, your mouth accidentally fell on Ava’s vagina!” Michael argued, while Lilith’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

“Stop laughing!” both Michael and Beatrice told Lilith, who’s laughter only increased.

“And I didn’t… we just kissed!” Beatrice added, Michael scoffing.

“Oh, yes, that fix it sister,” Lilith, this time, couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

“This is serious, Lili, I’m seriously losing it,” Beatrice told her sister, covering her face with her hands.

“As you should?” Michael said, after sipping from his whiskey. “You literally cheated on your girlfriend of two years with a girl who you haven’t seen in like seven years!”

“I was in love with that girl,” Beatrice tried to defend herself, and then Lilith stopped laughing at once.

“Was?” the taller girl let out a dry chuckle, and Michael nodded his head.

“Stop it,” Beatrice warned them, raising a finger. Both her siblings crossed their arms upon their chests and tilted their heads. Beatrice sighed. “Maybe I still am.”

“Maybe?” Michael asked, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe I’m in love with Ava still, or maybe this is just my brain reliving way too many memories and messing with my emotions,” Beatrice tried to explain, and Lilith hummed.

“Well, at least those therapy sessions are paying off,” Lilith said, and Beatrice looked down in shame.

“I haven’t gone to therapy in a few weeks, I just text with my therapist,” Beatrice was sure either Michael or Lilith would end up punching her, and she would deserve it.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Lilith suggested, making Michael snort before he put on a serious expression. “You went out with Ava yesterday, and ended up almost fucking each other in her apartment’s hallway. How did you both get there?”

“We talked, a lot, about the past,” Beatrice explained, feeling as if she was getting interrogated after being caught in a crime scene. “She said how she’d wanted me to go after her after the argument, I told her how did I actually go after her but was late… she said she wrote me a letter but never gave it to me, I told her how I was in love with her but my parents filled my head with lies.”

“And then ended up making out?” Michael asked, and Beatrice nodded. “I seriously hate gay people.”

“We’ll talk about your self-hatred later,” Lilith said, patting Michael’s arm. “Now, Bea, how did it go there?”

“Well, I think it started at the club when we were already drunk and unable to control ourselves,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. “Or maybe it started when we got dinner? Or… maybe it started when we were on Arq-Tech’s rooftop? No, wait… it was at the park, I’m sure.”

“I think it never really went away,” Michael said, Lilith nodding in agreement.

“The both of you have been in love with one another ever since you were sixteen,” Lilith explained simply, and Beatrice scoffed, crossing her arms upon her chest

“Then why did none of them make a move?” Michael asked, voicing Beatrice’s thoughts. “Why did Beatrice go on with her life without chasing after Ava once she had the chance, or why did Ava not search for Beatrice?”

“Because they’re useless lesbians,” Lilith answered, shrugging her shoulders. “And they were hurt and needed to figure their shit out without finding their ways back to one another. I guess… they needed some alone time for one another.”

“Well, it could’ve been sooner,” Beatrice muttered, playing with the rings around her fingers. “This way I wouldn’t have to hurt Leighton.”

“Oh, yeah, Leigh…” Michael pouted. “What will you do with her?”

“I have to break up with her,” Beatrice said, her siblings nodding in agreement. “I should’ve done that way before, because she’s always deserved way better than me. She’s spent two years of her life dealing with me, and my trauma and insecurity, and now I pay it up to her by cheating on her with the girl I’ve most likely been in love with for the last nine years of my life.”

“Jesus Christ, that was a roller-coaster,” Michael muttered, sipping from his whiskey.

“Beatrice, calm down,” Lilith said, softly, putting both her hands upon Beatrice’s. “After lunch, you have to call Leighton and tell her what happened. And I don’t want to say she’ll be happy about it, nor that she will understand immediately. It will probably be an ugly conversation, but it’s necessary. Remember what we said about keeping things in and pretend they never happened?”

“I do, we said I have to stop doing that and deal with the consequences of my own actions,” Beatrice nodded, and Lilith squeezed her hands. “Whether they’re good consequences, or bad.”

“Yes,” Lilith nodded at her encouragingly. “And I’m not proud of you for doing that to Leighton, but I understand why you did it. We’re not perfect after all.”

“Don’t excuse me cheating on my girlfriend of two years saying I’m imperfect, Lilith,” Beatrice could feel her heart beating hard, her words struggling to come out whole, and Lilith squeezed her hands harder.

“I’m not,” the girl said, Michael looking gently at her. “I’m just saying you’re allowed to make mistakes and mess up, the same way you need to face them straight on and deal with the consequences. Yes?”

“Yes,” Beatrice muttered, looking down. Lilith patted her hands.

“Good,” the taller girl said, smiling at her. “Now, let’s eat.”

*

“God damn, Ava, who hurt you?” Mary asked, struggling to hold the punching bag still at the velocity of Ava’s punches and kicks.

“Myself,” she said, throwing another punch to the sack. Shannon looked at her concerned from outside the fighting ring, one hand resting upon her swollen belly.

“What happened?” Shannon asked, Mary grunting when Ava almost kicked her in the face instead of the sack.

She had signed up to the gym after she started to work with Mary, realizing that boxing was a perfect way to let out her frustrations and anger. She had stopped going to rehabilitation a long time ago, when her legs were as healed as they could get, though she still went to the physiotherapist every once in a while to check them out. Going to the gym and doing self defense, though, were a perfect way to channel her frustration and she didn’t mind if her legs were sore the next morning. As long as they worked and as long as Ava was able to let go of the bad feelings, it would be fine.

“You remember Beatrice?” she asked both girls, who nodded at her. Of course they did, Ava had lost count of how many times she’d talked about the girl when she got drunk. “We almost had sex last night.”

“You what?!” Mary asked, letting go of the punching bag and almost making Ava eat it whole. “Ava Maeve Silva, what the fuck?”

“Isn’t she supposed to be your enemy or something?” Shannon asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Ava sighed, getting down of the ring, Mary following behind.

Ava chugged down some water and wiped away some of the sweat around her neck and chest before she could continue her story.

“Yesterday, we agreed to meet up and talk about the things we left unsaid several years ago,” Ava said, sitting down next to Shannon and letting out a long sigh. “Long story short, we pretty much opened up our hearts.”

“And your legs, apparently,” Mary muttered, Shannon punching her in the arm.

“Continue, Ava.”

“I told her how much I had wanted her to come after me, how I wrote her a letter like the pathetic hopeless romantic I am. Turns out, she was feeling the same as me all along and she actually did come after me,” Ava sighed, and Mary and Shannon had matching expressions of confusion.

“If she felt the same, why did she let you go?” Shannon asked, her wife nodding in agreement.

“Well, first her parents brainwashed her and told her she was a monster when they found her secret journal where she apparently wrote a lot of gay shit about me,” Ava let out a chuckle, kind of finding it amusing the way Beatrice thought she didn’t feel anything for Ava but yet wrote how much she loved her as a friend on her diary. “So she obviously had to make sure to transmit their opinions by calling me all sorts of ugly and disgusting things the night we got back to Saint Melanie’s after spring break.”

“If she felt like that, why did she go after you?” Mary asked, and Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“There was this girl, Leighton, who’s her girlfriend now. Apparently, she had been secretly… shipping Beatrice and me for the two years we spent at Saint Melanie’s. So when she realized something was off, and then she realized Beatrice and I were willing to leave school and pretend the other had never existed, she took matters into her own hands.”

Shannon and Mary had both of their mouths hanging open, eyes wide and brows furrowed, and Ava was sure one hundred million questions were brewing inside their minds, but she continued talking.

“Leighton put some sense into Beatrice’s head, told her what she was unable to see, and I guess Leighton succeeded because Beatrice ended up changing her mind when she was halfway through her way home. Asked her driver to turn around and go to the airport instead.”

“But it was too late,” Shannon said, and Ava nodded.

“Well, shit,” Mary muttered. “That’s something worth of a romantic comedy movie.”

“Comedy?” Ava scoffed, “more like drama.”

“So, you said Beatrice and Leighton are a thing now?” Ava nodded, and her chest hurt.

“I swear to you both I tried very hard to keep my hands to myself, and so did Beatrice. We were doing very well until she dropped me off,” Ava swallowed, putting both of her hands upon her face and groaning. “But… something snapped and…”

“I get it,” Shannon nodded, Mary looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Babe, if you and I broke up right now and found one another again in nine years, I would literally make out with you at the first chance I got.”

“That’s hot,” Mary said, and Ava made a disgusted sound. “Sorry, baby girl. Continue.”

“When both Beatrice and I saw the possibility of where things could end up going last night, I told her she needed to break up with Leighton first and then we… would see. But…” Ava let out another groan of frustration, and Shannon patted her sweaty thigh as if she completely understood what she was going through.

“What will you do now?” Shannon asked, and Ava shrugged.

“Well, first thing I did last night was to dust off my little vibrating friend,” she told them, her cheeks burning.

“Ew, Ava. I really didn’t need to know that,” Mary said, close to throwing up.

“Well, at least she’s getting some,” Shannon muttered, and Mary made an offended sound.

“I don’t wanna hurt the baby, Shan!” Ava raised an eyebrow at the both of them.

“Can we… not?” Ava asked, and Shannon nodded in agreement.

“Well, you kind of started it,” Mary argued.

“You asked?” and before they could start arguing, Shannon put a hand on both of their heads.

“Children, relax,” the older girl asked them both, and Mary and Ava nodded in agreement.

“The thing is,” Ava continued. “I don’t know what will happen now. Beatrice said she would break things off with Leighton, because apparently it’s been long overdue. But also, I’m scared she’ll chicken out again and she’ll run away once more. And I don’t know if I can handle another heart break from her.”

“Lesbians, man,” Mary muttered, shaking her head. “Make out once and they’re already in love and planning their marriage.”

“We literally did that?” Shannon told her wife, who’s eyes widened in horror. Ava couldn’t help but laugh, amused.

“Do you think she’ll run again, Ava?” Mary asked her, more serious this time. She sighed.

“A big part of me thinks she won’t, not after all the things she confessed yesterday,” Ava couldn’t help but feel her heart hurting, memories from a rainy night of spring coming back. “But another part of me, the part that’s still hurting and angry, thinks she will.”

“Whatever happens, Ava,” Shannon said, putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging her sideways. “We’ll always be here.”

“I know, guys,” Ava said, unable to hide a smile. “And that’s the only thing keeping me calm right now, knowing that I’ll never be alone again.”

*

The first thing Beatrice did when she got home after her lunch with her siblings was to call Leighton, encouraged by Lilith and Michael (who actually ended up getting drunk and Lilith had to drag him out of the diner).

Now, she was regretting her choices. She had never really broken up with anyone before, because before Leighton there were sporadic one night stands and Leighton was her actual first serious relationship and Beatrice didn’t know if what had happened with Ava seven years ago could count as a break up.

So she told Leighton they needed to talk, and Leighton had been worried about her and Beatrice lied to her and told her that everything was fine but they just needed to talk. Nothing was fine, her mind was going one hundred miles the second, and her heart was beating too fast and her stomach was doing cartwheels and she was so close to throwing up and fainting.

Beatrice cared a lot for Leighton, and she hated the thought that she would end up hurting her and ruining her relationship with the girl like she did with everything she touched. Leighton loved Beatrice, she had cared for her and had been so understanding with Beatrice. And how did she pay off those two years? By cheating on her, by being unable to keep her hands to herself once her and Ava seemed to overcome whatever differences they had after spending the whole day together.

Beatrice truly didn’t know what she was expecting. She knew that Ava only needed to smile at her and she would be on her knees, ready to offer the Universe to the girl, ready to ask for forgiveness and do penance for the rest of her life only if that meant she could have Ava back in her life.

She had spent seven years of her life after that damned night regretting every single one of her choices. And then she met Lilith and Michael and they pushed her to be the best version of herself, because maybe one day Ava would land back into her life and Beatrice hoped things would get fixed. But also she did it for herself, to be able to forgive herself and understand herself, and she did it for Leighton because the girl had always been so kind and patient and understanding.

And now, she was about to break another person’s heart. Just like she had done that night, just like she had done with every girl she had hooked up with and told them to go away the next morning because she wasn’t searching for anything serious. But then Leighton came back to her life, and she thought that maybe she could do it and she could let go of everything and finally move on.

Only to make the same mistake again, just executed in a different way.

And then the bell of her apartment rang, and Beatrice’s stomach dropped to the floor. She started to hyperventilate, her surroundings filling with white spots.

You can do this, Bea. Come on.

It was Isabella’s voice sounding at the back of her mind, just like it always did whenever she was close to losing her shit. So Beatrice listened to her older sister, nodding once, and making her way towards the door. She opened it too fast, almost unhinging the door, and Leighton’s eyes widened.

“Oh, something’s wrong,” Leighton said, entering the apartment. Beatrice closed the door, supporting her forehead on it for a second before following Leighton. “I mean, I knew it when you called me and you almost cried on the phone, but it’s worse than I thought.”

“Take a seat, please?” Beatrice asked, pointing at the couch. Leighton sat down, green eyes focused on Beatrice’s every move. Beatrice lowered herself on the couch, and looked at the girl.

And she was startled when she saw those green eyes filling with guilt, her cheeks reddening like they always used to do whenever Leighton had something to confess. She saw red spots appearing on the girl’s chest, her fingers playing with one another, and then Leighton bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

“What’s wrong, Leigh?” Beatrice asked, and then Leighton looked at her and the first tear fell down. What the fuck?

“I’m sorry, Bea,” Leighton muttered, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“Sorry for what?”

“I…you must already know what I did, so that’s why you called me and why you look like that.” The girl didn’t even give time to Beatrice to ask what she was talking about. “So… please, let me explain myself.”

“Okay…” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, hands clasped on her lap, while Leighton closed her eyes a breathed deeply.

Leighton sighed and got up from the couch, pacing around. “Okay so, I was in Brazil after giving a show. It was a rest day, so the crew and I decided to go to a club and have some fun, let go of the tour stress and all.”

“Yes?”

“And then,” Leighton put both of her hands at the back of her head. “I don’t know how, but Tatum appeared.”

“Tatum?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, the wheels on her brain almost burning up. “Oh, as in Tatum from your college’s sorority?”

“Yes,” Leighton said, almost clapping at Beatrice being able to remember about the girl. “The both of us got so drunk, Beatrice. The next thing I know is that I woke up in my hotel room, naked… in bed with her.”

“Wait, what the fuck?” Beatrice got up now, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Leighton bit her lip, her face completely red, her cheeks glistening with tears.

“Beatrice, I’m sorry!” Leighton said, making her way towards Beatrice and taking both of her hands. “I know getting drunk isn’t an excuse, and I swear to you I wanted to tell you but you’ve been so busy with the projects and me with the tour and…”

“Leigh…”

“And I really didn’t want to have that conversation over text or videocall, and I’ve been going insane with guilt and I swear I’ve never felt this shitty before, not even when I made out with Shauna from the football team back in Saint Melanie’s and I thought God would punish me!”

“Leigh.”

“And I wish I could say I told Tatum to go away, but I’ve been secretly texting with her ever since then and I’m so confused because I love you but I also love her still and…”

“LEIGHTON!” Beatrice couldn’t help but raise her voice, the only way to stop the girl from her ramblings. And first Leighton looked terrified, but then confused when she saw Beatrice smiling at her. “Stop talking and sit down.”

“You’re not angry?” Leighton asked, sitting next to Beatrice. She sighed.

“Well, I’m kind of upset honestly,” Beatrice admitted, furrowing her eyebrows.

“But?”

“But I can’t be angry,” Beatrice sighed, deciding to rip the band-aid off. “Not when I literally almost had sex with Ava last night.”

“Wait, what?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, to tell you that Ava and I, that we…” Beatrice sighed, and Leighton looked at her with her mouth hanging open.

And then, Leighton snorted and started to laugh. And Beatrice couldn’t help but follow the girl, and they soon were a mess of giggles and snorts and knee-slaps.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Beatrice muttered, wiping her eyes, Leighton agreeing.

“This is probably the worst and best break up of my life,” the blonde girl informed Beatrice, who nodded at her.

“I’m sorry I cheated on you?” Beatrice asked, holding Leighton’s hand.

“And I’m sorry I cheated on you, Bea,” Leighton said, smiling softly at the girl.

“This is not how I was expecting this to end,” Beatrice confessed to her ex-girlfriend, and Leighton nodded.

“Not the kind of tears I expected, honestly,” and then, they were laughing again.

Once they were done, they laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, amused smiles still on their faces but both their brains working over time.

“What will you do, now?” Leighton asked Beatrice, almost whispering, as if whatever action Beatrice would take next was a secret they had to hide from the world.

“I wish I could say I want to take it slow,” Beatrice confessed to Leighton. “But I think that after last night, Ava and I want to do something different than taking it slow.”

“I get it,” Leighton said, putting her hands behind her head. “I mean, if I had been horny for the same girl for over nine years, I would probably run to go have sex with her after getting rid of my girlfriend.”

“Hey!” Beatrice protested, slapping Leighton on her thigh. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not getting rid of you.”

“We’re just doing what we should’ve done a long, long time ago,” Leighton said, and Beatrice nodded. “I’m sorry again, by the way.”

“Don’t be, Leighton. I’m just happy we told each other, even if… it was in this way,” Beatrice snorted again, and Leighton let out a bark of laughter.

“Tatum told me she’ll be in New York soon,” Leighton furrowed her eyebrows, and Beatrice looked at her. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“You said you’ve been talking with her, yes?” Leighton nodded at Beatrice. “So be with her, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want, Bea,” the blonde girl looked at her, and Beatrice arched an eyebrow. “At the launching party I met this friend of Ava’s, Alice.”

“Oh, God.”

“Nothing happened, I swear!” Leighton raised her hands, blushing. “But I talked with her, and we exchanged phone numbers, and… we are supposed to go out for lunch one of these days.”

“Leighton Murray?”

“Yes, Beatrice?”

“You’re a whore.”

And then, the both of them were bending down in laughter once more. And Beatrice had never felt as light as she did in that exact moment, knowing exactly what she needed to do.

But first, she would give Ava some space and she would give herself some time to figure out the best way to declare her intentions which, she was sure, would be matched by Ava Silva.

*

All Ava got from Beatrice for the rest of the week was total and utter silence, but she didn’t want to pry nor bother because she knew the girl was extremely busy with the new projects at Arq-Tech and everything, and Ava was also busy on her own with trying to convince Suzanne to get a book deal so she could write about Jillian and her life.

“You got information from Beatrice?” Suzanne asked from the other side of her desk. Ava blushed, remembering what she got from Beatrice, how the burning sensation inside her body lasted for a good three days every time she closed her eyes and remembered.

“Going out with her wasn’t a job thing,” Ava told Suzanne, waving a hand and hoping her boss wouldn’t notice her burning cheeks. “But she agrees with me, she thinks Jillian’s life deserves a book.”

“We broke our contract with our book publishers, Ava,” Suzanne sighed, telling her the same thing she already repeated twice before. “We don’t want to be tainted with corruption and all.”

“And I’m telling you, Beatrice’s knows a dude who has a publishing company in need of some good promotion!” Ava said once more. “Jillian is literally known worldwide, and if both companies collaborated on this… it could be great for us.”

“We don’t need the greatness, Ava.”

“Funny, because our sells have lowered over the year ever since we got associated with that dude’s company,” Suzanne choked on her coffee, and Ava raised an eyebrow. “Also, I thought you and Jillian kind of fixed it up?”

“Do I ask you about whatever’s going on between you and Beatrice?” the woman fired back at Ava. “Every time you’ve mentioned her in the last thirty minutes, you blush. Every time I ask about how did your Saturday thing go with her, you blush. But do I mingle in your business?”

“Come on, Mama Supes,” Ava sighed, the woman pursing her lips. “This is not… personal life related. I just think it’s a great opportunity, for us to go back to our prime and for Jillian to let the world know how amazing she is.”

“Amazing?” Suzanne muttered, and Ava raised an eyebrow.

“Stop that, Suzie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I will stop if you let me write a book instead of putting out a three pages long article about Jillian.”

Suzanne looked at Ava for several seconds, and Ava held her breath. Finally, her boss groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Fine,” Suzanne said. “You contact that friend of Beatrice’s, we’ll arrange a meeting and discuss the terms. Also, you’ll call Jillian and tell her the interview turns into a book with her permission. And, you’ll have to be the one writing it.” Ava nodded slowly, a wide grin appearing on her lips.

“Will I have to keep writing articles on random and stupid guys no one cares about, though?” Ava asked, crossing her fingers and hoping the puppy eyes would work on Suzanne.

“Yes, you will. No one writes stupid articles like you do, Ava,” the younger girl gasped, and Suzanne smirked at her.

“You’re so rude when you want to, Suzie.”

“Get out of my office.”

Ava pretty much left Suzanne’s office doing little jumps of happiness, the only thing she needed was a tail so she could wiggle it like an excited puppy. She made her way towards her desk, where Mary and Kit were talking with one another, and she put an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Lady and beautiful human,” Ava said, getting the attention of both her friends. “Habemus librum.”

Kit furrowed their eyebrows, looking at Mary. “What did she say?”

“I have no fucking clue, dude,” Ava rolled her eyes, sitting down on her chair and spinning it around.

“We have a book deal,” Ava explained to them, wiggling her eyebrows. At her friends’ confusion, she groaned. “About Jillian, Suzanne finally agreed.”

“Oh!” both Kit and Mary said, nodding.

“It only took like… three centuries to make her agree,” Kit nodded at Ava, and the shorter girl rolled her eyes.

“Anyways,” Ava said, “Beatrice gave me the contact of this dude who owns a book publishing company. I searched some information about him, apparently he’s brand new into the market and needs a big deal to get known. Since this magazine is one of the best known in North America and Jillian is literally the queen of science, I thought we could give him a hand. Since our magazine also needs help, though Suzanne won’t admit it.”

“Did she put you in charge or something?” Mary asked, crossing her muscled arms upon her chest. Ava nodded.

“She gave me the permission to do all of this as long as I took matters into my own hands,” Ava searched for Nico Murray’s contact on her phone, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration. “Suzanne really wants nothing to do with Jillian, unless it involves eating the woman out.”

“Please, go outside to call that man,” Mary said, pointing at the exit door, Kit’s mouth hanging wide open. “You’ve been extra horny since Saturday night.”

“And you know why, so don’t remind me,” Ava said, getting up. Kit’s eyes widened.

“Why are you extra horny?” Kit asked, grabbing Ava’s arm. Again, she blushed.

“She got cock blocked by her own morals,” Mary explained to Kit, shaking her head.

“You shut the fuck up,” Ava said, pointing at Mary. “And you, stop asking questions.”

“Oh, we’re so talking about that when you get back, young lady!” Kit told Ava as she made her way out.

“I’m older than you, dumb fuck!”

Ava had a smile upon her face, for no apparent reason, as she made her way downstairs and into the street so she could call Nico Murray peacefully. While she was making her way towards the entrance door, eyes focused on her phone screen and still searching for the guy’s phone number, she bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Ava said, looking to see who she had almost fallen upon. Her body froze when she saw who was standing in front of her, balancing herself so she wouldn’t fall. “Leighton.”

“Oh, hey Ava!” Leighton smiled at her, green eyes sparkling. Ava felt like the worst person on earth. “I forgot you worked here!”

“What are you doing here?” Ava asked, and Leighton furrowed her eyebrows. “I mean, sorry. Yes, I work here.”

“Are you okay?” Leighton asked, her beautiful face filled with worry. Ava wanted to punch something, maybe herself.

“Actually, I was about to call your brother,” Ava waved her phone in front of Leighton’s face, almost throwing it away with the amount of anxiety she was feeling.

“My brother? What for?”

“A book deal of sorts,” Ava explained, and Leighton opened her mouth.

“Oh, yeah, Beatrice told me something about that actually!” at the mention of Beatrice, Ava let out a choking sound and she could feel her cheeks close to melting.

“Oh,” was all Ava could say, and Leighton looked at her with concern once again. The girl was about to say something, but Ava opened her mouth first. “So, what brings you here?”

“Actually, I came to visit Alicia. We’ll go out for lunch,” Leighton explained, and Ava arched an eyebrow at the way the girl looked shyly to the floor.

“Alicia?” Ava repeated, and Leighton nodded. “You’re friends or something?”

“Yeah, well… something,” Leighton put a strand of hair behind her ear, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows to a point she was scared they would get stuck in that position.

“Right…” Ava muttered, and then shook her head. “Anyways, I have to go call your brother. It was nice seeing you, and tell Beatrice I said hi!”

Ava hated the way her voice rose into an almost squeak at that last part of her sentence, and she turned around in order to fly away and hope Leighton wouldn’t question her about why she was suddenly acting so weird. But Leighton was faster than lightning, and she put a gentle hand around Ava’s wrist.

Oh, fuck, no.

“Hey, Ava?” Leighton said, and Ava turned around slowly. Leighton had a kind smile on her face, her green eyes looking at her amused. “I know.”

“You know what?” Ava felt her heart hammering, fearing she would end up puking her stomach.

“About Saturday, in the hallway and all,” Leighton chuckled. “Contrary to popular belief, Beatrice is kind of good at communicating. It took her a while, though.”

“Wait, you know we almost…” Leighton nodded, humming.

“It’s over, Ava. We broke things off on Sunday,” Ava couldn’t believe what her ears were hearing, the way Leighton waved a hand dismissively as if she and Beatrice hadn’t been together for two fucking years.

Ava first felt shock, because she knew Beatrice wanted to end things for a while but Ava was pretty sure the girl had chickened out at the prospect of telling Leighton it was over, and Ava had been sure Beatrice would’ve spent at least two weeks torturing herself and avoiding confrontation before telling Leighton the truth.

Then, once the shock was gone and Ava realized Beatrice had actually not wasted time on telling Leighton the truth, she started to feel guilt. Because the cataclysm between Beatrice staying with Leighton and Beatrice entering her single lady era had been Ava, kissing Beatrice in the hallway as if the taller girl was simply hours away from getting drafted into the army.

Ava had literally broken a two years relationship, and she probably had caused a couple’s argument and she started to imagine Leighton crying and being heartbroken and Beatrice regretting all of her life choices, and maybe that was why Beatrice hadn’t texted her at all because she regretted what happened on Saturday, all of it, and now she’d been forced to being put in a position where someone ended up getting hurt only because Ava hadn’t been able to keep her hands to herself.

And then it all came back to her, slowly. Two seventeen years old girls running round a field when it started to pour out of nowhere, finding shelter in an abandoned farmhouse with a chest full of alcohol. Getting drunk for the very first time, confessing their deepest secrets, and kissing each other for the first time before everything went to hell.

Ava promised herself she wouldn’t let it happen again. Ava promised herself she wouldn’t let Beatrice Armstrong-Young abandon her again, nor break her heart again. And Beatrice promised she wouldn’t go away for a second time, that she would go back to her, that she wouldn’t be late again.

Yet here she was, in her work place, Leighton Murray taking her hand and looking at her with pity like she surely had done several years ago. Leighton Murray being in the middle of the turmoil again, not intentionally, maybe trying to be the one to put some sense into Ava this time like she did with Beatrice all those years ago.

But Ava wouldn’t be so easily convinced like Beatrice had been that day, when she ended up going after Ava only for her to be long gone. After Beatrice waited seven years to find Ava back, knowing very well she was in New York, Beatrice had never hopped into a plane, trying to find Ava.

Maybe she wasn’t that much in love with me, Ava thought. Maybe she hadn’t been enough for Beatrice to wait for the next plane that would fly to New York, maybe she hadn’t been worthy enough for Beatrice who never made a move to go and get the girl back. Maybe Beatrice had simply been too intoxicated on Saturday, exaggerating what she’d felt all those years ago.

“Ava?” Leighton asked, looking at her with worry. Ava blinked a few times, her mind still running wild.

“I’m sorry, Leighton. I’m sorry you got hurt because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself nor I couldn’t control myself,” Ava said, taking a few steps back. She hated the way her voice shook slightly, the way her hands were twitching or her stomach dropped the same way it did all those years ago, the first time she got rejected by Beatrice.

“Ava, wait,” Leighton said, trying to get closer to Ava, but the girl with the brown eyes started to walk and never stopped.

And she walked, and walked, and walked, until her legs were numb and her chest was raising and falling at a rapid pace. And, once again, Ava started to regret every single one of the actions she had taken, and she started to regret kissing Beatrice once again.

*

“We’ll start construction in around two weeks,” Duretti told Jillian, who nodded in agreement while she finished reading the last few lines of the contract they got.

“Any luck finding a new lawyer?” the blonde woman asked, and Duretti groaned.

“Adriel was the worst, but damn was he good,” Duretti took a sip of his coffee, and Lilith hummed.

“I know this girl, Reya Álvarez, she’s a pretty good one,” Lilith told the man, taking her phone out. “I’ll send you her contact.”

“Michael,” Jillian said, snapping the boy back into reality. “How are the plans going?”

“Almost finished, I believe they’ll be done either tomorrow or the next,” the blue eyed guy informed them, and Duretti nodded.

“Send them right away once they’re ready, so we can go over them and make sure everything’s in order,” Duretti then landed his eyes on Beatrice, who had pretty much just been sitting there and playing with the mug in her hand.

She hadn’t heard about Ava in a few days, and she was too scared to text her and ask her if they could meet up because she didn’t want to look way too overbearing or she didn’t want to bother the girl after what happened between them.

Beatrice was happy things with Leighton had gone the way they did, how the both of them had actually and unexpectedly been in the same place, and how they had just laughed it off. Maybe some people would put their hands on their heads if Beatrice and Leighton told them why they had broken up, and how did it go. Maybe it hadn’t been the best thing to do, not when they were supposed to be in a committed relationship, but Beatrice wasn’t surprised at all Leighton had searched for what Beatrice was unable to give her in someone else. Maybe Beatrice would have done the same if their roles had been reversed. And after two years of barely getting anything in return, now Leighton apparently had two ladies disposed to give their all for the blonde girl.

She felt Lilith and Michael nudging both of her arms at once, and she blinked rapidly and looked at Duretti and Jillian, who were wearing confused matching expressions.

“Beatrice,” Duretti said. “Everything fine?”

“Yes, forgive me. Just tired.”

“Sure…” Lilith muttered, Michael snorting under his breath.

“My team finished designing the water supply system,” Beatrice cleared her throat, giving the documents to Duretti. “We’ll reuse the water from said system to water the garden we’re planning to grow, using a sustainable debugging system. As we already said it before, we got the license to build in the ground Jillian bought a couple of months ago and they’ve given us the green light to construct a green space that will be used to give shelter for people with difficult living situations.”

“Mhm,” Duretti nodded, revising what was written on the document. “What about the materials?”

“We’ve decided to go with recycled wood materials, as it’s explained on the fifth page,” Beatrice told him. “We’ll build around fifty cabins, all of them fed with solar panel systems and hydraulic energy.”

“I like it,” Duretti nodded. “I like it very much.”

They continued discussing about their project, Beatrice pretty much zoning out from whatever was being said for most of the time and hoping that either Lilith or Michael would fill her in later on.

She had been debating whether or not five days were enough to give Ava space, if she should call her or text her or if she should wait a little bit longer. She hadn’t really waited much with Leighton, things fell into place pretty fast, so maybe that’s why they ended up having a loveless relationship or, well, not as much of a romantic relationship as both of them had hoped for.

Maybe the key was giving the other space, let things flow slowly. It wasn’t like Beatrice wasn’t planning on immediately dating Ava, no. She simply wanted to let the girl feel comfortable enough, dealing with whatever dormant force they woke up on Saturday without having to be drunk to acknowledge it or act on their desires.

Beatrice nodded to herself. Once the meeting would be over, she would call Ava to talk things out. She would tell her the situation with Leighton, how she hadn’t texted her in order to give each other space before anything else happened, and how she was dying to see her again and, maybe, kiss her again.

Then a soft smile appeared on her lips, and she felt her cheeks heating slightly when she remembered the way their lips had clashed so desperately, trying to let each other know what had gone through their minds in the seven years they hadn’t been together. But a kiss hadn’t been enough to express how they’d felt, so more kisses had been needed and not even then it had been enough.

Beatrice shook her head, clearing her throat, trying to focus on the important meeting at hand. The meeting that would let them finally start with their biggest project yet, the one they were hoping to bring to England and Spain in a few months. But her mind was filled with Ava, and Ava, and Ava. Ava kissing her, Ava looking at her, maybe Ava laying naked on Beatrice’s bed one day, repeating her name breathlessly in the middle of the night. Ava moaning into her mouth, a promise of what would come if Beatrice played her cards right and didn’t fuck it up.

She felt a hand on her thigh, fingers squeezing it, and Beatrice almost let out a yelp. She looked next to her, and saw Lilith was trying to stop the way her leg was going up and down so rapidly it made the whole desk shake. Michael was looking at Duretti and Jillian, nodding his head and a serious expression in his eyes, while he was trying so hard not to laugh. Lilith, on the other hand, was looking five seconds away from yelling at Beatrice to stop being horny and go get Ava.

Beatrice was about to apologize to her sister, but then she felt her phone vibrating on her pants pocket (just what she needed). She took it out, hoping that it would be the girl of her dreams giving her an excuse to get out of there and go see her. But, instead, she saw a text from Leighton. In all caps.

Leigh: I THINK I FUCKED UP. CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU CAN.

Beatrice loved Leighton, she truly did. Maybe not as she should’ve loved her when they were together, but as some sort of best friend. The girl had been next to her for two years, watching her do slow progress, and she couldn’t help but feel so much appreciation and fondness. So Beatrice’s heart skipped a beat at the urgency in the message.

“Excuse me a second,” Beatrice said, getting up and leaving the room.

She clicked on Leighton’s number, and waited.

“Beatrice!” Leighton said, picking up the phone on the second ring.

“What’s wrong, Leigh?” Beatrice asked, worry in her voice.

“I think I messed up,” Leighton sighed, her voice coming out in a rush. “I went to LateNews Magazine, because Alicia and I are supposed to have a lunch date. Then, long story short, I talked with Ava and told her what happened between us. The thing is, she started to hyperventilate and panic and pretty much ran away.”

“What?” Leighton groaned, and Beatrice couldn’t help but feel her stomach dropping.

“I should’ve said you were going to talk with her, because the way I worded it I’m afraid I made it look like you panicked again. I don’t know what’s going through her mind, Beatrice. I ran after her but she was long gone,” Beatrice couldn’t help but curse under her breath, Leighton agreeing.

“Did you see where did she go?” Beatrice asked, feeling her stomach knotting. Not this again, please.

“Wait here,” Leighton said, and the line went dead for a couple minutes which felt like ten years. “Okay, Kit told me Ava texted them and told them she was going home because she’s not feeling well.”

“Shit,” Beatrice started to pace on the hallway, getting weird and concerned looks from her co-workers. “Leighton, what do I do?”

“What the fuck you mean?” Leighton asked her, letting out a dry chuckle. “Beatrice, you know what to do. Why didn’t you tell her right after that we were broken up?”

“It felt insensitive and disrespectful towards you!” Beatrice tried hard not to raise her voice in desperation. “I mean, how would you feel if five minutes after breaking up with you I was already texting someone else?”

“Have you forgotten what I did?” the other girl asked, and Beatrice groaned. “You want to know where I spent the night the other day, after breaking up?”

“As in a ‘depressive I need comfort way because my two years long relationship just ended’, or…?” Leighton, this time, let out a loud laugh.

“As in a ‘I can finally have sex with two beautiful women without feeling guilt’ way,” Beatrice gasped, in outrage.

“Leighton! What the hell?” the other girl laughed once more, Beatrice smiling while she was standing alone in the hallway.

“I’m kidding, Bea. I went home and had a zoom call with my manager to start planning out the next studio sessions,” Leighton explained, and then cleared her throat. “But this is not about me.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Beatrice confessed, almost sitting down on the floor. “I haven’t texted her in almost a week because I wanted to give her space, not be overbearing, but I think that was the worst idea ever.”

“You’ve had plenty of bad ideas, honestly,” Leighton muttered, and Beatrice scoffed. “But you can fix it.”

“How? Ava thinks I hate her, again!”

“Okay, the both of you are so fucking dramatic I’m so glad I’ll be back in London in a week or so,” Leighton sighed, and then Beatrice heard her walking, going outside. “You do what you didn’t do seven years ago.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Beatrice asked, supporting her body against the wall and closing her eyes, looking up.

“Not letting her go, dumbass,” Leighton explained to her, and Beatrice could sense the girl smiling fondly. “You didn’t get into the next flight towards New York seven years ago because you were paralyzed with fear, but not anymore. Now, you don’t let the plane fly away. You go wherever she lives at, talk to her and then figure it all out from there.”

“What if she doesn’t want me in her life anymore, Leigh? What if it was all a mistake? What if she was simply too drunk and wanted to have some fun?” Beatrice almost whispered, and she heard Leighton going silent.

“Do you really think that after the way she ran away from me because she couldn’t bear the thought of not having you again?” Beatrice let out a sigh, and Leighton waited for her.

“Should I go now, or should I finish the meeting?” Leighton chuckled, and Beatrice bit her lip.

“Finish whatever you have going on because we don’t want you to get fired. And then go get the girl.”

*

Beatrice A-Y: Are you home?

Ava Silva: yea, why?

Beatrice A-Y: Leighton told me what happened.

Beatrice A-Y: Ava I can explain it to you, please give me the chance.

Ava Silva: okay

Beatrice A-Y: Good. Stay where you are. I’m on my way.

*

Beatrice was sure she had committed several traffic violations while she was on her way to Ava’s apartment building, but she didn’t care. She would pay them all, but she needed to go to Ava as fast as she could to let the girl know why she’d been silent and why she’d done what she did after finishing things off with Leighton.

She found a parking spot, parked her Bentley in the worst way anyone could, and made a beeline towards the building. Beatrice entered the elevator, and went up and up and up until she reached Ava’s hallway. When she came out of the elevator, she took a deep breath and made her way towards the last door.

Her hand hovered upon the bell, and suddenly she started to question her life choices all over again. What am I doing here? Why do I even bother to be a nuisance in Ava’s life? Why didn’t I do this seven years ago? Why am I always late?

But then Leighton’s words echoed inside her mind in the tone of Isabella’s voice, go get the girl, and Beatrice nodded to herself. She didn’t know what would happen, if the way Saturday ended would repeat itself, or if they would simply have a five minute conversation and decide to meet up another day, when things would be calmer.

Whatever the Universe had prepared for them, whether it was good or bad, Beatrice would take it like the big girl she was. Whether today would be the day where Ava and Beatrice decided to part ways forever, maybe Ava realizing Saturday night had been a mistake, or whether today would be the day where things would go the way they were supposed to go seven years ago, Beatrice would take it.

So she rung the bell, and waited. She closed her eyes, tilted her head, and breathed in and out several times. When nothing happened, she was about to ring again but then she heard rushed steps and a thud. Then she heard groans and a curse word, and finally the door opened.

And Beatrice’s heart broke at the sight.

Ava was wearing an oversized NYU gray sweater, her hair was up in a messy bun and her eyes looked red and puffy as if she had been crying. Her hand was stroking her elbow, and Beatrice could already see a bruise forming on the girl’s left knee.

But what made her almost kneel and ask for Ava’s forgiveness, for all the things she had done and said seven years ago, was the way she looked exactly the way she did that night. The way she looked at Beatrice with unbearable amounts of pain in her big, brown eyes, because Beatrice had done something that had been enough to break that precious heart Ava had. But she wouldn’t do it again.

“Bea…trice,” Ava said, unsure if they were on nickname terms or not.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, almost barreling into the girl’s apartment and holding her tight between her arms, just like she should’ve done seven years ago. But she didn’t move, she stayed on the other side of the door, the space between her and Ava feeling as if they were separated by an ocean.

“I will not go through it again,” Ava said, her eyes focused on Beatrice’s, her voice strong and unwavering even if it came out husky because of the crying Ava had most likely done. “If you run away again, I will not chase you. And I won’t let you break me, not again. I’ve gone through hell and back for seven years, doubting myself at everything I felt because of something you said. And I will not let you hold that kind of power over me again, Beatrice. I might’ve spent two hours crying, but that’s all I’ll do about this. I refuse to let you have that impact upon me again.”

“Ava,” Beatrice didn’t know what to say, or what to do.

All the things her therapist had taught her about communicating with others, about expressing herself without any fear, they went away. Because it hurt like hell, the way she had scarred Ava so deep the girl immediately thought Beatrice would leave again. Because she’d been stupid, and she should’ve gone after Ava right after she talked with Leighton. Fuck, even Leighton told her she should’ve done that.

Beatrice should’ve gone get the girl, not one week ago but seven years ago. She should’ve chased her to the ends of the world, and tell Ava she was hers, Beatrice’s heart and soul and all of her was the property of Ava Maeve Silva. And it had been like that ever since the first day they met, ever since Beatrice took care of Ava, ever since they shared a bed because Ava had nightmares and needed someone next to her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone and unloved. And Beatrice didn’t know how to do that before, when she was as broken as Ava felt, when she was as lonely and insecure and tormented.

So Beatrice did what she should’ve done seven years ago, and she took Ava’s face between both of her hands.

“I told you I wouldn’t go away,” Beatrice said, bringing both of their faces closer. “And I intend on keeping my promises.”

And then, she looked down to Ava’s lips and up back again to Ava’s eyes, asking for permission. And the girl nodded, subtly, seemingly convinced by Beatrice. And the last thing Beatrice saw before connecting their mouths was the way Ava’s shoulders shagged in relief.

*

Ava’s afternoon had been a rollercoaster of emotions. First she got the deal she had been chasing for almost two weeks, then she bumped into Leighton and got informed that her and Beatrice weren’t a thing anymore, and then Ava had started to hyperventilate at the prospect of Beatrice being silent because she was ready to run away from her once again.

And then Ava acted in the same way as Donna Sheridan did when she saw Sam, Bill and Harry occupying the goat’s stable in her villa, unannounced. Ava ran, unable to stop the tears from falling, until she reached her apartment and fell onto the bed, crying for God knows why. The only thing missing were JC and Camila showing up and singing Chiquitita to her.

The prospect of losing Beatrice again, after the progress they were able to do on Saturday, it hurt way too much than she would like to admit. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let Beatrice have the effect she had on her before, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let her heart break if Beatrice didn’t want her as much as Ava wanted Beatrice. And yet, when Leighton said they had been broken up since Sunday and all Ava had gotten from Beatrice was radio silence, the memories and the pain came flooding back.

But then, Beatrice texted her unexpectedly and urgently. And then, Beatrice had pretty much run towards her in order to give her an explanation. And all Ava could think about when she saw Beatrice bracing herself on both sides of the door, breathing rapidly, and panting her name (needless to say, Ava’s mind had gone places), Ava only had one thought: she came for me.

And Beatrice had been at a loss of words after Ava’s speech, which Ava knew was pretty much her lying to herself and trying to get ready for the impact that would pretty much break her again. And after all the turmoil of emotions she had gone through in the span of two hours, now Beatrice was there kissing her as if her life depended on it. And Ava kissed her back, and buried her hands in Beatrice’s hair, and their tongues clashed until they were numb.

“You have some explaining to do,” Ava said, breathlessly, while Beatrice attacked her neck.

“Later,” the girl muttered, and Ava bit her lip at the huskiness of Beatrice’s voice, at the way her hands squeezed her torso while her foot kicked the door closed.

“Fine,” Ava agreed, not wanting to waste any more time.

She took Beatrice’s face between her hands, and kissed her back. She felt Beatrice’s hands circling her torso, their kiss deepening to the point they were unable to control their smiles. Finally, Ava thought.

“I’m sorry, though,” Beatrice said again, chest falling and raising fast, lips swollen. “For not saying anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you broke up with Leighton?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Beatrice sighed.

“I didn’t want to be overbearing, I thought you needed space, I…” Beatrice closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I don’t even know, Ava. I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t know what to do or how to act.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, Bea,” Ava said, pecking the girl’s lips. “You’re doing great.”

“Am I?” Beatrice arched an eyebrow, and Ava smiled before they kissed again.

And they stood there, in the middle of Ava’s living room, kissing each other and giggling and smiling as if they were seventeen years old again, as if the way their first kiss unfolded never happened and this was the actual first one, as if the last seven years had simply been a figment of their imaginations and they woke up from a nightmare, back in their Saint Melanie’s dorm, where they could do this in secret away from the judging eyes of the nuns and God, being finally free when they would turn eighteen to love one another with no limits, with no fears, with no more secrets.

Beatrice’s hands travelled from Ava’s torso to her hips, burying themselves underneath her oversized sweater. And Ava couldn’t help but whimper at the way Beatrice’s hands felt on her skin, the way it chilled her but also made her feel as if she was burning up. And at the sound that left her mouth, Beatrice looked at her with concern.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“Anything you’ll do to me will be okay, Beatrice,” Ava said, trying to connect their mouths again.

“Ava, wait,” the girl said, letting out a shaky breath. “Whenever you want me to stop, tell me.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop, Bea?” Ava asked, and then insecurity filled her once more. “Wait, do you want to stop?”

Beatrice shook her head, and Ava nodded.

“Good. Where were we?” but Beatrice didn’t move, and Ava almost groaned in frustration.

“Are you sure?”

To show Beatrice how sure Ava was, she kissed her once again on her lips, and then her jaw, and then her neck. And she felt Beatrice gulping, her hands squeezing Ava’s naked waist, and oh how she hoped Beatrice’s fingerprints would stay there for the rest of her life.

“Take my clothes off,” Ava whispered on Beatrice’s ear, and the girl inhaled sharply.

But Beatrice didn’t question Ava, and her hands left her waist momentarily to take Ava’s sweater off, slowly, every second feeling like one thousand different kinds of torture.

Finally, Ava’s NYU sweater fell onto the floor, and her nipples hardened at the cool air and the way Beatrice was looking at her as if she was some kind of wonder, her brown eyes roaming from her collarbones to her breasts to her toned stomach, biting her lip and breathing rapidly.

“You’re so beautiful, Ava,” Beatrice whispered, putting both of her hands upon Ava’s waist.

And Ava could tell Beatrice wanted to taste her in more ways than kissing her lips, she could tell Beatrice was dying to kiss her breasts and play with her nipples, and Ava had never felt so powerful before. Because no one had ever looked at her with so much desire, enough to make the space between her legs go wet with her own desire.

“Do it,” Ava whispered, and Beatrice looked at her. “I know you want it.”

“Ava…”

“Do it, Beatrice,” Ava kissed the girl, caressing her lower lip with her tongue. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

“Will you show me, though?” Beatrice asked, her voice firmer, her hands stronger and more secure. And Ava almost fell on her knees.

Before she could say anything, Beatrice bended her head down and her soft lips started to kiss Ava’s sternum, making their way slowly towards her breasts. And Ava readied herself, for the battle that was about to begin, for Beatrice’s first threat to the future war they would fight.

And soon, the girl’s warm tongue circled Ava’s left nipple slowly, carefully, expertly. And Ava would’ve been very, very embarrassed of the sound that came out from her mouth if she had looked at herself from the past. The way one of her hands grabbed Beatrice’s hair, the other one finding her other breast and squeezing it.

Beatrice’s hands travelled from her hips to her back, bringing her body closer to her mouth. And her tongue caressed her nipple, not harshly but also not softly. And she finished sucking it, before landing on Ava’s other nipple and doing the same while one of Beatrice’s hands went up to Ava’s hair, and undid her bun. And Ava had never, ever, felt such bliss before.

“I need to see you, Beatrice,” Ava whispered, when Beatrice was done with her little game. “Please.”

“You’re begging already?” the girl furrowed her eyebrows, playfulness and mischief on her eyes. “I was hoping you would last a little longer.”

“I don’t think I can’t last much longer, honestly,” Beatrice hummed, and Ava could still feel the warmth of the girl’s tongue upon her nipples, her core throbbing in anticipation and need.

“Beatrice…”

“Take me to your bed, Ava.”

And so Ava did, taking Beatrice’s hand and almost running to her bedroom. Once she entered it, she turned around and kissed Beatrice again, unable to stay away from those lips for more than a few seconds.

The girl took her in her arms, Ava’s legs circling around Beatrice’s waist while the taller girl’s hands sat firm on her backside, and Beatrice walked the few paces separating them from Ava’s bed before almost throwing the smaller girl into it.

Beatrice hovered upon Ava, still fully clothed, her long hair falling around their faces as if it was a curtain. And the way Beatrice looked at her, with those big brown eyes filled with lust and adoration and relief almost undid Ava right then and there. The way Beatrice’s cheeks were flushed in shyness, as if she hadn’t been devouring Ava’s breasts a few moments ago, the way her freckles looked like constellations or the way her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“Hey,” Beatrice whispered, and Ava snorted.

“Hello there,” she said to her, and Beatrice smiled.

“Did you ever think we would end up here when we bumped into each other two weeks ago?” Beatrice asked her, and Ava wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up and fuck her already.

“After all we did to one another?” Ava shook her head. “No.”

“Do you want to continue?” Beatrice asked her, and Ava could melt right there and then at the softness of Beatrice’s voice, the doubt in her eyes, the way she left space for consideration and gentleness even if there were teeth marks all over Ava’s breasts.

“Yes, Beatrice. I want to continue,” the taller girl kissed the tip of her nose, and Ava giggled. How the hell did we end up here, she wondered, when Beatrice separated her body from hers and stood up. I’m not complaining, though.

Ava supported her body on her arms, biting her lip and looking at Beatrice. The taller girl was standing at the end of the bed, and Ava tilted her head to one side when she saw Beatrice’s eyes flicker between Ava’s legs, surely noticing the way her body was reacting to Beatrice. And Beatrice, being the little shit that she was, had the audacity to smirk. And Ava almost moaned.

“Excited, Silva?” the girl asked, arching her eyebrows.

“What are you doing,” Ava asked, and Beatrice hummed.

“Balancing the situation,” the taller girl explained, and Ava was suddenly confused.

“Balancing the situation?” Beatrice nodded, not saying anything else.

The girl brought her hands to the collar of her white shirt, and started to unbutton it slowly. And Ava thought she would see some muscle aside from the girl’s biceps, on full display with the short sleeved silk shirt she was wearing. But underneath there was a tank top, and honestly Ava almost fainted at the sight anyway. The golden cross necklace had no business looking that hot, and Beatrice had honestly no business looking that beautiful wearing a simple white tank top.

The taller girl got rid of her shirt, letting in fall slowly from her hands, and Ava gulped. Then, Beatrice’s hands travelled to the rim of her tank top, and she pulled it up slowly. Ava was close to foaming at this point, Beatrice’s soft abdominals making her feel things she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

“Can you like,” Ava said, swallowing hard, pressing her legs together, “hurry up?”

“Why?” Beatrice asked, innocently. “We’ve waited seven years for this, Ava. Do you really want it to be over this quick?”

“Fuck me,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice smirked at her.

“That’s the intention,” Beatrice said, while she unbuttoned her black jeans and lowered them slowly, moving her hips to one side and the other and making Ava feel as if she was getting burned alive.

Beatrice was undressed in front of her, her chest still covered, and she was making her way towards Ava when the shorter girl raised a hand, stopping her. Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

“The conditions are not equal yet,” she said, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. Then, the girl looked down at her chest and made a small oh sound.

Beatrice brought her hands to the back of her bra, taking her time to unclasp it and take it off, and Ava couldn’t help but feel her mouth hanging open when she finally got to see Beatrice’s chest on full display for the very first time in her life and, hopefully, not the last.

There were so many words to describe Beatrice’s body. The soft curves, the defined arms, her bigger chest compared to Ava’s, the dark nipples crowning her sun kissed breasts. The thighs, the calves, the toes. Gorgeous, Ava thought, Beatrice’s body is so fucking gorgeous.

“Come here,” Ava said, and Beatrice did. The girl crawled upon the bed, and she knelt in front of Ava’s body which she was still supporting on both her arms. “Wow.”

“What?”

“You,” Ava was unable to look away from Beatrice’s breasts. “You’re… wow.”

“Okay, Ava,” Beatrice laughed, but Ava could feel the girl was starting to feel insecure by the way she swallowed, or the way her hands were twitching on her lap.

“Hey…” Ava sat up, Beatrice still kneeling between her legs. The girl looked at her, and Ava caressed her hands. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” but Ava could tell Beatrice didn’t believe her, and Ava’s chest hurt.

The girl had spent more than half of her life being told she wasn’t enough, that she was a freak and an abomination. That she was stupid for having a stutter, that she was unwanted because she hadn’t been born a boy and therefore her family’s line wouldn’t continue. And the only person before Ava who had made Beatrice feel good about herself, who had made her feel worthy, was long gone. And no matter how hard Beatrice had worked on herself the last few years, those remnants of self doubt and trauma were still there. And Ava knew, because the nuns at the orphanage had done the same with her. Broken, they had called her, useless.

But none of them were unworthy of love, none of them were useless or freaks. Yes, maybe they were a little broken, but maybe that was why the Universe had put them together nine years ago, maybe that was why it had brought them back to each other. So they could help each other be whole again.

“Your face is perfect,” Ava whispered, and Beatrice looked at her. “Your eyes remind me of the sweet taste of caramel, and your freckles are like your own constellation. And your smile is so warm, and comforting. And your arms look like the perfect place to go after a long and hard day, and your hands look so strong and like they can make wonders on someone else’s body. And your stomach and thighs are so kissable and, God, your boobs…”

“Oh, Ava,” Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at that last part, and Ava smiled at her. “I really don’t want to be the kind of person who cries during sex.”

“Oh, I cried one time,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Beatrice snorted. “But that’s a story for another day.”

“Agreed,” the taller girl said, straddling Ava.

Ava put her hands around Beatrice’s waist, her hands going up and down the girl’s back and counting the freckles scattered around her skin, a continuation of the ones upon the girl’s cheeks.

They kissed softly, their lips caressing one another. Beatrice’s hands were resting on Ava’s cheeks, her thumbs drawing circles while their tongues danced slowly with one another. Both girls were chest to chest, their breasts touching one another with every rise and fall. And their cores were in close contact, emanating warmth, throbbing in excitement at what was about to come.

Beatrice put her hands on Ava’s shoulders, and lowered the girl’s body upon the mattress. Ava’s hands made all the way down to Beatrice’s backside, squeezing it softly and bringing their still covered clits together. And Beatrice’s body jerked upon Ava’s, and Ava couldn’t help but moan when their covered cores grinded against one another.

“Shit,” Ava cursed, and Beatrice smiled and moved her hips again, slower this time. “Beatrice…”

“Yes?” the girl asked, trying to look innocent, her voice faltering at her own lust.

“I need you,” Ava muttered, not even caring at the way her voice was almost pleading. Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“I’m right here, Ava,” she said, pretending she didn’t understand what Ava meant.

“Inside,” Ava muttered.

“Come again?” Beatrice asked, and Ava groaned. “I didn’t understand you, darling.”

Darling, Ava thought, all oxygen leaving her body at once. She called me darling.

Ava was so close to coming undone and Beatrice hadn’t even touched her yet, or at least not in the way she’d wanted her to do it. And, honestly, if Ava orgasmed right now only because Beatrice had called her darling she would feel extremely embarrassed. But she was a big girl, she wouldn’t let the Goddess straddling her have that effect on her.

“I want you to fuck me, Beatrice,” Ava said, more confidently, and by the way the girl choked she understood she succeeded. “I want you to fuck me until our bodies give out, and until you make me understand how much you’ve wanted me for years. I want you to apologize for hurting me by-”

Ava was unable to continue whatever she wanted to say because Beatrice covered her mouth with hers, and she was kissing her the same way she did on Saturday, as if it was their last chance to show one another the way they had felt for the past years, the way they had missed each other so much and hated one another in equal parts.

Beatrice brought Ava’s hands above her head, pinning them down with one hand while the other caressed her breast, her ribs, her thighs gently. The girl relocated herself between Ava’s legs, one of her thighs caressing Ava’s clit roughly and making her see stars in the best way possible.

If these aren’t the consequences of my own actions, Ava thought, her body arching and letting out a loud moan when Beatrice’s mouth landed on her neck, surely leaving a mark there judging by the way Beatrice got suddenly possessed by the spirit of Edward Cullen.

Beatrice looked down at Ava, while the hand that had been giving attention to Ava’s chest made its way down Ava’s body. Beatrice made sure to be dramatic about it, dragging said hand from her chest to her stomach to the rim of Ava’s underwear. And, before she could take any more drastic actions, Beatrice looked at Ava in the eyes and the shorter girl nodded before Beatrice got rid of Ava’s underwear.

“Holy shit, Ava,” Beatrice muttered, Ava’s underwear landing somewhere in the floor, the girl’s eyes focused on the way she was dripping.

“Can you blame me?” Ava groaned, and Beatrice shrugged before hovering upon her once again.

“What do you want me to do?” Beatrice muttered, kissing Ava on the cheek, and her jaw. “How do you want me to fuck you, Ava?”

“Oh my God,” Ava couldn’t help but moan, Beatrice looking extremely satisfied with herself.

“Yes?”

“Slow, fast, soft, rough… I don’t know, Beatrice,” the taller girl hummed, tilting her head.

“Well then,” Beatrice muttered. “I guess it will be a matter of trial and error.”

“I don’t think you can commit any… errors,” Ava said, hating the way she sounded so desperate for Beatrice to be deep inside of her already. She swallowed audibly when she saw Beatrice’s index finger tracing her sternum, making its way down.

“We shall see,” the girl said, her eyes never leaving Ava’s.

The room fell in silence, the only audible sound was Ava’s quick breathing as Beatrice’s index finger kept on making its way down, the girl never looking away from Ava’s eyes. And Ava couldn’t look away neither, as if there was some kind of magnetic force making her unable to move.

She’ll fuck me while looking me in the eyes, Ava thought, becoming weaker by the second. I don’t think I can handle it.

And then she felt it, the way Beatrice entered her, slowly and taking her sweet little time, Beatrice’s dilated brown eyes never looking away, observing all of Ava’s reactions. And Ava opened her mouth, her body arching, unable to produce any kind of sound because she was too overwhelmed by everything happening to her all at once.

She felt Beatrice unclasping her hand from her wrists, her arms still pinned down by Beatrice, but Ava didn’t bring them down, while Beatrice’s hand landed flat on her stomach and lowered her back to the mattress.

“Easy,” Beatrice said, her finger making its way back out from inside Ava in an equally slowly pace.

“Bea,” Ava choked, as she felt the finger plunging back inside. Beatrice kept that pace for a few more seconds, her eyes still glued to Ava’s, and Ava couldn’t take it anymore. She closed her eyes, and let out a choked moan.

“Eyes on me, Ava,” Beatrice said, taking her face softly. And Ava opened her eyes, almost apologizing for not doing what Beatrice told her to do.

And a string of moans came out of her mouth every time Beatrice entered her, and left her, and she felt her pussy clenching around Beatrice’s finger, her chest going up and down fast, her lungs working overtime to keep up with the pace of Ava’s breathing.

And Beatrice kept on fucking her slowly, her eyes never leaving Ava’s, her mouth slightly open as if she was looking at some kind of art piece she had created all on her own. But Ava couldn’t take it anymore, she couldn’t take the torture of getting fucked so softly and slowly, she couldn’t take the way Beatrice was taking her sweet time. After all, they had waited seven years for this and the taller girl refused to let it pass fast. But Ava couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Faster,” she muttered, breathlessly, her hands still above her head and pinned down by Beatrice once again.

“Hmm?” Beatrice brought her face closer to Ava’s, lips hovering, knowing very well what she was doing.

“Fuck me faster, Beatrice,” Ava said, more desperately. And Beatrice quickened her pace, but it wasn’t enough.

“Like this?”

“No,” Ava shook her head, and she could feel the sweat on her forehead, her neck, her whole body. The effort it was taking for her to not come undone already, wanting more. “More.”

“Like this?” Beatrice asked again, her finger going in and out slightly faster this time. But still not enough.

“More, Beatrice. I need more.”

“As you wish, darling,” Beatrice whispered on her ear, and that was enough to make Ava moan louder than before, her body filling with goose-bumps.

And this time Beatrice listened, and her finger entered and left Ava’s pussy in a quick pace. And she could feel the sound it made, Beatrice’s fingers clashing with Ava, the way that sound was the only one she heard a few days ago when Ava fucked herself thinking about Beatrice.

And she could feel her cum dripping down her thighs, she could feel herself dripping down Beatrice’s fingers, and Ava was so close to seeing the stars but she wanted to hold on a little longer.

“Another one,” she panted, trying hard to keep her eyes open to watch Beatrice’s face. She wanted to look at Beatrice watching Ava’s face while she fucked her like Ava had wanted for many years, and she wanted the girl to not miss any of the reactions she got out from her.

The way Beatrice’s tongue was poking from the corner of her lips, the way her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and sweat was also starting to glisten around her forehead. The way Beatrice was so close to losing herself watching the reactions she got from Ava, the way she was shamelessly begging for more, and more and more… it was all too much for Ava, for Beatrice, for the Universe. But she didn’t want to stop.

“Another finger,” Ava begged, and Beatrice didn’t play any kind of games, expertly plunging two fingers inside of Ava’s dilated core without missing a beat.

And Ava almost yelled with pleasure, her hands getting free from Beatrice’s grip and landing on the girl’s back, scratching the sun-kissed skin, leaving the proof of the pleasure Beatrice was provoking to her, her nails buried deep on Beatrice’s flesh as if their bodies could get anymore closer.

“Ava,” Beatrice moaned, the way Ava was holding onto her for dear life, the way her legs circled Beatrice’s torso, overwhelming her with as much emotion as Ava felt.

And then, as Beatrice carried on with the fast pace of her fingers, Ava’s shaky hands went down and lowered Beatrice’s underwear so she could palm the flesh of the girl’s backside, the toned muscle.

Beatrice hissed when she felt Ava grabbing her by the ass, lowering her lips upon the shorter girl’s and kissing her deeply, gasping between kisses, her fingers never ceasing to move. And as Beatrice was busy trying to coordinate her hand movements and her kisses on Ava’s neck without losing herself, Ava moved one of her hands from Beatrice’s backside to the girl’s front and caressed her clit delicately, so different from the way Beatrice’s fingers were entering and leaving Ava in a fast pace.

“Fuck,” Beatrice gasped, and from the corner of her eye Ava saw the hand resting next to her head, gripping the pillow tightly, and knuckles white.

“You know,” Ava panted, her own finger never stopping to caress Beatrice’s clit, the girl’s controlled movements losing that perfect coordination that defined her so well. “I read once, that bottoms who fuck their tops back are actually dangerous.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Beatrice asked, her words coming out in almost a rush caused by the way Ava’s caresses were longer now, deeper. “Fuck me back while I fuck you?”

“I’ve dreamed about that countless of times,” Ava confessed to Beatrice, their eyes never separating from one another. “I will not let the opportunity go.”

“You’re talking as if,” Beatrice closed her eyes, letting out a small moan when Ava circled her pussy’s entrance, “as if this was our first and last time.”

“You never know,” Ava bit Beatrice’s lip as her finger entered her, Beatrice’s own fingers faltering for a moment. “Might as well make the most of it.”

And Beatrice made the most of it, both of them moaning in unison, Beatrice supporting her forehead upon Ava’s and their eyes never leaving one another, their rushed breathing the only sound in the room aside from the rustle of their bodies upon the sheets.

Both of them started to rock their bodies to feel more from the other, their gasps turning into moans and curse words, their free hands grabbing wherever they could in order to not explode, to stay anchored to the real world, to that exact moment where they decided to throw whatever they had felt for the past seven years out of the window, to reconnect with one another through pleasure and maybe something more.

“Beatrice,” Ava said, warning the girl of what was about to happen. “I’m close.”

And Beatrice quickened her pace, Ava’s body arching, mouth open on a silent sound of pleasure. And, on cue, her own finger’s pace quickened and she could feel Beatrice dripping down her fingers as much as she was sure Beatrice could feel her doing the same.

And then, as if some God had snapped his fingers and the Universe had stopped, Ava felt her climax coming up from her core to her throat, making her almost scream the name of the girl on top of her, her cum coming out from her as if a pair of floodgates had gotten opened wide.

And in the act of almost screaming Beatrice’s  name, in the act of having the most mind-blowing orgasm of her whole life, her own fingers hit Beatrice’s weak spot and the girl was soon orgasming as well while Ava was trying to ride off her own climax.

“Oh my God,” Ava panted, Beatrice doing the same upon her, their fingers still buried deep inside of one another, moving slowly, getting rid of the remnants of their pleasure.

“Shit,” Beatrice muttered, once they were fully done. Ava could feel Beatrice’s cum on her thighs, the way it had rushed out full force the same way hers did.

The taller girl fell next to Ava, letting out a long exhale of air, and they both laid there, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide and smiles wider. Their cores were still throbbing in pleasure, their bodies filled with pins and needles, the soreness an indicator of the way they’d enjoyed themselves, and Ava couldn’t believe that she just finished having sex with Beatrice. Or, well, the first round of what Ava hoped would be some more was over.

“Wow,” Ava said, turning her head to look at Beatrice. And the girl’s post-orgasm look almost took her breath away, and she was sure it would’ve if she wasn’t breathless already. Beatrice’s cheeks were almost glowing, her stomach going up and down with her rapid breathing, her eyes literally sparkling.

“Yeah,” Beatrice chuckled, looking at Ava. Then, her smile disappeared and her eyes softened. “Fine?”

“Fine,” Ava said, not caring what Beatrice meant. Was she feeling fine? More than that. Was the sex fine? Fuck, it was amazing. “You?”

“Mhm,” Beatrice nodded, and they didn’t turn their heads away. They remained looking at one another, their bodies slightly separated, and suddenly Ava was over thinking.

Should she hold her hand? Should they cuddle? Should she kiss her? Should they simply keep the distance?

It was funny, the way she had been moaning Beatrice’s name a few minutes ago and had been buried deep inside the girl, and now she was way too shy to even ask Beatrice if she wanted to stay, if they could hug one another, if she wanted to do it again once they would be enough rested.

“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asked, not trying to move. And Ava thought that maybe she was thinking the same as Ava.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ava immediately said, smiling at Beatrice. “This was the best sex I’ve had in… always, actually.”

“Oh,” Beatrice chuckled, blushing wildly. “Yes, me too. No one had ever done what you…”

“What?” Ava arched an eyebrow. Beatrice looked up at the ceiling, closing her eyes and covering her face with a hand. “Beatrice? No one had ever done what?”

“Fuck me while I fuck them,” Beatrice said in a rush, as if they hadn’t been dirty talking to one another just a couple of moments ago. “Afterwards, yes. But at the same time? Never.”

“Well,” Ava couldn’t help but feel extremely cocky at that piece of information, as if she had gotten to see a part of Beatrice no one ever did before. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” Beatrice said, not thinking about it and making Ava laugh. Beatrice’s eyes fell on her once more.

“Oh, man,” Ava sighed. “When I woke up this morning, I really didn’t think we would end up… like this.”

“Yeah,” Beatrice nodded. “I actually thought it would take us a little bit longer to… get here.”

“I never thought that, actually,” Ava let out an amused chuckle, putting her hands behind her head. “With the amount of pinning we did back at Saint Melanie’s, and the way Saturday ended? I was sure the next time we would see one another it would either be to decide to put distance between us, or to end up like this.”

“So it’s not too soon?” Beatrice’s voice was low, filled with doubt, and Ava couldn’t help herself. She grabbed Beatrice’s hand, interlacing their fingers.

“No, Bea, it’s not,” she smiled at the girl, reassuringly. “I know I said I would’ve loved to live the rom-com extra dramatic lifestyle, and I would’ve loved a good slow burn plot of our own but… this?” Ava moved a finger from her naked body to Beatrice’s. “This is totally fine by me.”

“Ava,” Beatrice said, now turning her body to face her, their interlaced hands between them. “What happened with Leighton?”

“I… I got overwhelmed,” Ava chuckled, embarrassed, and Beatrice squeezed her hand. “I really thought it got ruined again with what happened on Saturday. I didn’t text you because I thought you were busy, but then she told me you guys were over and… I thought I messed up, that I took advantage of us being drunk, and then once you sobered up you realized it had been a mistake and decided to stay away from me again.”

“Ava…”

“I can’t help but still feel insecure, Bea,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, Beatrice nodding in understanding. “I mean, it all went by so fast. We went from being best friends to strangers to… this. And… and I swore to myself when I saw you again that I wouldn’t fall, that I wouldn’t ruin all the work I did. And yet here I am, dying to kiss you and have sex with you again.”

“Listen,” Beatrice raised her free hand, caressing Ava’s cheek. “We can take it slow, Ava. Too many things happened between us, we didn’t see one another for seven years, and maybe right now we are just extremely overwhelmed with our emotions and this is how we ended up, and I don’t mind it but I’m scared that if we rush things, then we’ll end up in the same way we did back in school.”

“Honestly, I think having sex two weeks after spending seven years secretly hating one another is pretty neat,” Ava tried to joke, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“I never hated you,” Beatrice said, and Ava looked down ashamed. “I know you hated me, though. And I understand.”

“Beatrice, I’m sorry,” Ava wanted to tell her they should drop it, because she didn’t want to have this kind of conversation nor make Beatrice feel as if she still hated her. Because whatever remnants of hate and anger were left, they were gone after doing what they did.

“Ava, don’t apologize,” Beatrice said, cutting her train of thought. “I would be a fool if I expected you to be completely fine with me… doing what I did.”

“I didn’t hate you either,” Ava explained, Beatrice arching an eyebrow. “I tried so many times, but every time I thought of you… you were my first love, Bea.”

“You were mine too, Ava.”

Ava didn’t say anything else, and Beatrice didn’t either. They looked at one another for long minutes, Beatrice’s hand going up and down her arm, Ava finding the girl’s torso and drawing invisible circles on the skin.

“So… we’ll take it slow?” Ava asked, and Beatrice nodded. “What’s your plan, exactly?”

“Just… start all over again,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “We are different people now, with different lives from the ones we had seven years ago. Maybe we could get to know one another again, the new versions of us. Try to fix whatever we broke.”

“Hmm… I like the sound of that,” Ava said, and Beatrice smiled in relief.

“You wanted slow burn, yes?” the shorter girl snorted, burying her face on the pillow, and Beatrice looked at her fondly. “We don’t have to do or say anything we’re not ready for yet, though. Let’s just… take our time, we have three months ahead of us to figure this all out.”

“Figure this out…” Ava hummed. “You and me?”

“Me and you,” Beatrice nodded, smiling at her.

“And then? When you’ll go back to England?”

“Planes and phones exist,” Beatrice said, as if it was obvious. “No more running away, remember?”

“I do, I remember,” Beatrice nodded, and Ava let out a small sigh of relief. She truly believed Beatrice this time, how she wouldn’t run away.

“Question,” Ava said, breaking the silence once again. Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “Can we start taking our time tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

Ava put both of her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders, and she straddled the girl in a quick movement. Beatrice let out a sound of surprise, but her hands landed on Ava’s ass and looked at her with wide, expectant eyes.

“I’m just not done with you yet, Beatrice.”

And the last thing Ava saw before kissing Beatrice’s lips, before kissing every single one of the freckles on the girl’s body, before going down and burying her face between Beatrice’s legs and not stopping until Beatrice said her name between pants and moans of pleasure, and the last thing she saw when Beatrice returned her the favor, and before they fell asleep after their third round, the last thing Ava saw were Beatrice’s eyes.

The eyes that seemed to be holding all the love the Universe had to offer, even when Beatrice had despised her own existence. Those eyes which had gone through so much pain, and turmoil, and yet they never seemed to lose their softness and kindness, even when the world had been harsh and cruel with Beatrice.

Those big, brown eyes that held Ava’s heart hostage the same way they did the first time she saw Beatrice nine years ago. And this time, Ava didn’t know if she wanted to be free from Beatrice’s gentle hold.

Chapter Text

Seven years ago

Beatrice’s summer had been just like any other regular summer of her seventeen years of existence. She had spent the first month of it on an abroad study program in China, so she could better her foreign language skills. Then, she spent July training with the Royal Marines Cadets program around England, and the last month was spent in her family’s home in the French Riviera, pretty much being all by herself.

“Why don’t you want to come?” Beatrice asked Ava on the phone, laying on the garden’s hammock and letting the sun kiss her skin. “I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore.”

“Beatrice Armstrong-Young is bored?” Ava chuckled on the other end of the line, and Beatrice could hear the girl’s ragged breathing. Ever since Ava had started to do self defense and then later on got convinced by Leighton and Beatrice to join the football team, the girl had found some kind of fondness for sports. Specially for running, which was surprising.

Apparently, every morning Ava went out for a run now that Vincent and Diego had found a small home away from the orphanage. Still in the same city, but Ava didn’t have to deal anymore with all of those nuns and she could spend as much time as she wanted outside.

They called one another in the mornings, then in the afternoons, and usually at night before bed. It had been hard during the month Beatrice spent in China, so they simply texted one another and called whenever they could. And Beatrice had counted down the days to go back to European soil, so she would finally be in the same time zone as Ava and she would be closer to the girl.

“Come on, Ava,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, her leather bound journal resting on her legs. “Why don’t you want to come?”

“Money,” the girl simply said, and Beatrice could imagine her shrugging her shoulders. “Sometimes you forget not everyone will inherit a couple million of pounds when they’ll turn eighteen.”

“I will not inherit that when I’ll turn eighteen,” Beatrice sighed, and she could imagine Ava smirking at her. “I can take care of it, Ava.”

“Beatrice, we’ve known one another for almost a year,” Ava said, and Beatrice could sense the annoyance settling on the girl’s voice. “And I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve told you I don’t want your money.”

“I’m not trying to give you my money.”

“You are, Bea,” she heard Ava groaning, probably sitting down because her legs were sore and cramped. “On spring break, you tried to pay for my tickets to come down with you to Sicily. And before we left back home for the summer holidays, you offered to fly me down to Spain with your dad’s jet.”

“I just…” Beatrice sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s the way you were risen, Bea. They’ve made you believe money fixes everything, but I really don’t want you to be my friend only because I’m part of your charity work,” Beatrice nodded, Ava’s voice as gentle as always.

She looked at the blue Mediterranean Sea, her family’s mansion sitting atop of the hill and giving them a panoramic and perfect vision of the bay. Ava would love it here, Beatrice thought. She didn’t know how to swim, and Beatrice promised her she would teach her how to do it.

She still remembered the way Ava embarrassedly told her when she fled their physical education lesson the day swimming was going to be tested, and Ava refused back then because anyone could come and watch her embarrass herself, but Beatrice would stand by her promise. And she would teach Ava how to swim one day.

“Wait,” Beatrice said, sitting up straighter. “It’s the perfect chance for you to learn how to swim.”

At the desperation in Beatrice’s voice, Ava couldn’t help but snort. And Beatrice couldn’t help but smile, the way Ava’s voice and her laughter were so soothing.

She’s as soothing as the calmed sea, Beatrice wrote quickly down to her journal, next to a sketch she did of Ava. She tried to avoid those pages like the plague, hoping no one would ever find it. Because, being honest, it could give the wrong image. The way her pages were filled with small poems, and doodles, and the central theme was always the same girl. It wasn’t like that, Ava was simply her first best friend after Isabella and Beatrice didn’t know how to express herself without stuttering. So writing and drawing were the best options.

“Oh, Bea,” Ava said, her voice still filled with laughter. And Beatrice imagined the way her eyes were probably closed, the dimples on her cheeks, and the way her nose scrunched up when she laughed. “I miss you so much, man.”

Ava didn’t go to Beatrice’s summer home, but they talked every single day until they finally reunited back at Saint Melanie’s.

Senior year was hectic, between the preparation to take their University access exams and the extracurricular lessons and the way their workload got higher and higher by each month.

The first three months of their senior year went by in a blur, and Ava went down to Spain again while Beatrice stayed in London to celebrate Christmas with their families or, well, in Beatrice’s case all on her own.

“I promise next year we’ll spend it together,” Ava said, and Beatrice could feel the pity in the girl’s voice.

“It’s fine, really, I quite like it this way,” Beatrice tried to lie, and she heard Ava’s scoff.

“Liar.”

On January, Beatrice turned eighteen years old. And she realized that from now on, she would start to live more years than Isabella ever got to live. And her eighteenth birthday was honestly pretty sad, for her parents didn’t even make the effort to call her and wish her a happy birthday, and if it hadn’t been because Ava found out by accident her date of birth it would’ve simply been a normal day.

Her birthday was on a Wednesday, the busiest day in their weeks. They had two exams, football practice and then guitar and piano practice. And between those activities, they needed to focus on their studies and homework and also they needed to make time for the praying. But still, Ava found some time to make the day feel special for Beatrice.

They had gotten back from football practice, their bodies looking as if they had just gotten out of a pool because of the rain outside. And Beatrice was very confused, because Ava had been acting weird ever since they finished their practice. She was pretty much jumping around, looking at Beatrice from the corner of her eye and smiling wide when Beatrice looked back.

“Okay, what’s the matter with you?” Beatrice asked, once she closed their dorm door. Ava arched her eyebrows dramatically. “You’re more hyperactive than usual, Ava.”

“Oh, am I?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, humming. “Maybe I forgot to take my Adderall.”

“No, you did not,” Beatrice informed her, and Ava sighed in relief. And the sigh was very, very exaggerated. “Will you tell me?”

“Once I get back!” Ava said, raising one finger.

“From where?” Beatrice asked, and Ava was already halfway out the dorm.

“Forgot something in the locker room!” she said, closing the door and leaving.

Beatrice stood there, eyebrows furrowed, but she simply shook her head and took a quick shower before getting some work done and going down to the chapel to pray before dinner time.

Ava came back fifteen minutes after, while Beatrice was still in their private bathroom. When she came out of it, she saw the lights had been turned off and in the middle of the room stood Ava, with a plate on her hands and a single muffin on it. On top of the muffin there was one single candle, lighting up the room in a dim aura.

“Ava?” Beatrice asked, voice low. She could see Ava smiling at her, walking slowly so the candle wouldn’t burn out.

“Make a wish,” Ava said to her, giving her the plate with the muffin, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile herself.

Beatrice closed her eyes. I already have everything I wish for, though I wish Izzie was here to meet you. And then, she blew out the candle and they stood in the middle of a dark room, the only sound audible their breathing.

She felt Ava taking the plate away, settling it on her own desk, and then she felt a pair of hands grabbing hers. And Beatrice stiffened, still not used at the girl’s soft and gentle touch even if it had been a year since they met. And then, she felt a couple of soft lips on her cheek.

The kiss was fast, Ava almost didn’t touch her knowing how she felt about physical touch. And yet, the tingling sensation lasted Beatrice for hours and hours. And she was so glad the room was bathed in darkness, because she was sure her cheeks were blushing and her eyes were wide. It was because no one really, except Isabella, had kissed her cheek before with that amount of affection. Yes, that must be why Beatrice’s whole stomach felt full with butterflies, or why she was unable to form any kind of words.

“Happy birthday, Bea,” Ava said softly, standing in front of her, her hands still holding Beatrice’s.

“T-thank you,” Beatrice said, struggling to get the two words out and almost cursing under her breath because she had gotten so nervous her stutter had come in full force.

“Yeah, no problem,” Ava shrugged, and Beatrice remained silent. “I thought we could eat the muffin after dinner.”

“Y-yes.”

“Also, I wanted to give you a drawing I made during Christmas break but I literally forgot to pack it,” Ava let out a chuckle, and Beatrice was still struggling to catch her breath.

“Th-that’s fine, Ava.”

“Anyways,” Ava said, letting out a happy sigh. “Let’s go pray and eat, yeah?”

And so they went to pray and eat, and soon they were only a couple of weeks away from Spring break. And it seemed like for Ava things hadn’t changed, but for Beatrice they did.

Ever since that kiss on the cheek, surrounded by darkness, every time she was around Ava she felt weird. Her heart quickened, and her stomach fluttered, and she felt nervous and sometimes it was hard to speak. And she kind of had a suspicion of what that meant, and fuck was she terrified. Because it wasn’t okay, and it was one of the many reasons why Isabella had lost any kind of relationship with their parents. Beatrice never asked, but she knew it was one of the main motives. Because her parents had always said it was wrong, especially when her aunt left the country to marry another woman. And if her parents said that, it must’ve been true.

Beatrice wasn’t like that, like Isabella had been or like her aunt. The only boys she’d interacted with were her cousins, her parents always sending her to all-girl schools so she wouldn’t be tempted by doing something she needed to wait to do. But Beatrice knew that when she would go to University, she would surely find a good boy with whom she would most likely marry and then have a family of her own.

That’s how it had to be, there was no other way, and she was probably confused with the friendship her and Ava had, the way it filled her with secret joy to finally have a friend, a real one, who understood her and supported her. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be bold, though right now Beatrice wished Ava wasn’t because while the shorter girl was living her life, Beatrice was secretly praying for God to enlighten her and walk her through the right path. Which, needless to say, wasn’t to have something more than friendly feelings for your best friend who also happened to be a girl.

Beatrice didn’t know what time it was, but she knew it was late and sleep hadn’t found her yet. And she wanted to scream, because she had a Latin exam first thing in the morning and she needed to be well rested. But at night it seemed like her thoughts brewed inside her mind in full force, and the soft snores that Ava was making on the other side of the room didn’t help her to let go of whatever twisted games her mind was trying to play with her.

Ava had known something was wrong with Beatrice or, well, something was off with her. And she’d asked her, and Beatrice told her she was simply stressed over their exams. It was their senior year, and they needed to perform excellently in order to enter the Universities they wanted. Beatrice had already made up her mind, and she would go to Oxford just like Isabella did. She would of course study whatever her parents wanted her to, though she wanted to study architecture and engineering but it was whatever, laws and economics and politics were nice too.

It wasn’t a lie, Beatrice was extremely stressed. Until now, she didn’t have an over energized puppy bouncing around their dorm whenever they had to study. She was able to sit down and focus, memorizing everything to never forget it again, but Ava and her struggle to stay attentive for more than forty minutes was also starting to give Beatrice some kind of struggle.

“Are you angry at me?” Ava asked, sitting cross-legged on her bed, her study notes scattered around.

“No, why?” Beatrice asked from her desk, turning around on her chair.

“Because you usually help me out,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and then immediately looked embarrassed.

Beatrice had helped Ava with her dyslexia and ADHD, helping her focus and being next to her to patiently correct her or try to bring her back to focus. And it had helped Ava a lot, since the nuns barely did anything because they didn’t believe in Ava having a learning disability, but called her things she actually wasn’t instead of offering help.

“Mrs. Silva, will you please read the third paragraph,” Mother Frances asked one time, when they were in their History class. And Ava had been paying full attention to it all, Beatrice knew because of the way her eyebrows had been furrowed and her tongue had been poking out of the corner of her lips.

Ava loved reading, even if she had to go through one single page a couple of times. But she loved the stories, and making them up. Her and Beatrice had been exchanging books, Beatrice offered to Ava books about science and engineering and Ava offered to Beatrice’s fantasy books. And, because of Ava, Beatrice now knew everything about Tolkien and his stories.

But that was in the privacy of their dorm. In public, it was as if Ava collapsed and suddenly forgot how to read. She’d told Beatrice that when she was in public and got asked to read, the letters danced more than usual and she stumbled upon them. And Beatrice understood her perfectly, because at first talking and reading in public for her was a real struggle because of her stuttering. But no one said anything, because she had the influence of Isabella.

And Beatrice had an influence as well, as one of the Head Girls and pretty much Captain of the sports club and all, but they didn’t respect her as much as they respected Isabella. Because Isabella had gotten respect from the rest through being friendly and getting to know everyone, while Beatrice kept her distance and the respect she got was through cold stares and harsh words.

So whenever Ava had to read in public, or speak, there were always people snickering or impersonating Ava. There were comments like “didn’t the orphan learn how to read in the orphanage?”, and replies like “she’s too poor for that, bet the nuns at her orphanage were all illiterate.”

Beatrice had confronted people who insulted and disrespected Ava, she had told them to shove their tongues up their ass or she would do it herself, and Ava had told her to stop fighting her battles because she was more than capable of doing so. It had been their first serious argument after one year of friendship, and Beatrice had immediately stopped fighting for Ava (at least in front of Ava).

“Mrs. Silva?” Mother Frances said again, raising an eyebrow. Beatrice watched Ava swallowing audibly, getting up and breathing deeply before starting to read.

Ava started to read, and she was doing so fine until she stumbled. Beatrice heard someone giggle, but she didn’t say anything. Ava continued, pretending nothing happened, but Beatrice could tell the girl was already feeling overwhelmed. She stumbled time after time, until Mother Frances cut her.

“Shame,” the nun said, as Ava sat down. “You seem to be a smart one, despite your… afflictions. Could you please act like it, instead of making us all suffer through this display of stupidity?”

Beatrice saw the way Ava’s eyes filled with tears, how she looked down and bit her lip in order to not argue with the Headmistress. Beatrice heard some of the girls laughing under their breath, the way some of them looked at Ava as if she was a wounded animal. And Beatrice raised her hand.

“Yes, Mrs. Armstrong-Young?” she hated the way Mother Frances immediately softened, the same way she did whenever it was any of the other girls participating in the class activities. But whenever it was Ava, the poor orphan girl who got here mysteriously, the nun immediately scowled and didn’t miss the opportunity to embarrass Ava in public.

“I would like to ask for respect,” Beatrice said, her voice cold and keeping the stutter at bay. It usually resurfaced when she was feeling something strongly, like anger.

“Come again?”

“Respect,” Beatrice pointed towards one of the walls, where a mural with “The Lord’s Teachings” was hung up. “Respect, tolerance and love. Those are three of God’s most important teachings.”

“What does that have anything to do with our current lesson?” Mother Frances scoffed, but immediately corrected herself adopting a false pose of confusion.

“You have disrespected a student, all of you have,” Beatrice said, and she saw Ava looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Therefore also disrespecting one of the Lord’s messages of tolerance.”

“How have I disrespected a student, Mrs. Armstrong-Young?” Mother Frances asked it innocently, and Beatrice fisted her hands on her lap.

“You won’t stop calling A-Ava stupid,” Beatrice felt her cheeks blushing at the stutter, the way she felt some eyes falling on her, the nun arching an eyebrow. “When we all know she’s one of the best students in this school.”

“A great student who can’t read a whole line without stumbling,” Mother Frances pointed out, and Beatrice rose.

“Bea…” Ava whispered, and Beatrice shook her head.

“I just th-think we shouldn’t make fun of someone who’s struggling,” Beatrice told the rest of the class, breathing deep so the stutter would go away. The only one who knew was Mother Frances, she hadn’t even told Ava about it. “Because God didn’t teach us that.”

And Beatrice sat down, looking at Mother Frances, and the nun’s jaw twitched before she put up an apologetic smile and looked at Ava.

“I apologize, Mrs. Silva,” the Headmistress said, coldly. “I will make sure to respect you and your… struggles, and I hope the rest will too.”

Beatrice could tell the nun was mocking her, that she was mocking Ava as well, and she saw a few of the girls trying to hide their laughter while others looked at Beatrice and Ava with worry, as if they would get up and throw their History books at Mother Frances.

Beatrice and Ava hadn’t talked much for the rest of the day, Beatrice too angry and knowing she would uncover her own speech problem, and Ava way too upset to act like her energized self.

And with Ava asking her if she was angry, Beatrice thought that maybe Ava was actually upset because she had forced Beatrice to speak up for her, because she had been too weak to even say anything, to try to defend herself, and Beatrice wanted to punch herself for making Ava upset.

“I’m not angry, Ava,” Beatrice walked towards the girl’s bed and sat down. “Well, not at you at least.”

“Bea, I know that I asked you to not fight my battles for me…” Ava sighed, and then took Beatrice’s hands on her own and Beatrice wanted to combust. “But… thank you, for today. I was too tired and upset to even tell that nun to fuck off.”

“Ava…”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I almost told her to… fuck off myself,” Ava’s eyes widened, and a mischievous grin appeared on her mouth and Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Don’t.”

“It’s the first time I hear you curse, let me enjoy it!” Ava chuckled, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s enthusiasm.

“Come on, let’s go over this and go to bed.”

Ava had fallen asleep quickly after showering, and Beatrice could hear the minutes passing and yet sleep didn’t find her no matter how hard she tried. She could already feel a dull headache settling on the front of her skull, her eyes feeling as if grains of sand had fallen on them. But the hours went by, and the only sound Beatrice heard was Ava’s soft snores.

And then a whimper.

Beatrice turned around, eyebrows furrowed, supporting her body on one arm. She saw Ava curling on a ball, gripping her pillow tightly, eyebrows furrowed. And Beatrice almost lay down again, thinking Ava was simply cold, but then she heard a sob coming out from Ava’s mouth, the girl starting to breathe quickly, and one single word coming out from her.

Mãe.

Mom.

“Ava?” Beatrice said, walking slowly towards the girl.

Beatrice crouched, a hand hovering over Ava’s back, and she could feel the heat emanating from the girl’s body, caused by the distress that whatever she was dreaming was provoking on her.

Beatrice didn’t think twice about it, and she put her hand gently upon Ava’s back and shook her body slightly, whispering her name, asking her to wake up. And Ava wouldn’t wake up, her sobs increasing, her body filling with sweat and her panting becoming more and more erratic. Beatrice put a hand on Ava’s cheek, her thumb caressing it.

“Ava, wake up,” and then Ava stopped, her eyes opening slowly, her cheeks glistening with tears.

“Bea?” Ava asked, her voice coming out in a tremble. Beatrice kept on caressing her cheek.

“You were having a nightmare,” Beatrice explained, and Ava nodded, sitting up. Beatrice stood awkwardly, while Ava supported her back on the wall and circled her knees with her arms.

Beatrice couldn’t help but remember the start of their friendship, how Ava having a nightmare had also been one of the reasons why Beatrice had decided to become close to the girl, to protect her.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I have them too,” Ava nodded at her, biting her lip. “Would you… like to talk about it?”

“Can I?” Ava asked, her voice a whisper, and Beatrice widened her eyes.

“Of course you can,” Beatrice sat next to Ava, and the girl nodded at her.

“I was dreaming about my mother,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t usually have nightmares about her, only when a holiday or the anniversary of the accident is close. But I think today I got so overwhelmed and upset with what happened at class that I…”

“It’s understandable, Ava,” Beatrice put a shy hand upon Ava’s, and the girl smiled at her, sniffling.

“I never really told you about it all, did I?” Beatrice shook her head, and Ava sighed. “Do you want to know?”

“Will it help you to feel better?” Ava nodded, “then tell me all of it, Ava. I’m here for you.”

“My mom really hated taking vacations,” Ava started, closing her eyes, her hand still being held by Beatrice’s. “She was the same as me, always bouncing around and having a never-ending supply of energy. Then, one of her friends told her she needed to take a small break, maybe go on a little vacation with me so we would have some quality time together. Mind you, she and I were always around one another.”

“Must be nice,” Beatrice said, letting out a chuckle, and Ava slapped her softly on her arm.

“After much convincing, my mom and I decided to go on a little vacation to Málaga, because apparently my father was from there,” Beatrice looked at Ava, and she had a sad smile on her face, her eyes still closed. “She told me we were finally going to meet papa. Later on, when I was old enough to understand, Vincent told me they had found a lot of correspondence between the both of them in my mom’s car trunk. They had been talking for six years, when I was already in the picture, and it took him finally wanting to meet me for my mom to take a break from the bar.”

“Oh, Ava…”

“So we went to Spain,” Ava shrugged her shoulders. “Before going to Málaga, we spent some time in Seville. She had some friends there from when she met my dad, before she went back to Porto. The nuns lied to me when they said there was no one who wouldn’t want to take care of me, because all those friends of hers introduced themselves as tías and they knew where we would be staying. They could’ve come at any time to get me, at least temporally, but no one ever did.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything, simply kept looking at Ava as the girl spoke, her voice becoming sadder and sadder.

“Now that I’m seventeen, I get it though. No one really wants to take care of a baby that’s not their own, a baby someone had because they were too reckless and couldn’t pay to get an abortion,” Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“Abortion?” Ava nodded, and Beatrice could tell Ava suddenly forgot about the fact Beatrice had been born in a hardcore Christian family, and her eyes widened. “No, Ava, it’s fine. I don’t… I’m not opposed to that.”

Ava let out a sigh of relief, and continued her story.

“The time we spent in Seville was… it was a blur, honestly all the days before and after the accident were a blur. But later on I remembered that word being thrown around, how my mom said she didn’t have money to do it so she had me instead. When I remembered about that word, I asked Vincent what it meant. And… he told me.”

“You think your mom didn’t want to have you?” Ava smiled at Beatrice, opening one eye, but the smile was so devastatingly sad it hurt Beatrice in the heart.

“My mom was a flirt, the most beautiful woman ever, and she loved to attract others,” Ava explained to Beatrice, “and no young man really wants to get close to a pregnant woman, especially if it means they will have to take a parenting role without really wanting to. So she had to sacrifice that part of herself, the youth and living life at its fullest, and when she had me she fully committed to rising me the best she could and making enough money to support ourselves.”

“Was she good to you?”

“She was the best, and she loved me above anything else.” Ava swallowed, letting out a shaky breath. “After Seville, we made our way to Málaga. We stayed in this cheap motel, almost outside of the city. Before meeting my dad, my mom took me to the beach and she promised one day she would buy us a house near the ocean, and we would wake up every morning greeted by the sea. At that time I thought anything was possible, but now I realize that we could barely pay rent for our two-room apartment. How were we supposed to get a house by the beach?”

“We all have dreams, don’t we?” Beatrice nudged Ava’s shoulder, and Ava smiled at her.

“We do,” she nodded. “My mom’s dream was to become a singer. She had the most beautiful voice ever. But, again, she had to give it up because of me.”

“Ava, don’t blame yourself,” Beatrice squeezed her hand, and Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“You know,” the girl said, voice shaky. “If it hadn’t been for me, she would’ve been able to travel the world and maybe become a singer, fall in love with whoever she wanted, marry four or five different men if she wanted to. But she couldn’t.”

“I’m sure she would choose having you over anything else,” Ava put her head on Beatrice’s shoulder, and Beatrice swallowed, breathing deeply, focusing on Ava.

“My dad and my mom decided to meet up at a bar, have dinner and all of that with me,” Ava continued explaining, and Beatrice felt her shoulder getting wet with Ava’s tears. “You already know that part. It was a drunk driver, who apparently was on his way to the bar as well. But he had visited several others before.”

“I’m so sorry, Ava.”

“I was in a coma for almost a month,” Ava continued. “And they were ready to turn it off, to let me die. No one showed up for me, for the poor and orphan girl who had no family left. And I felt betrayal, because my dad knew my mother and I were supposed to be there, in his city. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t try to find us. And then I woke up, and I couldn’t feel anything from the neck down.”

Beatrice could feel herself tearing up as well, imagining a seven years old Ava alone in a hospital, scared because she had just lost her mother and she was unable to move her body. And Beatrice wished she could’ve been there for Ava, like she so many times had wished Ava had been there in England with her while Isabella was sent to study abroad, and she was doomed to stay home with no one but herself and her own thoughts.

Two lonely girls, miles apart, destined to find one another.

“You’ll think I’m making this shit up, or that I’m the luckiest person alive, but… someone, miraculously, paid for my surgery. Not all hope was lost yet, if they operated me there was a small chance I could move again. Obviously not like before, you know how my legs can get sometimes and how my back might be a piece of shit. And the surgery was expensive, and even at seven years old I could understand that the chance of me standing up again was very, very low.”

“But it went okay, yeah?” Beatrice said, squeezing Ava’s hand. The girl hummed.

“I slowly started to move back my feet, then my legs. Then I was able to sit up and lay down all on my own. Walking was hard, so at first I moved around the hospital on a wheelchair, and rehabilitation was going really great until I got told that the room I was staying at needed to be occupied by someone else,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, she wasn’t crying anymore but Beatrice could still feel the dampness on her shoulder. “I was scared, because I loved the doctors and after staying in that hospital for around six months and it had kind of become my home.”

“I think I know what happened,” Beatrice chuckled, and Ava looked at her. “A miracle in the shape and form of a priest?”

“You got it,” Ava laughed, and Beatrice smiled at her. “Vincent showed up, as if he had been sent by God himself, and this might come as a shock but I kind of started to believe in the dude upstairs.”

“You did?”

“Yup,” Ava said, as if she had just confessed a terrible crime. “I mean… I was completely sure my mom had turned into an angel, and she was asking God to send help my way. A mysterious donator for my surgery, the amazing doctors and nurses who cared for me, and then Vincent and Diego. How could I not?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Beatrice nodded, slowly. “I won’t tell anyone, though.”

“Asshole,” Ava said, punching her arm, and Beatrice smiled. “The blessings kept coming my way, though, so even though I’m almost eighteen now and I know what I do and do not believe… sometimes I still think He’s real, and that my mom is still begging Him to send help my way because she knows I would be useless on my own.”

“What other blessings?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, because she really couldn’t think of any more blessings Ava received from God.

Sure, she got the chance to study abroad. But also, many people had made it their mission to make her life a living hell in this school. There were girls like Leighton who helped Ava, who were nice and kind, but none of them stood up for Ava in the way Beatrice had done by kicking the shit out of Crimson, or defending Ava from Mother Frances, or…

Oh.

“You, dummy,” Ava said, fondly, looking at Beatrice. “You’re mom’s blessing, my tall and brooding and very smart guardian angel.”

And all Beatrice could think about was the way their faces were so close, how the tips of their noses were almost touching, how their eyes were glued to one another. Beatrice audibly swallowed, Ava looking completely unaware of the bloody war being fought inside of Beatrice’s heart and mind.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Ava shrugged, and then decided to put her head back on Beatrice’s shoulder. “I don’t know how would I deal with all of this… them, without you.”

“You would manage perfectly, Ava.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Ava said, and Beatrice almost agreed. But she knew the girl would find it in her, she would curse them and kick and scream and there would be good girls who would help her, like Leighton. “Beatrice, I don’t want to be away from you.”

“What do you mean?” the taller girl asked, and Ava separated from her. “Away from me?”

“I’m talking about University,” Ava looked down, fidgeting. “We’re only a couple of months away from graduating, and… I don’t want to be away from you.”

“We don’t have to be away, Ava,” Beatrice said in a rush, and Ava arched her eyebrows. “I… I decided to go to Oxford, just like Izzie. And I know you want to take journalism and writing as a degree… there’s an amazing one there.”

“You’ve been sulking on Oxford’s website, looking at degrees for me? I haven’t even done that myself because I’m way too scared,” Ava chuckled, smiling at Beatrice. Beatrice was glad the only light they got was the silver one from the moon, this way her blush wasn’t as visible.

“And dorms…” Beatrice scratched her nape, and Ava made a choking sound. “You kind of entertain me, Ava. I would miss your company if we were to separate.”

“Oh, behold! Beatrice Armstrong-Young is showing emotion!” Beatrice rolled her eyes, almost shoving Ava off the bed, and the shorter girl giggled.

“Oxford is just one of the options I have,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll go anywhere, except Cambridge.”

“A little act of rebellion against your parents, huh?” Ava winked at Beatrice, and she smiled at the girl. “I actually was thinking of either going back to Spain, maybe study in Madrid or Valencia, maybe go back to Málaga and get answers about who the hell my sperm donor is. But I also was thinking of going across the ocean, to New York University. Their journalism and writing programs are so fucking great, Bea.”

Beatrice looked at Ava, and she imagined them both living in a tiny apartment at New York University’s campus. Them studying together, them going out for dinner and decorating their dorm. Them enjoying a little bit of freedom away from the orphanage and strict parents, witnessing each other falling in love for the first time ever or maybe even making love with a boy for the first time.

For some reason, Beatrice felt disgust at that last thought, and Ava must have caught it because her eyes widened and she smiled nervously at her.

“Oxford is fine, too,” Ava said, and Beatrice saw she averted her gaze for a moment, looking upset.

“Oh, Ava, I would really love going to New York with you,” Beatrice said, rushed, and Ava’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“You looked close to puking.”

“I was thinking about…” Shut up, Beatrice, “never mind, it’s not important.”

“After our finals, two weeks before spring break, I’ve heard Mother Frances will ask us about our University plans. What will you say?” Ava looked at her, hopefully, and Beatrice smiled.

“We could make a list?” Beatrice suggested, and Ava hummed, “about our first University choices and all.”

“Oxford, huh,” Ava nudged Beatrice’s shoulder. “That’s honestly fine by me. I don’t think I could afford a plane ticket to New York, anyways.”

“Ava, you know that if you need it…”

“Don’t.” Ava pointed a finger at her, and Beatrice shut her mouth immediately.

“Are you feeling better?” Beatrice asked a few moments later, and Ava nodded. “Okay, let’s go back to bed.”

Beatrice moved to leave Ava’s bed, but the girl took her wrist and looked at her with wide eyes, biting her lower lip nervously, looking the same way she did when she was about to ask Beatrice if she would eat all her food and if she could take a small portion of it.

“What is it, Ava?” Beatrice asked, and Ava looked down.

“Could you please stay here?” Ava mumbled, and Beatrice had to get closer to the girl to understand what she meant.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, and Ava groaned.

“No, I mean…” the shorter girl sighed, shaking her head. “Here, in my bed.”

“Oh…” Beatrice said, almost inaudibly, and Ava inhaled and exhaled sharply.

“I just,” Ava scratched her nape, looking everywhere except at Beatrice’s eyes. “When I had a nightmare, my mom used to cuddle me so I would go back to sleep.”

“Right…”

“And Diego and I always did the same, I would sing a lullaby to him and he would come to my bed and hug me until I fell back to sleep,” Ava continued explaining, her hand gestures exaggerated, her smile nervous. And Beatrice nodded.

“If it will help you,” Beatrice felt her voice coming out in a tremble, and she hoped Ava wouldn’t notice. “Fine by me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Ava smiled, and then pulled out the sheets so they could settle down.

Ava turned around to look at Beatrice, biting her lip nervously, and Beatrice had never been this much scared in her life. Her heart was going so fast she was sure the bed was vibrating with the wild beats, and she was trying not to breathe because it would come out so fast that Ava would immediately notice she was on the verge of losing it. She hid her hands underneath the pillow, to hide the fidgeting, and she tried not to speak because she knew she would be unable to form words.

You’re falling in love, Isabella’s voice said at the back of her mind, and Beatrice closed her eyes to get rid of it.

No, I’m not. I’m not like that.

Like what, Bea?

Like you.

“Bea?” Ava asked, and Beatrice’s breathing got caught at the back of her throat.

It was the way she’d said her name, so soft and gentle, her voice huskier than usual because of the crying and the tiredness Ava was starting to feel. It was the way her always expressive eyebrows furrowed, a single wrinkle between them both, and her big brown eyes looked at her with such fondness and gentleness. It was the way Ava’s hand twitched unsurely, not knowing if she was allowed to touch Beatrice or not, and her front teeth peeked slightly on her lower lip, biting it not knowing what to do next.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

Beatrice realized she was free falling right in that moment, into a dark abyss with no bottom in sight. And she knew she needed to stop it, because she wasn’t like that and because it wasn’t supposed to happen in this way. She was supposed to find some boy, a son of aristocrats, she was supposed to marry him and build a family with him. Because that was what her parents wanted, what they had taught her and Isabella, and it probably was the only thing Beatrice had left in her to make them proud, to make them happy, to make them realize she was as worthy as Isabella had been.

But for whatever reason, Beatrice didn’t get up from the bed, she didn’t move to hers, she didn’t ask Ava nor herself to stop whatever was going on between them. For whatever reason, she didn’t stop herself from free falling, even if that meant she would be disappointing her parents once again.

They don’t have to know, Bea, Isabella said again in the back of Beatrice’s mind. They never knew about me, so they don’t have to know about you either.

“I’m fine,” Beatrice smiled at Ava, nodding slightly. And Ava smiled back.

“I’m honestly scared of the future,” the shorter girl confessed to her. “University, if I’ll be able to pay for it if I lose the scholarship I got. If you’ll get to Oxford but I won’t, if we’ll drift apart.”

“Don’t think about that now, Ava,” Beatrice didn’t know why, how or when it happened but her hand landed on Ava’s waist, her thumb caressing it, and Ava’s eyes widened.

Fuck, Beatrice thought. But none of them moved.

“We’ll figure it all out in the morning,” Beatrice told the girl, and Ava breathed deeply.

“Me and you?” Ava asked, and Beatrice nodded.

“You and me.”

*

Ava was finishing putting her clothes back into her bag, because tomorrow she would be flying back to Spain to spend some time with Vincent and Diego for spring break.

They had passed all of their exams finely, and both Ava and Beatrice had told Mother Frances they had the intention to go to Oxford University after graduating. And it came as a shock, first because Beatrice was supposed to go to Cambridge like all her family had done, and second because Mother Frances didn’t think Ava had the “brains” to get into Oxford.

But Ava knew she did have the brains to get wherever she wanted to, no matter what the old woman said. And she wouldn’t pass the opportunity to go to Oxford, with Beatrice, and to continue living life with her.

Something weird had happened the night Beatrice woke her up from her nightmare. Ava had known she was in love with Beatrice ever since the girl had come to the rescue, kicking the shit out of Crimson and taking it upon herself to become Ava’s personal body guard. And, man, being secretly in love for a year with the girl had been a struggle.

Ava had tried to fall out of love with Beatrice, and she failed every time. She had tried during winter, hoping that maybe spending time apart would help her, but then Beatrice had decided to invite Vincent and Diego over, and she offered her family’s home as a shelter, and she had given Ava the best Christmas ever after her mom’s passing.

And she fell a little bit deeper.

She tried to fall out of love every time Beatrice helped her to study, every time Beatrice taught her a new song on the piano, every time Beatrice gave her a personal aikido training, every time Beatrice cheered her on during football practice, every time Beatrice came to see her on her theatre rehearsals, or sat front row during opening night.

And, every time, Ava kept on falling deeper and deeper to the point she didn’t know if she would ever be able to go back to the surface.

Every day during the summer holidays had been a nightmare without Beatrice next to her. Of course, they texted and called one another, but it wasn’t the same. And when Beatrice had offered for her to go to France, to spend the last few weeks of summer with her, Ava almost ran away from the little house Vincent had been able to afford.

And during Christmas, when Beatrice spent it in her lonely home in London and Ava spent it going from orphanage to orphanage bringing gifts, helping Vincent, she had imagined Beatrice next to her, acting as gentle as she did with Ava, the way she had acted with Diego being another tug at Ava’s heart strings.

And until now, Ava believed it was a fool’s hope to wish Beatrice would feel the same. Ava thought that every brush of Beatrice’s fingers on hers whenever they played piano was accidental, every gentle touch Beatrice offered to her to correct her posture while training aikido, or every word of encouragement she offered to Ava when they were studying or playing football, it was simply something any best friend would do.

But the night of her nightmare, when Beatrice slept next to her, Ava felt as if something had shifted between them, within Beatrice. It had been the way the girl had looked at Ava, how she had put a hand around her waist and she had caressed Ava so gently and softly, lolling her to sleep once more.

It had been the way in which Ava had accidentally caught Beatrice a couple of times after the nightmare looking at her from the corner of her eye, eyebrows furrowed, as if she was trying to figure out or understand something that, for once in her life, was out of her grasp.

And Ava tried to stay calm and cool, she tried to keep her hands to herself when all she wanted to do was to be held by Beatrice again, so carefully but also making sure Ava knew Beatrice wasn’t going anywhere.

Ava had never gone to the school’s chapel willingly, and she never knelt in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus between her arms willingly, and she surely never in her life had prayed for anything willingly, until now.

Before she had gone to her dorm, to finish up with her luggage and all, she had visited the dark chapel. At this time of the day, between the noon prayers and the afternoon prayers, the space was empty. The smell of incense and melting wax was strong, and Ava hated it because it reminded her of the many times she’d been dragged to the orphanage’s chapel to give her thanks.

Thanks for what? Ava would ask Vincent. For breaking me? For leaving me an orphan?

But the truth was, she had so many things to be grateful for. She had Vincent, she had Diego, and she had Beatrice. And it was like her mother had sent them all for her, so she wouldn’t be alone, so she wouldn’t feel broken anymore.

So she knelt on the steps going up the altar, and she looked at the statue. Ava closed her eyes, interlacing her fingers and supporting her forehead on her hands. She took a deep breath.

“Thank you, mom,” Ava whispered, her voice a faint echo in the empty room. “For sending her to me, for giving me the will to live again. She makes me whole, even though she doesn’t know it. And I love her, like I never loved anyone before. And I know I’m only seventeen, and I’ve never been in love before, but I know that she’s special. I know that she’s a gift from Heaven, sent by you, to help me heal and believe.”

Ava looked up, and she didn’t know why she had tears streaming down her face. She was overwhelmed, by love and gratitude. And this was very, very embarrassing. Because she never really understood why some people cried while praying, she’d always found it an exaggeration. And yet here she was, talking to a statue, crying and being overwhelmed by the amount of blessings she’d received without deserving it.

“I just ask for one thing,” Ava said, and she thought that maybe she was selfish for the wish she was about to make. She could wish for war to be over, for kids to not starve anymore. But, in that moment, all she could think about was herself. “I just want her to love me as much as I love her.”

And then Ava did the sign of the cross, bringing her fingertips to her forehead, chest, each one of her shoulders and finally kissing them briefly with her lips. And she left, pretending this never happened and making her way towards her and Beatrice’s dorm to finish packing up.

While she was choosing what clothes she would bring and which ones she would leave behind, she imagined herself and Beatrice going to Oxford. She imagined themselves sharing a dorm, walking around campus hand in hand. And maybe being in a non religious environment, away from nuns and conservative families, would finally help Beatrice break out from her shell and finally start living life in her own terms.

I think Isabella would’ve loved that, Ava thought to herself. And then she stopped moving.

She’d always said Beatrice had been a blessing, an angel sent by her mom. Beatrice had made Ava start to believe that maybe there was truly something bigger than themselves out there, that maybe having a little bit of faith wasn’t that much of a deal. Beatrice had made Ava feel worthy for the first time ever since the accident, she had started to make her feel whole, and she had given Ava a purpose without even having to say anything.

But what if Isabella had sent Ava to help Beatrice out? To finally be free of the shackles her family had put her into, unwillingly. Of the amount of guilt she felt for simply being human, for making mistakes, for feeling?

What if both Beatrice and her were a gift for one another? What if they had been destined to find one another, so they would be whole again?

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ava,” she muttered, blinking rapidly, shaking her head. “Get a grip.”

Their dorm room opened, and Beatrice made her way inside. Ava was about to greet her, hoping she wouldn’t accidentally confess she had gone to the chapel to pray. But all smiles faded from her when she saw Beatrice’s eyebrows furrowed, her skin white as paper. Ava checked the calendar quickly, wondering if today was the anniversary of Isabella’s passing, but it still was a week away.

“Bea?” Ava asked, dropping the shirt she had been folding. “What’s wrong?”

“My parents are coming,” Beatrice said, sitting down on her bed. Ava sat next to her. “Mother Frances told them about Oxford, and they’re coming to have a chat with me.”

“A chat? As in… a yelling, brain washing contest?” Ava asked, and Beatrice would’ve usually looked at her with disappointment and would’ve scolded her. But the girl simply nodded, and that was how Ava knew shit was real.

“I mean, I knew they wouldn’t accept it. They yelled at Isabella too, but she had been smarter than I. She was already eighteen, so she applied to Oxford in secret while she told Mother Frances she of course intended to go to Cambridge,” Beatrice scoffed, covering her face with her hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Bea,” Ava put her hands on Beatrice’s wrists, uncovering the girl’s face, and she could see the way Beatrice was only a few seconds away from panicking. “If we have to go to Cambridge, then we will.”

“I don’t want to go there,” Beatrice got up, and she started to pace around. “I understand Izzie now, Ava. How she wanted to desperately break away from them, because they’re not here yet and I’m already panicking.”

“When are they arriving?”

“Mother Frances told me they were on their way already,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, and Ava swallowed. “They could get here in an hour, or it could be tomorrow. Who the hell knows.”

“Hey,” Ava got up and walked towards Beatrice, putting both hands on her shoulders. “I have a plan.”

“Oh, do you?” Beatrice chuckled humorlessly, and then looked at Ava apologetically.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Beatrice’s eyes widened comically, and Ava couldn’t help but smile. “Ava, we have to go pray in like… fifteen minutes, and then they might get here and… and I still have to finish up packing and so do you.”

“Okay? It’s not like packing will take us the whole night,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Beatrice shook her head.

“How do you expect us to go away without any of the nuns noticing, huh?” Beatrice put both of her hands on her hips, and Ava pursed her lips before looking at the window at the back of their room. “No way in hell.”

“Why not?” Ava crossed her arms upon her chest, and Beatrice scoffed.

“Ava! Our dorm is on a third story, are you out of your mind?!” Beatrice whisper yelled at her, and Ava smiled widely. “Oh, bloody hell, you truly are.”

“Come on, Bea!” Ava made her way towards the window, opening it and looking down. Their dorm was located on the opposite side of the school gates, the vines climbing up the stone wall perfect to climb down. “Don’t you want a little of rebellion in your life?”

“Not if we can potentially die, Ava,” Beatrice made her way towards her, looking down as well.

“The both of us are the best rope climbers from our year, remember?” Beatrice hummed, nodding. “Climbing down will be the real test.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Beatrice muttered, and Ava opened her mouth dramatically.

“Calm down with the cursing, young lady! You’ve been doing it a lot lately,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, looking at Ava.

“Because you stress me out,” Beatrice kept looking at Ava, and then at the world waiting outside, at the infinite green fields, at the way they could start running faster than the wind and get away from the school before Beatrice’s parents arrived. And Ava started to smile slowly when she saw Beatrice’s nostrils flaring, when she closed her eyes for a second and groaned. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Ava clapped, and Beatrice’s eyes widened in warning. “Sorry.”

“You go first,” Ava squealed, putting both hands on Beatrice’s shoulders and squeezing them before she got out of the window, and used the firm vines to climb down the wall.

Honestly, Ava was scared as fuck and maybe sneaking through the kitchen would’ve been a better idea. When she was a few steps down, she looked up at Beatrice and put a hand to her chest, holding the vine with her free hand and supporting herself with her legs.

“It is my lady, O, it is my love!” Ava dramatically said, Beatrice’s mouth opening in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Beatrice was almost out of the window, falling down, and Ava smiled brightly at her.

“She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel!” Ava said, opening her free arm wide, holding onto the vine with the other while Beatrice shook her head and her eyes widened in horror. “For thou art as glorious to this night, being over my head, as is a winged messenger of Heaven unto the white upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, when he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds, and sails upon the bosom of the air!”

“Ava, I’m so serious,” Beatrice looked back for a moment. “You either continue climbing down, or I’m seriously kicking you down.”

“Hey, why so violent? Don’t you like my Romeo impersonation?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, the wind picking up. “I’m practicing for the summer play.”

“Ava.”

“Fine!” Ava laughed, before she quickly continued climbing down the vines. When she reached the middle, she saw Beatrice was starting to climb down as well.

They expertly made it to the ground, Ava’s legs feeling slightly sore, and Ava waited for the taller girl to join her.

“I’m never doing this again,” Beatrice let Ava know, who hummed sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get going before we get caught.”

They started walking, and then they started to over-think all of their life choices that had brought them exactly to that moment and Ava took Beatrice’s hand and they started to run and run and run until the school was a small dot in the distance.

Panting, Ava threw herself to the ground and Beatrice did the same.

“Oh, look,” Beatrice said, looking at the flowers surrounding them. “Daisies.”

Ava turned around, laying on her stomach and supporting her body on her arms. Her legs were sore, trembling from the long sprint, but she didn’t care. They were surrounded by billions of daisies, butterflies and bees buzzing around and a bright sun upon them.

And fuck, Beatrice looked so beautiful laying down on a field of daisies, her cheeks blushing because of the run but her eyes wide and sparkling with joy and peace, as if she hadn’t been panicking ten minutes ago, a smile on her lips, her slight panting overwhelming Ava.

And if they were different people, Ava would lean down and she would kiss Beatrice on the lips until they ran out of oxygen. But she knew that was out of limits, she knew that she could touch Beatrice briefly to give her comfort, but that was it. And maybe this had actually been a bad idea, because she had wanted to kiss Beatrice so bad ever since the girl had broken a literal nose to save Ava, but now the need of tasting Beatrice’s lips was too heavy.

Ava hadn’t told anyone yet, and it was probably the biggest secret she’d been holding from the world aside from the fact that she almost met her dad once. And her secret was that she’d started to discover her body recently, in ways that she hadn’t done before, mostly when Beatrice was out of their dorm and Ava was left all alone.

Ava honestly wanted to discover more of it, she wanted to know how it felt to be with another person, she didn’t care with whom honestly she just wanted to know how it would feel. And sometimes, and she felt extremely guilty for admitting this, she imagined that someone being Beatrice. Her… first one, as people put it.

And she knew it would never happen, but it was in moments like these where she imagined how it would feel like to be touched by Beatrice, to be kissed by her. How would it feel to hold Beatrice’s hand, to maybe share a bed every night not in a sexual way, but simply being there cuddling and protecting one another from nightmares.

And thinking about those things, about being loved by Beatrice as much as Ava loved the girl, it made everything way worse. Specially now, when Beatrice was laying down with her eyes closed, the sun hitting her in the face, her hands extended on each side and playing with the daisies.

I love you, Ava thought. I love you so much. I love you more than I love spring, and sleeping in, and more than I love food. I love you to the point where I would take you away from your parents, put you in a tiny box and protect you from the cruel world outside. I love you so much that I will embarrass myself in all the ways possible only to see you smile. I love you so much, I’m willing to kiss the trauma and the pain away, even if it means you can forget about it for a few moments. I love you so much I’m willing to follow you anywhere, even if it’s one ocean or three continents away.

“Ava?” Beatrice said, furrowing her eyebrows and opening one eye to peek at her. Ava smiled at her.

“Hey,” Beatrice waved a hand at her, and Ava chuckled. I love you.

“What’s going on up there?” Beatrice asked, tapping Ava’s head with one finger. Ava swapped it away, rolling her eyes. I love you.

“Nothing, you just look… happy,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Beatrice looked at her with so much confusion it broke Ava’s heart. Because feeling happiness, and peace, and joy… those were foreign concepts for Beatrice. “It makes me happy.”

“I just really like daisies,” Beatrice told her, sitting up, caressing the flowers around her. “Though I’m afraid I’ll start sneezing soon.”

“Weak,” Ava joked, and then a light bulb turned on inside her mind.

Ava took several daisies from around her, saying sorry to each one and making Beatrice chuckle, and then she proceeded to entwine them until a circle was made.

“Look,” Ava said, showing her creation to Beatrice.

“Why did you do that?” the taller girl asked, an eyebrow arched.

“As a royal, you deserve a crown,” Ava explained, simply, as she put the crown around Beatrice’s head.

Beatrice’s raven hair was down, and it had gotten a little bit longer during the past few months. She looked like a flower princess, with her long hair and freckled cheeks and the crown on her head. Ava couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttering. I love you.

“I’m not…” Beatrice sighed, chuckling. “Thank you. Would you like one as well?”

“Yes, please,” and Ava watched Beatrice gathering some daisies, also telling them she was sorry, while she created a crown for Ava.

“There you go,” Beatrice said, putting it gently atop of Ava’s head. “Now we are matching.”

“We are flower princesses,” Ava said, excitedly, and Beatrice laughed out loud.

And God, did Ava love that sound. And the few times she had heard it, she had felt like the most privileged person on Earth. Because each time, she had been the one to make Beatrice laugh. The girl with the sad eyes and the cold heart was laughing at Ava’s antics.

I love you.

“Sure, Ava, we are flower princesses,” Beatrice said, amused, letting out a small giggle at the end.

“Come on,” Ava offered both of her hands to Beatrice, standing up, and the girl looked at her in confusion. “Dance with me.”

“Ava, I don’t really dance,” Beatrice’s cheeks blushed, and she fidgeted with some flowers.

“You’ve gone to all these fancy balls your parents’ aristocrat friends pull off, don’t come at me with the I don’t dance bullshit,” Ava put both of her hands on her hips, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“I don’t dance unless I’m required to.”

“You’re required to dance like… right now,” Beatrice arched an eyebrow at her.

“By who?”

“By me, the Daisy Queen,” Ava pointed at herself, and Beatrice looked at her incredulously.

“So this is a royal command, Your Highness?” Beatrice crossed her arms upon her chest, and Ava scoffed.

“Your Majesty, thank you so much,” and there it was again, that laugh. Beatrice got up, wiping her gray skirt, and she looked at Ava with an amused expression.

“Does Her Majesty know how to waltz?” and Ava, in that moment, realized she had been stupid.

“Do I have to? Like… can we just not twirl around like two maniacs?”

“Well, that’s the top dance during all those fancy balls,” Beatrice shrugged, looking at Ava with a victorious expression all over her beautiful face.

“Teach me, then” and the victory on Beatrice’s face left to be replaced by a surprised expression. “Come on.”

“I…” Beatrice groaned. “Fine.”

Beatrice walked towards Ava, their flower crowns still intact atop of their heads, and Ava started to hyperventilate when Beatrice was only a few millimeters away from her. Ava realized that Beatrice had actually grown up, she’d gotten taller during winter break, and she now was one head above Ava (and she was pretty much sure she wouldn’t grow anymore). Beatrice looked at her, and smiled softly.

“Waltzes are usually composed in a three-fourths time signature,” Beatrice explained to Ava, in the same way she explained to her whatever lesson they had to study. “And when you dance it, you usually use what’s known as the box steps.”

“What’s that?”

“When you do the steps during a waltz, you usually create a shape of a box,” Beatrice explained to her, and Ava nodded. She smelled like vanilla, mixed with the sweet smell of the flowers around them. Ava was so overwhelmed, and she was regretting all the life choices that had taken to that instant.

“Okay.”

“So…” Beatrice beckoned her with a hand, and Ava walked the couple steps separating them.

The taller girl put Ava’s right hand on her shoulder, while she took Ava’s left hand with her right, arms hovering in the air, as Beatrice’s left hand landed gently on Ava’s back, laying flat. Beatrice squared her shoulders, and Ava did the same.

“Izzie and I used to practice this all the time,” Beatrice chuckled, and Ava smiled softly at her. “She would act as the guy and I would act as the girl. And she always changed her voice to a deep one, saying all kinds of crazy stuff that boys used to say to her whenever they took her out and danced.”

“Like what?” Ava asked challengingly, and she loved the way Beatrice’s eyes widened, clearing her throat.

“Anyways,” Beatrice blinked a few times. “I’ll be the lead dancer, and you’ll be the follower.”

“Cool.”

“I’ll start by stepping forward with my left foot, and you’ll step back with your right one. I’ll move my body to the left, and you move it to the right. Fine?” Ava nodded, and Beatrice did as she said. And Ava followed the movement, almost cheering when she got it right. “Now I’ll move my right foot to the right, and you move yours to the left.”

“Gotcha.”

“Close your feet,” Beatrice said, softly, and Ava’s stomach knotted at the way Beatrice was softly guiding her. “Your left foot goes back, my right foot goes forward,” Beatrice said, and Ava followed. “I go left, you go right,” and Ava did it, and both of them moved as if they were two drops of water dancing with the tide. “And we close our feet again.”

“That was easier than I thought,” Ava told Beatrice, and the girl nodded at her.

“We need music, otherwise it’s hard to do without following a rhythm,” the taller girl said, pursing her lips. “I have an idea, but if you tell anyone I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“Oh, okay?” Ava chuckled nervously, and Beatrice looked at her dead in the eyes making her swallow in intimidation.

And then, all of a sudden, Beatrice started to hum a tune that Ava quickly recognized as Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the flowers, and she couldn’t help but chuckle because of course Beatrice would try and be funny, humming a melody that was referred to flowers and spring while they were dancing on a field filled by flowers, in the highest point of spring.

Beatrice started to move, and Ava followed, and they were soon dancing in the middle of the field. It came to a point where Ava couldn’t hold back her giggling, and Beatrice’s humming started to go off and they were soon simply twirling around, giggling, while the birds chirped.

“This is ridiculous,” Beatrice said, shaking her head, a big smile on her lips. And Ava looked at her, sighing.

I love you.

“It’s fun, Beatrice. This is what normal people do when they have fun,” Ava told her twirling around, with her eyes closed and her arms opened.

“They sneak out of school, run into a field of daisies and dance to Tchaikovsky?” Beatrice asked, watching Ava with a fond smile.

“Yup, exactly!”

And then a massive cloud covered the sun, and more started to follow until it all got dark. And the first bolt of lightning broke between two clouds, a loud thunder following behind. And Ava couldn’t help but remember that night, how it had also been raining and thundering, how that had made the drunk driver lose control and hit their car.

“Ava?” Beatrice asked, holding Ava by the arm.

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” Ava said, while the first droplet of water fell into her head. “I hate them, actually.”

And then, all hell broke loose. Water started to pour down, as if it hadn’t been sunny only a few seconds ago. The lighting was bright, the thunders loud, and Ava couldn’t help but clutch into Beatrice’s arm.

“Fuck,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice didn’t leave her.

“Ava, we need to find shelter,” Beatrice looked around, and Ava nodded. “We are too far from the school.”

“Wait, look!” Ava pointed at the distance, at the silhouette of something that looked like a small house, and Beatrice nodded.

They sprinted there, never letting go from one another’s hand, and they soon arrived to what was clearly and abandoned farmhouse. Beatrice quickly unlocked the door, and the both of them entered protecting each other from the storm outside.

“Jesus,” Ava said, shivering, looking as if both of them had just jumped into a pool with their clothes on.

“Come,” Beatrice said, and they entered what looked like a living room.

There was a fireplace on one side, a wooden table with dusty chairs around it and a small opening that gave into a kitchen.

“Fire would be cool right now,” Ava said, looking at the fireplace, her teeth clashing with one another.

“Let me go outside, see if I can find two stones. Stay here,” Beatrice fled, and Ava went into the kitchen and her eyes widened when she found a cabinet full of what looked like old bottles of alcohol.

“The older, the better,” Ava muttered, making her way there and taking out a bottle of Bourbon.

“Found them!” Beatrice said, coming back inside and closing the wooden door.

The taller girl walked towards the fireplace, drying up the stones with her Saint Melanie’s sweater, and proceeded to clash one against the other until sparks came out and the sticks on the fireplace lit up.

“You just made fire with two stones,” Ava said, standing behind Beatrice.

The girl was kneeling in front of the fireplace, blowing air into the sticks and Ava could soon see a flame starting to consume the sticks, growing slowly.

“I joined a Scouts group,” Beatrice told Ava, and the shorter girl rolled her eyes. “And when I turned fourteen, I joined the Royal Marines Cadets.”

“Of course you did.”

“My father and, well, every single man from our family have served in the Royal army. There’s this cadet program I’ve been attending every summer for the last four years, and we usually go out into the forest and have to survive,” Beatrice sat in front of the fire, warming up her hands, and Ava sat next to her. “Aside from other stuff, mostly between land and bodies of water.”

“Does that mean you’ll join the army to keep up the tradition?” Ava asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, most likely after college. My father served for around three years in the Royal Marines,” Beatrice’s eyebrows were furrowed, and Ava could tell she didn’t really was feeling up for it.

“Do you want to?”

“Not really, no,” Beatrice said. “It is one thing to do all those… exploration and survival activities, going into the forest and doing all the physical and survival training. But… training to go somewhere, carrying guns and most likely ending up hurting someone else if you get involved into direct conflict? No, I don’t want to. I don’t like war and violence and all of that, and I think it’s a stupid tradition.”

“Oxford, not joining the Marines…” Ava hummed, smirking at Beatrice. “You really are becoming a rebel.”

“It’s your bad influence,” Beatrice smiled at Ava.

“Talking about that,” she dragged the bottle of alcohol from behind her back, and Beatrice’s mouth hung open. “This can help us with the whole warming up.”

“Ava!” Beatrice whispered, as if they were back at Saint Melanie’s and not in some old and abandoned farmhouse.

“Come on, have a drink with me,” Ava said, shaking the bottle and making the liquor inside move.

“Fine, I’ll have water,” Beatrice got up, but Ava made her sit down before she could go any further.

“Yeah, nope, no water,” Ava said, shivering at the thought of muddy water coming out of the most likely rusty gutters.

“But you know that I don’t…” Beatrice passed a hand through her hair, dropping the flower crown. “I’ve never…”

“What?” Ava said, tilting her head to one side, furrowing her eyebrows. Ava let out a surprised chuckle, and Beatrice looked to her lap, embarrassed. “Wait… you’ve never had a drink?”

“No… not with alcohol, no” Beatrice said in a rush, eyes widening by the second, cheeks becoming redder and redder.

“What about communion wine?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, unable to hold back a giggle, and Beatrice’s voice when so low, as if she was confessing to committing a crime.

“I just take tiny sips,” she said, swallowing audibly, and Ava gasped, bringing her hands upon her mouth.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, excitedly. “Oh this is going to be great!”

“What is…?” Beatrice didn’t finish her question, and Ava started to giggle like some kind of maniac.

“I get to be the one who gets you drunk for the first time!” Ava said, putting both of her hands excitedly on Beatrice’s shoulders after putting the bottle back down.

“Drunk?!” Beatrice’s voice got higher, and Ava’s grin widened. Beatrice started to shake her head from one side to the other. “No, no… just… just one sip!”

“Oh, nah huh sister,” Ava took the bottle back, making the liquor dance around once again, Beatrice looking at it as if it was some kind of torture device. “I’m not letting this opportunity pass.”

And Ava took the first sip, cringing at the strong taste. Truth be told, she had never really gotten drunk before, not even tipsy. Sure, she had drunk alcohol before, Vincent had let her taste wine and beer (as long as she didn’t tell Diego), but one sip had always been enough.

But she had always wanted to get drunk, to know if it was true that whenever you consumed alcohol in large proportions you actually felt like floating, and everything made you smile and you suddenly forgot about life’s problems and your mind became a fuzz of thoughts, your surroundings blurry.

Ava wiped her mouth, and offered the bottle to Beatrice. She looked at it, eyebrows furrowed, and Ava bit her lip excitedly, waiting. Beatrice smelled it, and immediately gagged, and Ava let out a loud laugh.

“Come on, Bea!” Beatrice looked at her, shaking her head, but Ava could see that she wanted to. Ava could sense that Beatrice wanted to become a little freer.

“I don’t know, Ava,” Beatrice said, looking at the liquor which looked like melted gold. “We can’t drink too much. We have to wake up early tomorrow, and plus my parents might be here already and…”

“Bea,” Ava put her hands on Beatrice’s bare and still wet knees, and she didn’t know if it was the Bourbon or if it was her, but she felt a spark of energy going up her arms and filling her with electricity.

Is this how people from the past felt when they saw their lover’s wrist, or their ankle?

Was Ava falling way in too deep that the sight of Beatrice’s knees drove her crazy?

“You don’t have to be so perfect all the time,” Ava said and then, before she could control herself, she kissed Beatrice’s cheek in the hopes of letting the girl feel comfortable, confident. But she didn’t know if she had succeeded, for Beatrice blinked stupidly at her. Ava, hoping the blush creeping up her face would pass as the effect of the alcohol, pointed at the bottle and then at Beatrice. “Say your prayers and bottoms up, sister.”

“Ugh, fine,” Beatrice actually muttered a quick prayer before she sipped from the old alcohol. And Ava watched her every move with a wide smile, hands clasped tightly.

The taller girl finished her sip, swallowing all down, and letting out a groan of disgust which made Ava explode in laughter.

“Oh, God,” Beatrice said, trying to hold back her gagging, “that was atrocious.”

“I know, I love it!”

They passed the bottle back and forth, and it soon became empty. And Ava was starting to feel it, the floating, how everything around her became unclear except Beatrice. How the girl’s eyes were heavy, how the simplest thing made them giggle and bend over in laughter.

And then they ran out of alcohol, and Ava tripped on her way to find more and she stayed there, in the middle of the living room, looking up at the ceiling and giggling stupidly. She watched Beatrice crawl over her, laying down next to her, letting out a contented sigh.

“It’s still raining outside,” Beatrice pointed out, her words coming out slowly. Ava hummed.

“Maybe we’ll have to sleep here,” Ava whispered, and Beatrice looked at her in horror.

“Oh, God… what if someone actually lives in here?” Ava thought about it for a second.

“Then they’re the dirtiest fucker out there,” she said, letting out a snort, and Beatrice was immediately laughing with her. They fell into a comfortable silence, until Beatrice broke it.

“Can I ask you something?” Ava nodded, and Beatrice took a second to gather her thoughts. “Why do you hate storms?”

“I used to love them,” Ava told Beatrice, not looking at her, “the thunder and the lighting and the rain. My mother used to read mythology to me, so I imagined it was Zeus or maybe Thor getting angry, because someone somewhere had done something fucked up.”

“And why did you stop to love them?”

“Because…” Ava breathed, shakily, and she felt Beatrice taking her hand and intertwining their fingers. And Ava thought that maybe the alcohol had actually been useful, though she wouldn’t let Beatrice do anything she felt uncomfortable with. Ava would simply be fine with holding Beatrice’s hand for the rest of her life. “The night of the accident there was a storm like this one going on, with thunder and so much rain. Maybe if it had been dry, the drunken dude wouldn’t have caused so much damage. Maybe my mom and I would’ve ended up in the hospital, but she would be alive and I would be able to use my legs in the way that I wanted to.”

“Oh, Ava…”

“The wet ground made the impact bigger, the loss of control stronger,” Ava shrugged her shoulders. “So I kind of hate storms, now.”

“Ava,” Beatrice squeezed her hand, and Ava looked at her. “As long as you’re next to me, you don’t have to be scared of them. I’ll protect you.”

“From the rain, the thunder, and the lighting?”

Beatrice nodded firmly, as if she meant it. As if the sky dared to open up again and make it rain, Beatrice would go up there herself and ask whoever was in charge of the storm machine to stop it because Ava didn’t like it. And Ava found the idea so ridiculous, and yet so incredibly romantic even though she was sure there wasn’t romance in Beatrice’s mind when she said that, she couldn’t stop herself from asking what she asked next.

“Bea,” Ava said, her voice an almost inaudible whisper.

“Hmm?” and Ava didn’t think it twice, she didn’t give herself time to second guess herself.

“Can I kiss you?” Ava whispered, the drops of water falling hard on the farmhouse’s roof. Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, confused.

“You already did,” Beatrice touched her own cheek, as if she felt the ghost of Ava’s brief and uncontrolled kiss there. Ava swallowed.

“No, I mean…” Ava’s eyes dropped to Beatrice’s lips, half parted. “Can I kiss you on the lips, Beatrice?”

Beatrice’s eyes went through every possible emotion someone could manage to feel in a millisecond. Confusion, fear, eagerness, doubt, and finally acceptance. The nod was almost imperceptible, if it hadn’t been for the way Ava’s full attention was solely focused on Beatrice, on every single little movement the girl made.

And Ava raised her body, and her face hovered upon Beatrice’s.

“Have you ever been kissed before?” Ava asked, voice low, and Beatrice shook her head.

“You?” the taller girl asked, her head between each of Ava’s hands. Ava nodded.

“Once,” Ava told Beatrice, and the girl underneath her hummed. “Do you really want me to?”

“Yes.”

And Ava nodded firmly, and she saw Beatrice’s eyes widening by each inch their mouths became closer. And Ava put her lips upon Beatrice’s, almost not touching each other at first. And then she pecked them, not closing her eyes, looking at Beatrice’s wide eyes.

Ava separated from Beatrice, and the girl was unmoving, almost in a catatonic state. Her mouth was slightly parted, her eyes buried deep inside of Ava’s. Beatrice raised a hand, and it hovered upon Ava’s cheek, and Ava couldn’t help herself but close her eyes at the contact of Beatrice’s cold and soft hand upon her skin.

When she opened her eyes again, Beatrice was still looking at her as if she was fighting a silent battle. There was a wrinkle between her eyebrows, her breathing was going fast, and yet she didn’t pull her hand away. And Ava couldn’t help herself, and leaned down once again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more firm. There was no “clashing of tongues, grazing of teeth” as the books described first kisses. Their lips simply joined one another, separated for a second, and then kissed each other again.

And the last kiss lasted a little bit longer than the first one, maybe two seconds more. And then Ava separated her lips from Beatrice’s, waiting and expecting what could happen next.

She, however, wasn’t expecting for Beatrice to put her hands gently on Ava’s shoulders and push her away from her before sitting up, and putting her flower crown back up.

Ava stayed there, laying on the wooden floor, watching Beatrice look at the fire and be silent for God knows how long. And Ava didn’t say anything, she simply waited for Beatrice to react in some way. Maybe yell at her, maybe kiss her again.

“It stopped raining,” Beatrice said, calmly, “we should head back.”

“Beatrice…”

“Come on,” Beatrice got up, taking an old rag and putting out the fire with it. “Let’s get going, we have a long way.”

They left the old farmhouse behind, walking towards Saint Melanie’s in silence. And Ava was trying hard to ignore the way Beatrice was walking one small step in front of her, the way Beatrice had pushed her away and had talked to her in such a calm and unfeeling way right after Ava had received the best kiss of her fucking life.

And she couldn’t help but feel her heart breaking slowly, as she watched Beatrice not even looking back at her, making sure she was walking fine and her legs weren’t acting up. Ava still felt drunk, stumbling here and there, but it seemed as if Beatrice had suddenly sobered up.

They were still wearing their crowns, their uniforms and probably faces dirty with mud and ashes from the fireplace. And Ava suddenly felt scared, because she couldn’t help but feel as if something had broken between them both. As if that kiss had the opposite effect of what she was hoping for.

“We’ll go through the front door,” Beatrice said when they reached the school grounds. The sky was already dark, the air cold and the field smelled like rain still.

“Beatrice, wait,” Ava said, trying to reach for Beatrice’s hand. But the girl cringed away, and Ava felt the first piece of her heart falling into the abyss.

They walked, crossing the gates and entering the school’s lobby. And Ava almost crashed against Beatrice’s body, when she stopped suddenly. She thought that Beatrice would turn around, address what had happened. She thought maybe Beatrice would tell her she’d only needed a little bit of silence and time to think about what happened, that they would figure this out together.

But when Ava looked at Beatrice, she saw the girl completely pale, looking at something in front of her. And Ava turned around, and she also felt frozen. Mother Frances was looking at them, eyebrow arched, a couple who were as tall and raven haired as Beatrice looking extremely angry.

“Oh, shit,” Ava muttered, and by the way the younger woman scowled at her she assumed she had said it out loud.

“Mother, father,” Beatrice said, recovering from the shock.

“Where were you?” her father asked her, his hands hidden inside his suit’s pocket. Her mother didn’t say anything.

“I…” Beatrice didn’t know what to say, and she looked at Ava once.

“We needed air,” Ava said, not knowing if Beatrice allowed her to speak. Beatrice’s father looked at her, and she saw his eyes widening slightly, as if he recognized her somehow, or as if he had seen something familiar in her muddy face.

“What is that in your head?” Beatrice’s mother asked, and Beatrice took her crown off.

“A crown of flowers,” Beatrice muttered, and Ava’s heart lost another tiny piece when Beatrice crunched it between her hands, almost breaking it.

“Is that what we sent you here for?” her father asked, looking away from Ava and recovering from whatever he was thinking. “To sneak out and make flower crowns?”

“No, father,” Beatrice looked down, and Ava was so angry. Because Beatrice was only a few seconds away from kneeling, asking for her parents’ forgiveness.

“Who’s your friend?” the mother asked, her voice cold as a snake’s hissing.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, not even looking at Ava. The way she said her name was so different from the gentleness Ava had grown used to, Beatrice spat it out as if befriending her had been a sin. “Ava Silva.”

Ava furrowed her eyebrows at the way Beatrice’s father stiffened when he heard her name, and she wanted to ask him what the fuck was his problem, but she didn’t. It wasn’t the right moment, now. Though she would truly jump at them if they dared to insult Beatrice in front of her.

“Mother Frances said you told her you’ll attend Oxford,” Beatrice’s father said, and Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose. “Care to explain?”

“I want to go where Izzie went,” Beatrice explained, trying to sound confident, squaring her shoulders. But Ava didn’t miss the way a muscle in her jaw trembled, the way her fingers twitched nervously, or how her throat bobbled.

“Her name was Isabella,” Beatrice’s mother said. “Stop using a stupid nickname you gave her when you were a child.”

“Yes, mother,” Beatrice said, automatically, not even looking at her mother. And Ava furrowed her eyebrows, at the difference between sweet and gentle Beatrice and this kind of robot that wasn’t even able to stand up for herself.

“You stink of alcohol,” the father said, scowling. “Have you been drinking?”

“It was my fault,” Ava said, stepping in front of Beatrice. She saw the girl looking at her, eyes wide, expression angry.

I don’t care, Ava thought, I don’t care as long as you look at me and see me.

“I made Beatrice drink, without her wanting to,” Ava half-heartedly lied. The mother let out a sound similar to a laugh, but it sounded more like a crow’s cawing.

“You take orders from orphans who can’t even pay for a pair of socks now?” the woman said, and Ava saw Beatrice fisting her hands on her sides.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Beatrice growled out, and her mother arched an eyebrow while her father’s upper lip trembled as if he was about to bark like an angry Chihuahua. “Mother.”

“Your grades have lowered, you have made decisions without consulting us, and now you’re sneaking out of your school and rolling in the mud?” the father asked, his eyes filling with more and more disgust by each word he spoke. “We haven’t raised you like that.”

“You haven’t raised her at all,” Ava said, unable to stop herself.

“Ava, shut up,” Beatrice muttered behind her, and Ava looked back at her, finally seeing some emotion in her eyes.

“You’ll let them speak to you like that?” Ava said, scoffing. “You’re eighteen fucking years old, Beatrice! You don’t have to keep on standing this bullshit!”

“Ava, enough.”

“No!” Ava put her arms up, and then turned around to Beatrice’s parents. “You have the most brilliant daughter, she’s hard-working and a born leader. She owns the respect of everyone in here, and she’s kind and gentle and does nothing but work her ass of so your little gremlin looking faces can be satisfied and you don’t even care!”

“Ava,” Beatrice said, louder this time.

“If Beatrice wants to go to fucking Oxford, then let her go! But if you keep on telling her where to go, what to dress, how to act then you’ll just end up losing another daughter,” both of Beatrice’s parents eyes widened, and she heard Beatrice letting out a choking sound behind her. “Not that you care, though. You only saw Isabella as your little pawn to achieve your ambitious goals, and now Beatrice occupies her place. Well, she’s way more than your own toy you can use and then forget once she’s accomplished one of your desires.”

“Ava, shut the fuck up already!” Beatrice said, and Ava turned around to look at the girl who was breathing quickly, her nostrils flaring. “Just… don’t get in the way, okay?”

“Beatrice…”

“Don’t!” the girl said, raising her voice. “Please, just don’t.”

Ava didn’t say anything else, and she simply looked at Beatrice with pity, realizing that Oxford and not wanting to join the military like her family had done for generations was simply all talk, but at the sight of her family Beatrice would simply bend to their wishes.

Beatrice would be forced to study laws and economics and politics, when she had confessed to Ava that her dream was to use science to help people in need, in the best way she could. Beatrice would be probably forced to carry a rifle around, when all she wanted to do was to go out in the nature and explore flowers, find butterflies, and maybe dance around in the rain.

And she wouldn’t, because she had been seeking for her parents’ approval for eighteen years of her life, and of course she wouldn’t stop herself from doing so because a silly little orphan told her it was stupid. And maybe that was the difference between Ava and Beatrice, that Ava didn’t have to impress anyone but herself, while Beatrice had a whole legacy weighing her down, she had expectations she needed to accomplish in order to be slightly worthy for her parents.

And Ava realized, standing in the school’s lobby, dirty from head to toe, that she and Beatrice were so different, that they were two worlds apart, and all the scenarios she made up inside her mind and all the whispered promises in the darkness of their dorm had simply been a fool’s hope. A way for Ava to feel like she wouldn’t be so lonely in the future, a way for Beatrice to imagine that maybe she would finally break free.

Ava felt the first tear rolling down, the pieces that built up the puzzle of her heart falling one by one.

“You will stay away from her,” Beatrice’s father told Ava, and she didn’t even acknowledge him. It wasn’t protectiveness in his voice, but disgust and something similar to… fear?

“She’s my dorm mate,” Beatrice said to him, as if that would change his mind.

“Arrangements can be made, Lord Armstrong-Young,” Mother Frances told him, smirking at Ava with triumph.

“Good,” the man said, nodding once. “Go gather your things, we are leaving. And we’ll talk about your stupid hopes back home, in private, without fools middling amongst our business.”

Ava didn’t bother to defend herself, to let him know she was no fool. Because she had started to walk away, and she didn’t need to turn around to know Beatrice wasn’t following her.

*

Beatrice was sitting on her bed, hearing the shower being turned off and Ava coming out from it. She had also heard the sobs, and her heart had broken with every single one.

She hated herself, how she had been unable to defend Ava when her parents insulted the girl. How it had to be Ava the one defending her, telling them to let Beatrice live. And all Beatrice did was to yell at Ava to shut up, because she didn’t want the girl to be hurt by them.

But you’ve hurt her, Beatrice thought.

When Ava had kissed her, her brain became a mess of emotions and her chest hurt so badly she hadn’t known how to deal with it. It had been her first kiss, and she couldn’t say if it was the best kiss she ever had, but boy did it have an effect on her.

She hadn’t known how to act, and her usual coping mechanism was to keep her emotions to herself and put distance between her and Ava until she was able to gather her thoughts and comprehend what the hell happened.

It was wrong. But if it was wrong, why did it feel so right?

Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose, her heart hammering hard inside her chest. She had wanted to stay away from Ava, to protect her and Ava’s hearts and to not make a mistake. Because this wasn’t what her parents wanted, this wasn’t what she had to do. She couldn’t give up the future that had been planned for her when Isabella died to run away and go dance on a field of daisies with a girl she’d met a year ago.

But on the other side, all she wanted to do was to run away with Ava, to dance on a field and get drunk in an old farmhouse. A deeper and darker part of her wanted to spend the rest of her days kissing Ava, making flower crowns, and choosing her own destiny.

It’s wrong, Beatrice repeated once again, as if doing that would make her forget she had eagerly kissed Ava back, as if repeating it would make her forget how desperate she had sounded when she had given Ava permission to kiss her, as if repeating it would make her forget about the way her heart twisted and turned when Ava put that damn crown of flowers on top of her head.

It’s not, Isabella said somewhere far, far away. Love is not wrong.

Beatrice’s train of thought got cut short when Ava came out of the bathroom, hair wet and wearing her pajama already. The girl looked at her, eyes wide and puffy.

“Beatrice,” Ava said, keeping her distance. Beatrice got up, carrying her bag in one hand.

“Ava,” she said, looking to the floor. “I think I’ll have to move out from this dorm.”

Beatrice saw a million of emotions going through Ava’s eyes, how Ava wanted to protest and go downstairs to confront the old nun. But she simply swallowed and nodded, defeated.

“Okay.”

“I’ll gather my things when I get back, though. My parents are waiting,” Beatrice knew she sounded desperate to keep talking, but judging by the way Ava was simply nodding she knew it was a stupid choice. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Don’t worry,” but Beatrice worried, because she had never seen Ava acting like this before. She had never seen her being so quiet, sounding so tired, her eyes looking so sad.

“Ava, I…” Beatrice sighed. “What happened in the farmhouse…”

“It was stupid,” Ava let out a dry chuckle. “I should’ve known better.”

“No, I…” Ava looked at her, a small ounce of hope in her eyes. “I have so many things to think about.”

“Okay.”

“But I…” Beatrice shook her head, not even knowing how to say it out loud. “Isabella did it, I’m sure.”

“Did what?”

“Kissing girls,” her voice came out in a rush, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows. “And she said it wasn’t wrong.”

“Do you think it’s wrong?” Ava asked softly, and Beatrice had never felt so stupid in her life, and this was the first time she had not an answer for a question.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, and Ava nodded at her.

“Well, let me know when you do,” Ava said, harshly, crossing her arms upon her chest.

“I think this spring break we should give space to one another, for me to think and for you to try to forgive me,” Ava nodded at her, and Beatrice nodded back.

“Fine,” the shorter girl finally said. And Beatrice made her way towards the dorm door.

“Ava,” she said, before opening it. “When I come back, we’ll talk. About Oxford and…”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Beatrice smiled sadly at the girl, who didn’t look at her. “Take care, Ava. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

Ava didn’t say anything, and Beatrice left the dorm. And even though she had everything with her, she knew she was leaving something behind. Her heart, and the slight hope of freedom and happiness.

But she would fight, just like Isabella had done. And she wouldn’t let her parents take away from her the only thing that had made her feel slightly happy and free for over eighteen years.

*

Ava sat in a lonely dorm, and it looked like the tears were coming back in full force. They had stopped while she was in the shower, not because Ava calmed down but because it felt like her tear conducts had dried up. Now, though, they proved her wrong.

A small part of her was hoping for things to go back to normal, for things to get fixed. Beatrice moving out from the dorm didn’t mean their friendship would be over, and maybe they needed this small break for Beatrice to figure things out, and for Ava to try and forgive her.

She hadn’t said anything about the kiss, but Beatrice knew something had gone very wrong. That the reaction she had wasn’t the one neither of them were expecting, and that it made Ava’s heart break a little. Because she knew Beatrice could’ve sensed the love in the kiss, and Ava kind of sensed it too in the soft touch Beatrice had offered.

But maybe it was all a dream, or a fucking nightmare. And maybe Beatrice’s parents and their teachers had actually been right, and Ava was simply a little and stupid girl with dreams bigger than herself.

People like Beatrice didn’t become friends forever with people like Ava. People like Beatrice didn’t fall in love with people like Ava. And right now they were young, and naïve, and lonely. And they had found comfort in one another, but they were only two months away from finishing school, from graduating.

Beatrice had told Mother Frances she wanted to go to Oxford, and Ava had done the same. But she had also said how she’d wanted to go to New York University, because of the journalism program. And Mother Frances, for once in her life, told Ava she could fit right in New York.

Beatrice had a big choice to make, to break free or to not break free. And Ava, depending on whatever Beatrice chose to do, would decide for herself as well.

That night Ava fell asleep quickly, skipping dinner and the prayers, not even caring of what the rest would say. But she also woke up many times, plagued with nightmares she immediately forgot about but the dull pain, the agony, they remained. And this time, she had no one to hold her through the night and to tell her it would all be okay.

Chapter Text

Ava sipped nervously from her juice, her legs going up and down nervously, as she waited for Michael and Lilith to arrive.

            It had been a month ever since her little afternoon adventure with Beatrice and, holy shit, did her world turn upside down. They hadn’t slept together again, wanting to take things slow and all. And they were making really great progress, texting often and sharing their feelings as much as they could.

            Ava had promised herself she would never forgive Beatrice, but that was before they ran into one another (literally), and Ava got to see that Beatrice had actually grown up and really wanted to make amends.

            Both Beatrice and Ava told one another if their week would be busy, if they would be able to text at all hours or if it would take a while to reply. They decided to communicate, instead of giving each other space and make up scenarios that were so far from the truth.

            Ava had also started to talk more with Leighton, who somehow got her number and texted her one month ago while Ava and Beatrice were… busy. Leighton asked if she was okay, apologizing if she had said something wrong. Now, the blonde girl was giving Ava tips to flirt with Beatrice to the point the girl would squirm and blush and choke on her own saliva.

            But Ava hadn’t used any of those yet, because maybe it was still too soon. Even if they slept together literally two weeks after encountering one another again, two weeks after Ava swore to the Universe that she wouldn’t forgive Beatrice so easily, that she wouldn’t fall back for her.

            Ava and Beatrice had been seeing one another whenever they could, usually on Sundays. They went out for coffee, and talked to update one another about the seven years they had spent separately.

            Beatrice told her how she had adopted a cat, and then it ran away and never came back. Ava told Beatrice how she had tried to become a plant mom, but she forgot to water said plants and they lasted two weeks. Ava also convinced Beatrice to finally create social media, so she could stop being a grandmother. And Beatrice had done it, after much grumbling and groaning, though she barely posted anything except random photographs she took.

            “Will your Instagram be a photography blog?” Ava asked Beatrice in one of their Sunday meetings (not date, let’s be clear here).

            “Is it bad?” Beatrice asked, genuinely concerned, and Ava chuckled.

            “I like it this way,” Ava shrugged, and Beatrice smiled at her. “It’s so you.”

            This way no one will fall in love with you and your stupidly beautiful face, and you can stay my little secret, Ava wanted to say, but maybe it was still too soon for that.

            She didn’t want to come off as desperate, and she didn’t want to look way too eager to bring Beatrice back to her place, to her bed. Ava was fine with the coffee dates, with sitting in front of one another and talk about everything and anything at all. She liked the way in which sometimes Beatrice’s fingers caressed hers, asking a silent question, and how their hands would end up interlacing on top of the table as they spoke.

            She was fine with all of that, truly. She was fine with the shy smiles and the wondering looks, with the hand holding and the teasing. It was the way it should’ve been all those years ago, two teen girls discovering love for the very first time, maybe finding their other half at an early age, being lucky enough to have them for the rest of their days.

            And Ava didn’t mind if this teenager kind of romance came at twenty-five, the most important part was that they were back into each other’s lives and they were willing to fight the bad memories, the traumas, and they were willing to heal. Ava was willing to heal, to give Beatrice a second chance, to understand.

            Beatrice also seemed to love giving gifts to Ava, but she seemed to like sending them to Ava’s work place in the worst possible moments. Two weeks ago, Ava was having a meeting with Nico Murray, Suzanne, Kit and Mary, where they would be talking about the book, how Jillian had given the green light and agreed to get a book written about her personal life.

            “Ava… Silvia?” a young boy said, carrying a massive bouquet of daisies.

            “Silva,” she corrected him, furrowing her eyebrows.

            “This is for you,” the young man said, awkwardly giving the flowers to Ava.

            “Oh,” she said, feeling her cheeks blushing when all eyes seemed to be on her. “Thanks.”

            She looked at the small handwritten note, not even having to wonder who had sent those flowers when she saw Beatrice’s perfectly cursive handwriting.

Daisies for Her Majesty,

Beatrice.

            Ava couldn’t help but smile like a damn fool, biting her lip to hold back a squeal of excitement and happiness. And then, she suddenly remembered she was in the middle of a meeting, and asked them all to carry on.

            “Are those from Beatrice?” Kit asked her, once they went back to their desk.

            “Yeah,” Ava said, hating the way she was unable to keep a serious face, or to ask Kit to go fuck themselves and mind their business.

            “Oh, God, you disgust me,” Mary told her, fondly, shaking her head.

            And then it started to be their little thing, sending each other gifts out of the blue. Ava’s first gift for Beatrice was a bottle of Bourbon, and Beatrice had actually loved it and invited Ava to go to her apartment and drink it with her.

            “Soon, I promise,” Ava said, laying on her bed, hating the way she was so close to twirling her hair and kicking her feet.

            “Fine, soon it is,” Beatrice told her softly, an unspoken promise hanging between them both.

            Right now, though, their Sunday coffee date got replaced by a date with Beatrice’s siblings, and Ava was honestly terrified. Not of Michael, he actually was the sweetest guy she ever met and he made JC actually really happy, helping Ava’s best friend to get his shit together and actually give it a shoot with his dream of becoming a musical theatre actor and future singer and songwriter.

            Ava was terrified of Lilith, though. She was terrified of her long and toned limbs and her perfect face and her dark and deep eyes, the way it seemed like whenever Lilith spoke, the world fell silent in order to listen to whatever she had to say.

            And as Ava was thinking about Lilith, and the way the girl intimidated her so much, she saw her entering the coffee shop where they agreed to meet and if she didn’t remember they were about to meet, Ava would’ve really thought she had summoned Lilith with her mind. Ava felt more relieved when she saw Michael following behind, eyes glued on his phone, and judging by the stupid smile he was wearing on his face Ava had a guess of who he was talking to.

            “Ava,” Lilith said, taking out her sun glasses and sitting down.

            “Hey, guys,” Ava said, hating the way her voice shook slightly. God damn, both of them were such beautiful human beings, Lilith with her long and silky hair and Michael with his blue eyes. Jillian really had made it a point to give birth to one of the most handsome dudes Ava had ever seen, and to adopt the two most beautiful and intimidating girls in the world.

            “Good morning, Ava,” Michael smiled at her, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. The waitress came, and the girl’s mouth hung open when Lilith looked directly at her.

            “Two black coffees,” the girl said, and the waitress nodded and hurried to make the coffees for her and Michael.

            “No milk?” Ava said, desperately trying to feel less awkward.

            “I’m lactose intolerant, Ava,” Lilith said, furrowing her perfectly shaped eyebrows, as if it was common knowledge.

            “Forgive her,” Michael said, softly, letting out a chuckle. “She’ll be fine once she gets her coffee.”

            “Shut up, Michael,” Lilith rolled her eyes, and Ava smiled awkwardly at them both.

            “So…” Ava cleared her throat, sipping from her juice. “I called you both to talk a little about your mother, since I’m writing a book about her and all.”

            “Can I say how cool is that?” Michael said, taking Ava’s hand gently, and Ava smiled at him. “My whole life I’ve tried to convince my mum to talk about her life, write a memoir or something, but she said she was waiting for the right person to come along and do it because she actually despises talking about herself.”

            “I know, that’s why she told me to contact you both and Beatrice to get the information,” Ava chuckled, patting Michael’s hand. And then her eyes landed on Lilith, and she swallowed audibly when she saw the girl looking at her with slit eyes.

            “Forget about that,” Lilith said, the waitress coming back with her and Michael’s black coffees. “What are your intentions with our baby sister?”

            “She’s older than us, Lilith. She was literally born in January, before us both,” Michael reminded Lilith, who waved a hand for him to shut up.

            “I… what?” Ava squeaked, hoping the floor would open up and would swallow her whole.

            “Forgive her, Ava, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Michael said, nervously, looking at his sister from the corner of his eye.

            “Oh, yeah I do,” Lilith said, slowly, her British accent suddenly coming stronger than it already was. “So?”

            “I thought we were here to talk about Jillian,” Ava arched an eyebrow, trying to put on a brave façade.

            “Later,” Lilith said. “Now let’s make it clear. What do you want with Bea?”

            “We’re just… hanging out,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, opting to use that word to describe what had happened the day Beatrice literally run to her apartment to explain things to her.

            “Is that how kids call having sex nowadays? Hanging out?” Lilith asked, eyebrows arched, as Michael covered his face with both hands.

            “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered.

            “Excuse me?” Ava stuttered, and Lilith looked at her coldly.

            “When Beatrice comes to work, she’s all business with no smiles on sight. The next day after she went to see you, she was pretty much jumping around and saying good morning to every single person in that damn office,” Lilith crossed her arms upon her chest, and Ava’s mouth hung open.

            “Did she tell you that we…?”

            “No, but Camila did,” Lilith shrugged her shoulders, and Ava made a choking sound. She was unable to keep it a secret, how her and Beatrice had finally done it, and she’d needed to call Camila as soon as possible to tell it to her.

            “JC might’ve also mentioned something…” Michael said, looking down in shame.

            Of course, she should’ve known better.

            “I will kill them both,” Ava muttered.

            “You touch Camila and I will be the one doing the killing,” Lilith said.

            “What if no one killed anyone?” Michael offered, eyes wide in terror. Ava and Lilith looked at one another for a few seconds.

            “Fine,” both said at the same time.

            “Look,” Lilith sighed, sipping from her black coffee and pausing dramatically. “The both of you broke each other’s hearts once already, and spent literally seven years sulking because of it when it could’ve been so easy to just… try to contact one another, talk things out and all.”

            “Well, it’s not my fault Beatrice didn’t own any kind of social media until now,” Ava shrugged her shoulders.

            “Yeah, Lili, that one’s on her,” Michael said, nodding his head, and Lilith looked at him.

            “Who’s side are you on?” the tall girl asked, and he chuckled.

            “Both, I love the drama,” he explained, and Ava nodded in agreement.

            “Beatrice has done a lot of growth, Ava,” Lilith continued, more serious this time. “She’s worked so hard to be where she is right now, to accept herself. And even now, there’s times where she still struggles.”

            “You’re talking as if I’ll reverse all the progress she made,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, feeling slightly attacked. Lilith, instead of trying to reinforce those feelings, looked at her more softly, showing the way she cared for Beatrice.

            “I’m not saying that,” Lilith cleared up for her, “I’m just saying that the both of you went from being best friends for almost two years, to destroying one another in the span of a couple weeks. You already know Beatrice’s heart is gentle, and fragile sometimes because of all the shit she had to go through with her family. And for the last month she’s looked so happy and calm, and I don’t want that to go away.”

            “We love her so much, Ava,” Michael said, his voice soft and his blue eyes turning into a sad shade of blue. “Our mum and us, we have seen her in the worst and darkest moments of her life, and we’ve seen her pulling through. She’s worked so hard to get where she is right now, but there’s just so much heart break one single person can take.”

            “She broke my heart too, you know?” Ava said, not defensively, but sadly. “Even now, when we’re trying our best to fix everything up, there’s still times where I can’t help but remember how it all went wrong. It took me a lot to get here too.”

            “Just…” Lilith sighed. “Just take it easy, okay? Don’t give her false hope, please.”

            “I won’t,” Ava nodded at Lilith, reassuringly. “Especially because I… I kind of want her back in my life, and giving her false hope would be like giving me false hope and intentionally ruining me.”

            “Look,” Lilith’s face expression looked as if she was about to confess her deepest and darkest secret. She breathed deeply, and nodded to herself. “I kind of like you, Ava. We haven’t talked much for the last month, all I know about you is what Beatrice and Camila have told me, and I think you’re cool.”

            “Aw, Lilith,” Michael cooed, and Lilith hit him with her elbow.

            “But you dare to hurt Beatrice, and it’s over. Capeesh?” Ava then furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head, and Lilith arched an eyebrow. Michael seemed to be holding his breathing.

            “What about you and Camila, though?” Ava crossed her arms upon her chest, impersonating Lilith’s pose. “What are your intentions with her?”

            “Oh, if these aren’t the consequences of your own actions,” Michael muttered, sipping from his coffee.

            “You shut up, young man. We’ll talk about you and JC when I’m done with this one,” Ava said, making the guy choke on his drink. “So?”

            “I really like her,” Lilith shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly, though there was a blush creeping up her neck and covering her cheeks. “She’s fun to be around.”

            “Fun?” Ava snorted, and Lilith exhaled slowly.

            “She’s a menace to society, she has so many anger issues and she’s violent, and I love her for that.” Lilith confessed, her face trying to remain stoic but Ava didn’t miss the way those hard and dark eyes softened at the confession. “Because she’s also kind, and sweet, and cares so much for every single person around her. And she makes me very, very happy.

            “Have you told her that?” Ava asked Lilith, softer this time. Lilith dropped her stare to the table.

            “I’m not… really good with words or, well, expressing my emotions,” Lilith confessed to them, Michael nodding and caressing his sister’s forearm gently. “I show it in other ways, though.”

            “Oh, believe me I know,” Ava rolled her eyes. “I know every single detail. How’s Howard?”

            Lilith’s eyes widened, and Michael furrowed his eyebrows looking at his sister in confusion.

            “Who the hell is Howard?” he asked, and Lilith’s face became as red as a tomato.

            “No one,” she said, as Ava replied, “Lilith’s dildo.”

            “What the fuck,” Michael muttered, suddenly looking scarred for life, as Lilith looked at Ava in a way that made the shorter girl want to get up and run away. In order to avoid conflict, she looked at the boy.

            “You,” she said, pointing at him, as Lilith still looked at her with her mouth hanging open, hands fisting on the table. “What about you and JC.”

            “Oh, we already said our I love you’s and all,” Michael shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m also thinking to ask him to move in with me.”

            “You guys have known one another for a month,” Ava said, and Michael nodded at her.

            “I’ll stay in New York for a very long time, so…”

            “Damn, and I thought lesbians moved on quickly,” Lilith muttered, and Ava couldn’t help but snort at the girl.

            “I have an idea,” Ava said, leaning closer to the both of them. The two siblings looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. “A triple date.”

            “What?” Lilith asked her, and Michael hummed.

            “Beatrice and I, with you both, Camila and JC,” Michael immediately agreed with Ava’s idea, while Lilith looked unsure. “There’s a karaoke bar close to where Camila and I live, they know us because we used to work there during college. We could go and it would be the perfect chance for you, Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Express-My-Emotions, to confess your feelings through music.”

            “I don’t know how to sing,” Lilith defended herself.

            “Liar,” Michael told her.

            “Slut,” Lilith muttered, and Michael arched an eyebrow.

            “Children, enough,” Ava said, raising both of her hands. “What do you say?”

            “Cool by me, Ava!” Michael fist bumped her, and the both of them looked at Lilith who ended up rolling her eyes.

            “Fine.”

            “Next Saturday, then?” both siblings nodded, and Ava clapped excitedly.

            “Oh, I have a suggestion actually,” Michael said, whispering conspirationally. Both girls focused their full attention on him. “How about we make it a quadruple date?”

            “Huh?” Ava and Lilith said at the same time.

            “Mum, and Suzanne,” Michael said, wiggling his eyebrows. Lilith scoffed, while Ava grinned wide.

            “You’re a fucking genius!” Ava said, nodding her head.

            “I know, right?!”

            “No, you’re asking for murder and also getting disinherited,” Lilith said, shaking her head. Michael and Ava looked at her with matching unimpressed expressions. “Do whatever you want, but if you get in trouble don’t come find me.”

            Michael and Ava smiled at the girl, who simply rolled her eyes and kept on drinking from her coffee.

            “Okay, now,” Ava took a deep breath, taking out her notebook and pen. “Let’s talk about Mother.”

*

            “A quadruple date?” Beatrice snorted, laying on her bed, Ava’s face on her phone screen.

            “Yes, it’s a new concept Michael and I have invented today,” Ava explained, smiling widely at her, and Beatrice couldn’t help but chuckle.

            “You two are best friends now?”

            “Yes, because we both share annoying Lilith as a passion,” Beatrice nodded, understandingly.

            “That’s considered a sport of risk, actually,” she muttered, and Ava laughed out loud on the other side of the phone, making Beatrice’s heart flutter.

            “Well, if she wants to stay with Camila she’ll have to deal with me,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Beatrice hummed. “You look tired, Bea.”

            “I am.”

            Beatrice hadn’t wanted to tell Ava, because they had been doing so fine lately, plus Ava was extra excited because Vincent and Diego would come visit her in a couple of weeks, after Beatrice would be back from her work trip to Barcelona with Lilith.

            The reason why Beatrice was feeling tired wasn’t because of work, or at least it wasn’t the bigger reason. She had gotten a text from her father a couple of days ago, telling her that he and her mother would be coming to New York the same week when Ava’s family would be there. And Beatrice knew she would need Ava’s support, but she also didn’t want to tell her about her parents, to make her leave behind some quality time with Vincent and Diego after months of not seeing them.

            “The project is already kicking your ass?” Ava asked, and Beatrice nodded.

            The project had started that same week, and they were already making a great progress. Beatrice would be in New York supervising it for a month and a half more before she would go to England and start the constructions there, traveling to New York sporadically until the project would be fully done. And then, she would most likely have to stay in England for longer than she would like.

            “But that’s not all of it, is it?” Ava said, when Beatrice lost her track of thought and stared blankly at the screen. She blinked, confused.

            “What?”

            “What’s going on up there, Beatrice?” Ava asked, eyebrows furrowed, and she sighed.

            “It’s nothing, don’t worry,” Beatrice smiled at Ava, and the girl arched an eyebrow at her from the other side of the phone screen.

            “Beatrice, what did we say about communicating?” the other girl said, and Beatrice sighed. “It’s not a bother, whatever you’re feeling.”

            “It’s…” she groaned, hating the way those two still had a grip on her, no matter how far away she was or how long she had decided to leave them behind after they forced her to break Ava’s heart and her own. “My parents.”

            “Oh, shit. Let me sit down, wait,” Ava had been finishing to do her skin care routine in her bathroom, and she made her way towards her bedroom and sat on her bed.

            Every time they videocalled one another, Ava was always laying on her bed. And Beatrice couldn’t help but blush, her stomach knotting, remembering what had happened the first and last time she had been in Ava’s bedroom.

            Ava had told her she usually never brought people to her apartment; she always went to other people’s places to do what… well, what they did. Ava was scared that if she brought them to her place, she would wake up in the morning and found out they were gone. So she always preferred to be the one leaving the scene after committing the crime, until it had been Beatrice running to Ava’s house.

            It hadn’t been in Beatrice’s plans, the way things ended one month ago. She had wanted to talk to Ava and open up to her, and she thought that maybe that would come later on. But she honestly wasn’t complaining at all, and she didn’t care if they first slept together and then figured things out.

            It didn’t happen again, and they were taking it as slow as possible. They tried to see one another as often as they could, to not necessarily talk about the past but simply try to update one another and make up for the amount of years they had missed from each other’s lives. And Beatrice liked it, and she was fine with it, and this time when she realized she was free falling again she didn’t truly feel scared but hopeful, and excited.

            “Okay, tell me,” Ava said, biting her lip, and Beatrice sighed.

            “They have been pestering me more than usual with the family business and all,” Beatrice shrugged. “They’ve given up on me taking up the diplomatic stuff, apparently one of my cousins will do that since he freshly graduated from University and all. But they still count on me to take care of all of the lands they own, the art collection, the countless houses…”

            “Not your cousin?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Beatrice chuckled.

            “Giving it all to him would make them look bad, it would make people ask questions and their perfect family picture would be broken,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, scowling at the thought. “Did you know they’re telling all of their aristocratic friends they let me study whatever I wanted because they wanted my happiness over anything else?”

            “What the actual fuck,” Ava’s eyes widened in outrage, and Beatrice was momentarily scared that the girl would take a plane to London and kick her family’s ass for her. She wouldn’t stop her if that happened, though.

            “Yes,” Beatrice supported her head on her arm, and she loved the way Ava almost salivated at the gesture. “Apparently people asked them why I don’t show up to their big events and all anymore, why I am working in New York and not with them. They said they wanted me to focus on my own projects and take care of the family business when I was ready, rather than saying that I pretty much haven’t talked to them in seven years.”

            “Bea, I’m so sorry,” Ava said, softly. Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

            “Don’t be, Ava.”

            “When are they coming, though?” Beatrice lowered her gaze for a second, knowing that if she told Ava the truth the girl would most likely drop everything and join her in order to kick her parents’ asses. And, deep down, she liked the idea of that given that one month ago Ava wouldn’t even have wanted to share the same room with Beatrice.

            “In two weeks, after I come back from Barcelona and right when Vincent and Diego will be here,” Beatrice pointed it out hoping that Ava wouldn’t do anything stupid, like missing family time in order to defend Beatrice’s honor.

            “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there for you,” Ava said, her expression serious, and Beatrice chuckled.

            “No, Ava, you have to spend time with your family without troubling yourself with my problems,” Ava let out a sarcastic laugh, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

            “Vincent and Diego will survive if I’m not around for a few hours,” Ava shrugged, and Beatrice groaned.

            “Ava, you know how they are, and you know how they talked to you the first time they met you,” Beatrice remembered it all too well, her heart clenching at the thought of her not being able to shut her parents up, letting them belittle Ava while Mother Frances looked on with a smug expression.

She wouldn’t do it now, she would shut them up immediately, but maybe if she had done it when she needed to things would’ve gone very differently.

            “I don’t care, Bea,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, but she could tell a small part of Ava actually cared. “I’ve been doing kick boxing for the last five years of my life, I’m little but I can put up a fight.”

            “My father has a black belt in like… all the different martial arts possible,” Ava scoffed, dramatically, arching an eyebrow to add to the drama of it all.

            “So? As if that ever stopped me before,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

            “What does that mean?” Ava’s eyes widened.

            “I’ll tell you another day how I ended up in the police station’s jail for a whole night after fucking shit up in a club,” Beatrice’s mouth fell open, and Ava sighed. “A dude grabbed my ass without any kind of consent, so I threw my drink at him and broke his nose for good measure. And I ended up in jail for like… six hours, while he got away.”

            “Drop the address, I want to talk with him,” Ava let out an amused chuckle, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful sound that came out of Ava’s mouth.

            “The thing is, I want to be there for you, Bea. I have so many things left to tell them, things that I’ve been saving for seven years,” Beatrice shook her head, and she knew that convincing Ava to stay home and let her deal with it was impossible.

            “Fine, as you wish,” she shrugged, and Ava nodded.

            “Okay so, the quadruple date. Listen up, buttercup,” the girl’s body literally wiggled on her bed, accidentally dropping the phone.

            “Okay? You look excited,” Beatrice giggled, once Ava reappeared on the screen.

            “Oh, I am actually!” Ava clapped her hands, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was acting like an excited toddler.

            “How did you get Lilith to agree with it, though?”

            “Oh, I for once found something useful in the amount of detail Camila puts when talking about their sex lives. Apparently they help Lilith to calm down with the threats,” Ava’s eyebrows wiggled, and Beatrice groaned.

            “Keep them to yourself, please,” Beatrice begged Ava, and the girl smirked.

            “Sure,” she said, not sounding sincere at all.

            “So, what’s the plan?”

            “You, me, Camila, Lilith, JC, Michael, Suzanne and Jillian. Karaoke date night on Saturday,” Beatrice’s eyes widened, and Ava’s grin did as well.

            “Wait, karaoke?” Ava nodded, excitedly. “But, Ava…”

            “You don’t have to sing, Bea,” Ava immediately said, calming Beatrice down, knowing perfectly well what she was about to say. And God, her heart did a literal somersault jump. “Cami, JC and I got it covered, don’t worry.”

            “Michael and Jillian too, they love to embarrass Lilith and I in public,” Beatrice muttered, and Ava let out a squeal of excitement.

            “I just know it will be the best date ever!” Ava said, and Beatrice looked at her with a teasing smile.

            “So you’re calling it a date now, huh,” Beatrice chuckled, and Ava blushed. “Instead of… hanging out?”

            “Listen, in my defense… you’ve never really asked me out,” Ava crossed her arms upon her chest, looking at Beatrice challengingly.

            “I literally asked if you would like to go out with me?”

            “And you forgot to use the word date, Bea. So until you don’t ask me to go out for a date, I will call it hanging out,” Beatrice couldn’t help but let out a sound of amusement, Ava grinning at her.

            “You’re so weird,” she said, shaking her head fondly.

            “Are you up for it, though? Going out with them?” Ava suddenly looked self-conscious, looking down momentarily. “It’s just… Camila and JC are very important for me, Beatrice. And I really want you to get to know them, especially because it seems like they’re making it their own mission to get to know Lilith and Michael on a very deep and personal level.”

            “I will stop you right there, Ava,” Beatrice said, cringing, Ava trying to look innocently at her.

            “What? It’s true! All of the people who’ll be there know each other on a very deep and personal level, but do we really know one another?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

            “I’m lost, you’ve lost me Ava,” Beatrice confessed and then a yawn came out of her mouth before she was unable to stop it. Ava smiled softly at her.

            “Are you sleepy, Bea?”

            “No, I’m not,” she lied, another yawn trying to come out but she kept it inside.

            “You actually look exhausted,” Ava pointed out, coming closer to the screen. “Go to sleep.”

            “It’s still early,” Beatrice waved a hand, dismissively.

            “It’s literally one in the morning.”

            “So?”

            “Go to bed.”

            “No.”

            “Bea.”

            “No.”

            “Beatrice, go to bed.”

            “I want to keep talking with you, Ava. I would stay up all night talking with you,” Beatrice said, and Ava’s stern look immediately softened and Beatrice’s stomach filled with butterflies when Ava looked down her lap, smiling shyly, letting out a giggle.

            “Stop it, you smooth criminal,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice tilted her head.

            “Criminal?”

            “Yeah, every time you say things like this I die a little more,” Ava confessed, and Beatrice’s eyes widened in alarm.

            “I’m sorry, Ava, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Ava looked up again, and she took her phone as she laid down, her hair sprawling around the pillow.

            “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, Bea,” Ava said, softly, and Beatrice was the one looking down and hoping her blush wasn’t visible.

            “How does it make you feel?” she said, fidgeting with her hands. Ava bit her lip, a smile creeping upon her mouth.

            “Good,” Ava said, softly. “It makes me feel good, Beatrice.”

            “Well, I’m glad,” and then, just like it usually happened during the nights when they decided to video call one another instead of texting or simply calling, they stared at one another through the screen, with stupid smiles on their faces, until now it was Ava the one who yawned.

            “Well, shit,” Ava said, blinking confused, and Beatrice snorted.

            “I think we should go to sleep,” Ava nodded, and Beatrice did the same. “I will text you in the morning, yes?”

            “You better, or else I’ll come to your house and act like a crazy fan,” she said it so seriously, Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

            “Good night, Ava.”

            “Good night, Beatrice.”

            The video call ended, and it didn’t pass more than ten seconds that Beatrice heard her phone receiving a text message. She opened it, and couldn’t help but smile like a lovesick human being.

            Ava: see you in the morning b <3

            Bea: Sleep well, Ava. <3

            Beatrice put her phone to charge, turned the lights off and laid on her bed. And she stared up at the ceiling, remembering the many nights she had spent awake years ago, wondering why she felt like that whenever she looked at Ava. And she knew it then as much as she knew it now, but the difference was that she wasn’t scared anymore.

            This time, Beatrice would let herself free fall.

*

            “I’m so fucking excited!” Ava yelled, putting on her black sleeveless dress, clinging tightly around her body, as Camila sat on her couch, texting, while JC was preparing a couple of cocktails before they headed out.

            The week had gone by slowly, the eagerness she felt for their Saturday quadruple date making it all way worse. It had taken a little way too much effort to convince Camila to do this, because she liked her privacy with Lilith and calling it a date made things sound kind of official and she didn’t really like that, since her and Lilith hadn’t put a label to whatever was going on between them.

            “She’ll leave at the end of summer,” Camila said to Ava, as Ava plummeted next to her on the couch. “What’s the point of going out on dates with someone who’ll leave.”

            “Camila, amor,” JC said, bringing them their cocktails. Camila drowned it with one sip. “First of all, relax with the alcohol. Second of all, you ain’t slick.”

            “What do you mean by that?” Camila furrowed her eyebrows, and JC looked at Ava knowingly. “What’s going on?”

            “We know you like her as something more than a fuck buddy,” Ava shrugged her shoulders. “And we also know she likes you the same way.”

            “She’s still going to move all the way to Spain in less than two months,” Camila crossed her arms upon her shoulders. “And I don’t do long distance relationships at all. You know how my last one ended.”

            “Oh yeah, the catfish…” JC furrowed his eyebrows, and Ava cringed.

            “I online dated a fucking dude who pretended to be a girl,” Camila shook her head, still in disbelief even if it had happened four years ago.

            “Well, at least you know Lilith isn’t a dude,” JC patted Camila’s head, and she looked at him with murder in her eyes.

            “Camila, you need to let yourself love and be loved,” Ava said before a war could start, and JC nodded encouragingly at their friend.

            “Ever since you and Beatrice fucked you’ve been over positive and I hate it,” Camila groaned, and Ava gasped in offense. “I want sulky Ava back, I can’t sulk on my own.”

            “Do you really want that?” Ava asked, pouting at Camila. The girl sighed.

            “No, I don’t, I like seeing you be happy and hopeful and all,” Camila patted her thigh. “No matter how disgusting it is.”

            “Maybe if you confessed your feelings for Lilith, you would also be living in a cloud made of sugar,” JC wisely told Camila, who almost threw a pillow at him.

            “All right, children, it’s time to go,” Ava said, finishing up her cocktail and taking Camila by the arm before she would jump JC.

            Since the karaoke bar was close to Ava’s apartment, the three of them had decided to walk themselves there and meet up with the rest. And the closer they got to the place, the faster her heart was beating and the more her stomach fluttered.

            And she could tell that JC was feeling the same way, unable to hold back his grin at the thought of spending the night with Michael and his sisters, having fun. And no matter what Camila said, Ava could also see her leaving the sulking mood behind and her eyes becoming brighter by the moment.

            When the three of them arrived, Beatrice and the rest were still nowhere to be seen so they decided to simply stand there and talk, waiting for the others to arrive.

            “Do we know what songs we’re singing?” JC asked, pointing a finger at Ava.

            “Oh, damn right we do. I’ve literally spent all week making a playlist with the songs I intend to sing tonight,” Ava told him, who high fived her letting her know he had done the same.

            “What about you, Cami? Are you going to take the microphone and yell at it?” JC wiggled his eyebrows, and Camila looked at him with a cold stare.

            “God, you and Lilith are literally a match made in Heaven,” Ava told Camila, cooing at the end when the girl looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

            After more teasing and trying to keep the nerves at bay, she saw three familiar figures coming out of an also familiar black car, making their way towards them. It was needless to say, Ava almost fainted on the spot because the three siblings were, once again, looking stunning.

            Michael was wearing a floral shirt, opened down to his mid chest, while Lilith was wearing a beautiful emerald green dress that put her legs and arms in full display and had pretty much everyone in the street turning heads.

            But Ava couldn’t stop looking at Beatrice. She had opted to wear a white blouse, a silky looking one with long sleeves which was opened to her mid-stomach and clung tightly to her body, especially to her chest which left so little to the imagination. She was wearing black leather pants, also letting the world know how toned her legs were, and Ava didn’t have to work hard to imagine how amazing Beatrice’s backside would look in them.

            “You’re drooling,” JC pointed out, his voice eerily distant, as he was trying not to drool himself.

            “Shut up, Juan,” Ava hit him in the arm, Camila letting out a hum of agreement as her mouth was opened in a small O shape.

            The three siblings finally reached them, Michael and JC kissing dramatically in front of everyone.

            “Ew,” Lilith and Camila muttered at the same time, standing awkwardly in front of one another and simply devouring one another with their eyes.

            “Hey,” Beatrice greeted her, smiling shyly.

            “Hey there, hot stuff,” Ava said, arching an eyebrow, and Beatrice let out an embarrassed chuckle. She leaned down, and Ava held her breath for one second, before Beatrice gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek.

            “You don’t look so bad yourself, Silva,” Beatrice whispered in her ear, winking at her, and Ava understood.

            Beatrice had come to play, she had come to seduce Ava and maybe lure her back to one of their beds because the both of them had probably missed each other’s body way too much. And Ava had wondered when would they give in, when would they stop pretending they weren’t dying to see one another naked again, to explore each other’s bodies again, to make the other make sounds that were music to their ears.

            “Has anyone heard anything about our mothers?” Michael asked out loud, breaking the little moment between Ava and Beatrice.

            “No,” Camila responded to him, “but it’s not hard to guess what they might be doing.”

            Michael looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief, and Camila smirked. Oh boy, Ava thought, these two together are going to be worse than an atomic bomb.

            “Allow me to introduce myself again,” the blond guy said. “Michael Salvius, the last time I saw you I was drunk out of my ass.”

            “Ditto bitch,” Camila said, shaking his hand. JC then looked at Lilith and Beatrice, and he waved at them awkwardly.

            “Sup, ladies,” JC said, visibly intimidated by both of their presences. Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at him, while Lilith seemed to be rejoicing.

            “Hello, JC. It’s a pleasure to finally be able to talk to you without any alcohol involved,” Beatrice said. JC furrowed his eyebrows, and then his eyes widened.

            “Oh, yeah! I remember the both of you at the club,” the tall boy didn’t say anything else, his dark eyes sparkling teasingly. Ava looked at him, a warning in her eyes, and he simply smiled.

            “Beatrice,” Camila said, catching the girl’s attention. Camila smiled sweetly at her, but her brown eyes promised murder. “If you dare to hurt Ava again, you can say bye-bye to your kneecaps.”

            “Camila!” Ava hissed at her, eyes wide in horror, as Lilith looked at Ava with an arched eyebrow.

            “Ditto, bitch,” Lilith said, repeating what the shorter girl had said to Michael.

            “Okay, younglings,” Michael said, clapping his hands to get their attention. “What do you guys say we go inside and get started?”

            “No need to, Michael,” Beatrice said, recomposing herself and pointing at the other side of the street.

            Ava saw Jillian and Suzanne making their way towards them, the blonde woman wearing her typical silver suit as Suzanne wore a beautiful navy blue dress and her hair was braided down.

            “Good night, ladies,” Jillian greeted them all, before she ruffled Michael’s hair and pinched his cheeks.

            “Ouch, mum! Stop it!” he said, furrowing his eyebrows, JC looking at him in the most disgustingly adorable way Ava had ever seen anyone looking at someone else.

            “Sorry we are late,” Suzanne said, crossing her arms upon her chest. “Someone was indecisive and didn’t know which one of her one hundred silver suits she should wear tonight.”

            “I’m sorry I wanted to impress you, darling,” Jillian winked at Suzanne, who simply rolled her eyes, and Ava couldn’t help but chuckle.

            “Darling, huh,” Ava muttered once they all decided to make their way inside, as Suzanne walked next to her.

            “Shut up or I’m firing you,” the older woman said, though Ava didn’t miss the smile appearing on her lips. Ava looped an arm around Suzanne’s.

            “You always say that, but I’m still working for your magazine Mama Supes,” Ava smiled innocently at her, and Suzanne groaned in annoyance. “Admit you would miss me too much, come on.”

            “Camila, defend me,” Suzanne begged the shorter girl, who smiled in delight.

            “Go bother your girlfriend, Ava,” Camila told her, and Ava scoffed, being left speechless for once.

            “She’s not my girlfriend!” she let Suzanne and Camila know, thankful that Beatrice was way ahead of her being dragged by Michael and JC to get the best seat possible.

            “Yet,” Camila said, crossing her arms upon her chest.

            “You better hurry up, though, we leave in a month and a half” Lilith added, posing in the same way as Camila, who’s eyes got momentarily clouded by some emotion Ava couldn’t describe but wasn’t hard to guess.

            “Why don’t you both worry about your own lesbian drama?” Ava asked them both, before joining the rest.

            She sat next to Beatrice, who smiled at her and nudged her shoulder. Ava couldn’t help but accidentally look at Beatrice’s chest, almost uncovered.

            “Eyes up here, darling,” Beatrice said in her ear, and Ava felt a shiver running down her spine.

            “I know what you’re doing, you know?” Ava told the girl as the rest finished settling down, everyone sitting next to their date. “You’re not as much of a mastermind as you think.”

            “What do you mean, Ava?” Beatrice asked innocently, interlacing her fingers upon the table. “I’m only here to have a good time.”

            “Sure,” Ava said, arching an eyebrow and letting out a chuckle. “Sure you are.”

            Beatrice smiled at her, sweetly, as one of the waiters brought to them the songs repertoire and asked if they wanted to drink anything. Of course, JC decided to start strong and ordered a round of tequila shots for everyone.

            “What if I don’t drink?” Lilith asked the boy, and he let out a loud laugh.

            “I literally saw you stumbling up the stairs back in the Arq-Tech launch party,” the boy reminded Lilith. “You either were drunk or thirsty for that pu-”

            “Okay!” Michael interrupted his boyfriend, “who wants to sing first?”

            “Me,” Jillian said, raising a polite hand. “Give me the repertoire.”

            As everyone threw song suggestion towards Jillian’s way, the waiter appeared again with their shots and a paper sheet for them to write down their names and the songs they would be singing. Everyone except Lilith, Suzanne and Beatrice wrote down the song they wanted to sing on the first round, though she saw Michael looking at Beatrice in a weird way, her looking at him the same, and then he shook his head in amusement. Ava decided to not say anything.

            Jillian decided to sing La Vie en Rose, because apparently she wanted to dedicate it to Suzanne to remind her of the beautiful time they spent going around France right after graduating University. Camila and JC decided to start off by singing a duet, choosing Popular by MIKA and Ariana Grande.

            Michael didn’t reveal the song he would be singing, because he said it would be a surprise for JC, while Ava told the world she would be singing some Céline Dion to start fresh for the night.

            “Start fresh, while singing Céline Dion?” Jillian said, with her eyes wide. “Wow, Ava.”

            “She’s my idol, okay?” Ava said, and Beatrice hummed in agreement, probably remembering the amount of times Ava sang Céline’s hits at the top of her lungs while they were trying to have a moment of relax in their Saint Melanie’s dorm.

            “Will you sing for me, Camila?” Lilith asked the shorter girl, who was finishing to write her second choice of a song on the paper.

            “Every single thing I do is for you, my little muffin,” Camila told Lilith, clutching her hand, and Ava let out an amused laugh.

            “Oh, God, she’s blushing!” she said, pointing at Lilith’s face. The girl went from smiling at Camila to scowling at Ava.

            “Beatrice, I will punch your girlfriend,” Lilith announced, and Beatrice’s eyes widened in terror.

            “She’s not my,” she said, and then shook her head. “Please, no violence tonight.”

            “I’m just saying,” Lilith shrugged her shoulders, and Ava arched an eyebrow at the girl. She was grateful Camila and Beatrice were between them both, otherwise she wouldn’t be so brave.

            “I might be little, but my punching skills are out of this world,” Ava let Lilith know, and JC nodded in agreement.

            “It’s true, I’ve been personally victimized by Ava.”

            All of them laughed at him, even Lilith, and they continued joking and making Lilith furiously blush until Jillian got called up to go and start their round of singing.

            “This one’s for you, mon amour,” Jillian said, pointing at Suzanne who rolled her eyes.

            Jillian’s sultry voice filled the bar, and everyone was looking at her with wide eyes and lovesick expressions. And Ava looked at Suzanne, who had a nostalgic look on her eyes, and she smiled fondly.

            “Hey, is it bad if I dump you for your adoptive mother?” Ava asked Beatrice, voice low, while Jillian carried on with the song, her eyes never leaving Suzanne.

            “You can try,” Beatrice shrugged, her brown eyes filled with confidence, knowing it would never happen. And Ava, for whatever reason, felt a pressure between her legs that made her voice hitch at the back of her throat. “Everything okay, Ava?”

            “Stop this,” Ava hissed at her, and Beatrice looked at her like a lost baby deer. “Whatever you’re planning to do, stop it.”

            “I plan to do nothing?” Beatrice asked her, faking confusion, and Ava shook her head.

            “I saw the way Michael looked at you,” Ava pointed out, and Beatrice pursed her lips. “I know something’s up.”

            “If you say so,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, patting Ava’s hand and making sure her finger tips caressed Ava’s own fingers for a little longer than it should be allowed.

            Fuck, she thought, clenching her legs together and breathing deeply. Beatrice separated her hand from Ava’s in order to clap for Jillian, who bowed down dramatically and made her way towards their booth.

            “That was amazing, Jill!” JC said, his mother-in-law (or well, their mother-in-law) smiling at the guy.

            “Thank you, sweetie,” Jillian winked at him, and then looked at Suzanne expectantly. “Remember our time in Paris?”

            “Yes, yes I do,” Suzanne didn’t look at Jillian, deciding to drink from her cocktail instead. “Before you dumped me to go explore whatever it is that you wanted to explore.”

            “How did the both of you… break up?” Camila asked, supporting her head on her fist. The rest of them nodded, and the two women looked as if they had just been caught committing a crime.

            “Well,” Jillian shrugged her shoulders, embarrassed. “It was mostly my fault.”

            “Mhm,” Suzanne nodded. “When we finished college, we decided to go and travel the world. Our first stop was, of course, Paris. This woman right here proposed to me, I of course said yes, and we decided to plan out our whole lives. On our engagement anniversary, we went back to Paris and she broke up with me.”

            “Mum, what the hell?” Michael asked Jillian, voicing what everyone was thinking at that exact moment.

            “It was the biggest mistake of my life,” Jillian said, taking Suzanne’s hand. “I panicked. We were so young still, and there was a whole world to be discovered.”

            “Oh, Jillian, please,” Suzanne scoffed. “Just say your ambition and personal goals were bigger than our relationship, and you were simply incapable of balancing them both.”

            “Suzanne…” Jillian sighed, and Suzanne looked at her with arched eyebrows. “That was back then. We were only twenty-four, come on, we were bound to do something stupid.”

            “We were searching for sperm donors,” Suzanne continued, Michael furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “We hadn’t gotten married yet, but had talked about having a baby anyways. I’m unable to get pregnant, so Jillian would be the one doing the heavy work and all. Next thing I know, she panics and dumps me.”

            Suzanne finished up her drink, while Michael was looking at Jillian and Suzanne with furrowed eyebrows. Jillian was looking down, embarrassed, as Suzanne continued talking.

            “A year later, apparently, she decided to have a baby all on her own while I was living in Japan,” Suzanne finished explaining, and all of them held up a collective gasp.

            “How long ago was that?” Michael asked, voice low.

            “Almost twenty-six years ago,” his mother confessed, shrugging her shoulders. Michael did the math quickly, just like the rest.

            “So you were supposed to be my other mother?” Michael asked Suzanne, who nodded at him. “Wow, cheers to me.”

            “Babe,” JC put an arm around his shoulders, kissing his temple, and Michael simply shook his head.

            “Whatever, we can talk about this another time,” the blond guy said before drowning his drink. “Tonight we are here to have fun, and not to go through any dramas from the past.”

            They all nodded in agreement, and changed topics immediately until Camila and JC got called up to sing their duet.

            Camila stood on the right side of the stage, eyes closed in concentration, as JC stood on the left side and stretched a little bit, making the whole bar laugh. Then they looked at one another, and nodded.

            “Hit it!” JC told the bar’s manager, who started to play the instrumental music for their song.

            Camila started to sing, her angelic voice soft, and JC followed her quickly until both of their voices joined each other for the chorus and they started to dance around the stage, preparing for the choreography Ava had watched them do around her apartment many times before, since this was their song.

            “Those are my best friends!” she yelled, so the whole world could know, and she heard Beatrice laughing out loud next to her. “You go, babies!”

            Camila and JC’s voices mended together, creating a beautiful harmony, their bodies coordinated and their choreography not missing a beat even if they were already tipsy judging for the amount of empty glasses that they kept on amounting.

            Beatrice wasn’t drinking alcohol aside from the one single tequila shot she had gotten, for she was on driving duty that night. Ava, for some reason, decided she also wouldn’t be drinking because she wanted to remember every single moment that happened in the bar. And, well, if something happened after their karaoke date she wanted to be sober enough for it as well.

            Camila and JC finished their number, and the whole bar got on their feet and applauded to them as if two actual pop stars had blessed them with their presence.

            One day, Ava thought as she was clapping the loudest and whistling at them in excitement, one day JC will be singing his own music and Camila will be directing his music videos.

            “You’re so fucking amazing!” she yelled at both of her best friends, hugging them tightly. “Oh, God, I can’t wait until the both of you succeed in the entertainment industry.”

            “Promise you’ll write about us?” Camila said, her words slightly slurred, holding Ava’s hands.

            “I will, babes, always,” Ava hugged Camila, making the rest smile at them, before Lilith took Camila by the hand and helped her sit down.

            “Okay, my turn,” Michael said, taking one last sip form his drink and making his way towards the stage.

            Michael told something to the manager, who nodded, and then the lights of the bar dimmed down until there was one single light hitting Michael, standing right in the middle of the stage. And then, a familiar melody started to sound.

            “No fucking way,” Beatrice muttered under her breath, as Lilith let out a sound of surprise.

            “He’ll do it?” Lilith asked to Beatrice, who shook her head in disbelief.

            “What?” Ava asked to Beatrice, who leaned down to tell her what Michael was about to do. Once she understood what the hell was going on, Ava gasped.

            “Birds flying high,” Michael’s voice started to sing, the crowd cheering, his voice as sultry as his mother’s, “You know how I feel…”

            Ava looked at JC, who had his mouth hanging open, eyes wide. As Michael continued singing, the whole crowd in silence, the manager of the bar came to their table and asked JC to go to the front row, and he made the tall guy sit down on a single chair while a focus of light hit him as well.

            “Oh my God,” Camila muttered, as Jillian covered her eyes and Suzanne looked completely horrified. “Is he going to do what I think he’s going to do?”

            “He definitely will,” Lilith nodded at her, her eyes filled with excitement. Ava looked at Beatrice, who was smiling wide.

            “Your brother is a whore, Bea,” Ava pointed out, and Beatrice nodded at her.

            “Oh, I know.”

            “I love him.”

            Michael made his way down of the stage, unbuttoning his shirt, and Ava saw JC was almost falling down the chair, unable to find a way to react to his boyfriend deciding to not only strip in front of several people but also give him an extremely hot lap dance.

            “Will you do that for me one day? Please?” Ava nudged Beatrice’s arm, and the girl choked on a laugh.

            “Keep begging, darling,” Beatrice said, shaking her head in amusement, and Ava didn’t know if Beatrice had tried to sound so hot intentionally or if the show Michael was putting out made her feel confused, but the way Beatrice had said that to her made her almost get up and drag the girl towards the bathroom.

            Ignoring the way Ava started to feel dampness between her legs, too overwhelmed by the realization of how much she had missed Beatrice in the physical and not platonic sense, she continued to look at Michael and JC.

            The lights went back to normal at the perfect moment for people to witness the movie-worthy kiss Michael and JC shared before the both of them made their way back towards their table, both of them out of breath for very different reasons.

            “I’m going to get some water,” Michael announced, making his way to the bar counter, as JC seemed to be completely fazed.

            “JC, are you okay?” Lilith asked to the boy, genuine concern in her voice. He blinked slowly.

            “I’m going to fuck him so hard tonight,” he announced to them all, making Jillian choke on her own drink while the rest opened their mouths in utter shock.

            “Fine,” Jillian said, once she recovered. “But please, don’t do it in my house.”

            Michael came back, one bottle of water in one hand and a plate filled with tequila shots in the other.

            “All right, ladies,” he said, handing out one tequila shot to everyone. “Bottoms up, hydration pause!”

            The people next to their table were taking up their turns now, singing as off tune as they could and making the rest of the bar laugh. Ava felt something in her leg, and when she looked down she saw Beatrice’s hand resting casually there as she spoke with Camila, and whatever they were talking about was making Lilith look embarrassed and ready to throw her own drink to either Camila or Beatrice.

            The gesture Beatrice had done was simple and just affectionate, but the way the girl’s thumb was drawing lazy circles on Ava’s bare thigh, and the way she could hear her husky chuckle when Camila said something Ava didn’t even hear because there were bees buzzing inside her brain, it all was making her feel things that she would rather not discuss.

            And Ava decided to be a little bold, as she prepared herself before taking the stage, and decided to wrap a hand around Beatrice’s arm and caress it up and down, as slowly and sensually as she could. Beatrice kept talking with Camila and Lilith, who now was the one giggling as Ava’s best friend looked ready for murder, but Ava also felt Beatrice’s movements stopping for a second, registering what Ava was doing.

            As Camila and Lilith now were having a more private conversation, Beatrice turned her head to look at Ava and she smiled at her softly, starting her slow strokes on Ava’s thigh once more.

            “Nervous?” Beatrice asked, and Ava let out a chuckle.

            “Please, these two and I come here at least twice a month,” Ava waved a dismissive hand, and Beatrice laughed softly.

            “Is this okay?” Beatrice asked, looking at her hand on Ava’s thigh, sounding momentarily insecure. “Sorry, it just… felt right.”

            “If it feels right why would you stop?” Ava asked, as Beatrice almost put her hand away. “It’s fine, Bea.”

            “If I do something that’s not of your liking-” Ava stopped the girl by kissing her cheek, though she wanted to shut her up in a different way. But she knew how Beatrice felt about public PDA, and she knew holding her hand or kissing her cheek was fine by her. And no matter how much Ava wanted to kiss her, she stopped herself.

            “Stop over thinking,” Ava muttered, their lips a few millimeters away. She heard Beatrice swallowing, her eyes drifting down to Ava’s lips. But just like her, Beatrice worked overtime to stop herself.

            “That’s like asking a cat to stop scratching any surface that looks fluffy,” Beatrice smiled at Ava bashfully, and Ava couldn’t help herself but snort at her.

            “I knew you were a cat lady, but damn you don’t have to show it off like that,” and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows at that, thinking hard, as if choosing to be a cat or a dog person was a life or death situation.

            “Next up, our local superstar… Ava Silva!” the bar’s manager announced on the microphone, and Ava’s eyes widened.

            “Well, good luck Ava,” Beatrice said, and Ava breathed deeply before she made her way towards the stage.

            “Let’s go, best friend!” JC yelled, louder than anyone else.

            “I love you Ava! Have my babies, please!” Camila said, their whole table laughing out loud.

            Ava made her way towards the stage, and took the microphone from the manager. She nodded at him, who gave her a thumb up.

            “I want to dedicate this song to a special someone,” Ava said, looking right into Beatrice’s direction. “For all the nights over the last seven years where I dreamed about you driving all night to get to me and at the end, funnily enough, that’s how we found one another again.”

            All eyes were on Beatrice, who was looking at Ava with an expression of surprise, shyness and something else that Ava recognized from that afternoon they spent in her apartment.

            “Hit it, Matt,” she told to the manager, and the familiar guitar of Céline Dion’s I drove all night started to sound before the rhythm of the music picked up and Ava offered the crowd a high note that she had been rehearsing ever since she was ten years old, singing to Diego in their orphanage shared bedroom.

            A big amount of people in the crowd already knew Ava, JC and Camila, so they roared once she shared with them a little bit of her hidden talent. But what Ava enjoyed the most was the way Beatrice’s eyes widened, how her mouth hung open, the way Suzanne, Jillian, Michael and Lilith all wore matching expressions of shock.

            Beatrice knew Ava could sing, after all Ava had offered to the girl so many unsolicited concerts back in their school’s dorm, and she had been part of the two musicals she got to play with the theatre club, plus the both of them had been part of the choir and all (and Ava knew damn well Beatrice could actually sing like an angel).

Ava also used to sing whenever they were video calling, in one of those moments were both of them did simple things around their apartments, Beatrice buried in several documents and Ava preparing dinner and going from one song to the other, loving the way sometimes Beatrice mindlessly hummed along.

And Ava would be a fool if she denied that in the month and a half that had passed since they’d established this odd but also somehow familiar routine, she didn’t imagine them being physically together doing whatever activities they were doing, Beatrice going over documents as Ava prepared them dinner, or a nice bath, as she sung to whatever tune came to her mind and Beatrice, instead of begging her to shut up, simply hummed along.

And now, even though the bar was full, Ava had the chance to offer one of her private shows to Beatrice, as if the both of them were the only ones in the room. And Beatrice looked at her with wide eyes, blushed cheeks, but also a nostalgic and amused smile on her lips. And fuck, Ava was falling all over again and she didn’t know if she would ever recover.

I had to escape, the city was sticky and cruel…

She started to sing, lowering her voice, remembering how after their argument she had the need to leave Saint Melanie’s immediately, feeling as trapped between the old stone walls as she had felt when she had first arrived there.

Maybe I should have called you first, but I was dying to get to you…

Ava imagined Beatrice saying that to her, after confessing she had been one of the many reasons why she’d decided to move to New York for three months, how she had wanted to stay in England but then a dumb article written by Ava came across and it was enough for Beatrice to make up her mind, to try to find Ava and fix what had been broken so long ago.

I was dreaming while I drove,

The long straight road ahead,

Uh-huh, yeah,

Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide

This fever for you was just burning me up inside…

Ava pointed at JC and Camila, who immediately understood what she needed, and they abandoned their seats to go and join her when the chorus came, the choreography they had done so many times whenever this song played in one of their apartments, or at the club, coming out naturally.

I drove all night to get to you… is that alright?

I drove all night, crept in your room…

Ava remembered how Beatrice had told her that, seven years ago, she actually had drove after her, how she had wanted to stop Ava and tell her all she felt, how she had wanted for them to make things work but time hadn’t been on their side. And then Beatrice had come all the way from England, to help her adoptive family out, but also to drive back to Ava, hoping that maybe it actually wasn’t too late.

Woke you from your sleep to make love to you…

Is that alright?

I drove all night…

Ava knew that by the way Beatrice’s eyes seemed to cloud when she sang that line, she understood what Ava was implying. It had been long enough, they were doing great, and she knew that both of them wanted to repeat the way things ended when Beatrice went to Ava’s apartment for the first time.

She didn’t care if it would be tonight, tomorrow or maybe the next. She only knew she wanted to hold Beatrice’s naked body in her arms again, she knew she wanted to take one step closer to fixing everything up. She wanted to taste Beatrice’s kisses again, to hold her hand and to spend all day walking around New York once more without knowing where they would end up at. But as long as they were together, after such a long time of not being around each other, things would be fine.

Ava kept on singing the song, JC and Camila following her dancing, the crowd cheering and clapping and smiling at all three of them. But Ava’s eyes were focused only on one single person, who also seemed to be unable to keep her eyes away from her. And the soft look on Beatrice’s eyes, understanding why Ava had chosen that song, and the amused smile on her lips whenever her and her best friends made something funny would be forever ingrained in Ava’s mind.

The music finished, the bar exploded in applause, and Ava hugged both of her best friends.

“It’s my turn to sing a sexy song,” Camila told them both as they were still hugging. “Because by the way Mike and Bea are looking at you both, I know about some people who will be getting down and dirty tonight.”

“Shut up, Cami,” Ava couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both of her cheeks blushing and hurting and feeling like, for once, all things in the world were fine.

They made their way towards their booth, all of their friends congratulating them, except Beatrice who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. And if it wasn’t for the way her brown eyes were sparkling, and her lips were upturned in a shy smile, Ava would’ve gotten scared something was wrong.

“Ever thought of changing careers?” Beatrice asked Ava, and she smiled.

“Fun fact, I used to work as a waitress here, before it became a karaoke bar,” Ava told Beatrice, who passed an arm around her shoulders not even bothering for once about people looking. Ava leaned into the gesture, enjoying every single second.

“Oh, you did?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, sipping from her Mojito. “I needed the cash to pay for University, and one day Matt heard me singing while I was cleaning up and offered to pay me extra if I sang on Friday nights.”

“That sounds amazing, actually,” Ava smiled, not wanting to know that actually singing all of her favorite and heartbreak songs had been a way to cope with the destruction Beatrice had left behind.

“One day, I started to ask for suggestions from the crowd because I hadn’t had time to prepare my set list since my finals were kicking me in the ass,” Ava loved the way Beatrice was looking so intently at her, drinking every single word coming out of her mouth. Ava, without even thinking about it, interlaced her fingers with Beatrice’s, casually resting on her shoulder. “And so I started to sing duets with the customers and… well, then Matt suggested turning this into a karaoke bar.”

“So this is all because of you?” Beatrice asked her, smiling, and Ava shrugged her shoulders. “I should’ve known, since the bar is called Juliet’s Tunes. You used to recite Romeo and Juliet at any chance you got.”

“I was the sexiest Romeo you ever saw in your life, don’t lie to me,” Beatrice let out a loud laugh, tilting her head backwards and covering her mouth with her free hand. And Ava fell a little harder.

“That’s true,” Beatrice said, and Ava chuckled.

“Singing makes me want to pee,” Ava said, getting up from the booth. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ava made her way towards the bathroom, not missing the way Beatrice looked at Lilith in a way she couldn’t truly decipher. It was as if Beatrice had been waiting for Ava to leave, and she suddenly started to think that maybe Beatrice actually didn’t really want to be there, and she was hoping to find an excuse to disappear.

If Ava’s bladder wasn’t about to explode, she would’ve turned around and would’ve asked Beatrice herself if she wanted to go out for a walk, or maybe go home and watch a movie or something.

She entered the bathrooms in a rush, saying grace the moment she found all the stalls free and she didn’t have to dance awkwardly around the bathroom in order to keep it all in.

Once she was done, she cleaned up and refreshed herself, reapplying her makeup and fixing up her hair which was getting longer. But she liked it this way, especially since Beatrice said it looked really great in the way she had started to let it become wavy.

“Your hair is one of the things I like the most about you,” Beatrice said casually, while she was reading one of her many documents and missed the way Ava almost fell down her bed.

And she liked it too, the way it framed her face and the way it wasn’t either too short or too long, how she was letting it go back to her natural brown color, leaving the golden streaks behind, and her natural waves. Her hair being halfway through back to normal was kind of a metaphor of where Ava was at in her life, how she was in the middle of going from being heartbroken to starting to heal again, to feeling excitement when it came to the future, to having Beatrice back in her life and having new friends and new life plans.

When Ava was done refreshing herself while she also had some kind of philosophical enlightening in the lonely bathroom, she decided to go back out to join her friends again for a couple more rounds of karaoke.

She made her way out of the bathroom, and her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach when she saw that the place Beatrice had been occupying was actually free. And the fact that her friends were muttering all amongst one another, how Lilith looked slightly concerned and Michael had an unreadable expression, it made Ava start to worry that Beatrice had, in fact, been waiting for the perfect opportunity to fly the scene.

Ava then remembered how Beatrice had told her that her parents would be coming soon, after she got back from spending a few days in Barcelona, while Vincent and Diego would be visiting as well. And maybe it hadn’t been the fact that Beatrice had left because she didn’t like the karaoke bar, maybe she had gone out because one of her parents had decided to be annoying and ruin her life.

And Ava, fuelled by rage, made her way towards the booth as fast as her heels let her in order to ask about Beatrice, to know if she needed to take a plane and make her way to London in order to commit some crimes against the Armstrong-Young family.

But then, the bar’s lights went from pink to a mix between blue and purple. And she saw the way all of her friends, still unaware that she was standing a few meters away from them, looked all at once towards the stage with expectant face expressions.

And Ava, wondering what the hell was going on, looked at the stage as well and she felt her eyes widening and her mouth hanging open when she saw Beatrice in the middle of the stage, standing behind the microphone, her eyes immediately finding her in the middle of the crowded room as if there was some kind of magnetic force attracting them to one another.

“Ava Silva has dedicated a song to me this night, and it’s funny because ever since you told me we would be coming here I’ve been wanting to sing this one to you,” Beatrice nodded to Ava’s way, and all eyes in the bar turned to her. She stood there, unable to move, eyes glued on Beatrice. “If you remember, I told you that coming to New York had been my plan for a long while, ever since we first departed from one another. But I put it off, because it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to forgive someone who was still broken, someone who could potentially hurt you still. And I waited for the perfect moment, for the perfect opportunity, thinking what I would do so you could find it in your heart to forgive this fool after what I did to you.”

Ava swallowed, and she didn’t know why her eyes filled up with tears, a whirlwind of emotions plaguing her chest. And Beatrice stood there, looking stunning with her long hair, her sun kissed skin filled with freckles, talking in the sweetest way anyone had ever talked to Ava.

“Getting you back into my life has always been my master plan, Ava Silva,” Beatrice told her, people in the crowd cooing. “I don’t care in what way, I just know that I’m unable to stay away from you. And the last seven years have been the worst in my life, and every day I regretted all of the choices that took me to losing you. I still regret them until today, and I’m afraid I always will.”

Ava felt the first tear running down her cheek, and Beatrice smiled softly at her as she readied herself to start singing.

“There’s many reasons that took me here, but you and I had unfinished business and that was the main one that finally made me open my eyes,” Beatrice continued saying, and Ava felt her own lungs not being able to keep up with her breathing. “Matt, if you will?”

The music started to play, and Beatrice’s voice soon filled the room with a song that Ava recognized immediately.

Once upon a time, the planets and fates

And all the stars aligned

You and I ended in the same room

At the same time

And Ava stood there, unable to move, as Beatrice was singing to her, and one thousand of distant memories started to fill her mind, making it feel as if Beatrice and her were the only ones in the room watching a movie of their rise and downfall.

Beatrice’s eyes were locked on Ava’s, her voice singing Taylor Swift’s Mastermind as if the song had been created thinking about them, about the fact that both Ava and Beatrice had thought about playing against the Universe’s desires many times before in order to find one another again.

What if I told you I’m a mastermind?

But it looked like the true mastermind had been the Universe all along, putting them together into the same room and separating them whenever it felt like it. But this time Ava knew they would be stronger than any superior power hanging upon them all, and they would now be the only masters of their destiny. And Ava kind of knew what fate she wanted for both her and Beatrice.

And now you’re mine.

When Beatrice sang that line, Ava saw doubt in her eyes, a question that the both of them had been way too scared to ask for the last month. And Ava wanted to tell Beatrice that she had always been hers, ever since the first day they met.

Ava had been Beatrice’s ever since she decided that beating up Ava’s bully and breaking her nose was a good idea, ever since Beatrice listened to her rants, ever since she invited Ava’s family to England so Ava wouldn’t spend a lonely Christmas, ever since she held her after a nightmare.

Ava’s heart had the same owner for the last nine years, even if said person had broken it into one thousand million tiny pieces and now they were reconstructing one another little by little, day by day. All Ava had been able to think about when she heard the words “love” and “hate” was the same person, and she had hated how much she had loved Beatrice because she had been unable to move on, because she’d never achieved to feel what she had felt for Beatrice with anyone, and she had always ended up breaking hearts because she was unable to move forward.

And now, Ava realized that Beatrice maybe had been in the same situation. That she had done more for Ava in the last month and a half than she ever did with Leighton during the two years they had been together. Ava realized that Beatrice was working very hard to move on as well, to get over whatever had troubled her for the longest time, and maybe she’d needed Ava to come full circle. Just like Ava had needed Beatrice desperately in her life, and had been unable to find true love because she had seen the girl everywhere.

Beatrice reached the final note, and the whole bar cheered her on loudly, as Beatrice looked down shyly but offered them all a big smile and a small nod of the head. And Ava didn’t realize until then that she had kind of been bawling the whole time, because she had finally seen the amount of progress Beatrice did in so many levels, how the girl was finally starting to live.

Ava wanted to be part of that transformation; she wanted to witness Beatrice going from being a small cocoon, scared of the world and of herself, to becoming the most beautiful butterfly alive.

The taller girl got down of the stage, thanking Matt, and making her way towards her. Her smile was shy, her eyes searching for some sort of approval. Then, Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows when she saw Ava was wiping her eyes, trying to calm down her breathing.

“Ava,” she said, taking her hands. “Are you okay?”

“No, fuck,” Ava confessed to Beatrice, who looked at her even more concerned. “You…”

“Oh… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“You didn’t make me feel bad, Bea,” Ava chuckled, and Beatrice looked at her in confusion. “You made me realize we are two literal idiots, and we’ve wasted so much time when we could’ve just… talked, in any way possible.”

“Yes,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, smiling at Ava. “But we found one another again, didn’t we?”

Ava nodded, and then she looked at Beatrice. And she wanted to kiss her, but she knew Beatrice maybe wasn’t fully ready for that and singing in public all on her own probably for the first time ever was probably already too much for the girl.

“You did amazing, Beatrice,” Ava told the girl, clutching her hands tighter. “First time?”

“Yup,” the taller girl said, biting her lip. Ava brought the girl’s hand to her lips, kissing her knuckles, and Beatrice’s self-doubt immediately disappeared.

“I’m proud of you,” and judging by the way Beatrice looked at her, the way she saw her throat bobble slightly, Ava knew that those were words that Beatrice hadn’t heard often, even after finding Jillian and the others.

And Ava knew Jillian, Lilith and Michael were proud of Beatrice. They had showed it to her in many different ways, Ava knew it by the way they had talked about Beatrice when they met a few days ago. But Ava thought that reminding Beatrice that there were people out there who were proud of her, who supported and loved her, it wouldn’t hurt.

Ava couldn’t help herself and she got on her tiptoes, kissing Beatrice’s cheek and staying there a couple of seconds longer than usual.

“Thank you, Ava,” Beatrice said, looking down at Ava.

And Ava couldn’t have seen it coming even if there had been a big banner hanging up from the ceiling telling her “BEATRICE IS GOING TO KISS YOU NOW”, but when Beatrice leaned down and her lips touched Ava’s softly, briefly, as everyone else was carrying on with their lives, Ava felt as if the world had stopped spinning and as if the floor had disappeared.

And boy, was she falling hard. And she didn’t want it to ever stop, knowing very well that Ava from one month and a half ago would’ve wanted to kick her in the ass and would’ve told her to get a grip.

“Sorry,” Beatrice said, once she separated from her. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ve been secretly hoping to get a kiss tonight, actually,” Ava said, and then she came closer to Beatrice and spoke in a lower tone. “Especially when you’re looking like that.”

“Do you think I haven’t felt the same way during all night?” Beatrice asked her, arching an eyebrow. “Looking the way you do?”

“So you like the way I look?” Ava asked the girl, who rolled her eyes incredulously.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in all of New York City,” Beatrice informed her, nodding at the end to make her point come stronger.

And Ava couldn’t help but laugh, because Beatrice could either act like the sexiest human on Earth and make her feel weak on her knees, just like she had been doing all night by caressing Ava’s bare thigh or looking at her like a damn starving lioness, or Beatrice could also flirt with her in the most innocent, adorable and heartwarming way.

“Do you want to get out of here, Beatrice?” Ava asked the girl, after they had stared at one another for a few long seconds, completely ignoring the way there was a drunken dude butchering Aretha’s Respect, or the way their family and friends were looking at them as if they were watching a telenovela.

“Yes, please,” Beatrice exhaled, as if she had been thinking about the same thing the whole night. “I want to show you my apartment.”

“Oh, that’s how kids nowadays call it?” Ava said, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. Ava couldn’t help but chuckle, until Beatrice seemed to understand what she meant.

“We don’t… we don’t have to do anything, Ava, seriously,” Beatrice caressed her nape with a nervous hand, looking down. “I came with my car, so I can drive ourselves. And… we could, you know, drink wine or something. You can stay there, sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch. But… it’s fine if you don’t want to, truly.”

“Bea?”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling, booboo,” Ava couldn’t help but let out a snort, and Beatrice chuckled at her.

“Forgive me, I just don’t want to be too forward,” Ava arched an eyebrow, remembering how it ended the last time one of them went to the other’s home. And Beatrice, apparently, seemed to remember it as well. “Also, booboo?”

“What?” Ava shrugged her shoulders. “You called me darling before.”

“Fair,” Beatrice smiled softly at her. “So… what do you want to do?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

*

The ride towards Beatrice’s apartment was fairly quiet. She had decided to pull the Bentley’s windows down, letting the fresh night air caress their skins. Ava had her hand out the window, her fingers dancing in the air as if she was stroking it like a lover caressed your body after making love to one another. The girl’s eyes were closed in bliss, a soft smile upon her lips, and Beatrice really didn’t want to say anything because she didn’t want to break the peaceful moment Ava was having.

They hadn’t drunk much that night, and whatever effects the alcohol had on them they were long gone. But Beatrice felt drunk in Ava’s presence, she felt as if her senses shut down and the world went fuzzy around her. She felt as if she was floating, as if she was watching the action develop from a foreigner’s point of view.

She felt as if she was sitting at the back of the car, looking at Ava humming a soft tune underneath her breath, as Beatrice struggled to keep her eyes on the road because Ava’s presence was too strong, because she didn’t want to miss the way the girl’s hair was moving softly because of the wind, how her fingers moved driftly out of the window.

Intoxicating, Beatrice thought about the meaning of Ava’s middle name. She was intoxicating, in all the good ways. Her smile, her scent, the way her eyes seemed to always be sparkling even after all the pain she had gone through. All the pain Beatrice had caused her.

“So,” Ava asked, breaking the silence. “You saw the minuscule apartment I live at, filled with plastic plants and all. What can I expect from yours?”

Ava fisted her hand, pretending she was holding a microphone and was waiting for Beatrice to speak into it. Beatrice chuckled, leaning down slightly, her eyes on the road.

“I actually rented an attic,” Beatrice told her. “Natural light enters all day so I don’t have to spend too much electricity, only at night.”

“Damn, sounds luxurious,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice let out a laugh.

“It’s actually not, I mostly decided to rent it because of the light and the views,” Beatrice told Ava, and she nodded.

Ava kept on pretending she was from Architectural Digest, asking Beatrice things about what was her favorite kind of wood to use when building furniture or if she thought IKEA was the best place to go on a date.

“We’re here,” Beatrice announced, parking her car in front of the building’s door.

“Wow, okay, the outside already looks rich,” Ava’s mouth was hanging open, and Beatrice shook her head.

“Come on.”

They got out of the car, and they made their way towards the elevator.  Beatrice clicked the top floor, and they stood quietly while music was playing. And then, Beatrice felt Ava’s fingers interlacing with hers, shyly, and she looked at the shorter girl. There was a question in Ava’s eyes, and Beatrice smiled softly at her while she squeezed her hand reassuringly.

The elevator reached the top, but the doors didn’t open. Beatrice turned around to the elevator’s number pad, putting the security password and making the doors finally open to her apartment.

“What did you just do?” Ava asked, and Beatrice smiled as they entered her home, the doors closing.

“No one has ever lived in here, so I asked the building’s caretaker if it would be possible to block the elevator once it reached my apartment, and creating a password in order to enter it,” Beatrice explained to Ava, who whistled in admiration.

“Otherwise anyone could enter,” the shorter girl finished, and Beatrice hummed in agreement.

Beatrice had also installed window blinds, so she wouldn’t be bothered by New York’s one million lights at night, and the apartment was completely dark so Ava couldn’t really see anything. Beatrice unocked her phone, and looked at Ava excitedly.

“Watch this,” she said, before touching her screen and the apartment came into view.

“Holy fuck,” Ava said, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

The floor was covered in soft wood panels, and the walls were painted in a broken white. The ceiling, though, was painted in some sort of modern art mixing up blues and greens and yellows while the walls were covered in different paintings, and Ava’s eyes widened when she recognized the painting Beatrice’s grandfather had created hanging upon the fireplace.

“You bought it?” Ava asked, a smile on her lips, and Beatrice nodded her head.

“I will most likely keep this apartment, so I can have a home whenever I get back here from London. I kind of wanted to have a piece of him in here,” she shrugged her shoulders, hiding her hand’s inside her pockets, and Ava squeezed her arm as she walked further in, twirling around slowly to take it all in.

A chandelier was hanging from the middle of the ceiling, and the cornices had neoclassical decorations, each corner of the apartment decorated with ionic columns.

The fireplace was a mix of stone and painted in white, two white couches in front of it with black and silver pillows resting on each end. In the middle, there was a wooden coffee table, matching with the bigger dinner table surrounded by eight chairs made of simple wood, which Beatrice pretty much used as her own desk and work station since she always ate on the kitchen counter whenever she was alone in her apartment.

At the far end of the apartment, there was a piano that Ava seemed to recognize from the time she’d spent at Armstrong Hall, a piano that she herself had the chance to play, and behind a glass screen there was a small kitchen made of wooden cabinets and white marble.

There were so many things to look at, the paintings, the white fuzzy carpets, the different lamps located around the apartment or the neon signs, the shelves filled with all kinds of books, going from science essays to engineering and architecture books to books about butterflies to all of the fantasy books Ava had recommended once when they were younger.

“No TV?” Ava asked Beatrice, eyebrow arched, no surprise in her voice.

“I usually watch it on either my iPad or my laptop, but I barely have time for it,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, hands still in her pockets, and Ava made her way towards the window at the end of the apartment, the one in which the piano was sitting in front of. She opened the door which was disguised, and went outside to the terrace that occupied the same length of the apartment, only narrower.

There was a coach covered by a canopy made of bamboo, a wooden table in front with several candles on it. Ava squealed delighted when she saw several plant pots sitting around, a small lemon tree as well as several flower pots with no flowers yet. There was also a large table with chairs around, a grill at the end.

“I haven’t used the grill yet,” Beatrice explained to Ava, “I’m not really good at grilling.”

“I am,” Ava informed her, a wide smile on her lips. “Maybe our next quadruple date should be here? Have a barbecue and all?”

“I would love that, actually,” Beatrice laughed at Ava, who was now looking at the empty flower pots. “I only had time to plant the lemon tree seeds, and I’m not really an expert on flowers.”

“You might need my help,” Ava told her, and Beatrice nodded. “Plus, your shelves need filling with interior plants, and the benches underneath the windows could also be great.”

“I didn’t know you had an interest for interior design?”

“Bitch please, I play at the Sims 4 when I’m sad,” Ava waved a dismissive hand, and Beatrice laughed. “I love building mansions and decorating them, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Of course you do, my bad,” Beatrice raised her hands in defense, and Ava rolled her eyes. “So… would you like some wine?”

“Oh, fancy,” Ava wiggled her eyebrows. “Out here?”

“It’s getting a little bit chilly,” on cue, the wind picked up and Beatrice could feel some droplets of water falling down. “Maybe inside?”

They made their way back in, and Beatrice guided Ava towards the kitchen area. She opened up her small wine cellar fridge, taking out a bottle of Pinot noir and two wine glasses from the cabinet.

“Jillian got me this one when I moved in,” Beatrice told Ava, opening the bottle up and filling the glasses. “I finally have a chance to share it.”

“So you don’t act like the typical millionaire who drinks wine at any chance they have, even if they’re on their own?” Ava asked her, taking the glass from Beatrice, and she let out a laugh.

“Well, I admit that sometimes when I get home from a hard day at work I like to get myself a glass of wine and drink it to forget the pain in the ass Duretti can turn into sometimes,” Beatrice said, twirling the wine around her glass before sipping it. “But I usually save it for special occasions.”

“Special occasions, huh,” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, and Beatrice blushed.

“Family dinners, Ava,” the girl explained. “Let me remind you I came here while still being in a relationship.”

“And now you’re not,” the shorter girl said softly, and Beatrice saw the familiar guilt on her eyes, the same that still appeared when Leighton was brought up in a conversation.

“Ava,” Beatrice put a hand upon Ava’s. “For the hundredth time, it was an amicable break up. Plus, Leighton and I had been wanting the same for a while, though we were too scared to bring it up.”

“I still feel like a home wrecker, and like the worse person alive for kissing you when you guys were still a thing,” Ava said, eyes focused on her wine.

“Well, she had sex with her ex from college…” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, not knowing how to feel about that yet. “So…”

“Yeah,” Ava chuckled, shaking her head, before sipping from her wine. “So what are your plans for Barcelona?”

“Oh, just work and probably business dinners,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m sorry I can’t go after all, Vincent and Diego decided to come here out of the blue,” the shorter girl caressed her hand, and Beatrice smiled at her.

“Well, we can always go there in another occasion. Maybe for a v-vacation,” Beatrice couldn’t help but stutter at the last word, her nerves taking the best of her at the implication of maybe having a future long enough with Ava to go on vacations together. And she didn’t miss the way Ava’s eyes widened, but then smiled in delight and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“I would love to,” Ava told her, softly, and Beatrice sighed in relief. “Remember back in Saint Melanie’s, how I had a map up in the wall with all the places I wanted to visit one day?”

Beatrice couldn’t help but chuckle at that, nodding. “I remember how you complained about being broke, and I offered to pay for it after graduation.”

“The way I wanted to go to Italy only to go see the Blue Grotto without even knowing how to swim, oh my God,” Ava was now full on giggling, Beatrice following behind. “But Ava, you’ll drown! I can’t let you go there!”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. I’m swimming in the Blue Grotto!” Beatrice tried to impersonate Ava when she had to stop her from actually trying to sneak into a plane when they visited the Natural History Museum in London with the nuns at Saint Melanie’s, and Ava almost ran away to get on an airplane and go swim in the Blue Grotto.

“God, we were such a mess back then huh,” Ava said, fondly, finishing up her wine and filling the cup back up.

“I certainly was,” Beatrice sighed, filling her glass as well. Ava looked at her, biting her lip.

“Beatrice,” she said, her voice low. “I’m really proud of the progress you’ve made over the years.”

“Ava…”

“I’m serious,” the girl smiled at her, “I just wish I had been there to see it, and sometimes I can’t help but feel slightly jealous of Lilith and Michael, for being there for you and watching you grow and flourish and become free.”

“You not being there was my fault, Ava,” Beatrice muttered, and for whatever reason she felt her eyes watering.

“It was both our faults,” Ava said, and Beatrice saw her eyes were also shining with tears. “I knew you were in Oxford, so I could’ve visited you, talk things out and all.”

“And I knew you were in New York University,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “I could’ve done the same.”

“I almost did it several times, you know?” Ava confessed, and Beatrice looked at her intently. “There was this specific time, actually, where I almost took a plane to England to go see you.”

“What caused that?”

“It’s actually a stupid reason,” Ava chuckled, embarrassed. “I don’t even remember how it happened, but I saw something that reminded me of you and I got sad. It was the time around in which Mamma Mia 2 came out, and those movies have always been my comfort movies whenever I’m feeling down. And Donna, Tanya and Rosie graduated from Oxford and, well…”

“Oh,” for whatever reason, Beatrice felt her heart breaking.

“I searched up for cheap tickets, and there was a flight available in five hours from the time it was. So I packed one single bag with a few clothes, and made my way to the airport. When they announced the flight, I chickened out and didn’t take it.” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Beatrice’s mouth was hanging open. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I ended up taking it, and showing up in your dorm unannounced.”

“I think I would’ve fainted,” Beatrice said, seriously, making Ava chuckle. “And then I would’ve hugged you, Ava.”

“It was so easy, you know, try to fix things?” Ava muttered, and Beatrice nodded. “We really didn’t have to spend seven years like this.”

“I know,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. “But maybe we needed the time to grow up, and to fully heal, before we entered each other’s lives again.”

“Totally agreed,” Ava clinked her wine glass with Beatrice’s, and then they both swallowed what was left. “I don’t regret it, though, this whole situation.”

“You don’t?” Ava shook her head.

“A month and a half ago I think I would’ve hit myself at the thought of sharing a bottle of wine with you,” Ava said, arching an eyebrow at Beatrice. “But now? This is the best night of the year so far.”

“Is it?” Ava nodded at her, and Beatrice let out a long exhale. “Well, I’m glad Jillian’s wine is useful for once.”

“It’s not the wine, dumbass,” Ava chuckled, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows at her. “It’s you, and me, and this breathtaking apartment. And just… the whole night overall.”

“The quadruple date actually worked out, huh,” Beatrice said, and Ava hummed in agreement.

“I still want a one-on-one date, though,” Ava leaned closer to Beatrice’s body, who was filling their glasses once again and finishing the bottle of wine. “An official one.”

“Oh, you do now?” Ava looked at her from the rim of her wine glass, and Beatrice didn’t know why it made her blush as furiously at it did. “You only have to ask, darling.”

“Me?” Ava crossed her arms upon her chest. “Why me?”

“You want it, don’t you?” Beatrice lowered her voice, her body also coming closer to Ava’s. “Ask for it, then.”

“Okay,” she could see Ava’s skin filling with goose-bumps, and Beatrice didn’t miss the slight shiver taking over Ava, who tried to cover it up by clearing her throat. “Would you like to go on a date with me? After you come back from Barcelona?”

“I would love to,” Beatrice smiled at her, and Ava bit her lip.

“Cool,” Ava said, letting out a nervous chuckle, their eyes never leaving one another. “That’s so cool.”

“Yes,” Beatrice decided to lean back, drinking from her glass, Ava sighing in relief.

“By the way, did you like my Céline Dion tribute?” Ava asked, trying to change the topics because both of them knew they were getting close to some dangerous zone.

“I loved it, Ava, you did amazing,” Beatrice smiled at her. “Did you like my Taylor Swift rendition?”

“I thought you didn’t like her, actually,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Beatrice almost choked on her wine.

“I, well… I know you do, so…” she avoided looking at Ava, who now was the one smirking at her. “I still remember the way you sang her songs at the top of your lungs when you showered.”

“I still do that, actually.”

“Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Yes, but also… it was amazing,” Ava told her, and Beatrice felt herself blushing once again. “I think you’re my favorite mastermind, actually.”

“I would be offended if I wasn’t, Ava,” and then they looked at one another, and simply giggled.

Standing on each side of Beatrice’s kitchen counter while drinking wine would look like a simple activity for anyone, except for Beatrice. It filled her with indescribable joy to have Ava there, standing in front of her, drinking from her wine glass and laughing and simply filling Beatrice’s lonely apartment with a light brighter than the one coming from the sun itself.

“God, my feet are killing me actually,” Ava groaned, and Beatrice pointed towards the couch.

“Let’s move the party over there,” she said, before taking another bottle of wine from the small cellar and making their way there.

“You know,” Ava said, once she took her heels off and laid on the couch, her feet on Beatrice’s lap. “I always imagined our future like this, the both of us sitting on a couch, drinking expensive wine and laughing at anything.”

“I actually imagined my future would be me bailing you out of jail because you accidentally committed a crime,” Beatrice said, taking her own shoes off and putting her feet upon the coffee table.

“Asshole,” Ava said, giving her a small kick. Beatrice started to massage Ava’s feet, not in a sexual way but just in a casual way, and Ava simply sighed, sipping from her glass. “How many bottles do you think we can drown?”

“I don’t know, but you might have to stay over if we miscalculate,” Beatrice said, with false concern, and Ava gasped.

“Oh, no, that’s horrible…” Beatrice arched an eyebrow, and then tickled Ava’s feet, making the girl squirm and squeak. “Beatrice, I’ll stain your couch please stop it!”

“Don’t worry, I have enough products to make it squeaky clean again,” Beatrice prepared herself to tickle Ava again, and the girl almost kicked Beatrice on the face.

“See?! Stop it!” Ava let out a loud laugh, and Beatrice couldn’t help but giggle.

“This feels good, Ava,” Beatrice sighed, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows at her.

“Me almost breaking your nose on accident and ruining your furniture?” Ava chuckled, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“No, you and I… like this,” Ava smiled softly at her.

“Are you proposing I move in with you?” Ava asked her, wiggling her eyebrows. “Honestly, sign me up. I love this place, and I bet you have some big ass room where I could put my own photography studio and another one to put a dark room.”

“You didn’t show me your dark room, actually,” Ava blushed, eyes widening.

“Well, we were kind of busy to give you an apartment tour,” the shorter girl said, shrugging her shoulders, and Beatrice smiled at the memory. “You can come have dinner with me, if you want. My wine is cheap, but…”

“I can bring one of my bottles?” Ava nodded at her, and Beatrice smiled.

Ava took her feet off Beatrice’s lap, putting her empty glass on the coffee table, and took Beatrice’s own glass. She thought the shorter girl was about to fill them up again, but instead, Ava decided to straddle her and look her in the eyes. As if it was second nature for her, Beatrice put her hands on Ava’s waist as Ava looped her arms around her neck.

“Hi there, my beautiful mastermind,” Ava said, and Beatrice smiled at her. “Did this enter in your Machiavellian plans?”

“It’s one of my top priorities, actually,” Beatrice nodded once, acting serious. “Getting you drunk with expensive wine, and make you confess your darkest and deepest secrets.”

Ava gasped in fake outrage, leaning away from Beatrice. “I knew it, I knew you had an ulterior motive for showing me your apartment!”

“You caught me, Ava,” Beatrice sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid I cannot let you go now.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to go,” Ava said softly, any kind of act gone, and Beatrice swallowed audibly, overwhelmed by the way her hands fit perfectly around Ava’s waist, how all this time they had been two pieces of the same puzzle, made to fit perfectly with one another.

And Beatrice felt like a fool, because she could’ve had this life for a longer time than she did now. And, again, time was running out for them both because she soon would have to go back to England, and Ava would stay here, and she didn’t know how things would work out if they had one ocean between the both of them.

Maybe we can figure it out, Beatrice told herself. Maybe we can make it work.

“What is it?” Ava asked, tilting her head to one side.

Was it too soon to say that she didn’t want to stay away from Ava for longer than one day? Was it too soon to say that knowing that on Monday she would have to take a plane to get to Barcelona and stay there until next Sunday looked grim and sad and lonely? Was it too soon to say that she didn’t want to go back to England, that she wanted to stay in New York with Ava looking down at her like that for the rest of her life?

“Can I kiss you?” Beatrice asked instead, watching Ava’s eyes filling with delight.

“I would be offended if you didn’t,” Ava said, already leaning down, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile.

She had missed this, Ava’s lips on her own, kissing each other gently, Ava’s hands caressing Beatrice’s hair softly while Beatrice’s hands tried to memorize Ava’s back, the strong muscle hiding underneath the black dress, the way Ava’s thighs felt underneath her touch.

And she had missed the way their kisses went from gentle to more urgent, trying to get into a place where the both of them had been eager to go for the last month, never having enough from one another, becoming insatiable whenever they were next to each other.

To hell with taking it slow, Beatrice thought, as her lips landed on Ava’s neck and she kissed the hot skin, feeling Ava’s quick pulse when she passed her tongue upon it. I want to make love to you, Ava, for the rest of my life.

They looked at one another breathlessly, Ava’s hair looking slightly disheveled, her pupils almost occupying all of her iris of how dilated they were. Her chest was going up and down, and Beatrice was unable to look somewhere that wouldn’t be Ava’s breasts. And she saw Ava looking at her too, undressing one another with their eyes only.

“There’s a part of your apartment that you haven’t showed me yet,” Ava said, in a rush, and Beatrice raised her eyebrows.

“The bathroom?” she asked, innocently, and Ava snorted.

“You’re insufferable, did you know that?” Ava asked her, supporting her forehead on Beatrice’s.

And Beatrice could feel what Ava meant by calling her insufferable, because she meant it too. She could feel the three words forming at the back of her throat, how they were crawling their way out. But Beatrice wouldn’t say them, not yet, even if she knew that they both could feel them anyway. Because they hadn’t stopped loving one another, not in the seven years they had been separated from one another. And Beatrice knew that it could pass seven, fourteen or twenty-one years since the last time they saw one another, the love would never die.

“Where do you want to go, Ava?” Beatrice asked, and Ava kissed her on the lips before getting up from Beatrice’s lap and offering her hands to her. Beatrice took them, getting up, the way Ava looked up at her making her almost fall to the floor.

“Show me the way?”

And Beatrice nodded, never letting go of Ava’s hand, as they made their way towards the double doors separating the spacious room and Beatrice’s bedroom.

The walls were painted in a soft red, the room filled with bookshelves and a smaller fireplace compared to the one from the living room. There were pictures of her with Lilith, Michael and Jillian. There were pictures of Isabella, all the ones she could get her hands on before her parents could stop her. There were also drawings she had done and framed, the small keyboard piano she had at Saint Melanie’s dorm resting on the other side of the bedroom, presided by a big window facing the king sized bed and its silky, black sheets.

“Wait,” Beatrice said, putting one finger up.

She made her way towards her night stand, taking out a box of matches from the top drawer, and then walked around the room lighting up the many aromatic candles that Michael had gifted her for her birthday.

“You’ll find one use for them, one day,” he had winked at her, when Beatrice told her why the hell she would want so many aromatic candles.

And it was as if her brother had been able to look into the future, knowing that maybe one day she and Ava would be standing in her bedroom, in need of some kind of romantic aura.

Beatrice took her phone out again, turning off the lights and simply leaving the soft orange gloom of the candles and the flowery scent coming out of them to fill their bedroom.

Beatrice put the matches back inside the drawer and made her way back to Ava, who had been looking at her every move with hungry eyes, the expectation of repeating what had happened in the girl’s apartment almost killing them.

The taller girl stood in front of Ava once again, their eyes glued to one another. “You know, this dress is kind of annoying.”

“Is it?” Beatrice asked, and Ava nodded. “Maybe you should get out of it, then.”

“I can’t reach the zipper,” Ava said, shrugging her shoulders, and Beatrice nodded.

“Do you need help with that?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Beatrice put her hands on Ava’s waist, and she turned the girl around gently until her back was facing her. She put Ava’s hair to one side, so she could have a clear view of the zipper, and she made sure her fingertips caressed Ava’s neck and shoulders, making the shorter girl almost whimper.

She unzipped Ava’s dress slowly, one hand interlaced with Ava’s on the front, her lips kissing Ava’s neck slowly, as the other hand guided the zipper down Ava’s back and it soon reached Ava’s lower back, unable to go on.

Beatrice then put both of her hands on Ava’s shoulders, lowering the dress straps until Ava’s upper body was uncovered, her back still facing Beatrice’s front. Beatrice put her hands on Ava’s waist, finishing to take her dress off, and then the girl turned around her slowly and Beatrice was almost taken aback with Ava’s body, how the only think keeping the shorter girl from being completely naked was the lacy underwear she decided to wear, matching with the dress, letting Beatrice know she had kind of intended to end here.

“I think I’m going to start drawing you naked from now on,” Beatrice let Ava know, and she let out a surprised laugh.

“Please, do,” Ava kissed her on the lips chastely. “As long as you let me photograph you.”

“Sounds fine by me, as long as no one else but us will see it.”

“Deal.”

Beatrice smiled at Ava, and she leaned down to kiss her, letting her hands roam all over Ava’s body, feeling each goose bump and each muscle. And she soon felt Ava’s hands leaving her neck, making their way down to Beatrice’s blouse buttons.

Ava wasn’t as gentle as Beatrice had been with her black dress, her hands shaky and eager to get Beatrice naked. She finished with her buttons, and immediately reached up to get rid of the silky blouse, their chests uncovered. Ava looked down before giving attention to Beatrice’s leather pants, and Beatrice didn’t blush this time but simply admired the way Ava admired her body.

Ava unbuttoned Beatrice’s leather pants, as her mouth closed around Beatrice’s nipple and she couldn’t help but moan, grabbing Ava’s hair with one hand, the other clutched on Ava’s waist.

“Ava,” she gasped, and one of Ava’s hands sneaked around and squeezed her backside.

“Is it okay?” Ava asked, looking up at her. Beatrice, unable to form words, simply nodded while she struggled to stand still.

Ava got rid of Beatrice’s pants, leaving her with her own underwear as well and judging by the smirk on Ava’s lips, Beatrice was sure the girl guessed that she too had been hoping to end up here after their quadruple date.

Beatrice guided Ava to her bed, and the sight of Ava laying half naked in the middle of it made Beatrice want to write one thousand poems about the situation, how it made her want to take out a canvas and immortalize this moment forever. It was as if Ava belonged to Beatrice’s bed, as if she was the only missing thing in the apartment she had rented.

Beatrice crawled up the bed, and then she looked down at Ava before kissing her. She felt her hand interlacing with Ava’s, resting on top of the girl’s head, sinking into the pillow, as her other hand travelled from the girl’s waist to the girl’s ankle, up and down time after time.

“Can you turn around, Ava?” Beatrice asked her, and Ava’s eyes widened in excitement. She did it, supporting her body in her forearms, and looking at Beatrice while biting her lip.

And there it was, the scar that went from the lower part of her nape to her lower back. The scar that had saved Ava’s life, that had gotten her to move again, the scar that made Ava believe she was broken for many years. And when they had spent that day together, when Ava had struggled to walk after many hours moving and then sitting on the ground, Beatrice could see in her eyes she still somehow believed it.

So Beatrice kissed Ava’s scar, inch by inch, and she watched Ava understanding what she meant, her eyes filling with tears as Beatrice made her way down her back, and then back up to kiss Ava on the lips.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Beatrice said, kissing the top of the scar. “Your smile is beautiful,” another kiss, “your nose is beautiful.”

Beatrice kissed Ava’s scar while listing the many things that made her beautiful. Her mind, her resilience, her strength, her laugh, her hands, her neck, her heart, her kindness, her positivity, the way she saw the good in everyone, even Beatrice, when Beatrice had been unable to see it herself until Ava landed in her life.

“You’re beautiful, Ava,” Beatrice whispered, making sure Ava understood. “Every part of you is beautiful.”

“Beatrice,” Ava said, and Beatrice knew she wanted to argue and tell her she was mistaken. But it seemed like Ava was left with no arguments, unable to find a way to contradict Beatrice. “Thank you,” she said instead, maybe choosing to believe Beatrice for one night. And Beatrice decided she would make Ava believe she was beautiful every day and every night, until she had no more doubts.

She kissed the girl on the lips again, still lying on her front, and Beatrice made her way down Ava’s neck, watching the girl close her eyes in bliss, biting her lip, as Beatrice peppered her body with kisses and caresses, trying to let Ava know how much she meant it when she called her beautiful, in all the ways the word could be interpreted.

“May I?” Beatrice asked Ava, and the girl nodded, watching her from above her shoulder and looking ethereal. Beatrice got rid of Ava’s underwear, slowly, Ava watching her every single move and holding her breath.

Beatrice turned Ava around, gently, and she decided that this was the best sight she had ever seen. Not New York from the top of Arq-Tech’s building, not the sun going down Barcelona’s sea, not London on a rainy day. The best sight Beatrice had ever seen was Ava laying down underneath her, naked, looking up at her with wide eyes filled with lust and expectation and need.

“Ava,” Beatrice muttered, and immediately stopped herself because she didn’t want to ruin the moment. She didn’t want to say the three little words that had been dancing in her mind for the last seven years, because the last time one of them said the words to the other, all hell broke loose. And Beatrice didn’t want this to end, not yet, not when they still had a month and a half before she left to go back to England.

“Yeah?” Ava asked, her eyes dancing around Beatrice’s face, her voice soft.

And Beatrice’s heart was beating so hard it hurt her in her chest, but it was a good kind of pain. The kind of pain that came when you loved someone so much, your heart couldn’t help but scream it into the Universe.

“Hi,” Beatrice said, stupidly, and Ava chuckled.

“Hi, Bea,” Ava said, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at the girl, watching her and not moving because she felt paralyzed in front of Ava’s beauty and her overwhelming presence. She felt paralyzed at the way she realized the love she had felt for Ava never left her, and each day it became harder to keep it to herself.

Every Sunday coffee run, the way they kept texting and calling and trying to make up for lost time. The hope that maybe this time wouldn’t be a disaster, that maybe they could make it and they wouldn’t have to wait another seven years to be together. Beatrice was ready, she didn’t know if Ava was yet, but she had only needed one month and a half to be ready to drop it all for Ava.

If Ava asked her to run away now, she would say yes. She didn’t care where they would go, she didn’t care if she had to take a plane in less than thirty-six hours, she didn’t care if she would soon run Jillian’s company with Michael and Lilith, she didn’t care if her own parents were texting her relentlessly asking her to take care of what was supposed to be hers for once and for all.

Beatrice was actually about to take care of what was hers, she was about to take care of Ava, to let her know what she was feeling without having to voice it yet. Because maybe Ava wasn’t ready yet, and Beatrice would be patient. She had waited seven years to have Ava back, she could wait a little bit longer.

And Beatrice, unable to hold back any longer, leaned down and kissed Ava desperately, not as gently as she would’ve liked. But Ava didn’t seem to mind when Beatrice’s core grinded against Ava’s, making the girl moan loudly, giving Beatrice the perfect chance to mark Ava’s neck and her whole body, trying to make an statement, leaving a reminder for the five days they would spend separated from one another.

“Beatrice,” Ava moaned, the word choked out, and it felt like hearing a chorus made of angels singing, welcoming Beatrice to Heaven.

According to the Catholic Church, Beatrice would actually be blacklisted from entering Heaven, especially because of the situation her and Ava were going through right now, for the things she was about to do to Ava. But she didn’t care, she finally didn’t care if she didn’t make it to Heaven, if she wasn’t holier than thou anymore.

Because she had entered through the gates of Heaven the first time her and Ava slept together, she entered Heaven with every kiss and touch she shared with Ava, she entered Heaven when Ava was squirming underneath her, begging to Beatrice to get inside of her already without having to voice her thoughts. Beatrice entered Heaven every time Ava moaned her name, every time she was able to give Ava an orgasm. She entered Heaven when Ava was underneath her, naked and sweaty, and she entered Heaven every time they were sitting in front of one another, sharing memories, drinking coffee and trying to fix what had been broken.

“Beatrice,” Ava said again, and Beatrice looked up at Ava from between the girl’s legs, trying to let Ava feel what Heaven felt like as well. “I need you.”

And Beatrice finally leaned down, running her tongue up and down Ava’s folds, almost losing her mind when she saw Ava’s body arching and her hands gripping the sheets when Beatrice’s tongue gently passed upon the girl’s clit.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Ava told the girl, her voice strained, looking down at Beatrice. And Beatrice couldn’t help herself but smile innocently at Ava, taking her sweet time.

“Do you have to go somewhere, Ava?” Beatrice asked, and Ava groaned and then she did something that almost made Beatrice come undone right there and then.

Ava fisted her hand around Beatrice’s head, bringing her face closer to Ava’s core, her grip never loosening.

“Look at me,” Beatrice commanded to Ava, who obeyed immediately. “Don’t look away as I eat you out.”

“And what if I do?” Ava challenged, but Beatrice didn’t miss the slight stutter, the tremble of her throat, the way her eyes widened in delight.

“I’ll have to stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then do as I say, darling,” and Beatrice decided to go in with all she had, and Ava’s mouth hung open, her body arching and her eyes almost closing. Beatrice put both hands on Ava’s hips, bringing her down and squeezing the skin gently, a reminder of what she needed Ava to do.

“Fuck,” Ava muttered, and her legs closed around Beatrice’s body as her rhythm increased, as Ava’s body started to tremble and her eyes were trying hard to never leave Beatrice.

And Beatrice loved every single second of it, the way she ate Ava out as one of her hands closed around the girl’s breast, the other supporting Ava’s body firmly. She loved watching every single emotion pass through Ava’s eyes, the way the girl moaned while also directly looking at Beatrice, fearing that her eyes would close and Beatrice would stop.

And she loved the way she could feel her own wetness dampening her underwear, the way she was ready for Ava, and the girl hadn’t even touched her yet, not in the way Beatrice had done. And the imagination of their positions being reversed, of Ava being the one eating her out as they made direct eye contact made her lose herself in Ava, and soon the girl was screaming her name again as Beatrice’s mouth closed around Ava, feeling the girl’s cum dripping down her chin.

“Oh my God,” Ava panted, her body already glistening with sweat and her panting being the only sound filling the room.

Beatrice knelt between Ava’s legs, the girl still looking intently at her. Beatrice wiped Ava’s cum from her cheek, and then brought both of her fingers inside her mouth, sucking Ava’s essence from her, and she saw the way Ava’s mouth opened slowly, the way a whimper came out of her throat. And then Beatrice caressed Ava’s folds slowly, her fingers dripping with Ava’s cum, and she brought them to Ava’s mouth. The girl sucked on them intently, her eyes never leaving Beatrice as she took her sweet time leaving Beatrice’s fingers clean.

“You looked at me the whole time,” Beatrice said, hovering upon Ava once more, her fingers still inside the girl’s mouth. “Good girl, Ava.”

“Fuck,” Ava muttered, seemingly the only word in her repertoire, her breathing still coming in and out fast.

“You need some time to rest?” Beatrice asked Ava, caressing her hair gently as if only a couple of seconds ago the girl wasn’t licking her own cum from Beatrice’s fingers.

“Yes, please, that was… fuck,” Ava said, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Was it okay?” she furrowed her eyebrows, suddenly feeling concerned she had gone over the top, that maybe the rhythm had been too harsh.

“It was more than okay, Bea,” Ava said, kissing Beatrice on the lips, and almost making her moan when she still felt Ava’s taste on her tongue.

Beatrice looked at her closet, and she bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed, as she too was trying to catch her breathing.

“What is it?” Ava asked her, and Beatrice got up from her bed. “Where are you going?”

“I want to show you something,” she rummaged through her closet once she opened the door, and she found the box she was looking for.

She had never used it before, her and Leighton had bought it before the girl went on tour but never really got to use it, and Beatrice had kind of taken it with her just in case she and Leighton would try to revive the spark they had lost.

Beatrice opened the box, and Ava was supporting her body on her forearms, trying to see what was taking her a while. Beatrice then nodded to herself, and turned around to show Ava the harness and the four inches purple strap on. Ava’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit, Bea,” Ava said, her mouth hanging open. Beatrice bit her lip nervously.

“I’ve never really used one of these, but if you’re up for it…” Beatrice started to feel self-conscious when Ava didn’t say anything, simply looked from the strap to Beatrice again. “Ava?”

“How long is it?” Ava asked, the emotion in her voice unrecognizable.

“Four inches,” Ava started to nod, slowly, tilting her head.

“I can take it,” she told Beatrice, confidently, and Beatrice almost tripped on air.

“Are you sure?” Ava nodded once, and Beatrice swallowed. “If you don’t want to…”

“Come over here.”

And Beatrice made her way towards Ava, who was smiling at her with excitement and Beatrice really thought Ava would end up squealing or clapping her hands as if she had just got gifted the best present in the world.

“How do I…?” Beatrice asked, and Ava smiled at her. The shorter girl lowered Beatrice’s underwear gently, and then she took the harness and the strap already attached to it on her own hands, helping Beatrice put it on. Beatrice looked down at it, eyebrows furrowed. “I look ridiculous.”

“Stop it,” Ava said, laughing out loud. “You look hot.”

“I don’t know,” but Beatrice got cut short by Ava’s lips, who kissed her gently, both hands on each side of her face.

“Bea, if you don’t want to do it, it’s fine. I seriously don’t mind, and maybe we can leave this for another day, when you get back from Barcelona maybe?” but Beatrice could tell Ava really wanted it, and she honestly wanted it too, and yes it looked kind of ridiculous once you put it on but she couldn’t help herself from imagining Ava wrapped tightly around it, their hips grinding against one another as Beatrice buried herself deep inside of the girl.

“I want to,” Beatrice said, nodding at Ava. “Seriously.”

“Are you sure?” Ava asked, and Beatrice almost cried at the gentleness in Ava’s voice, no matter how much lust her eyes were filled with.

“I’m sure, Ava,” Beatrice kissed Ava on the lips once. “There should be a bottle of lube on the first drawer.”

Ava turned around, searching for the bottle of lube and quickly finding it. She then turned around, inspecting it, and hummed.

“Sweet peach, huh,” the girl arched an eyebrow, and Beatrice rolled her eyes making Ava snort. “I don’t think we need it, though.”

“Just in case, Ava. I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” and the way Ava’s eyes softened, the way the girl almost pouted at her, it made Beatrice blush madly.

“In that case…” Ava opened the bottle and put some lube on the palm of her hand. “Can I do the honors?”

“Oh,” Beatrice said, once she understood what Ava meant. “Y-yes, of course.”

Ava wrapped a hand around the strap confidently, and Beatrice swallowed audibly, eyes wide never leaving Ava’s. The girl kissed her, as she felt her hand going up and down the strap and spreading the lube, applying pressure once it reached the bottom. Beatrice shuddered.

“Is this fine?” Ava asked, lips only millimeters away from Beatrice’s. She nodded, unable to form words, and Ava repeated the movement a couple of times as she bit Beatrice’s lower lip.

And Beatrice, who was trying to keep her cool in order to not feel embarrassed, immediately lost all sense of reality. Her arm wrapped around Ava, laying the girl’s body underneath of her, and she used her thigh to open Ava’s own legs, feeling them wrap immediately around Beatrice mid section, the strap hovering only a few millimeters away from Ava’s entrance.

She put both of her hands on each side of Ava’s face, who was looking up at her with a soft smile on her lips, as Ava’s hands found Beatrice’s back and caressed it up and down, gently, reassuringly.

“Bea,” Ava said, softly. “Don’t be afraid.”

“If I hurt you, will you please tell me?” Ava nodded her head. “And if you want me to stop, will you tell me?”

“I doubt that will happen,” Ava smiled at Beatrice, who looked at her seriously. “I will, don’t worry.”

Beatrice took a deep breath, and her eyes never left Ava as she entered her slowly, still not fully, so Ava’s body could get accustomed at the feeling of the strap. Ava let out a soft moan, her body arching and her legs tightening around Beatrice’s lower body, and Beatrice could feel Ava’s nails digging softly underneath her skin, her body filling with electricity.

Beatrice then got out of Ava, and the next time entered a bit deeper, and Ava’s mouth opened in a silent moan, and her hands held Beatrice tighter, and she could feel Ava’s legs twitching, her panting so close to Beatrice’s ear it was hard to not crumble already.

“Fine?” Beatrice asked Ava, who simply nodded, unable to form any words.

“Deeper,” the girl said, struggling to form the word, and Beatrice kissed her neck as the strap entered Ava deeper. “Fuck.”

She felt Ava’s nails digging deeper into her skin, and Beatrice couldn’t help but let out a moan of her own, her kisses on Ava’s neck sloppy as the girl’s full body reacted to Beatrice’s thrusts.

“All of it, Bea,” Ava begged her, and Beatrice couldn’t deny to the girl what she so desperately seemed to need.

So Beatrice got out of Ava, only to enter her fully. And the sound Ava made, the way her body arched as her legs brought Beatrice closer to her, the way the strap caused pressure upon Beatrice as well, and the way she could feel Ava scratching her back in pleasure almost brought Beatrice to tears, almost made her come undone right then and there.

And Beatrice started to move gently, the full length of her strap coming in and out of Ava, whose hips were trying to match Beatrice’s movements in a sloppy and desperate way. She could feel the way Ava’s legs were trying to bring her closer, the way she was sure her nails hat cut the skin in Beatrice’s back, leaving marks of her own. But Beatrice didn’t care, because she would show the world the way Ava marked her, the way Ava made her hers.

“Faster,” Ava told her, and Beatrice did as the girl told.

Their bodies moved on a fast rhythm, the room filled with both of their pants and moans. Beatrice could start to feel sweat forming on her brow, her back. She could feel her legs becoming sore, her rhythm becoming sloppy the more the speed increased, the more pleasure she felt by the pressure of the strap on herself, while watching Ava with her mouth open, eyes closed tightly, clinging around Beatrice’s body as if her life depended on it..

“God, Ava,” Beatrice said, her body trembling.

The sounds Ava made, the way her body arched, the way her neck looked so appetizing. Beatrice leaned down, kissing Ava as their bodies moved and fused together as one single being, Beatrice’s lips leaving marks everywhere she could, claiming Ava’s body as the girl was claiming hers.

Beatrice was so close to coming undone, and she could feel Ava dripping down again, an indicator that the girl was about to reach the same fate as her. And Beatrice didn’t stop, Ava’s legs were open wide on each side of Beatrice, giving more space for her to get in and out of her easily, to move faster, to make Ava orgasm again and let the whole of New York City know who was making her feel that good.

And Beatrice was too focused on looking at Ava’s eyes shutting tightly, at her teeth biting her lower lip as she made sounds that drove Beatrice crazy. Beatrice was too focused at the way the bed was moving, the rustle of sheets and the sound the strap made as it entered and left Ava. She was so lost on Ava, so drunk on Ava, that she didn’t realize the way the girl gripped her hips tightly and flipped her over the bed, straddling her, her hips never stopping from grinding upon Beatrice’s.

And the view Beatrice had, of Ava sitting on top of her, sliding up and down Beatrice’s strap and holding herself on Beatrice’s shoulders made her moan as loud as she could. Ava’s body arched backwards, looking up, and Beatrice grabbed Ava’s hips with one hand, helping her to move, as the other made its way up from Ava’s stomach to her breasts to her neck, closing around slightly, feeling the pulse underneath the palm of her hand.

And then Ava looked at her, and she leaned down, her movements never stopping, her eyes never leaving Beatrice’s.

“Do you like it when I ride you, Bea?” Ava asked, before she supported her forehead on Beatrice’s, both of her hands on each side of Beatrice’s head as their hips kept on moving sloppily, desperately, trying to reach their climax. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, her voice coming out in a pant as her hands found Ava’s backside, trying to bring her closer to her.

“Yes, what?” Ava asked, and Beatrice could tell Ava was simply trying to hold on as much as she could, trying to enjoy every single second, not wanting this to end yet.

“I like it when you ride me, Ava,” and as if those words had broken some kind of spell, Ava moaned loudly on top of Beatrice, and watching the girl come undone for the second time made Beatrice do the same, her hands wrapping tightly around Ava’s body, hugging her close to her as Ava finished to ride out her orgasm.

And then they stayed like that, Beatrice still buried deep inside of Ava and Ava laying on top of her, hugging one another as they felt their own cum gushing out of themselves.

“Jesus Christ,” Ava said, her head buried between Beatrice’s neck and shoulder.

“Dare I say it, that was a wild ride,” Beatrice said, stroking Ava’s hair, still unable to move from inside of her. Ava looked at her, eyebrow arched.

“Did you just make a sex pun?” the girl asked, and Beatrice nodded at her. And then, the both of them were giggling, their naked bodies glued to one another, the room filling with their laughter just a few seconds after it had been filled with their moaning and panting.

“Too bad?” Beatrice asked, trying to calm down.

“It actually was a good one,” Ava praised her. “Give me five.”

“Oh, God,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, but high fived Ava only to see the wide grin on the girl’s lips.

Ava, then, detached herself from the strap letting out a small moan of pleasure before laying next to Beatrice, who was too sore to take the harness out of herself. And the both of them stayed there, looking up at the ceiling, bodies sweaty and smiles of pleasure on their blushed faces.

“I don’t want you to leave to Barcelona,” Ava confessed to Beatrice, interlacing her fingers with hers. “I don’t want you to leave at all, Bea.”

“I’ll be back sooner than you expect it, Ava. It will only be five days,” Beatrice said, turning around to look at the girl. Ava sighed.

“No, I mean…” the girl groaned, covering her face with one hand. “England and all. I don’t want you to go.”

“You know, I don’t really want to go either,” Beatrice confessed to the girl. “Not now that I have you back. When I came here, I hoped we would find one another and we would fix things or, at least, I would have the chance to say I was sorry before I left again.”

“But you weren’t expecting to end like this, right?” Ava said, waving a hand between their naked bodies. Beatrice snorted, nodding. “Yeah, me neither.”

“It okay though, right? This?” Ava looked at her, incredulously.

“I was literally riding you a few minutes ago, Beatrice. Did that look wrong to you?” Beatrice shook her head, and Ava looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “What is it?”

“The distance is the main thing that kept me away from you all those years ago,” Beatrice said, playing with Ava’s hand. “I’m scared it will separate us again, not in the literal sense but…”

“Hey,” Ava supported her body on her arm, hovering upon Beatrice. “This time is different. We fixed what was broken, and we are walking towards something different than we had before. We still have a month and a half to figure this out, to know what we should do.”

“What we should do?” Beatrice asked, and she saw Ava blushing, averting her eyes.

“With… this, us,” the girl said, shrugging her shoulders. “We can stay… I don’t know, fuck buddies I guess.”

“Fuck buddies?” Beatrice let out a chuckle, void of any humor. “Is that what we are?”

“I don’t know, Bea,” Ava sighed, laying back down. “I don’t know what we are. And that’s what we need to figure out before you go back to England.”

“Do you want to be fuck buddies only, Ava?” Beatrice felt her heart breaking a little, hoping that the pain wouldn’t be heard in her voice. Ava looked at her.

“When you’re that with someone, there’s some kind of feelings that aren’t involved since all you want to do is have sex with one another, nothing serious,” Ava told the girl, and then she smiled softly at Beatrice. “I think it’s a little too late for the whole… no feelings part.”

“I think so too,” Beatrice muttered, and Ava sighed.

“Plus, fuck buddies don’t go on quadruple dates,” Ava added, wiggling her eyebrows and making Beatrice snort.

“And they don’t plan to have a one-on-one date neither, right?” Ava hummed at her, before cuddling Beatrice.

“And they don’t cuddle after sex.”

“Nor sing songs to one another in a karaoke.”

“And they won’t get sad as hell for five days, missing their buddy as if they had gone to war,” Beatrice let out a loud laugh, and she felt Ava’s body shaking in laughter as well.

“I will miss you too, Ava,” Beatrice said, kissing the top of Ava’s head. “And I actually look forward to seeing Vincent and Diego again.”

“Diego might kick your ass, actually,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice chuckled.

“I deserve it,” the shorter girl then looked up at her.

“Bea?” Beatrice hummed, closing her eyes. “What will we do when your parents will come?”

“Have dinner,” Beatrice sighed, remembering the way her father hadn’t even asked if they could have dinner he just invited him and Beatrice’s mother over. “Jillian said she’ll book a whole restaurant only for us, just in case things get ugly.”

“So her, Lilith and Michael will be there?” Beatrice nodded, feeling grateful for her family and knowing that they wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. “And me?”

“I know I said I didn’t want you to be there, for your own sake and safety,” Beatrice looked down at Ava, furrowing her eyebrows. And she didn’t have to say anything else, because Ava understood.

“As I said, I’ll be there next to you, ready to kick ass if I have to,” Beatrice couldn’t help herself, and she leaned down to kiss Ava on the lips.

“I know, darling, I know you will,” they kissed each other softly, hands and legs interlaced with one another, so different from the reckless and uncontrolled kisses they had shared a few moments ago.

“By the way,” Ava said, looking at Beatrice’s lower body, “you should take that out to sleep.”

“Why? I quite like it, actually,” Ava let out a snort, and Beatrice smiled. “What? You don’t?”

“You’re an idiot, Beatrice Armstrong-Young,” Ava said fondly, shaking her head, as she helped Beatrice take the harness out before laying back next to one another, their naked bodies upon the undone bed.

“Will you stay and sleep next to this idiot, though?” Beatrice asked, softer. “I don’t think I can get up to walk you to the door.”

“I don’t think I can walk at all, actually,” and Beatrice looked at her in alarm, and Ava kissed her to calm her down. “I really like this kind of soreness, though.”

“I have hurt you, haven’t I?” Ava put a hand on Beatrice’s cheek, looking at her gently.

“Beatrice, you haven’t,” she let out an amused chuckle. “You know how my legs get after overworking them too much, or exercising too much.” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at her.

“I’ll make sure to be more careful next time,” Beatrice said, caressing Ava’s hair and getting lost in the girl’s eyes.

“What if I don’t want careful, huh?” Ava arched an eyebrow, challenging, and Beatrice kissed the tip of Ava’s nose.

“Whatever you want, Ava, I’ll give it to you,” the shorter girl looked up at her, a look of mischief Beatrice knew all too well by now.

“I want you to put me to sleep,” the way her voice lowered, how her eyelids seemed to get heavier, Beatrice immediately understood Ava didn’t want a lullaby but maybe one last round that would exhaust them both enough to fall asleep and, maybe, wake up in the middle of the night to make love to one another again, and again, and again.

Beatrice then remembered how Ava had told her that she always preferred to bring people home, and whenever it was the opposite she left when she was done. The last time they had been together in this way, Beatrice had been the one leaving after a “post-sex nap” (as Ava had put it) because both of them had things to do.

There had been nothing in the world that she wished more than sleeping next to Ava, holding her through the night and waking up next to her. And she knew that it wouldn’t be good for her heart, because if Ava stayed over Beatrice knew she would want to wake up next to Ava every single day of her life. But it would hurt more to say goodbye, to see Ava gathering her things and leaving, promising to see one another soon.

“Will you stay, Ava?” Beatrice asked the girl before she could think twice of it, hating the way her voice sounded so small. Ava furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “tonight, I mean, with me. I remember you said you weren’t one to stay for the night after… certain activities.”

“Certain activities?” Ava snorted, looking at Beatrice affectionately. “You’re calling what we did… certain activities?”

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice smiled at her, feeling her cheeks blush.

“You’re adorable, Beatrice.”

“Thank you, Ava, you’re not so bad yourself,” Beatrice looked at the girl again, breathing slowly. “Will you be here in the morning, Ava?”

“I won’t go anywhere, Bea,” the girl kissed her on the lips softly, reinforcing her point. “No more running away, remember?”

“Yes,” Beatrice nodded, caressing Ava’s arm. “No more running away.”

“Now,” Ava said, putting a hand on Beatrice’s face before bringing it closer to hers. “Make love to me, you fool.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And they stayed there, cuddling one another, as this time they made love to one another lazily, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. And Beatrice touched Ava, and Ava touched Beatrice, and they looked at one another and held each other close, filling the room with soft sounds of pleasure, until they couldn’t go on any further.

Then, Beatrice covered their naked bodies with the sheets, wrapping her arms around Ava and getting the best sleep she had ever gotten in twenty-five years.

Chapter Text

Seven years ago

Beatrice’s parents had told her they would speak about what had happened that night once they would get home, but the next day they were nowhere to be seen and disappeared for three days straight, not even bothering to tell her where the hell did they go.

“An important meeting, they said,” Eustace told Beatrice as he entered her bedroom, bringing her breakfast on a silver plate.

She had been hiding there ever since the moment they had arrived at Armstrong Hall, deciding to spend spring break there instead of going back to their London townhouse even after her father had decided to close up the manor. And Beatrice hated it, because it would soon be the anniversary of Isabella’s death, and she remembered how she had received the news in the red sitting room.

She hadn’t been in her family’s country house for more than a year, their last Christmas was spent in London instead of here and Beatrice feared it had been because they’d known how the previous Christmas she had brought Ava and her family there, without asking permission. And her parents hadn’t addressed it, but they never addressed anything with her. They simply made sure Beatrice spent her Christmas away from Ava.

She could resolve to the memories she had made with Ava around the country house, how they had put up the Christmas tree and played piano and how Ava had pretty much charmed the staff with only a couple of words, how they had immediately loved the girl and told Beatrice they were happy Ava was in her life. But now, thinking about those memories only made her chest hurt.

Beatrice realized that the things she was feeling for Ava had probably begun exactly during that Christmas, and she probably had been fighting those emotions for more than a year to the point where she was unable to hold them at bay anymore. All Beatrice had been able to think about was the rain, the abandoned farmhouse and the Bourbon. All she could think about was Ava asking if she could kiss her, and Beatrice nodding her head.

She had wanted to say no, she had wanted to tell Ava that they shouldn’t do it because it wasn’t okay. She had blamed the alcohol and the adrenaline of sneaking out, the thrill that came with breaking the rules for once in her life. But Beatrice knew, deep down, that it had been her own heart acting before her head, her own selfishness acting before common sense could. And she would be lying to herself if she tried to deny she hadn’t wanted to kiss Ava too, that she had imagined how it would be to feel those soft lips upon her own whenever Ava wasn’t looking at her, and Beatrice allowed herself one small second to let her guard down and let herself daydream.

Beatrice had never been kissed before, and judging by the way Ava had taken the lead and had kissed her expertly, Beatrice knew she wasn’t the girl’s first kiss and she would probably not be the last. And for whatever reason, Beatrice felt a pang of jealousy when she thought about Ava kissing someone who wasn’t her.

And then reality hit her, and she shook her head to get rid of those ideas. It’s not okay, it’s not the way it’s supposed to be, Beatrice told herself time after time when the brief kiss replayed back on her mind. She told herself that every time she longed to run around a field of daisies with Ava again, when the need of getting rid of the life she was forced to live in order to exchange it for a life where all she did was make flower crowns for Ava was stronger than reality.

And then, Ava’s smile and excitement got replaced by the way she had looked at her when Beatrice had gone to say goodbye, the way she had sat in her bed listening to Ava’s sobs in the shower. She remembered the broken look on Ava’s eyes, the silence, the way she avoided looking at her. The way her parents had hurt Ava, how angry Beatrice had felt at them, how all she wanted to do was to take Ava far, far away.

She should’ve said something to them, she should’ve fought them and tell them to stop insulting Ava like they did. But Beatrice had been paralyzed when the reality of what happened had hit her, when she immediately sobered up after Ava kissed her and images of her parents calling her a monster appeared on her mind. How kissing Ava would give them another reason to despise her existence, to blame her for all the wrong things that had happened to their family. And all Beatrice wanted, deep down, was their validation. So talking back at them, defending Ava, meant getting even more hatred and disdain and disapproval.

We’ll talk about this when we’ll come back, Beatrice had promised to Ava. And Ava had nodded, unconvinced, because Beatrice’s voice had wavered when she said that. And Beatrice truly didn’t want to acknowledge what had happened between them, and she knew that would cause them to stop being friends. Beatrice didn’t want to lose Ava, because after Isabella’s death and the darkness that came with it the girl had been a newfound source of not happiness but simple tranquility. But Beatrice also didn’t want to give her parents another reason to hate her, and she didn’t know what to do.

She took her phone, and her thumb hovered upon Ava’s chat. The last message was from the last day of summer vacation, before they saw one another again and their phones got taken away by the nuns so there would be no distractions in their academic performance.

Beatrice knew Ava was still angry at her or, well, maybe disappointed and hurt. Because there were no texts from the girl, no calls, when they usually couldn’t resist to text and video call one another twenty-four hours after being separated.

She clicked the chat, and then the message box. And her thumbs hovered upon the keyboard, but her mind was blank and she didn’t know what to tell her. I miss you? I’m sorry? How are you?

Beatrice shook her head, putting the phone back to her nightstand and looking out the window. She could feel the tears stinging, threatening to spill just like every time they did whenever the last moments she had with Ava before leaving for spring break replayed inside her mind: the field, the crowns, the alcohol, the kiss, the tears.

She blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes dry. Crying was a weakness, and she didn’t want to look weak in case her parents came back unannounced, in case they appeared out of thin air like they usually did.

Beatrice hadn’t felt this much lonely in a long time. Sure, whenever she and Ava were apart, they still talked with one another in one way or another. Beatrice usually was alone in one of her family’s homes, her parents on a diplomatic trip or commuting with the other aristocrats, but she always had Ava in some way or another. Ava sending her pictures of the stray cat she had found on the street, Ava texting her good morning and good night, Ava calling her. Now, if Beatrice was being honest, the radio silence was killing her. And she hated the sensation, the way she was unable to not be talking with Ava.

And maybe what they had done was wrong, and Ava didn’t know. So Beatrice took her phone, in order to tell Ava that it had been a mistake but they could get through it. That Ava was confused, and Beatrice would help her sort herself out. That they would get through this confusing situation together, and Ava would realize it had been simply her mind playing with her and it was not too late to fix it, to move on, to do things right.

Beatrice nodded to herself, and she reached out to grab her phone when her bedroom door opened and her father entered, her mother nowhere to be seen. Edward Armstrong didn’t bother to look at his daughter, closing the door and taking his blazer off before sitting on Beatrice’s desk chair, putting enough distance between them both.

Beatrice looked at her father with furrowed eyebrows, the man looked tired and angry when he usually looked immaculate and as if nothing in the world could bother him enough to have a small wrinkle between his dark eyebrows.

“I have talked with Mother Frances,” he said, his voice as cold as usual when he addressed Beatrice or anyone in general. “She’s informed me you plan on going to Oxford.”

“Isabella went there,” Beatrice said, putting her back straighter and her eyes never leaving her father’s face. He chuckled, causing Beatrice’s skin to be filled with goose bumps.

“Your sister was a disappointment,” he said, though she was sure he had said the same words to Isabella when referring to Beatrice. “She was a selfish and egocentric child.”

“For choosing her own future?” Beatrice arched an eyebrow, and her father finally looked at her. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t look away.

Don’t you want to choose your own path? Ava had asked her once, and Beatrice had felt so offended back then. Not now, though.

“Your sister’s sole purpose of existing was to ruin everything our family has achieved,” her father said, his voice distant, coming out as if it was a rain of ice cubes. “Look where that took her.”

“So you believe her wanting to choose her own destiny killed her?” Beatrice couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

Aren’t you scared of always doing what they say?

“You will shut up when I talk,” Edward Armstrong got on his feet, pointing a finger at her. “You will not discuss my words.”

“Why not?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. “You sent Isabella and me to the best schools, to the best summer school programs, to build our personalities and to develop our minds. And now you want me to not use all those skills I’ve developed?”

“Quiet, Beatrice,” her father muttered, and she saw the twitch in his jaw, the tremble of his finger. “You will not go to Oxford.”

“What does it matter, father?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. “I will still study whatever you and mother choose for me, just not in Cambridge.”

“You will not ruin our family’s tradition in the same way your sister did,” he said, starting to pace around the room.

Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows at the fact that her father was visibly bothered by something. He would usually coldly tell her to do as he says, to obey him as the head of the family. He wouldn’t start to pace around, as if confronting his eighteen years old daughter was an arduous and nerve-wrecking task.

“Is it because Ava will go there as well?” Beatrice asked, the light bulb suddenly turning on inside her mind. “Mother Frances said that, didn’t she?”

“I want you to stay away from that girl,” Edward Armstrong said, scowling at his daughter. “You will remain separated from her for the time you have left at Saint Melanie’s.”

“What has she done for you to take this decision?” Beatrice hoped the panic in her voice was camouflaged, suddenly imagining Mother Frances following them to the farmhouse and watching them kissing one another.

“Girls like that one are vultures for people like us,” for whatever reason, Beatrice felt as if her father wasn’t talking about Ava, but someone else.

“Ava is not a vulture; you will not speak of her like that!” Beatrice voice rose slightly, and her father looked at her with an icy stare. Beatrice immediately closed her mouth, her words completely lost.

“What does an ignorant girl like you know about the real world?” Edward Armstrong asked her, chuckling slightly.

“Our life has nothing to do with the real world,” Beatrice couldn’t help but argue back, not letting her father cut her off. “The real world isn’t all about families like ours, who have homes in three different continents, and endless amount of money in their bank accounts, who don’t have to worry if they will be able to eat tomorrow or if they will be able to pay their bills at the end of the month. Our lives are not the real world.”

“Has your little friend indoctrinated you with that sort of thoughts?” her father asked her, shaking his head.

“What do you have against her, father?” she asked him, getting up from her bed but not walking towards him. “You don’t even know Ava for you to speak like that.”

“Shut your mouth!” he yelled at her, pointing a finger at her, his eyes wide in anger and his jaw clenched.

Beatrice arched an eyebrow at the man, feeling as if there was something he wasn’t telling her, feeling as he actually knew something about Ava that she didn’t.

“You will stay away from her, and there will be no more discussing it, Beatrice,” he took his blazer, and made his way towards the door, but Beatrice stopped him.

“Give me one solid reason, then,” she put her arms across her chest, her chin up in challenge. “If you know Ava so well you want me to stay away from her, give me a reason to understand why I should do that.”

“She’s vile,” Edward muttered, turning around to look at her. “Mother Frances has told me about the both of you, how close you seem to be with one another. How the relationship the both of you share is more than friendly.”

“What do you m-mean by that?” Beatrice felt her voice shaking, her stutter coming as dread settled at the bottom of her stomach.

“She’s a deviant,” Edward Armstrong spat the word out with disgust, and Beatrice felt her stomach knotting. “And she will turn you into one if you stay close to her.”

“She’s not… she’s not one of them…” Beatrice tried to defend Ava, the kiss they shared replaying over and over again as she tried to find an excuse to justify Ava’s sole existence.

“I know enough about that girl to confirm it,” and there it was again, a slip in her father’s demeanor that told Beatrice he knew more than he let on.

“What do you know about her?” she asked him, and judging by the look he gave her she knew Edward Armstrong wouldn’t say anything else.

“I want you to stay away from her,” he said once again, and Beatrice couldn’t help but shake her head, needing to know more about what her father knew about Ava.

Had she lied to her? Was she a total different person from who she claimed to be? Did she truly get a scholarship; was her stay at Saint Melanie’s paid by a secret donor? Were all the things she had shared with Beatrice simple lies? Had Ava tried to take advantage of her, of her family’s fortune and her father had discovered it? Did Ava deny Beatrice’s help all those times before because she needed Beatrice to trust her? Who the hell was Ava Silva?

“What if I don’t stay away from her?” Beatrice asked him, instead, her voice low and her eyes focused on the carpeted floor.

“Then I will make sure your little friend suffers the consequences of your insubordination,” he said, walking up to her and not leaving space between them. “I’ll make sure she’ll regret the day she was born, and she’ll regret meeting you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare hurting her,” Beatrice said, and the next thing she knew was her body falling down, her cheek burning, and she could feel a small drop of blood falling down her chin.

“I will do as I please, you fucking dyke,” Edward Armstrong said, his open hand still hovering above his daughter. “You stay the bloody fuck away from that monster, or you will never see her again.”

And Beatrice remained on the floor, her cheek swollen, as her father stormed out of her room and left one thousand questions behind.

*

Ava felt an emptiness inside that she had only felt once in her life, almost eleven years ago, and she hated every single second of it. She’d hated the way she immediately shut Beatrice down when she’d gone to their dorm to apologize on behalf of her parents, promising they would talk after spring break. She’d hated the way she had let them get under her skin so quickly, undoing all the hard work she had done for the last few years of her life, how a look of disgust and watching Beatrice be petrified by them had been enough.

Ava hadn’t texted Beatrice at all during the days they had spent apart; scared that maybe she would get the girl in trouble and feeling like she would doom herself as well if she did that. She didn’t know why, but there had been a little voice at the back of her mind and a pressure on the pit of her stomach that told her not to do it, to leave Beatrice alone, and try to talk things out when they would be back at Saint Melanie’s.

They could separate them, but Ava knew that the bond her and Beatrice shared was stronger than whatever an ancient nun said. Ava knew that Beatrice was scared, and she would need time to understand and process what had happened in the farmhouse. And Ava felt like a piece of shit, because she had let the alcohol betray her and she couldn’t help but feel like she took advantage of a very vulnerable Beatrice. And she would do all she could to fix things, to try and move on but to also be next to Beatrice to help her in whatever she needed. She would spend the two next months before graduation and the next years of their lives at Oxford to work things out.

Ava had spent the last few days in Spain with her family, Vincent being able to pay for her tickets. And both he and Diego had known something was going on with her when she barely ate and felt like crying all the time. Ava had first said she wasn’t feeling really well, that maybe she had some cold or something, but Vincent and Diego had known her their whole lives and could see through her bullshit.

“Will you tell me what’s up with you?” Diego asked her when Ava was on the little garden at the back of Vincent’s home, the one he used to plant fruits and vegetables.

“I said I have a cold,” Ava rolled her eyes, putting up her hood and circling her knees with her arms.

“Bullshit,” Diego muttered, looking behind them. Vincent was on the couch, napping once the food coma had hit him. “I don’t believe you.”

“Whatever,” Ava shrugged, and Diego clicked his tongue.

“You usually get all clingy when you’re sick,” he pointed out, and Ava wanted to scream at him for knowing her so well. “You look depressed as hell, Ava.”

“My period is about to come,” Ava said, not even convincing herself, and Diego looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m your brother, Ava,” he said, his voice more gentle. “I’m here to help you.”

“It’s…” she let out a long sigh. “Beatrice.”

“She’s finally realized she ain’t straight?”

“I… don’t know,” Ava covered her face with her hands, letting out a frustrated groan, as Diego waited for her to continue. “We kissed like… two days ago.”

“You what?” Diego clutched her arm, and Ava bit her lower lip.

“We sneaked out of the school, went to this very cute meadow filled with daisies, and then it started to rain and we found shelter in an abandoned farmhouse. We found a bottle of Bourbon, got drunk, and…” she shrugged her shoulders, as Diego’s eyes widened by every word she said.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ava… you guys drunk kissed?” he whispered, mouth hanging open.

“Please, don’t remind me.”

“What did she do, though?” his voice got softer, defensive. “She looks like the type of closeted gay person who would say you’ve bewitched her or something.”

“She’s grown up in a very strict and very traditional family, Diego,” Ava explained to him, shaking her head. “She was on a rush to go back to the school after it happened, barely looked at me until we made it there. And guess fucking what?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Her parents were there,” Ava let out a dry chuckle. “Because Beatrice has fucking chosen to go to Oxford, doing something for herself for once in her life, and they fucking dropped everything to go and yell at her. They didn’t even bother to wish her a happy eighteenth birthday, Diego.”

“God…” Diego pursed his lips, his brown eyes filled with pity for Beatrice, and Ava was glad the girl wasn’t there because she would surely beat his ass up for looking at her like that.

“She didn’t yell at me, though,” Ava told him, reassuringly. “She went dead silent, but then came to the dorm and said we would figure it all out.”

“Ava, there’s something you’re not telling me,” the boy said, furrowing his eyebrows. “If she didn’t go ballistic on you, and said you guys would talk it out… what got you so depressed?”

“I…” Ava knew she couldn’t escape it, that she couldn’t make up any excuses or to improvise some kind of story in order to hide what actually happened the night before spring break.

“It was the parents, wasn’t it?” the boy said, his voice gentle, and Ava nodded her head as her stomach knotted just like it did when she saw the petrified look on Beatrice’s face, the absolute hatred and disgust the girl’s father showed as he insulted Ava. She remembered Mother Frances’ proud smirk, Beatrice’s mother so close to projectile throwing up when she saw who her daughter had chosen as a best friend.

And Ava realized that maybe all the Armstrong-Young family knew about her, about her friendship with Beatrice, had been fed on by Mother Frances instead of Beatrice herself, because Beatrice’s parents wouldn’t give a single fuck about their daughter’s shenanigans at school, about the people who she befriended and found comfort with, unless said person it was someone who, for a period of time, couldn’t even afford to buy a couple of socks.

And she was sure the nun had fed them some kind of twisted version of the friendship they shared, she was sure Mother Frances had told them Beatrice and Ava sneaked out at night, to dance naked around a bonfire during the night, summoning the devil or something.

“They pretty much said I was scum, not good enough to be friends with Beatrice,” Ava scoffed, shaking her head, “as if they suddenly cared about Beatrice.”

“What the fuck is their problem?” Diego furrowed his eyebrows, and Ava could see his hands fisting on his lap.

“They’re homophobes, Diego, that’s their problem,” the boy didn’t say anything, waiting for her to elaborate. “Beatrice’s older sister, Isabella, was pretty much gay according to Beatrice even though she refuses to believe it. And if Beatrice was aware of that when she was a literal child, I’m sure her parents knew it too. She said Isabella was only confused, and she would end up seeing things straight, no pun intended. But her parents pretty much blamed Isabella for getting fucking drowned in the ocean, and Beatrice implied it had been some kind of… final act, according to them, to oppose them and their rules.”

“So they think Isabella chose being gay and then dying to piss them off?” Ava nodded, and Diego let out a laugh void of any humor, “holy fucking shit, man.”

“And now they probably think Beatrice will do the same by befriending a low-life person like me,” Ava said, her voice coming out ragged with anger, “not knowing that Beatrice is actually way too scared of them to even try to oppose them. She couldn’t even defend me.”

“I get that her reaction disappointed you, Ava,” Diego put a hand on her forearm, squeezing it gently as Ava tried to keep the tears at bay. “But… you also never really had to give explanations to anyone, not to Vincent or me. We never really questioned who you are as a person, who you love. But she grew up in a traditional family, with parents who only saw her and her sister as pawns to achieve their own ambitious goals and who’ve been feeding her the homophobic bullshit in the name of God her whole life. They see Beatrice as more of an object to continue their legacy, than their daughter who has feelings and opinions of her own. Plus, they fed her ideas of her sister dying to pay for her sins, and do you think Beatrice wants to find the same type of destiny as her sister did?”

“I know, Diego, and I hate myself for being so selfish and feeling disappointed in her when I should be trying to understand why she acted the way she did, why she froze in the school’s lobby. She’s always been so perfect, she’s never made a mistake in her life, until I arrived and I made her relax and have fun. And I thought she’d changed, I thought she would stand up to them, but… yeah, you’re right.”

“Both reactions are completely valid and understandable, it’s what I mean,” he said, as droplets of rain started to fall down from the sky. And Ava thought it was fitting, the way she was feeling and the fact that it was suddenly starting to rain after a sunny week. “I just think you need to give her space, and you need to give yourself space as well. And then talk it all out once you’ll feel better, calmer.”

“Since when are you so mature?” Ava said, nudging Diego’s shoulder and sniffling. He smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

“Well, if you refuse to act like the older sibling then I’ll have to do it, right?”

Ava gasped in fake outrage, punching Diego on his arm, the boy laughing out loud and running away. She loved it when they referred to each other as brother and sister, how they never really called Vincent their “dad” because of the whole being a priest thing but they always saw him as their parental figure, as the man who had decided to adopt them after leaving the orphanage to become a small town’s local priest.

And as Ava chased Diego around, as their clothes got soaked with rain while Vincent was still sleeping on the couch, Ava thought that maybe everything would go back to normal with Beatrice. And, for the first time in a few days, the heaviness in her chest disappeared.

*

The first thing Beatrice did when she arrived to the school was to make her way towards her dorm or, well, soon to be former dorm. She had decided to be the one to move out; Mother Frances had told her she would of course get a single dorm again. Deep down, Beatrice knew her parents had requested it because they didn’t trust her to share a dorm with another girl, not after Ava.

She had never been one to wear makeup and she hadn’t entered Isabella’s private bathroom back in Armstrong Hall ever since her sister had died. She took the girl’s concealer and applied it over her cheek, hoping that it would hide the growing bruise which was still very much present after a week.

Her parents hadn’t been home when she went back to school, telling Eustace that she didn’t have any message to leave for them. The drive back to school went by fast, and Mother Frances had already been waiting for her to make sure Beatrice kept her word and moved the rest of her things out of the dorm.

She had left her luggage in the new one, which was on the second story of the dormitories building right next to Leighton Murray’s dorm, and it used to be Crimson’s headquarters. Beatrice knew that the last two months of the school year would be a nightmare when she heard Leighton singing at the top of her lungs, the thick walls doing nothing to muffle the girl’s voice.

“Hey there, Bea! How’s my favorite Brit doing?” Leighton greeted her as Beatrice came out of the dorm.

“Hello, Leighton,” Beatrice greeted her quickly, waving a hand, before trying to make her way towards her former dorm and get the rest of her things. She was hoping Ava wouldn’t be there yet, because she truly had no desire of talking to her.

Her father had talked about Ava in a way that got Beatrice’s mind spinning, wondering how the hell he knew so much about Ava. She hadn’t really believed him when he said he knew enough about Ava to say all the things he said, but the way he had acted told Beatrice that he truly knew something about the girl that Beatrice didn’t. Because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been so nervous to the point where he ended up… well, giving her a swollen cheek.

Another reason why Beatrice didn’t really want to talk with Ava was because she was genuinely scared for her, and she was terrified over the fact her father had promised Ava would pay the consequences if Beatrice dared to disobey his orders, if she dared to stay close to her instead of keeping her distance.

Isabella had said it once and never again, how their father was only a good Christian on the surface, how he had done enough things to get a free pass to hell, their mother as well for being complicit to his actions. Isabella had pointed out how the people who had stood up to them, who had done things to their parents they didn’t like, suffered strange consequences. Some lost all of their fortunes overnight, others never showed up to their gatherings, and other’s had their scandals published on the press the next day. Isabella had known things, enough to ruin her family’s reputation, but she had never fully shared them. Because, deep down, Beatrice knew her sister had been terrified too, no matter how much of an act she put up.

It didn’t matter if Beatrice had spent all of her break spiraling, wondering if Ava had made up everything she had told her or if her dad was simply paranoid or trying to save Beatrice in his own twisted way. Beatrice had spent the holidays wondering if Ava was a completely stranger, if she really was someone different from whom she claimed to be, or if she was hiding some kind of big secret Beatrice’s father knew about.

But to Beatrice all of that didn’t matter at the prospect of Ava getting hurt, she didn’t care if Ava was actually someone different from who she claimed to be. Because Beatrice loved Ava as her best friend, and she wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Not even her family. So if staying away from Ava for the last two months of school was what needed to happen, in order to protect Ava but also to get her own shit straight and let go of the stupid mistake they had committed in that farmhouse, Beatrice would do it. And if that would help Ava to see she was simply confused, that she had mixed up platonic feelings with romantic ones, so be it.

Beatrice would do anything she had in her power to keep Ava away from her, if that meant the girl would be safe from the claws of Edward Armstrong.

“I heard we’ll be neighbors now,” Leighton asked, crossing her arms upon her chest and supporting her body against the door frame. “Is everything okay with Ava?”

“Why would it not be?” Beatrice asked, harsher than she had intended, letting Leighton see that things, in fact, weren’t okay.

“The both of you are attached to the hip,” the blonde girl said, not going further but letting Beatrice know she knew something was up.

“I don’t think it concerns you, Murray,” Beatrice said, trying to keep her breathing calm. Leighton pursed her lips, nodding slowly.

“Right,” she said, and then she smiled at Beatrice. “Anything you need, I’m one door away.”

Beatrice nodded, and then made her way back to her former dorm. Before opening the door, she tried to listen to any sound behind. When it was clear Ava hadn’t arrived yet, Beatrice entered the dorm and proceeded to take down all her posters and other belongings to put them in the box Mother Frances had offered her, and bring them down to her new dorm.

She worked as fast as she could, trying to win time and be nowhere to be seen when Ava arrived. And she knew that she could avoid Ava today, after all it was a Sunday and lessons wouldn’t resume until the next morning. It would be harder then, to stay away from the girl, especially because they shared several lessons and they had assigned seats next to one another. And Ava would try to talk with her, to fix things up, and something Beatrice was especially good at was remaining cold and distant and silent. And it would hurt like a bitch, she knew it, but she was also sure she could do it.

After all, at the beginning of their friendship, Beatrice had managed to keep her distance from Ava for a long time even when they shared a dorm, and if it hadn’t been for Crimson she was sure she could’ve managed to pretend Ava didn’t exist for two years. And, suddenly, she blamed Crimson for forcing her to become close to Ava, for forcing her to develop this kind of protectiveness over the girl which ended up in Ava becoming Beatrice’s only true close friend after Isabella passed away.

Beatrice’s rapid pace faltered when she remembered how it had all started, how she had been stupid for getting involved and getting herself into this kind of situation, and then she heard familiar footsteps on the corridor, Ava greeting one of the few girls who had bothered to act civil towards her, and then the door opened.

She heard Ava’s steps faltering as well, her greeting being cut short, when she saw Beatrice in their dorm, her side of the room almost empty. Beatrice turned around slowly, and she saw the pain in Ava’s face, knowing very well Ava had probably hoped that Beatrice would stay, that she would defy her parents’ wishes and Mother Frances and she would keep on sharing a dorm with her. And Beatrice’s heart dropped, as she forcefully avoided looking at Ava and carried on with her task.

“Hey,” Ava said, softly, as she closed the door and dropped her luggage on her bed. Beatrice didn’t say anything. “How are you?”

Beatrice closed her eyes, tightly, as if that would turn Ava’s voice off. She sounded so vulnerable, so hopeful, Beatrice’s intention of not talking to her and putting distance between them was starting to diminish. Because it had been so easy to make up her mind, to plan it all out, completely ignoring that her will would completely crumble once Ava would be in front of her, looking at her with those big brown eyes, her soft voice blessing Beatrice’s ears again.

“Good,” she simply said, and she almost asked Ava how was she doing, but she bit her tongue in order to be quiet.

Ava was silent for a while, looking at Beatrice take down her posters and filling up the box with her books and other belongings. And Beatrice avoided to turn around, to look at Ava with her hands behind her back, biting her lower lip, furrowing her eyebrows trying to wonder why Beatrice didn’t carry on with her promise of talking things out once they would be back at Saint Melanie’s.

“I’m sorry,” Ava then said her voice low and filled with shame, “for what I did in the farmhouse.”

Beatrice almost cursed when the image showed back to her mind, of them looking at one another, Ava asking her if she could kiss her and Beatrice nodding. She tried to forget the sensation of Ava’s lips upon hers, how they were almost shy, how Ava’s hand had hovered hesitantly before it landed softly on Beatrice’s cheek, to the exact spot that now was covered with concealer, an angry bruise on it instead of the sweet and gentle touch of the girl standing behind her.

“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation, especially knowing that you never…” Ava swallowed, not continuing the sentence, as Beatrice didn’t say anything. “Can you please talk to me, Beatrice?”

Ava sounded so sad, so disappointed, it made Beatrice drop a book on the floor and curse under her breath. She crouched to take it, putting it back into the box, avoiding looking at Ava at all costs when all she wanted to do was to tell her she was sorry, to hug her, to promise she would manage to stay with her even if it was through hiding from Mother Frances. But she couldn’t, not when her father had said Ava would pay the consequences of Beatrice’s opposition.

“You said we would talk things out,” Ava reminded her, her voice starting to sound angry now. “You promised, Bea.”

“Stop,” Beatrice said, unable to control herself when Ava called her by that nickname. “Stop it, please.”

“Stop what?” Ava said, confused, letting out a dry chuckle. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“You already said you’re sorry, so you can stop talking now,” Beatrice still didn’t turn around to look at Ava, both of her hands pressed on each side of the box, eyes closed as she tried to calm herself down.

Coward, she heard Isabella’s voice at the back of her mind, mocking her.

“What the fuck,” Ava muttered to herself, and Beatrice could picture her with her eyebrows furrowed, trying to understand what had gone so wrong. “What did they do to you?”

“No one did anything to me,” Beatrice lied, and judging by the sound that left Ava’s mouth she knew the girl didn’t believe her.

“You said we would talk things out,” Ava’s voice now was louder, angrier, “you said it, Beatrice. So stop being a fucking coward and talk to me.”

“I’m not a coward!” Beatrice said, turning around, eyes wide. She could feel her own pulse thumping on her neck, and Ava didn’t cringe back, on the contrary, she stood taller with an arched eyebrow. “I’m not.”

“Sure,” Ava crossed her arms upon her chest, looking at her challengingly. “You weren’t a coward when you let your parents talk to me like that, right? When you hurried back into the dorm, desperate to let me know we would fix it up, when they were too busy talking with Mother Frances they didn’t have time to follow you.”

“Stop talking,” Beatrice muttered, feeling heat spreading all over her body, hating the way Ava knew her so well.

“What did your father tell you, hmm?” Ava asked, not backing down. Beatrice remembered his hand coming down to her, clashing with her cheek, losing her balance because of the impact.

But then Beatrice wondered how did Ava know it had been her father and not her mother, how did she know he had something to do with any of this. And the idea of them sharing a past, somehow, of him knowing Ava from somewhere and Ava knowing him back, of Ava hiding something from her… it all came crashing down on her all over again, her head spinning, and multiple scenarios coming up on her mind.

“What are you hiding from me, Ava?” Beatrice asked the girl, voicing the question that had been running around her mind for the last days.

“What?” Ava asked her, eyebrows furrowing, suddenly her bravado faltering. And Beatrice was sure it was a sign, a realization that Beatrice had finally discovered the truth.

“He said you’re not who I think you to be,” Beatrice explained to the girl, as if they were having a normal conversation. Ava furrowed her eyebrows, her eyes never leaving Beatrice.

“I literally didn’t know who your father was until that night,” the girl said, letting out an incredulous chuckle. “What the fuck are you saying, Beatrice.”

“Answer my question,” she demanded, trying to sound like her father, hating the way her words faltered at the end.

“Beatrice, he lied to you! Can’t you fucking see it?!” Ava asked, passing a hand through her hair.

“Why would he?”

“You said it yourself, don’t you remember? You said your parents couldn’t stand the thought of you rebelling against them, of you becoming like Isabella and refusing to act like their little, precious, object,” at the mention of her sister coming out of Ava’s mouth, Beatrice felt unreasonably angry. Because it reminded her of all the times her parents had mentioned her sister after her death, and it was never to remember the good things she did but to point out how much of a disappointment and a disgrace she had been.

“Don’t you dare saying her name,” Beatrice muttered, and Ava’s eyes softened.

“Beatrice,” Ava said, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder and her eyes filling up with tears when Beatrice cringed away. “I don’t know what he said to you, but whatever it is… he’s lying.”

“Why does he act as he knows you, then?” Beatrice muttered, and Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“I have no idea. I felt the same thing that night, the way he looked at me as if he had known me from somewhere, but… I swear to you, Beatrice, I don’t know him!” Beatrice looked at Ava’s eyes, the desperation in them, how she was looking so anguished trying to get Beatrice to believe her.

But she had also never seen her father acting like that before, acting so nervous to the point he had lost his temper and control and ended up hitting Beatrice. Her father had never touched her and Isabella in that way, so there had to be something about Ava that deeply bothered him, that threatened him to the point of him losing his control. And Beatrice didn’t know how a seventeen years old girl could affect a grown man like that.

“I need you to stay away from me,” so he won’t hurt you, Beatrice didn’t say. And Ava let out a choking sound, a sound of surprise, as if she hadn’t expected Beatrice to say that at all.

“What?” the girl stuttered, “you’re gonna let them win like that?”

“This is not a game,” Beatrice said. “I’ve lost focus of my goals because of you, of what’s important and of the legacy I have to make. I let my guard down and it’s all because of you, and I won’t let you ruin my life.”

“Ruin your life?” Ava laughed, the sound chilling Beatrice’s bones. “What are you saying, Beatrice? Are you fucking hearing yourself?”

Beatrice turned around, disposed to finish packing her things up and move out of the dorm. She felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back, Ava making her face her.

“You look at me, Beatrice,” the girl said, putting her hand away immediately. “You explain to me why you suddenly changed your mind.”

“You filled my head with stupid ideas,” she said, and Ava’s eyebrows rose.

“Stupid ideas,” she repeated, nodding her head slowly, “such as?”

“You already know,” Beatrice didn’t elaborate, not wanting to say it out loud. But Ava knew, because they had formed such a strong bond it felt as if their minds were connected and they didn’t have to talk to know what the other was thinking. And Beatrice hated it more than anything else.

“I made you open your fucking eyes,” Ava said, not elaborating what she meant either, still respecting Beatrice’s boundaries even when she was acting like an asshole. “That’s all I did.”

“Yes, you opened my eyes, Ava,” Beatrice chuckled, and she tried to leave her mind blank and she tried to make her heart stop beating and feeling.

She tried to stop her brain from sending her pictures of all the beautiful moments her and Ava shared, so it would be easier to lie, so it would be easier to hurt Ava and to finally assure the girl stayed away from her, so her father wouldn’t hurt her.

“You made me see you for who you truly are.”

“And who am I, Beatrice?” Ava smirked at her, though there was nothing amused in the gesture.

“A helpless and confused kid,” Beatrice said it automatically, as if she had been rehearsing those words for ages. “And you’re so desperate and lonely and confused with your own feelings, you have tried to drag me down with yourself and turn me into whatever you think I am.”

“Beatrice.”

“No,” she raised a hand, and Ava immediately shut up. “I’m not what you think I am. I’m not…”

Beatrice took a deep breath, hoping that Ava wouldn’t realize she was struggling to say the words, that she didn’t mean them but she had to believe she did in order to make Ava believe as well, to assure the girl wouldn’t search for trouble, to assure Ava would hate her so mach she wouldn’t even want to be around her anymore.

“I’m not sick like you are, or like Isabella was,” Ava’s mouth hung open, and tears started to stream down her cheeks as Beatrice kept talking. “I’m not a deviant, and I will not let you try to do that to me. You tried to lure me in, you gave me alcohol and kissed me in a false and stupid hope that I would be like you are. But I’m not, Ava, I’m not!”

Ava, even though she was crying and hurting, let out a dry chuckle and still had it in her to arch an eyebrow, looking at Beatrice in challenge.

“So you never wanted to be close to me?” she said, her voice trembling with pain and anger and disappointment. “You never wanted to kiss me?”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, “I never wanted you to kiss me; I never wanted you to ask me to sleep next to you to get rid of the nightmares. I never wanted to have anything to do with you, until you acted like a poor victim and forced me to remain by your side.”

“Force you?” Ava let out a bark of laughter which echoed around the room. “You seemed to enjoy every fucking second of it, Beatrice. Have you forgotten the amount of times you offered your help? How you invited my family over for Christmas? How you helped me calm down after every single nightmare? How you said I could kiss you, and that you were sure of it?”

“I was blind,” Beatrice said, weakly. “I’m not anymore.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ava asked, her tears never stopping even if she still was standing straight, even if she was still looking up at Beatrice with her chin raised.

“What do you mean?”

“That you’re even blinder than before, Beatrice,” Ava shook her head, her eyes never leaving Beatrice. “And it’s a pity, because you think yourself holier than thou, so high and mighty, so smart… that you can’t even be fucking brave and stand up against your parents, to accept who you are and become whoever the fuck you want to be. And it’s so sad, honestly.”

“Sh-shut up,” Beatrice said, feeling her own eyes stinging. “Shut your bloody mouth up, Ava.”

“Oh, have I hit a nerve there?” Ava asked, and Beatrice felt her own heart quickening, her surroundings spinning, “is reality too harsh for Her Royal Highness?”

“Shut up!” Beatrice put both of her hands on Ava’s shoulders, squeezing hard, and Ava chuckled at her in surprise.

“Will you hit me?” Ava asked her, her voice low. “Come on, do it, if that means you’ll let your frustration out. Beat the shit out of me, like you did with Crimson.”

“I will not.”

“You’re angry,” Ava said, as Beatrice distanced herself from her. “Punch me anywhere you want if that means you’ll finally calm the fuck down, if you’ll see that I’m right.”

“I will not punch you,” Beatrice brought a hand on her swollen cheek before she could stop herself, and then Ava’s eyes widened.

“Did he…” she started to say, unable to continue. Beatrice clenched her jaw, squaring her shoulders, dropping her hand to her side.

“Maybe it was what I needed, to finally see the truth.”

Ava stood there, nodding her head slowly, her eyes focused on Beatrice’s cheek.

“What’s the truth, then?” Ava muttered, smiling sadly at her. “That I’m a monster, a sick and twisted monster, who manipulated you to become like me?”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, as her heart broke into one million thousand tiny pieces.

Ava swallowed audibly, her lower lip trembling. She brought a hand to her mouth, and Beatrice could hear the muffled sob as Ava looked towards the window. Her body shuddered, and she didn’t say anything as Beatrice stood there, jaw clenched, unable to move.

She wanted to say she didn’t mean it, that she was sorry and she didn’t believe any of the words she said. She wanted to tell Ava she was protecting her from her father, because he had threatened her into hurting Ava in some kind of way if she didn’t stay away from her. But she couldn’t do that, because she knew they would end up finding their way back to one another and Ava would get hurt anyway. So Beatrice decided this was fine, to let Ava live in a lie, to not know why Beatrice truly said all of those vile things to her that she didn’t mean at all.

“I want you to stay away from me,” Ava finally muttered, not looking at Beatrice. “I want you to keep your fucking distance from me, and I want you to never speak to me again. I fucking hate you, Beatrice. I fucking hate you and what they turned you into.”

Beatrice nodded, sighing in relief because she didn’t have to be the one telling Ava she wanted to stay away from her. Because she had been sure that if she had said that, she would’ve crumbled and Ava would’ve ended up knowing the truth. So Beatrice simply turned around to get the box she had filled with all of her things, and then she made her way out of the dorm and went down to her new one.

And it wasn’t until she was there, the door closed and finally alone, that she let herself cry.

*

“So you decided to not apply for Oxford after you begged for me to contact them?” Mother Frances asked her, hands interlaced upon her desk. Ava nodded. “Why?”

“New York University has a better program, I’ve been studying it over the holidays and I just think it fits better with my goals for the future,” Ava said, her voice sounding so dull and void of any emotion in her own ears.

“The deadline to apply for any University program is over,” Mother Frances said, and Ava shrugged. “You won’t be able to apply for the August program, and you’ll have to apply for the October one.”

“That’s fine, as long as I’m able to join it,” Ava didn’t look at the nun, at the smug face she was surely wearing.

“Your grades are good enough to apply for the October program, and it shocks me to say this, but you’ll most likely be in the priority list of acceptance,” Ava nodded, not even giving a flying fuck as Mother Frances offered her a paper with all the information she needed. “You can go to the computers room after the noon prayer, and email them to ask for an application.”

“Thank you,” Ava said, and Mother Frances let out a dry cough. “Mother.”

Ava got up, leaving the room as she felt her heart breaking once more. She still had a slim hope that Beatrice would come around, that they would actually make up and would go to Oxford together to live in the way they said they would. But by making this decision, one she had been debating for two weeks, meant that those dreams were also over.

Ava Silva had never really experienced a romantic heart break before. Sure, she had her first secret girlfriend in the orphanage but they had been kids and never really took it seriously. But now, with Beatrice, Ava had dared to hope even if the odds had never truly been in her favor.

She had hoped that University would help Beatrice finally break out of the shell, that they would have one another away from any nun who would be monitoring them all day. Ava had let herself imagine her and Beatrice becoming something more than friends, finally living freely the lives they wanted to.

All those hopes and dreams broke the moment Beatrice had decided to twist Ava’s intentions, and what hurt her most was that she knew Beatrice had just been repeating a speech, an idea her parents had ingrained inside her mind. Ava knew Beatrice hadn’t meant any of it, because she had seen it in her eyes. And yet, Beatrice went through with it.

They hadn’t talked with one another, they had decided to sit on opposite sides of a classroom and on opposite sides of the chapel whenever it was prayer time. And for two weeks, Ava had cried until she fell asleep every single night. And she woke up in the middle of the night, hoping that it was some kind of twisted nightmare, turning on her night light and looking at Beatrice’s bed, hoping the girl was already looking at her, ready to comfort her after another nightmare. Forgetting she wasn’t there anymore.

The nightmares had increased a lot for the past week and Ava feared it would get worse. She barely slept, she felt exhausted and as if she did nothing more than cry, and cry, and cry. She thought her tear conducts would be dry by now, but it seemed like she had an infinite source of tears. Her chest felt as if it was being weighed down by a block of concrete, making it hard for her to breathe properly, and her head had been pounding nonstop, filled with intrusive thoughts and a headache that seemed to not go away ever since Beatrice had destroyed her.

The few nuns who were kind made sure she ate all of her meals, telling her she would get sick if she didn’t. The few classmates who had been decent with her had asked her what was wrong, and she lied to them and said there had been some family problems over the holidays and she was trying to get over them. Everyone seemed to believe her, except Leighton Murray.

The girl never really said anything to Ava, nor asked her directly what was actually going on. Ava could see it in her green eyes, that she knew there was something more to her sulking around the school, suddenly performing badly in all their extra-curricular lessons, not being able to eat or sleep because her mind was filled with noise. And maybe it had something to do with the fact that Beatrice was Leighton’s new neighbor, occupying the dorm that had once belonged to Crimson.

Had they talked? Had Beatrice told Leighton that Ava was a “deviant” and that she had forced her to get drunk and kiss her? Did Leighton believe her, and that’s why she looked at Ava with some kind of unreadable expression?

Ava wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did, the disappointment. Leighton and she had some kind of civil relationship, they weren’t really friends but Leighton had been one of the few girls who had stepped up when someone crossed a line with Ava, when someone snickered behind her back or looked at her with disgust.

“Don’t you have something better to do, Reya? Like, I don’t know… fix your grades instead of making fun of people? I heard you’re falling behind all of us,” Leighton had said once to one of their classmates, Reya, who had been close friends with Crimson and had taken it upon herself to lead the “We Hate Ava Silva’s Poor and Orphaned Ass Club.”

Leighton had winked at Ava once Reya had gone away, grumbling something under her breath, and ever since then there had been some kind of civil friendship between Leighton and Ava. But she knew her and Beatrice had known one another since they were literal children, entering Saint Melanie’s at the same time and always sharing the same lessons and, once upon a time, the same friend group. So Ava knew that Leighton would pretty much choose to believe Beatrice over the new girl, who had been some kind of charity work for Leighton to win sympathy points from their classmates and other students.

“Ava, where are you going? The noon prayer is about to start,” one of the nuns who had been taking care of her asked Ava as she was making her way out of the computers room, ready to skip the prayer to go somewhere else that wouldn’t be in the same room as Beatrice would be.

“Sister Melanie,” Ava said, and she didn’t really have to work hard to make her voice sound weak, to put up a face expression that said she was feeling unwell. “I’m not feeling very well, I think I’m getting sick.”

“Oh,” the nun said, approaching her and putting a hand to her forehead. The nun nodded, “yes, you’re a little bit warm. Go take some rest, Ava, I’ll talk to Mother Frances.”

“Thank you, Sister,” Ava bowed her head slightly, and instead of making it to her now half empty and cold dorm she went out to the football field, sitting at the top of the bleachers, looking down as droplets of rain started to fall down.

“You’ll get cold,” Ava turned around, and she saw Leighton walking towards her, her face filled with dirt and a disheveled ponytail up.

“Leighton?” she said, blinking at the girl. “Did you skip prayer time?”

“No,” Leighton laughed, embarrassed, sitting down next to Ava. “I kinda got into a fight with Reya this morning, and Coach Turner made me use the grass mower to fix up the grass on the pitch. And then it broke down, and I tried to fix it…”

“Tried?” Ava let out a small chuckle. “That explains the grease on your face.”

“I actually did fix it!” Leighton defended herself, arching an eyebrow. “Or, well, at least it can be turned on. I don’t know if it will do its job, though.”

“Whatever happens, blame Reya and say she rigged it so you won’t get expelled,” Leighton let out a loud laugh, and Ava smiled slightly at her.

“You’re evil, Silva.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said, unintentionally. Her eyes widened, hoping that Leighton would think she was simply joking around or trying to act cocky. But the girl looked at her with concern, eyebrows furrowed.

“Something between you and Beatrice happened, right?” Leighton asked, voice low, all signs of laughter and amusement gone. Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving a hand, trying to make it look unimportant, as if she wasn’t slowly dying inside every time her eyes accidentally found Beatrice in a room, and they stared at her longingly, waiting for Beatrice to look back.

“It does, though,” Leighton said, interlacing her hands upon her lap. “But it’s really none of my business.”

“Exactly,” Ava said, harshly, and then she sighed. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Leighton smiled at her, reassuringly. “You’re going through it, it’s understandable if you lash out to someone.”

“It’s no one’s fault but mine, I shouldn’t be acting like this,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, and Leighton put a hand on her shoulder.

“The both of you had a really strong bond,” Leighton squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure you guys will figure it out and fix things sooner than later.”

“I don’t think this thing is fixable,” Ava muttered, and Leighton got up.

“Believe me, Ava, if that old as fuck grass mower is fixable anything can be,” the girl winked at her, and Ava let out a small and genuine laugh. “Now I should get going, before Coach Turner beats my ass.”

“Hey, Leighton?” Ava said, and the girl looked back at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Romeo,” Leighton smiled, brightly, “Juliet will do anything for her forbidden lover!”

Leighton clutched her heart with both hands, dramatically, before she sighed and went back inside as the rain fell down with more ferocity. Ava shook her head, amused, and she thought that she might follow the girl and also find shelter.

But she realized she didn’t really care if she got sick, or if that made her miss her lessons and extra-curricular activities. Nothing would really hurt as much as her broken heart did.

*

Beatrice didn’t see Ava in any of their shared lessons, nor their shared extra-curricular activities. And not asking anyone who she knew also shared lessons with Ava was becoming an arduous task, because asking about Ava would ruin the façade she had built up for the last two weeks and a half and it would erase all the hard work she had done in order to stay away from Ava, simply obeying what the girl had told her to do.

The night they had come back, the night Beatrice had single-handedly ruined everything good she had left in her life, it had been the worst one in her eighteen years of existence after Isabella had been found and pronounced dead.

She wasn’t accustomed to sleeping in a different bed, in a lonely dorm. She had been sleeping alone ever since Isabella had left to Oxford, and when she got told she would have a new roommate who happened to be a new student, Beatrice had wanted to protest because there was nothing she loved more than her privacy. And now, all she wanted was for Ava to sleep in the other side of the room, to keep her awake until late at night talking about anything that crossed her mind.

Beatrice had gone from loving the silence that came with having one dorm all for yourself, to hating it. She hated waking up in the middle of the night and not having Ava’s soft snores to lull her back to sleep, she hated being the first to wake up and not having to tell Ava to get the hell up repeatedly. She hated walking down to get breakfast all on her own, sitting next to someone who wasn’t Ava during the prayers or their lessons. She hated how she had to ask their aikido master to allow her to change partners, how she avoided any contact with Ava during football practice or how she asked her piano and guitar professor to change her practice schedule. She hated how she was unable to change positions during choir because of her and Ava’s voice tessitura, how she had told Shelby Goodkind to stand between the both of them in private and the girl, though she was confused, did it anyways.

Ava had looked so confused and hurt when Shelby’s chirpy personality welcomed her, announcing her that there had been a slight chance and now she would take that position instead. And Beatrice’s heart broke when Ava didn’t show any kind of energy to put up with Shelby, she didn’t miss the way Ava looked at her with so much pain in her brown eyes Beatrice almost knelt on the floor and asked for her forgiveness.

But now it had been two weeks and a half ever since the night they returned, the night everything went to hell. And ignoring Ava became a little bit easier, or that’s what she told to herself so she wouldn’t go insane.

She could feel the girl looking at her in any room they shared, and at first the stares had been cold and angry but now they were filled with longing and sadness. And it was really hard for Beatrice to stay looking straight ahead, fisting her hands so hard she had cut the skin several times already. But it was enough to keep her grounded, to not forget why she did what she had done.

Ava had always had a soft and tender heart, she had always been way more gentle and caring than Beatrice ever was. So Beatrice had hoped that Ava would end up crumbling, approaching her in order to try and talk with her. And Beatrice was both grateful and hurt when Ava never truly showed any intention of talking to her. Grateful, because she didn’t have to break her heart all over again, and hurt because she missed Ava with all of her being.

Her chest hadn’t stopped hurting for two weeks and a half, her heart plummeting down to her stomach every time she and Ava shared a space. And Beatrice knew that pain all too well, the anxiety and the heart-break that caused it, because she had felt the same way when Isabella had died.

“You’re going through heart-break, dear,” Eustace had told her as she cried on his shoulder after Isabella’s funeral, her body convulsing violently in the privacy of her bedroom, away from her parents’ presence so they wouldn’t tell her to get it together because people like them didn’t show weakness.

And this time it was the same, the incessant jabbing sensation on her sternum or the way all food made her sick and her throat closed up because she was unable to swallow it. It reminded her of Ava, when they would share their meal time and Ava would simply talk and laugh and Beatrice would listen to her every word and smile at the girl.

She couldn’t fall asleep as she did before, because Beatrice missed Ava’s low voice as the lights turned off and they were able to share secrets in the darkness of their dorm.

She couldn’t play piano or guitar anymore because she remembered Ava sitting next to her, waiting for her turn, looking at her with wide eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

She couldn’t stand going to choir anymore, because she was unable to hear anyone but Ava’s soft and angelic voice going through the lyrics of the new song they were singing.

And she had decided to opt out from the school’s final play, Romeo and Juliet, because Leighton had suggested she acts as Juliet after Ava got casted as Romeo. And Beatrice told her she would be better, and made the excuse of having way too many extra-curricular activities she wouldn’t be able to give her full dedication to the role.

“Where’s Ava?” their choir director asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, she got sick,” Leighton explained, and Beatrice looked at the blonde girl with furrowed eyebrows.

How did Leighton know Ava was sick? Since when was she close enough to Ava to know she was sick? Had Ava talked to her? Had Ava shared what happened in the farmhouse and how it was the reason Beatrice had done what she did? Did Ava tell Leighton that Beatrice was a vile human being?

“What?” Leighton whispered to her as she caught Beatrice looking at her.

“Nothing,” Beatrice said, and once they got rearranged to cover up for Ava’s absence, Beatrice tried her best to perform accordingly and not fuck up the songs they rehearsed.

Beatrice had always enjoyed choir, the way their professor allowed them to sing modern songs and not only strictly Christian themed tunes. But today it was different, because all Beatrice could think about was Ava, and Leighton, and how the blonde girl knew something that Beatrice would usually be the only one to know.

Not anymore, Isabella’s familiar voice said. You managed to change that.

She had always imagined what Isabella would tell to her during times of turmoil, or times of happiness, or times of self-doubt. And during the last two weeks and a half, the only thing she had managed to hear and imagine was Isabella looking at her with an arched eyebrow, arms crossed, shaking her head in disappointment at the way Beatrice had behaved.

Is it possible to be annoyed at your dead sister? Beatrice wondered, never voicing it out loud because she didn’t want people to think she was insane even though she was actually losing her mind at a rapid pace.

“Beatrice,” Leighton said as Beatrice tried to be the first one getting out of the choir room as they got dismissed, trying to make it out in time to her dorm and pace around to calm down before dinner time.

“What,” she said, and Leighton looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking!” the girl said, crossing her arms upon her chest. Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I have things to do and places to be, Leighton,” Beatrice said, turning around and making her way out of the classrooms’ building, walking towards the dormitories wing.

“Oh, yes! There are so many places to go around the thousand fields and deserted land surrounding this old school,” Leighton said sarcastically, and Beatrice wanted to ask her why she was following her, but then remembered Leighton slept next to her dorm. So she would have no choice but to drag the girl behind her.

“There’s actually an abandoned farmhouse near,” Beatrice said before she could stop herself, and Leighton looked at her with a glint in her eyes.

“Is that where you and Ava hid at?” the blonde girl asked, voice low, and Beatrice stopped talking, looking at her with wide eyes. “You guys weren’t discreet, if I’m honest. Especially because you disappeared at noon and missed all the activities until the evening.”

“Ava made me do it,” Beatrice muttered, hoping no one around them would hear her.

“Sure, she’s so menacing it’s practically impossible to stand up against her,” Leighton said, nodding her head seriously.

“She’s manipulative,” Beatrice said, trying to put all the anger she was feeling into the words.

“Is she, now?” Leighton pursed her lips, walking again, “is she the one manipulating you, forcing you to stay away from her?”

“Shut up, Murray.”

“Because then I wonder why the hell she looks so miserable,” Leighton continued, ignoring Beatrice, “if she’s evil incarnate.”

“You have no bloody idea of what you’re talking about,” Beatrice said, letting out the coldest chuckle she could manage to form. Leighton, though, wasn’t intimidated at all.

“It looks like she’s the victim here,” Leighton said, and put her hands up in defense when Beatrice looked at her, “though she could actually be one hell of an actress.”

“Why are you defending her?” Beatrice shook her head, and Leighton shrugged her shoulders.

“Are you jealous, Armstrong-Young?” the shorter girl asked, and Beatrice felt her soul leaving her body, unable to form words. “Thought so.”

“I’m not.”

“Look,” Leighton sighed, looking to both sides and making sure no one was listening to them before she continued. “This school is filled with the dumbest girls you’ll ever meet in your life, except for us both and Ava. And I know a break up when I see one.”

“Break up?” Beatrice let out a bark of laughter, hoping it would be the performance of her life. “Couples break up, not friends.”

“Hmm,” Leighton tapped her lip, and Beatrice cursed under her breath. “So you guys have broken the friendship. May I ask why?”

“You may not.”

“Why?” Leighton asked, anyways. Beatrice rolled her eyes, and continued walking. “Why did you decide to hurt someone like Ava, Beatrice?”

“Me?!” Beatrice whisper yelled at the girl, scoffing. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I’ve been observing you both for the last two weeks and a half, you fucking half-wit,” Leighton told her, clutching her arm and making her move again when the hallway filled with other students. “The way the both of you act tells me who’s the victim and who’s the instigator of the pain.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Beatrice complained.

“And also right,” Leighton shrugged her shoulders, soon making it to the dormitories building and to their hallway.

“You know nothing.”

“Don’t quote Game of Thrones on me, Armstrong-Young,” Leighton shook her head, Beatrice pursing her lips as the shorter girl stood in front of her dorm, not letting her pass. “You shall not pass.”

“Who’s quoting literature, now?” Beatrice arched an eyebrow, and Leighton hummed in surprise.

“I see Ava’s infected you with the nerd,” the green eyed girl continued, supporting her body on the door. “What else has she infected you with? Or were you already infected with such horrible disease?”

“What are you saying,” Beatrice felt her hands shaking and a single drop of sweat running down her spine, looking around.

“As I said, you, I and Ava are the only smart people in this God forsaken place,” Leighton shrugged her shoulders. “And that’s okay, you know?”

“Being smart?”

“I’m starting to regret my words,” Leighton pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, Beatrice. Or, well, yes. Being smart is fine, but also… whatever happened between you and Ava that night, before you guys decided to act auto-destructive, that’s fine too.”

And Beatrice, for whatever reason, felt immeasurable amounts of rage. Had Ava talked more than she should have, as usual? Had she given detail to Leighton of what happened in the farmhouse and afterwards? Was Leighton Murray, the always kind and thoughtful girl, finding this opportunity to taunt Beatrice with the truth of herself? Was she using this opportunity to act cocky, as if she and the whole world had known about the truth of Beatrice and rejoiced at the fact that it had been the sole reason that destroyed the only good thing she ever had?

Beatrice wasn’t in control anymore of her thoughts and her actions, and her hands reached for Leighton’s collar and pinned her against the door. Leighton looked at Beatrice with no surprise in her eyes, not even trying to put up a fight, embracing the fact that Beatrice was two seconds away from punching her.

Do it, Beatrice, Ava’s voice resounded at the back of her mind. Punch me anywhere you want if that means you’ll finally calm the fuck down, if you’ll see that I’m right.

Her hold on Leighton’s collar became firmer, tighter, and she could feel her hands shaking as her eyes never left Leighton’s green ones. Unlike Ava, Leighton didn’t provoke her. She just stood there, watching her curiously, waiting for Beatrice to do something.

“You shut the f-fuck up, Leighton,” Beatrice muttered under her breath, not recognizing her own voice. And Leighton had the nerve to smirk at her, as if that had been the reaction she had hoped to get from the taller girl. “Whatever she told you, she lied. She’s a sick and twisted liar, so you should be smart and not listen to any word she says.”

Beatrice let go of Leighton’s collar and walked the few paces she had left to get to her dorm. Leighton fixed her uniform, looking at Beatrice.

“The thing is, Beatrice,” Leighton said, apparently not done with her game. Beatrice should’ve entered the dorm, not letting her continue, but she was glued on the spot. “She didn’t have to say anything to me, or anyone, because if there’s something I know about Ava Silva is that her heart is pure and has no space for hate, unlike yours.”

Beatrice closed her eyes, opened the door, and slammed it closed.

*

Ava looked at the calendar she had hanging on her wall, taking a rest from her studying notes. Her eyes were tired, and the letters were dancing more than usual. And the noise in her head was making it impossible to focus but, thankfully, Latin was one of the subjects she enjoyed and knew everything by memory now, from the Classical myths to the grammatically correct way to translate a text. So she would probably take it easy, and call in an early night.

It was exactly one month since Beatrice and she had stopped talking and acknowledging each other’s existence and, funnily enough, today it also marked the fifth anniversary of Isabella’s death. As if the Universe had known all along this was meant to happen, as if it had decided to make May 25^th the worse day in history.

They were a few days away from their summer half term holidays, which truly would only feel like a long weekend and a big part of the students would remain at school, taking those days to relax a little before taking over the last month of school and then Ava would finally be free of everyone in this God forsaken place and, most importantly, she would finally get rid of the ugly uniform and the stale food the nuns served day after day.

Ava had received a reply from the journalism faculty at NYU which told her they would look at her academic record, but they would most likely accept her into the program since the fall term still had many vacant places and, depending on her grades, she would enter the priority list or not. Nothing new, honestly, and she had already decided that whatever happened, she would get into a flight towards New York City anyway and see what to do once she would land there.

She had already called Vincent, told him her change of mind, and though he knew there was a deeper reason as to why Ava had completely thrown the possibility of entering Oxford out the window, he didn’t ask questions and simply told her to do whatever her heart desired. In all honestly, what her heart had desired for a whole month was to go down and knock on Beatrice’s dorm door and ask for the girl to forgive her, even if she didn’t know what she had done wrong.

She had spent the last month reflecting, how the way it had seemed like Beatrice’s father had known her when she hadn’t seen the man once in her life before the night of the incident. How Beatrice thought Ava had some kind of ulterior motive for befriending her, maybe to try to bag some money or to destroy her family’s wealth or whatever. And she couldn’t understand how a man could be so threatened by an almost eighteen years old girl.

If things had gone better with Beatrice, if their fight had only lasted a few days and they had been able to fix it, maybe they could’ve figured it out together. What did Beatrice’s father know? Why did he hate Ava so much, when he didn’t even know about her existence until one month ago?

Ava had always prided herself because even though she had pretty much gone through hell and back, she was still a positive person and she’d always managed to find a way to stay positive even in the worst of times. But now, though, she saw no way in which her and Beatrice could fix things up.

She remembered when she was still in the hospital after the accident, recovering from her successful surgery. There was one doctor who took very good care of her, and she reminded Ava a lot of her mother. They had the same brown hair, the same pure and mischievous stare and the same soft voice.

Her name had been Maria, if Ava remembered correctly, and she was the one who spent most of her time with the little kids at the hospital, but especially with the little ones who had been left with nothing but memories that would most likely disappear once they would become teenagers, still too young to remember their parents a few years later.

Maria had talked to her about grief, about how people processed losing someone who had meant the world to them in different stages. And Ava felt as if she was going through it once again, going from one stage to the other on autopilot, not even being aware of her surroundings, feeling as if the world had stopped as she tried to figure out how the hell did she manage to lose Beatrice as quickly as she had gotten her.

The doctor had talked about denial, how you felt completely numb to your own self for a period of time after losing someone. It was a reaction to the shock that came with loss, and though Maria had talked about the death kind of loss, Ava felt like she could apply it to this kind of situation as well.

After Beatrice had left the dorm that used to be theirs, after she had left the little home they had made of those four walls, Ava had felt a numb sensation that had remained for a few days. She had been unable to process what had happened, to cry or to even feel anything because it felt as if whatever emotion she had inside had been vacuumed clean and she had been left empty, with nothing but a dark and empty room.

Then, she felt anger. She felt as if that stage had been the one lasting the longest time, every time she looked at the side of the dorm that had been Beatrice’s, every time she looked at the wall that had been filled up with band posters and football posters and a big poster with all the different types of butterflies in the world. She felt anger every time she shared a space with Beatrice, every time she watched the girl moving through life as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t broken a two years friendship and as if she hadn’t called Ava a manipulative and lying monster.

Maria had talked about the bargaining stage, how many people made deals with themselves and God if that meant the person they lost would come back, even if it was for one second. Ava would be lying if she said she didn’t go through that one, even though it only lasted for a day. She had seen Beatrice and Leighton walking around campus from her dorm’s window, how they were making their way towards the dormitories wing after what Ava assumed was choir. She had seen the way Leighton was talking incessantly, how Beatrice rolled her eyes at the girl, and Ava couldn’t help but remember how it used the be their dynamic once, before Beatrice opened her heart to Ava. How Ava used to be the one chatting non-stop, Beatrice simply humming or rolling her eyes or asking Ava to please be quiet.

God, I wish that could be me again, Ava had silently prayed as she put a hand upon her window glass, as if she could caress Beatrice from the distance. I’ll do anything, I’ll start to fully believe in you if you let me have her again for one moment, no matter how small it might be.

Maria’s bargaining stage didn’t last long, and the one she had called as the “depression stage” soon arrived. And Ava, for some reason, thought that this one would stay with her for a very, very long time. She hadn’t been able to find words to describe the way she felt, how it had felt when Beatrice had stormed out of the dorm for the second time ever since they had met one another. The difference, though, was that this time Beatrice didn’t come back, walking in grumpily with her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed in distaste.

At first she had thought it was dramatic, that her reaction was dramatic. But, deep down, she knew she was simply trying to give herself false hope, believing that the fight hadn’t been that much and Beatrice would soon come back and they would go on as if nothing had happened between them. And when a month went by, and she realized things hadn’t changed, all hope abandoned her and it felt as if someone had simply ripped out her heart from her chest and left there a permanent hole that would never close.

She was kind of glad that she had gotten sick after sitting down under the rain for almost an hour, until one of the girls from football saw her there shaking with her eyes glued upon the field. Ava didn’t even know how she had made it to her dorm, what person had even dragged her up there. She had a suspicion it had been the sisters Rachel and Nora Reid, who had come from Long Island and Ava knew them from football and theater.

She had an excuse to simply lie down on her bed, not having to get up at any hour. Whenever Sister Melanie came to visit her, bringing her meals so Ava wouldn’t starve, Ava simply told the woman she didn’t have any appetite. Sister Melanie let it slide for one day and a half, but then sat down on Ava’s bed and fed her the hot chicken soup herself.

“What’s happening, Ava?” the nun asked her, with her eyebrows furrowed. Ava shook her head.

“I’m just sick, Sister,” she tried to excuse, but Sister Melanie knew she was lying. And Ava had been ready for the “lying is a sin” speech, she had been ready to yell at the nun to leave her the fuck alone, but Sister Melanie simply put a hair-strand behind her ear and smiled at her.

“You’re love sick, aren’t you?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Melanie smiled at her. “I had a life before this, Ava. I’ve known love and heartbreak too.”

“I don’t know, Sister. I feel so many things all at once, and it’s making me dizzy,” Ava hated the way her voice broke, the way she sounded so vulnerable as if she was a wounded animal too.

“I had a lover once, twenty-five years ago,” the nun said, a soft yet sad smile on her lips. “I was a little bit older than you are, and it didn’t end up they way I’d hoped it would neither. I remember I also felt like you must be feeling right now, as if I had been left with no purpose or any reason to get up from bed in the morning because that person became my life, all I knew and all I saw whenever I thought of the future. But then I found a purpose, and I followed it and it healed me little by little.”

“What if I have no purpose?” Ava whispered after she fell silent for several long seconds, fidgeting on her lap, resonating with everything Sister Melanie said.

“I know you have a purpose, Ava. Sometimes it takes us a little while to discover what is it, what drives us, but we eventually find it,” the nun said, taking Ava’s empty plate and taking out a muffin from her habit’s pocket, Ava smiling softly at the woman.

“Are you sure of that?” Ava asked her, biting the muffin. Melanie nodded.

“I’ve read many of your essays, and I know you want to study journalism after graduating,” Ava nodded her head, slowly, chewing. “Maybe writing is your way to healing.”

The words Sister Melanie had said didn’t leave Ava. Waking up after the week she’d spent bed-ridden had been a nightmare, her limbs feeling weak and her chest hurting at the thought that she needed to function like a normal human being again, without having any excuse to avoid interacting with her classmates.

Going to her lessons and her extra-curricular activities would’ve surely been a distraction for Ava, but Beatrice was there in almost all of them and there were times where Ava still felt as if she couldn’t breathe at all.

Little by little, though, getting out of bed became easier and sitting through her lessons was better. She started to hang out around the Reid sisters and their friends, becoming close with two of the girls, Toni and Martha, who had also gotten an international scholarship to be part of the school. Ava also felt deeply represented with another of the girls called Leah, who also was going through her first heartbreak and was slowly losing her mind. The difference, though, was that Leah had Fatin and Dot next to her, who made sure she ate and rested and took the medication she had been conscripted by her therapist back home. Shelby Goodking, who Ava knew from choir, also was part of their friend group and her presence was really comforting, bringing a little bit of light to the darkness Ava’s life was starting to become.

Not having to eat her lunches alone anymore, and sharing at least one lesson and one extra-curricular with any of them did some good to Ava. She had someone to talk to, and she never really shared who had been the person who broke her heart but the eight of them offered Ava some sort of comfort, and they never really asked questions, knowing Ava wasn’t ready to answer them yet.

“The relationship was kind of impossible,” Ava said one day, as they were eating their lunch, never unveiling who was the other person, “which is funny, given that I’ll be playing Romeo.”

“Yeah, forbidden love kind of sucks when it’s you the one who’s going through it,” Toni agreed with Ava, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows when she saw Toni’s eyes looking at Shelby for a short moment, Shelby avoiding the girl’s stare and finding her food way more interesting.

“I’m glad you seem to do better, though,” Shelby said, clearing her throat and putting up a forced smile. “Did the praying help?”

“Sure,” Ava lied to her, and Shelby clapped her hands excitedly.

“See, I told you He has our backs always,” the rest of them chuckled, Ava letting out a genuine laugh for the first time in weeks.

“Anyways,” Rachel rolled her eyes, looking at Ava, “I heard you’ll become a New York citizen soon?”

“Yes, I should get my acceptance email this week or the next,” Ava said, feeling slightly excited at the prospect of finally putting distance between herself, Catholic schools and old nuns.

“I think it would be really cool if we saw one another again,” Nora smiled shyly at her, shrugging her shoulders, and Ava smiled.

“Since we’ll all be in the same country again,” Fatin added, wiggling her eyebrows, “we could all reunite once in a while, keep tabs on our favorite unhinged girls,” the dark haired girl put a hand on both Ava and Leah’s shoulders, both looking at her with matching unsurprised expressions.

“Maybe we’ll finally heal you from your sex addiction too,” Leah pointed out, “though coming here in this school willingly and expose yourself to become a cloistered nun in the future should be enough.”

“Yeah,” Dot said, furrowing her eyebrows. “How have you survived without sex while you’ve been here, Fatin?”

“Who says I haven’t had sex while I’ve been here?” Fatin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“But there’s only girls here,” Martha said, eyebrows furrowed, and Fatin simply grinned.

Ava looked at the girl, mouth hanging slightly open, as the rest except Shelby did the same, their shocked faces slowly turning into wild grins. Shelby, then, got up and almost made her plate fall to the ground.

“I have to go,” she said, nervously. “I just remembered I have to do something.”

“God, sometimes I almost love her until I remember she’s homophobic,” Dot said, shaking her head, as Toni went from looking amused by Fatin to looking as sad as Ava felt.

And Ava understood that maybe she wasn’t the only one hoping for the impossible, hoping that the person they were madly in love with would finally stop being so judgmental and wrong and so brainwashed by their families and would let themselves accept the truth. Because Ava didn’t have to ask much to understand what was going on between Toni and Shelby, because she had seen Beatrice in the blonde girl and she had seen herself in the dark haired girl.

“You look happier today,” Ava told Leah as they were taking a small break from their football drills.

“I think I’m kind of healing,” the blue eyed girl whispered, as if it was a secret the world couldn’t know, “from heartbreak, anyway.”

“How?”

“I’ve been writing letters to Jeff, that I obviously haven’t sent,” Leah explained, sitting down on the grass and chugging down some water.

“Letters?” Ava said, sitting next to her, as Leah nodded.

“Telling him how he made me feel,” the girl said. “Whenever I feel like screaming, or throwing something at the wall when Fatin isn’t there to knock some sense into me… I just write letters to Jeff, to cope.”

“Do you think it actually works?” Leah shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s worked for me so far,” the girl smiled softly at her. “Maybe it’s just me trying to fool myself, trying to think that writing a stupid letter to someone who refuses to acknowledge my existence after destroying me and my self-esteem will actually heal me, but… I don’t know, you should try it.”

Leah went back to training, and Ava sat there on the grass as she found Beatrice mindlessly playing with a ball while the coach was talking to her. And then their eyes found one another, and there was nothing in there, simply cold indifference, two people who had given up fixing whatever was broken.

And Ava realized that maybe she and Leah weren’t that different, actually. The both of them had been broken hearted after someone rejected them, after someone told them they had a serious problem if they thought they actually wanted them in that kind of way, and then decided to depart from their lives without an explanation, without giving them a chance to ask for forgiveness even if they hadn’t done anything wrong or, well, maybe they didn’t truly know what had been so wrong with falling in love with them.

Beatrice was the first one to look away, to pretend as if she hadn’t destroyed Ava like she had been doing for the last month. And Ava didn’t even feel the familiar rage, or the familiar sadness she had been feeling for the last four weeks. All she felt was dullness inside her chest, emptiness.

And maybe that was what Maria meant when she talked about the last stage of grief, about accepting that you had lost someone and now what you had to do was to try your very best to move on with life. Even if Ava found it to be the most difficult thing she ever had to do, because the difference between her accepting her mother was gone at seven years old and her accepting that she had lost Beatrice at seventeen years old was different, because she ended up understanding her mother would never come back. And yet with Beatrice there was still that small slim of hope, the what if that wouldn’t leave Ava alone.

As she sat on her desk, her notes scattered all around and her eyes still glued on the calendar, Sister Melanie and Leah’s advices popped back up inside her mind after she hadn’t really given a second thought to them in a few days. Melanie had said she was good with writing, and that she could find some kind of healing on it, and Leah had said that writing letters to a long-gone lover had been kind of helpful as well.

And maybe Ava would actually do the same as Leah, pretend writing down her feelings would help her to heal somehow and it would be useful in any way. Maybe it would help her let go of the pain, little by little, and maybe filling a paper with her messy handwriting would allow Ava to let Beatrice know all the things she had been unable to tell the girl, all the things Beatrice hadn’t allowed her to say because she stormed out of the room and then pretended Ava wasn’t real, as she pretended they hadn’t been best friends for two years.

So Ava took out a paper from her notebook, grabbed a pen and stared at the blank surface for a long time as her thoughts gathered inside her mind, as she made a list of all the things she wanted to write and structured them so they would make sense, and the letter wouldn’t be a mess of thoughts as she had been for the last month.

And once she felt ready, Ava nodded to herself and started to write the letter.

Dear Beatrice…

*

Beatrice thought that being forced to go watch the Romeo and Juliet play was unfair, though she wouldn’t tell Mother Frances that she didn’t want to look at Ava and Leighton playing lovers for two hours, because she didn’t want the nun to know that Beatrice was jealous, because she wanted to be the one singing to Ava on that stage and she wanted to be the one to hold Ava’s hand as they gave the final bow. She wanted to be the one giving a bouquet of flowers to her co-star, and she wanted to be the one gushing about how amazing Ava had sung and acted and how she had the whole school wrapped around her finger after they’d spent almost two years bullying her.

The school year was one week away from finishing, with graduation looming on the horizon. Beatrice would be missing graduation because their parents had some kind of important dinner with the aristocrats on the same day, and they needed her to be present so they could give the perfect family image to them all, not even caring that Beatrice was supposed to be at Saint Melanie’s, getting her diploma, giving a speech in the name of her promotion as the top student of her year.

She had beaten Ava only by 0.5 points more, and she hadn’t even felt satisfaction over that fact because if Ava had bothered to address her, Beatrice could’ve taunted her by her victory in order to talk with Ava. But the girl had befriended Fatin Jadmani’s group of crazy and off-putting friends, with whom she shared all of her meals instead.

Beatrice had watched Ava from the other side of the school’s cafeteria as she ate lunch with the group of girls, how she had gone from simply smiling at whatever antics Fatin did to full on laughing and Beatrice hated the way she had missed the sound, the way she had missed how Ava tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and put a hand upon her mouth before she let out an earth shattering bark of laughter.

“She’s not that funny,” Beatrice muttered once, as she was sitting with Leighton and some of the girl’s friends.

She had apologized to Leighton, and Leighton had simply waved a hand and invited her to be part of her group so she wouldn’t spend the last month of school all on her own. Beatrice, for whatever reason, accepted the offer.

“What?” Leighton asked, and then looked towards Ava’s direction, a knowing look on her eyes. “Fatin’s actually hilarious; you just have no sense of humor.”

“I can be quite funny, actually,” Beatrice had the need to fight, to convince Leighton and tell her about the amount of times she had gotten that reaction from Ava.

“I’ve known you for eight years, you’ve never been funny once in your life,” Leighton rolled her eyes, going back to her lunch, and Beatrice arched an eyebrow.

“I’ll prove it to you one day,” Beatrice said, and Leighton actually snorted at her threat.

“Oh shit, you might be right actually,” the green eyed girl said, faking shock, and Beatrice simply rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the way she could still hear Ava laughing at whatever Fatin was doing.

She didn’t know why she felt so much anger, though, and she didn’t know what Ava found so cool about Fatin Jadmani. Sure, the girl had gotten into Saint Melanie’s with a music scholarship and she was bound to be part of Julliard’s music program after graduating, but all the talent she had with her cello playing skills she lacked it on intelligence, or so Beatrice thought judging by the way Fatin spent most of the time looking out the window, calling the lessons boring, and only asking how long it would be until the class would be dismissed.

And she knew Ava enjoyed the presence of someone smart, she liked to have philosophical conversations and she liked to wonder about the mysteries of the Universe. So she didn’t know why she had to choose Fatin Jadmani and her crew of brainless acolytes as her new friend group.

Beatrice knew there was a name to all she was feeling, she knew there was a name to the sensation she had every time she saw Ava walking around campus with one of the girls or laughing out loud to whatever Fatin was saying, but she refused to acknowledge it because she wasn’t weak.

She didn’t need Ava’s validation, she didn’t need Ava to laugh only at her jokes or she didn’t need Ava to walk next to her around campus. And she didn’t know why she felt so jealous and angry when Ava started to do all the things they used to do together with people who had been pretty much strangers until then, not when she had sworn over and over again that she wasn’t like Ava and she didn’t want Ava to be part of her life anymore, not when it would put her at risk and not when she was convinced that she finally had gotten over losing Ava.

So Beatrice had hoped she would be able to skip tonight’s musical when she didn’t volunteer to be part of the play’s choir, doing the background vocals for the songs Ava, Leighton and their co-stars would be singing. But Mother Frances had reminded them that same morning that every single student was obligated to go and watch the play, and Beatrice was simply sitting all the way to the back row, arms crossed, as she watched Ava climb up the vines to recite the lines she had recited the afternoon they sneaked out of their dorm.

Leighton was supporting her body on the balcony rail, with a love-struck expression, looking at Ava like she was the love of her life. And Beatrice started to think Leighton had lied about Ava being thoroughly depressed during rehearsals, how there were days where the girl had no energy to say her lines and how she almost dropped out of the play. Ava seemed to love the spotlight for once in her life, and Beatrice hated the way every single person in the room, even Mother Frances, looked completely smitten by Ava’s natural charm as she confessed to Leighton that she was the love of her life.

Beatrice found it kind of hilarious, though, how the nuns had chosen Romeo and Juliet as the end of the year musical play. They had been preaching to them all how two people of the same sex loving one another were bad, and yet here they were making two girls confess their love for one another. She couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle, the girl sitting in front of her turning around to shush her with tears on her eyes.

She watched the action unfold in front of her with a permanent scowl on her face, not because Leighton and Ava were acting badly but actually because of the opposite. The chemistry they had was amazing, and they were truly making everyone believe they actually were two people who were going through a forbidden romance situation. And it was funny for Beatrice, because had she turned out to be just like Ava, they would’ve probably lived the same situation in real life.

But you’re like her, Beatrice heard Isabella say.

And she could picture her sister sitting next to her, eyebrows arched and arms crossed upon her chest. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the image. If she told her parents she could hear Isabella’s voice, if she told them she could sometimes picture her in front of her clearly, they would probably send her to some kind of mental hospital which would surely be an even more traumatizing experience than spending eight years at Saint Melanie’s had been.

Beatrice knew the plot of Romeo and Juliet by heart, already. Isabella and her used to play it whenever they were alone in their home, changing the plot and making up different kinds of scenarios, always ending up on the floor with tears of laughter at whatever stupid idea came out of their mouths. And she knew that the moment was close, the moment where Romeo discovered Juliet’s dead body, how she actually wasn’t dead and she simply was sleeping so she wouldn’t have to marry Count Paris, how the grief was too much Romeo ended killing himself.

When Beatrice had seen Isabella’s body after they rescued it from the sea and her face was full of make up to hide the marks and the hit she had received on her head by a rock, the reason that had killed her, she also seemed to be sleeping. And Beatrice had thought how her sister loved a good prank, how she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of faking her own death to get rid of her duties as the Armstrong-Young heir.

She looked so peaceful, with her face free of any signs of pain, her hands interlaced on her stomach with a bouquet of lilies of the valley between them, wearing a white short-sleeved dress and looking like a bride on her way to the altar. And Beatrice had stared and stared throughout the vigil and the funeral, hoping that Isabella would open her eyes at any second and would tell them she had done the same as Juliet, to avoid her destiny. But Isabella had never woken up.

Beatrice couldn’t help but feel a single tear roll down her cheek as she watched Ava holding Leighton’s body between her arms, as Romeo lamented the loss of Juliet and wished it had been him instead. She watched Ava taking out a small flask filled with a purple liquid, how she put a hand upon Leighton’s mouth and faked Romeo kissing Juliet one last time before he took the poison and died as he held his lover. And then Leighton woke up, and cried because Romeo believed her to be dead, and Juliet took Romeo’s dagger and buried it deep inside her stomach because she refused to live in a world where Romeo didn’t exist.

And then the Capulets and the Montagues mourned two children who died because of them, two children who had loved one another so much they had been ready to die for the other, to end with the hatred their families had for one another, to use love in the false hope that it would heal the hate the adults had tried to instigate on them.

And Beatrice found it hilarious, and ironic, how her family had tried to instigate such hate on her and Isabella but Isabella had fought them because of it, how Ava had landed in Beatrice’s life and had broken all Beatrice had believed in for the longest part of her life.

And Beatrice didn’t know who were Romeo and Juliet in her own story. Had it been Isabella, who had fought so persistently to make Beatrice see that their parents were wrong and the both of them were allowed to love and live whoever they wanted? Had it been Ava, who had healed Beatrice little by little and had made her see that she was something more than her family’s pawn, than the heir of her family’s fortune?

The both of them had been the personification of love, fighting against the hatred Beatrice’s family had, fighting against the hatred Beatrice felt towards the world, towards her family, towards herself for breaking Ava’s heart and towards Ava for changing the way Beatrice had started to want to live, had hoped to live even if she had always known it wouldn’t happen, it would not be possible.

The lights went on, and as everyone got up to applaud the cast, Beatrice got up to leave the room but found the doors were blocked by several students and staff who had dropped their responsibilities to go watch the play. So Beatrice had no other choice but to go back to her seat, looking down as Ava smiled widely standing next to Leighton, who was holding her hand as they bowed down and then hugged one another excitedly.

“Beatrice,” Mother Frances said as she caught Beatrice making her way out. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The play is over,” Beatrice said, not even caring to be pleasant with the nun, not when she only had to stay there for seven more days before she could finally get the hell out of the school, to start a new life.

Beatrice had a plan that she had crafted carefully during the sleepless nights she’d spent in her new dorm. She would contact with Cambridge University on her last day of school, tell them she wouldn’t be joining their program. Beatrice didn’t even care if the University didn’t give her the money her parents already paid for the dorms and the tuition, she honestly had plenty of it and since she had turned eighteen years old, the inheritance her parents had deposited in her bank account once she was born was automatically hers and they couldn’t take it from her. And Beatrice knew her parents wouldn’t do that, because they needed Beatrice for the future of their family, for the perfect family picture, they needed her as a pawn to get whatever they wanted from other aristocratic families. And if Beatrice exposed them, because she surely would do that if they weren’t careful, all they had worked to cover up and hide would be on open sight.

So Beatrice had surely the winning side, and she would deal with their threats and whatever would come after graduating later on, after settling down at Oxford or wherever she ended up at. She would tell them during the dinner they forced her to attend, not letting her to be able to attend her own graduation nor give a valedictorian speech.

But that would be the last time she would let them manipulate her, the last time she would let them win. Because Beatrice had let them humiliate her in so many different ways, but after the two months she had spent without Ava because of them, after making amends with the fact that she would most likely spend the rest of her life without her best friend because of them, Beatrice had reached her limit.

She had lost the two most precious things she ever had, Isabella because she had wanted to oppose them so hard to the point she ended up risking and losing her life for it, for wanting to do something her parents wouldn’t have allowed with someone they wouldn’t have wanted, and Ava because she had been a friend to Beatrice, because she had opened her eyes and made her become all her parents didn’t want her to be. And they would pay, next week they would pay for all they had taken away.

Now, Beatrice, had no time to think about her Machiavellian plan. She was walking down the aisle, to go greet the stars of the night, trying to mentally prepare herself at the fact that she would be only a few millimeters away from Ava after two months of being worlds apart. And she didn’t know what she would do, she didn’t know if she would simply nod at the girl, give her a firm handshake, or get on her knees to ask for forgiveness.

“Ahem,” she heard somewhere, and when she looked up she saw Leighton was looking at her with arched eyebrows, biting her lip to hide a smile.

“Good job,” Beatrice said, nodding at Leighton.

“Thank you, but none of it would’ve been possible without my Romeo,” Leighton nudged Ava on her shoulder, and Beatrice didn’t miss the way Ava furiously blushed. She felt something at the pit of her stomach, some kind of rage, and she suddenly wanted to scream at Leighton to stay away.

“You did great,” Beatrice simply said, before she could make up her mind. Ava looked at her with wide eyes, startled, as if she wasn’t expecting Beatrice to address her at all.

“Oh, thanks,” Ava muttered, unsure of what to say. Beatrice took a deep breath, and suddenly one thousand things she had wanted to tell Ava almost tumbled out of her mouth.

I’m planning on dumping my parents, I finally decided to go to Oxford, I’m going to try and set myself free. I don’t know when, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, but I’m planning it. I miss you, by the way.

But Beatrice simply nodded at the girl, not missing the way Leighton looked at her, and then she made her way out of the theatre room, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by Ava’s presence, just like she had felt the first time she had met the girl.

Beatrice knew it was late at night when she heard someone knocking on her door, and her heart almost skipped a beat. What if her talking to Ava had made the girl want to talk to her again? What if Ava had come to retake where they had left their argument at? What if Ava was coming back to ask her to leave it all behind, to start again? Would Beatrice do it, now that she’d decided her parents wouldn’t be taunting her anymore after they ruined the best thing she ever had? Would she still tell Ava to stay away from her, because all she did was to hurt the people she loved?

Loved.

Oh.

She loved Ava, she really did. Beatrice didn’t know in what way she loved Ava, she had always known about that. She had loved Ava as some kind of sister at first, a confidante and a best friend. And she had known that love had evolved into something else, into something scary and terrible, into the cause that provoked Beatrice to explode. And no matter what, Beatrice knew that the love she felt for Ava would never go away. She knew that it would remain with her, she didn’t know for how long, but she knew she and Ava could find one another in the same room in ten years and the love she felt would still be there, beating hardly.

And maybe that was what she needed to do, to let time pass and to let that love become dormant. Maybe she needed time to go by, so Ava could find it in herself to forgive Beatrice and Beatrice could forgive herself. So Beatrice decided to not get up, to not answer the door, and to let time pass.

“Beatrice?” it was Leighton’s muffled voice on the other side of the door, and Beatrice closed her eyes and sighed. “I know you’re there, I can literally see light coming out.”

So she ended up getting up, walking towards the door and looking down at Leighton.

“What is it?” Beatrice asked, trying to sound tired and sleepy.

“I just wanted to say you did well today,” Leighton patted her in the arm, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“What did I do?”

“Talk with Ava, of course,” Leighton rolled her eyes, and Beatrice made a choking sound.

“I only said two words to her,” she scoffed, and Leighton shrugged her shoulders.

“Baby steps, honey,” the green-eyed girl said goodnight to her, and Beatrice went back to her bed.

She turned off the lights and closed her eyes, but sleep never came.

*

Ava knew Beatrice wasn’t in her dorm because she had seen her enter Mother Frances’ office, and she had stayed there for almost an hour. She knew it because she had been sulking around, trying to make up her mind to give to Beatrice the envelope that was hiding the letter she had written to the girl and tried to ignore it until it seemed to be burning inside the drawer she had left it at.

The plan was easy. She would approach Beatrice, tell her she had written something for her but she wasn’t allowed to read it until they were finally separated by an ocean, and then she would do what she did the best: flee the scene.

Today it was their last day of school, and the graduation ceremony wouldn’t be held until the afternoon. Ava, though, had decided to not attend it. She had decided to book a flight to New York, agreeing with Diego and Vincent that they would travel there soon and spend a few weeks together to let Ava settle down on campus, find a job, and get to know her future classmates.

The thing was, she wanted to start her new life as soon as possible and she truly didn’t give a single flying fuck about graduation. The previous day she had gone to Mother Frances’ office and asked for her diploma, letting the nun know she wouldn’t be present at the graduation. And though the nun looked extremely happy about that, she obviously had to argue with Ava about her choices.

“But you’re the second best,” the nun said, with distaste in her words. “You’ll have to give the Valedictorian speech.”

“Isn’t Beatrice doing it?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Mother Frances scoffed at her.

“She won’t be able to attend graduation either, she had family matters to attend,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, as if she didn’t care that she suddenly had less time to give Beatrice the letter.

“Leighton can do it, then.”

Leighton, Ava thought, as she saw that the clock was running and Beatrice still hadn’t come out of Mother Frances’ office, the nun surely giving a last sermon to the girl before they departed from one another for the rest of their lives.

So Ava made her way up, hoping that Leighton would be in her dorm packing up and not sulking under the sun with the rest of the popular girls.

When she reached the girl’s hallway, she knocked on her door and waited, smiling when she heard muffled footsteps coming her way.

“Ava?” Leighton said, arching an eyebrow. “Came to say goodbye?”

“Yes, and no,” Ava said, and Leighton hummed as she supported her body on her door. “Can you give this to Beatrice? Tell her to not read it until I’m gone, please?”

“Why don’t you give it to her yourself?” Leighton furrowed her eyebrows, and Ava knew she was actually faking the confusion.

“I tried, I swear,” she said, nervously, hating the way the clock was running. “But Mother Frances abducted her.”

“That old bitch, I hate her,” Leighton muttered, rolling her eyes. “Bea’s dorm room is open, you can leave it on her bed or something.”

“Okay, yeah,” Ava nodded to herself, “but you will tell her what I said?”

“Yeah, but you better hurry,” Leighton said, walking her inside Beatrice’s dorm. “She’s going to leave in four hours.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I leave in three,” Ava saw Beatrice’s suitcase was opened on top of her bed, the clothes neatly folded inside and her walls bare of any posters and other decorations, all inside sealed boxes. “And then I’ll have to wait for two hours for the plane to take flight.”

“You won’t say goodbye to her?” Leighton asked her softly, as Ava debated where she should put the letter at.

“I wanted to, as unbelievable as it may seem,” she said, landing the letter on top of the open suitcase, hoping that Beatrice wouldn’t zip it up in a rush and would find the letter easily. “But I don’t think I can do it, Leighton.”

“Ava…” Leighton said, unsurely. “I don’t know what happened between you both, and you don’t have to tell me, but… I think saying goodbye will be good, for the both of you.”

Ava bit her lip, turning her back on Leighton as she felt her eyes filling up with tears. She blinked rapidly, hoping they would go away as quickly as they had come, as her hand hovered upon the letter she had left on Beatrice’s suitcase.

She had opened her heart in that letter, saying all the things she had been keeping to herself for almost two months, all the things she had wanted to say during the time her and Beatrice had spent avoiding one another around the school’s hallways.

A letter where she wrote all the wishes, all the hopes she had for them both, and they had been broken because of someone else, someone who had never learned love, not the way Ava did, not the way she knew Beatrice felt it too.

“You know what, this is stupid,” Ava chuckled, taking the letter back.

Beatrice had made it clear, she didn’t want to have anything to do with Ava, and her telling Ava she had done a good job acting as Romeo wouldn’t change a thing. Beatrice had made it clear, and she doubted the girl wanted to have any remains of Ava laying around, messily written, with splotches of tears here and there blurring the ink.

“Ava,” Leighton said, trying to stop her, but Ava walked quickly out of Beatrice’s dorm and closed the door.

“It was great meeting you, Leighton,” Ava said, squeezing the girl’s hand, who looked at her unable to form words. “And I know you have a bright future in the entertainment industry.”

“Well, tell that to my family,” Leighton chuckled, and squeezed Ava’s hand. “I disagree with your decision, though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ava said, smiling sadly at the girl. “Maybe I’ll catch her later.”

“I hope you do,” both girls hugged each other. “Good luck Ava, with everything.”

“I hope I see you again, maybe somewhere in New York,” Leighton nodded, and Ava made her way towards her own dorm, towards her packed luggage and her sealed boxes.

And then she looked down at the letter, at Beatrice’s name messily written on the envelope, and she shook her head. She had always been a hopeless romantic, she had always believed in showing love through grand gestures because that’s what had made her heart swell whenever she watched romantic comedies with her mother.

And her mother had always told her to never accept someone who would settle for the bare minimum. But she had several ideas of what Beatrice would do with her letter, maybe she would read it and laugh at how stupid Ava was, or maybe she would end up burning it or maybe she wouldn’t even bother to open it up before tossing it to the nearest trashcan.

Ava had learned several things about love at Saint Melanie’s. She had learned how her mother had been wrong, and sometimes the littlest gestures were enough. She had learned people showed love in so many different ways, and some would serenade you in the middle of the night while others would stay up all night to calm you down from a nightmare, even if they were exhausted themselves.

She had learned that love was healing, but also destructive. And she had learned that love could fill you up with so much life, as well as leave you empty the next morning.

So Ava decided to keep that first lesson about love for herself, as a reminder of her future self if she ever encountered someone who would make her feel the same way Beatrice did, even if Beatrice had never been aware of it. And she would never be, not now that Ava was taking the only remaining proof with her to the other end of the ocean.

Though, if she was being honest, she wasn’t so sure she would ever find someone to love as much as she did with Beatrice. Because something her mother had also said was the fact that you never really truly forgot your first love, and that some people were able to find it early in their lives while others found it later on.

And Ava didn’t know if she was lucky or not, but she was afraid she had found her first love way too early and now, getting rid of its memory would be the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life.

*

“I thought they would be picking me up,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, and Henry shook his head as he finished to put her luggage into the car’s trunk.

“They are waiting at Armstrong Hall, my lady,” the driver said, closing the trunk, “Lord Armstrong said this dinner will be the last one to celebrate there, before closing it up for sure.”

“He’s always saying that, and never actually does anything,” Beatrice muttered under her breath, Henry letting out a dry chuckle.

“Are you ready?” the driver asked her, and Beatrice sighed. She looked back at the school that had been her home for eight years, but truly didn’t feel like a home at all until Ava arrived.

Talking about the girl, Beatrice had wanted to go up to her old dorm to tell Ava she couldn’t find whatever object would come to her mind, only to use it as an excuse to maybe try and say goodbye to the girl, or to maybe see her one last time before she decided to move on with life.

Beatrice had already decided Ava deserved so much more than what she had to offer, at least for now. But maybe in the future, when both of them would be in a better place, maybe the Universe would grant them one last favor and would bring them back together.

Beatrice snorted at how ridiculous that idea was, at how much Ava had buried herself deep in Beatrice’s being. She had never believed in the Universe’s power over fate, never hoped for anything foolish, yet here she was wishing that her fate would be good to her for at least once in her life and would take her to the same room as Ava Silva was, maybe in five or ten or fifteen years, when they would be grown women disposed to fix up whatever had been broken. Though Beatrice feared it wouldn’t get fixed at all, not after she had said all she did to Ava, not after she had broken the girl so deeply.

“Mrs. Beatrice?” Henry asked again, and she made the action to open the backside door as she heard someone screeching her name.

“Beatrice!” she turned around as Leighton sprinted towards her, a pink graduation dress underneath her black gown, her face filled with makeup and her hair turned into blonde waves.

“Leighton, is everything okay?” Beatrice said, putting both hands on the girl’s shoulders to stop her from crashing against her and the car.

“No, fuck!” the blonde girl said, trying to catch her breathing, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows. “You both are so fucking stupid.”

“Me and… who?”

“Ava, you dumbass!” Leighton put her hands up in exasperation, and Beatrice arched an eyebrow. “She’s gone already, but if you hurry up you might still have time to catch her. Her plane won’t leave in two hours.”

“Wait,” Beatrice shook her head, “she left?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“But what about the Valedictorian speech?” Leighton groaned, putting her hands over her head.

“Fuck the Valedictorian speech, Beatrice! I’m telling you Ava is on her way towards the airport, ready to take a fucking plane to New York!” Beatrice felt as if the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, almost falling on her ass right then and there.

She should’ve expected it, that Ava would do anything to put distance between them. Beatrice should’ve known that Ava would end up choosing New York, so she wouldn’t have to expose herself into sharing a space with Beatrice once again. And then, all the foolish hopes Beatrice had been making as she looked at Saint Melanie’s one last time were gone, as if they had never existed in the first place, while her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

“Well, why is that any of my concern?” she said instead, trying to put up a false façade that Leighton could perfectly see through.

“You’re a moron, Beatrice Armstrong-Young,” Leighton chuckled. “You really will let her go, huh? You will really let go of the girl who looked at you as if you had put the moon and the stars up in the sky?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Beatrice turned around opening the backside door, but Leighton slammed it shut.

“I’m not!” she said, eyes wide, “Beatrice, are you seriously telling me you’ll let Ava fly to New York without saying goodbye? She needs to know how you feel, like I know!”

“You don’t know how I feel,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, and Leighton literally cackled.

“Yeah, I do,” she shrugged her shoulders, “I also have secretly loved someone in my hometown, someone who’s out of reach, someone who’s stayed my little secret for way too long. I refuse to let you be as stupid as I am, and I refuse to let you lose Ava.”

“Leighton,” Beatrice sighed, “I lost her two months ago or… even before that. There’s nothing I can do.”

“I’m not asking you to change her mind, Bea,” Leighton said, defeated, “I’m saying to tell her how you feel, to work things out even if it has to be from the distance. Hell, you’re filthy rich you could buy your way into NYU!”

“I… no…” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows at that last part, “whatever Ava and I had, our friendship, it’s long gone. I made sure of it.”

“Because you’re scared, Beatrice,” Leighton told her, “but you don’t have to be. Not anymore, not with Ava.”

“Easily said than done, don’t you think?” her words weren’t harsh, but they were soft and sad. Leighton pouted at her, sniffling. “I have so many things to fix inside of me, so many things to understand as well. And I can’t love someone until I do, not if it means I will end up breaking them like I broke Ava.”

“I’m just saying, you have just enough time to get into that airport and say goodbye,” Leighton hugged her, and Beatrice didn’t fight it as she patted the girl’s back awkwardly. “Goodbye, Beatrice.”

“Goodbye, Leighton.”

Beatrice got into the car as Henry occupied the driver’s side, and she closed her eyes as the car made its way out the school’s courtyard and took the road that would get them both to Armstrong Hall.

Beatrice looked outside the window, at the green fields and the familiar landscape she wouldn’t see for a very long time, at least not intentionally, and she was surprised she felt choked up at that thought, at not waking up every day being greeted by those landscapes, not seeing Ava anymore even if it was from the other side of the room or from behind a bookshelf in the library.

“May I speak, Mrs. Beatrice?” Henry said, breaking her train of thought.

“Of course.”

“I was in love once too,” the man said, smiling, “with Marcus, one of Eustace’s apprentices,” Beatrice’s eyes widened in surprise, and Henry looked at her with expectation from the rear view mirror.

“Oh,” she managed to say, “Yes, I remember Marcus. What happened to him?”

“I decided to give up on him too,” Marcus continued, not answering her question, “and it’s one of my biggest regrets.”

“Henry…”

“I was scared of your family too, Mrs. Beatrice, because I knew it had happened before. Two men or two women in our staff falling in love, soon getting fired because their presence wasn’t welcome in the family…” Henry shook his head, as Beatrice’s chest filled with so much rage she fisted her hands on her lap.

“Is that why Marcus disappeared from one day to the other?” Henry shook his head.

“He decided to go on his own,” he shrugged, “though the reason behind his departure was the very same.”

“Have you seen him outside?” Henry smiled sadly at her as he kept driving.

“No, I was too much of a coward,” Beatrice felt her heart breaking, her chest filling with sadness for Henry and Marcus, for all the people their parents had hurt with their twisted ideas, their own daughters amongst them.

“Do you know anything about him?”

“Some of the staff kept up with him,” Henry’s eyes became sad, “said he found someone else and is engaged now.”

“That’s horrible,” Beatrice muttered, and Henry looked at her.

“It was my fault,” Beatrice wanted to protest, but Henry didn’t let her open her mouth, “because I was too scared of what could happen, what would people say. But, at the end of the day… he was my greatest love, and I lost him because of my fears.”

Beatrice felt this way too close to her, and she averted her eyes to keep on looking outside, at the green fields passing by. Henry sighed, shaking his head, and Beatrice tried hard not to look at him.

“If you asked me to turn around now and go to the airport, Mrs. Beatrice, I would do it in a heartbeat,” Henry said, his eyes never leaving the road, “I could tell the Lord and Lady Armstrong that one of the tires flattened, and changing it took a while.”

Beatrice clenched her jaw, breathing deeply and closing her eyes. What if the same happened to her? What if she let go of Ava because she was scared? What if she needed to tell Ava goodbye first or, well, see you later so she would be able to start healing, to start understanding herself, before she would find Ava again? What if when Beatrice tried to go after Ava, maybe in a few years, it was too late and she’d found someone else?

She swallowed, making up her mind. She squared her shoulders, breathed deeply, and nodded once. Henry, not needing to ask what she meant, made a U-turn and drove back to the school, past it, and then to the airport.

*

Ava had taken several planes all on her own ever since she had started to attend Saint Melanie’s, but this one felt so different. It felt as if she was hopping into this plane to never go back to her old life, as if she was closing a door as she simultaneously opened another one.

It wouldn’t be much longer now until they would announce that her flight was about to take off, as she was about to cross an ocean and say goodbye forever to the old Ava Silva. She felt broken, and tired, and lost. Because she had been supposed to start this new journey with Beatrice, they had been supposed to live the greatest adventure of their lives. And Ava had secretly hoped that maybe they would also fall in love or, well, Beatrice would finally fall for her as Ava was already madly in love with the girl.

But none of it would happen, because Ava hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Beatrice. Because it would hurt too much, saying goodbye and hoping that maybe one day they would find one another again and they would give each other a chance. Because Ava was going through her first heart break, and she didn’t know if she would be able to take another blow, not like the one she took two months ago.

Something that always happened in the movies when one half of the couple was about to take a plane, something that Ava loved no matter how cliché it was, was how the other half always ran behind them, asking them to not go away or asking them to leave together and start a new life together. And then the whole airport cooed at them, and they clapped as the two protagonists kissed one another.

And Ava’s eyes were glued to the airport’s entrance door, hoping that maybe Ava would see Beatrice running inside, shouting her name, asking her to please stay with her or take her to New York.

But the minutes passed, and Beatrice was nowhere to be seen. And Ava didn’t know why she was so disappointed, acting as if they had agreed to meet in the airport and then Beatrice broke her promise.

They hadn’t even talked with one another in two months, she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to Beatrice and wish her good luck with life. So why would Beatrice come after her, or why would Ava even expect it to happen, when both of them had made it a point to stay away from the other and let the other know they wanted nothing to do with each other?

Her phone rang, and Ava looked at the screen immediately hoping it would be Beatrice asking for her to hold on a little longer, because she was almost there and she refused to let her go away this easily.

“Hey, booger,” Ava said and Diego groaned at her.

“Hey, bully,” the boy said, clicking his tongue. “Are you in the plane already?”

“Would I be answering your call?” Ava chuckled as Diego mocked her.

“Vincent and I just got the tickets,” her brother let her know, “if all goes as planned, we should be there around next Wednesday.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Will you be okay until then?” Ava knew Diego was implying so many things in one single question, and she let out a sigh that was enough of an answer. “Did she say goodbye?”

“No,” before her brother could start insulting and cursing Beatrice, Ava spoke, “but I didn’t say it to her either.”

“Why not?” he asked, confused, and Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“It would hurt too much, you know?” she said, letting out a small, broken sigh, “and I’m starting to regret it, because maybe I missed the chance to…”

“Fix things up?” Ava nodded, even though Diego couldn’t see her.

“To keep her in my life, even if it is as someone in the background,” she shrugged her shoulders, and Diego was silent for a few seconds.

“Would you really like it to have her in the background only?” he asked her, gently, and Ava let out a soft chuckle.

“No, I wouldn’t, but we managed to ruin our friendship to a point where I’m scared that’s all we can be for one another,” Ava started to get up, getting her bags ready as she heard her flight getting announced to take off next.

“Maybe you guys need to be a memory for each other as of now,” Diego said, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows, “and maybe with time, you’ll find your way back to one another.”

“You really think that’s possible?” Ava said, biting her lip before she offered her ticket to the security guard. Diego hummed on the other end of the phone.

“The Universe is funny that way,” Ava couldn’t help but snort at Diego, and she could picture him smiling proudly.

“Okay, Meredith Grey, I gotta hang up and get on a plane. I’ll see you soon?”

She and Diego said their goodbyes, and soon after Ava found herself sitting next to the plane’s window as a couple of elderly people sat next to her, chatting animatedly between one another with eyes still filled with love. Ava smiled softly at them, wishing them a good afternoon, and looked back to the world outside, hoping to one day get to live her own long-life love story.

*

Beatrice almost slid down to the airport floor as she stopped at the check-in point, the receptionist looking at her with furrowed eyebrows and a disapproving look. Beatrice, who had jumped out of Henry’s car before he could even park and had sprinted towards the gate where Ava’s plane was supposed to be taking off, was now struggling to catch her breathing but she had no time to lose.

“The-the flight to New York,” she only managed to say, bracing her hands on the counter and panting hard.

“Where’s your ticket?” Beatrice groaned, swallowing hard.

“No,” she said, “when does it take off?”

“In five minutes,” the woman said, checking her computer.

“Give me one ticket,” Beatrice pretty much commanded her, taking out her credit card. The woman did as she was told, and Beatrice paid not even caring to look at the amount before she started to run again.

There was a long hallway she needed to run through before getting to the terminal from where the airplane would take off, and it seemed like today everyone had decided to take planes and everyone decided to spend some time in the airport, so Beatrice had to run around many people, letting out an “excuse me” and “may I pass” every two seconds as she tried to not push away anyone so she would make it in time.

“Wait!” she said, as she made it to the correct terminal but the security guard was already sealing the gate door. “I need to get into that plane.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said, looking genuinely sorry. “The plane is about to take off, you can’t get in. But you can wait for the next one.”

“But I have to get there!” she argued, feeling frustrated and angry at herself for being late. Beatrice Armstrong-Young was never late, and when her punctuality was essential, she failed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“But…” and then, she shook her head and tears filled up her eyes. “But I need to…”

“You can get on the plane taking flight in two hours,” he pointed at the panel where the upcoming flights were getting announced. “You can stay here, and I’ll accompany you to the terminal, tell them you missed the previous one and have priority to enter.”

Beatrice looked at the panel, her stomach knotting and her throat closing up. She could tell Henry to bring her luggage here, she could get on the flight and try to find Ava once she would land in New York. She could call Oxford, tell them to fuck off, and maybe wait until she could join a program at New York University.

She had decided to study engineering, something that had always fascinated her, and she wanted to enter Jillian Salvius’ internship program. And she knew Jillian worked with Oxford, and NYU and many other Universities around the world. Beatrice could make her dream become true, study what she had always wanted to study instead of having to join the laws and politics program.

Beatrice could move to the other side of the ocean, with Ava, away from her parents. She could try to find Ava, tell her she couldn’t imagine her life without her. She could tell Ava she was sorry, and she was miserable without her, and maybe it would take a while for Ava to forgive her but Beatrice didn’t care, she would wait her whole life for Ava.

“Miss?” the security guard said, as Beatrice kept looking at the announcement panel. And then she closed her eyes, crumbling the ticket in her hand, letting the first tear fall.

“No, it’s fine,” she looked at the man, smiling softly, as he furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her with worry. “Thank you.”

Beatrice started to walk towards the airport’s exit, as sobs threatened to come out of her mouth, as people looked at her with concern, wondering what a teenager was doing in an airport, all on her own, crying as she walked away from the most important person she had the privilege to meet back in a moment of her life where she had been so lost, and angry, and cold.

But that was how the Universe acted, according to many books and romantic comedies. And maybe the whole point of healing was to let Ava go, because maybe right now it wasn’t their time. And Beatrice didn’t lie when she said she would wait her whole life for Ava if she had to, that she would rather spend her last day on Earth with Ava other than never having her again.

And maybe Beatrice had wasted her chance, maybe she had ruined herself and Ava, and maybe her opportunity of fixing her own mistakes was long gone in this life. Perhaps Beatrice would have to wait until the next to find Ava again, to make amends, but she didn’t care because she would find Ava anywhere, in this life or the next, and at some point she would have the opportunity to be with her, to ask for forgiveness and to move on.

“Beatrice,” Henry said once he saw her, and the young man immediately opened her arms for her and she embraced him, crying freely on his shoulder as he stroked her back softly, telling her to let it go, telling her that it would be okay.

“I lost her,” Beatrice sobbed, her voice muffled on his shoulder.

“Only temporarily, Beatrice,” he said, never letting go of her and offering her the comfort that no adult had ever been able to offer her, not even Isabella, because her sister didn’t even have time to live the adult life, to hug Beatrice like this one last time, to take her out of that house as she had promised.

“I will call her, and I will text her, and I will tell her I’ll find her again,” Beatrice said, taking out her phone, but Henry stopped her.

“Listen to me,” he said, a soft smile on his lips. “Don’t do it yet, Beatrice.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, because she’s up high in the sky and she won’t be able to read your texts nor answer your calls until she lands,” Henry put one finger up, joined then by another one, “and second of all, maybe you need to let some time pass. Let summer pass, settle down in Oxford and find new people to surround yourself with. Try to heal yourself or, at least, try to get it started. And then, call her and text her and do whatever you have to do.”

“But what if it’s too late, then? If I do all of that, it won’t be five months until I can reach out again,” Beatrice shook her head, pacing around, “and you said I shouldn’t let her go, Henry, because you did the same with Marcus and… and you lost him.”

“I’m not asking you to let her go, nor to give up on her,” he crossed his arms upon his chest, supporting his body on the car, “I’m just saying that… maybe the separation right now is needed, and I’m telling you to not be like me, Beatrice, to not let her go like I did with Marcus. But maybe you need to start a new chapter first, before finding her again.”

Beatrice nodded at him, not even knowing if he was right or not. She was confused and overwhelmed and all she wanted to do was to go back inside, wait for the next plane to New York, and find Ava again because Beatrice felt as if she was suffocating and Ava was the only source of oxygen she could deal with. And her chest was hurting so much, her heart not even having the energy to beat hard, and her knees were so close to buckling and all Beatrice wanted to do right now was to scream, and curse and hit something.

But maybe she should listen to Henry, even if she didn’t know if he was right, if letting go of Ava would actually be helpful for her. But maybe he had a point, maybe Beatrice truly needed to start a new chapter, to close a door to open a new one, to work to fix herself up and to try and fix all the traumas her parents and Isabella had left behind. She had already made a big step, which was choosing her own destiny. And she hadn’t told her parents yet, how she refused to live under their yoke anymore. Maybe that would be the first step, getting used to choosing her own rules and her own fate, and maybe the rest would come naturally. And then, finally, she could find Ava again.

“Shall we go home, now?” Henry asked, and Beatrice shook her head.

“No,” she said, taking a deep breath. “We’re going to Oxford.”

Chapter Text

The Universe loved Ava, and Ava loved the Universe and that was all people needed to know about her, honestly.

Beatrice’s plane from Barcelona would arrive in thirty minutes, and the plane where Diego and Vincent were sitting at would arrive five hours later. And Ava would have her three favorite people around her once more, like in the good old days, like that Christmas nine years ago the four of them got to spent together.

Ava chuckled as she stood there, craning her neck to see if Beatrice was around, wondering how the hell a week without Beatrice had felt like the worst time of her life after spending two months not speaking with the girl back in Saint Melanie’s, and seven years without knowing anything about her.

There were so many things to be happy about in this blessed day. She would finally see Vincent and Diego after months of not seeing one another, and her period was actually gone for good and so she would be able to give Beatrice the very best welcome possible throughout the upcoming days before they would have to meet up with the girl’s parents next Friday, and go through the nightmare that would be.

She had been talking with Jillian and Michael, as Beatrice and Lilith were taking care of business on the other side of the ocean (one day Beatrice had sent her a picture of her wearing a suit to a meeting and Ava almost melted to the ground), and the three of them had been strategizing hard so Beatrice wouldn’t have to stay with those disgraced human beings any longer than was needed.

“I say one of us fakes getting sick and the rest take them out,” Michael said, raising his finger one afternoon where Jillian invited Ava, Camila and JC over for coffee.

Ava had immediately fallen in love with Jillian’s apartment, with the high walls and ceilings, the windows going from top to bottom, the white walls filled with modern art and the cubist furniture. It was all so much to take in, and all she had seen was the living room.

“I say we beat them up,” JC offered his two coins, making Jillian choke on her coffee. “What, Ava and I know how to do kick boxing and Camila has a mean right hook punch.”

“Hmm…” Michael caressed his chin as if he was some evil mastermind, “and I know how to throw in some kicks…”

“If you guys go to jail, I’m not bailing you out,” Jillian told her son and his boyfriend, who pouted in synchronization and Ava couldn’t help but snort at them as Camila rolled her eyes.

“Honestly I don’t know why you even bothered to rent a restaurant,” Ava told Jillian, who looked at her sadly. “We’ll be forced to sit down with those pieces of shit for God knows how long.”

“Beatrice said it would take long, since they kind of want to finish arranging her inheritance and stuff since her cousin won’t stop wasting money, or that’s what they say,” the blonde woman shrugged her shoulders.

“Beatrice wouldn’t want to bring them to her own home,” Michael added, and Camila looked at Ava with an arched eyebrow.

“So they won’t find Ava’s lost thong?” Camila said, and Ava hit her in the arm, the girl yelping as Ava’s fist found the right spot.

“Asshole,” she told to her best friend, rolling her eyes, “I’m sure it got lost in the laundry.”

“Sure,” Jillian smiled at her, Michal scowling as his mother participated in the thong conversation.

The both of them had talked about what happened with Suzanne, at the revelation that Ava’s boss was supposed to be his other mother but Jillian chickened out and then decided to post-pone the whole pregnancy stuff.

Michael, though, had gotten Suzanne’s phone number after Ava and Beatrice had been long gone from the karaoke bar, and the both of them had talked and Michael told Suzanne it wasn’t too late for her to become his other mother if she wanted to, because he desperately needed someone who knew how to cook on the weekly family lunch Michael and Jillian celebrated every Sunday.

“The thing is,” Ava continued, clearing her throat, “the sooner we get Bea out of there, the better.”

“Ava,” Michael said, more serious now, “Bea has never really talked about what happened between you and her parents, she only said it was the reason you guys lost one another. I’m not asking you to tell us, because that’s between you both, but are you sure you want to come?”

“Michael,” she put a hand on his, “I’ve been waiting seven years of my life to tell the both of them how much I hate them, for hurting Bea and therefore making her hurt me. If it hadn’t been for them…”

She felt her eyes filling up with tears of frustration, of anger and resentment, the same way they always did whenever she remembered what happened that night and all that Beatrice’s parents showing up at school right the moment when Ava and Beatrice came back from their little excursion provoked to the both of them.

“Trust me, love, we’re all on the same boat here,” Jillian said, sipping from her coffee.

“I know I’m not invited, and neither is Cam” JC said, and Ava had never really seen him look so serious, “but the both of us are only one call away, Ava, to kick some ass or save the day.”

“Ditto, bitch,” Camila said, nodding once, winking at her best friend.

After Beatrice and Ava had kind of started going out, not dating but also not being simply friends, JC and Camila had stopped looking at Beatrice as a threat after all Ava had told them back in college, and they started to look at Beatrice in a more protective way, knowing that she, too, had gone through hell and back.

And Beatrice, even though JC was almost six foot and six inches tall and the guy was intimidating even though he was the personification of a golden retriever, and even though Camila had several anger issues that could come in handy when they needed to choose violence, really didn’t need Ava’s best friends to stand her ground against her parents. Because if Ava was being honest, Beatrice was pretty much capable of killing someone with her bare hands with the amount of martial arts she knew, and she wouldn’t need JC’s presence to intimidate her parents, or Camila’s mean right hook to make a point. Her own self was enough, and Ava found that extremely hot.

The thing was, the upcoming meeting had been looming at the back of Ava’s mind the whole week she spent away from Beatrice. It didn’t matter if she distracted herself at work, before she would take this week as a vacation, and it didn’t matter if during the afternoon or during the evening she and Beatrice could talk, Beatrice always picking up her calls at two or three in the morning, looking as fresh as a rose.

All the dirty texting, or the cute shit Beatrice told her as they called each other, or the laughter Lilith provoked as she asked them to stop being disgusting because she wanted to sleep, and the “I miss you” weren’t really enough to calm the nerves Ava was feeling remembering they would be meeting up with Beatrice’s family on Friday.

And before that, they wouldn’t have much time to hang out together, to reassure one another that it all would be fine. Vincent and Diego would be in the city, and Beatrice would have a busy week in Arq-Tech letting Jillian and Duretti know all the information they gathered in Barcelona.

Today, though, Ava and Beatrice agreed they should have dinner together with Diego and Vincent at Ava’s apartment after the pair would check in the hotel, the three of them agreeing they would meet at Ava’s place, so it would be a good way for Beatrice to reconnect with Ava’s family though they only saw one another once, and all they knew about Beatrice was the way she had hurt Ava.

And Ava was honestly nervous but excited in equal parts at the prospect of having her family and… whatever Beatrice was to her in the same room, though she was scared Diego would misbehave in some way.

“Are they here yet?” she heard Camila panting as the girl came back from one of the flower stores, deciding to give Lilith a bouquet of flowers as a welcome gift. Ava had something else planned for Beatrice, since Diego and Vincent would stay in a hotel next to Ava’s apartment.

Aside from that, though, Ava had also brought a bracelet for Beatrice, with a small B on it after she saw it in a jewelry shop close to her apartment one afternoon she was going back home from there.

It was beautiful, simple yet elegant, just like Beatrice was. And Ava had never really brought jewels to someone she liked before, and she honestly was feeling slightly nervous to give Beatrice the gift. So she’d decided to do it after the dinner, when they would be alone in her apartment.

And Ava honestly didn’t care what would happen afterwards, if they would end up in the bed room or simply watching a cartoon movie or, maybe, Ava would finally teach Beatrice how to play Far Cry. As long as she was able to spend some more time with Beatrice before the busy week ahead and the upcoming “Dinner of Dread”, Ava didn’t mind what they did.

“Not much longer,” Ava said, and Camila looked at her with a worried expression, “what is it Cam?”

“I’m nervous,” the curly haired girl said, “because I don’t want Lilith to think I’m asking her to be my girlfriend, but I saw those flowers and…”

“Would it be so wrong to ask her to be your girlfriend?” Ava arched an eyebrow, and Camila groaned.

“The distance, Ava.”

“You guys have managed all right this week,” she nudged her best friend’s shoulder.

“It was only five days, which honestly felt like five years,” Camila said, sounding sad, “the next time she leaves it will be indefinite.”

“Both her and Bea will come here at least once a month, and probably will stay for a whole week if they want to,” Ava was trying not to be dragged down at the prospect that Beatrice’s departure towards England was getting closer and closer, not knowing how would they even manage it because they hadn’t really talked much about it.

“It’s just…” Camila sighed, and Ava nodded at her, understanding what she meant.

“Let’s just make the best of it, yeah?” her best friend smiled up at her, and then the arrival of Beatrice and Lilith’s flight got announced and Ava couldn’t help but squeal on the spot.

The both of them made it to the airport gates, Ava getting on her tiptoes as other people surrounded them.

“Can you see them?” Camila asked her, the girl being shorter than Ava and not even trying to look up.

“I see them!” Ava squealed, patting Camila on the arm.

Beatrice and Lilith were wearing their suits, crumpled and wrinkled from the long flight. The both of them had decided to take a plane right after their last meeting, not even caring to go back to the hotel and take one day off to sleep the jet lag off, or to go do some good tourism around Barcelona.

Ava had complained, telling Beatrice that she would end up passing out if she didn’t rest nor eat enough, and Beatrice had decided to be smooth and told her it was worth it if that brought them back together sooner.

“Okay, I loved that, but please don’t starve nor neglect sleep on my behalf,” Ava said, grateful that they were on a phone call and Beatrice couldn’t see her blushing and literally twirling her hair.

Both girls were wearing sunglasses, dragging their suitcases along with heavy feet. Beatrice’s dyed brown hair streaked with gold here and there was falling down her shoulders, Lilith’s midnight black hair up in a messy ponytail. Ava knew that there was only one single thought going on inside both hers and Camila’s minds:

How did we get so fucking lucky?

And probably, most likely, when can I get rid of that suit?

“Hey, you,” Beatrice smiled, sounding tired, and then letting out a squeal as Ava clung on her body like a koala, “I missed you too,” the taller girl said, her voice going lower, wrapping her arms around Ava’s torso and letting out an amused chuckle.

“This has been torture,” Ava said, and she felt Beatrice’s arms tightening around her, both of them not voicing how would it feel when Beatrice would have to go back to England and only come back to New York once a month.

And that was if she didn’t have any job trips or anything. Maybe Ava would start using all the vacation days she had been accumulating over the three years she had been working for Suzanne.

Beatrice patted Ava’s back, signaling for her to pay attention to something, and as Ava unwrapped herself from Beatrice’s body and Beatrice put her sunglasses up her head, they looked as Camila offered the bouquet of flowers to Lilith. And Ava found it incredibly amusing, the way cold hearted Lilith was a blushing mess and always grumpy Camila was nervously scratching her neck, looking down, biting her lip.

“They’re adorable,” Beatrice muttered on Ava’s ear, and she hummed.

“Thank you, Camila,” Lilith said, trying to act all formal as if Camila was simply one of her staff members.

“Sure,” Camila shrugged her shoulders, unable to look Lilith in the eyes as a smile of satisfaction betrayed her nonchalant façade.

“Oh, stop being so stubborn and kiss already!” Ava told them, making Beatrice laugh as she covered her mouth in scandal, the other people who had landed with them agreeing with Ava.

Camila and Lilith rolled their eyes, as if what Ava was asking them to do was something stupid. But she didn’t miss the way their eyes softened as Camila put her hands on Lilith’s cheeks, got on her tiptoes, and kissed the taller girl softly as Lilith held her close by the waist, smiles of satisfactions on their lips.

“Okay, yeah, that’s enough,” Beatrice said when Lilith and Camila forgot they were in public, their kiss deepening.

“I’m all for trying new sexual stuff, but voyeurism isn’t one of them,” Ava said, taking Camila by the arm as Beatrice dragged Lilith away.

“You asked for us to kiss?” Camila said, confused.

“Uh, yeah, kiss? Not have sex in the middle of an airport filled with people and children?” Ava widened her eyes, and Beatrice let out a bark of laughter as Lilith almost tripped on thin air.

“You two are so bloody embarrassing,” Lilith muttered, as Beatrice kept giggling and Ava was trying to not get kicked in the ass by her best friend.

“I don’t even know why we keep on associating with you both,” Camila said, as she took Lilith’s hand and the both of them walked several steps ahead of Beatrice and Ava, Camila deciding to be a gentleman and carrying Lilith’s suitcase for her.

“Finally, some peace,” Ava said, as Beatrice passed an arm around her shoulders, Ava immediately interlacing their fingers together as if it was second nature at this point.

“What’s the plan for tonight, darling?” the taller girl asked her after laughing at her dramatics, Ava unable to control her smile as Beatrice used the pet name she had been using ever since their last night together.

“I’ve called an Uber to take us to your place, so you can leave your luggage there and get clean clothes before we go to my apartment,” Ava told Beatrice, who arched an eyebrow at her.

“Can’t I shower before going to your apartment?” she asked, and Ava shook her head, “why not?”

“Because I haven’t showered yet today,” Ava said, smiling innocently at Beatrice. The girl snorted, though the twinkle in her eyes told Ava she understood why she needed her to grab clean clothes without showering first.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say it kind of smells like cow shit in here, but now that you mention it…” Beatrice yelped once Ava’s fist collided with her arm, laughing out loud at the fake outrage on Ava’s face.

“You’re so rude, Beatrice Armstrong-Young!” the shorter girl complained, as Beatrice approached her once again and took her face between her hands.

“Forgive me?” Beatrice asked, pouting at Ava, and Ava felt as if she was one second away from completely melting right there and then.

“My forgiveness doesn’t come cheap,” she said, arching an eyebrow, and Beatrice gasped.

“What should I do, oh great one, to own your eternal forgiveness?” Ava was unable to keep the laughter at bay, loving this new version of Beatrice more and more every day to the point it was becoming dangerous.

She loved how the girl had worked on getting so much better, on healing herself after having to endure the nightmare her family was for eighteen years. Beatrice was so different from the girl who let her fears win over her need to keep Ava close, and Ava was so different from the girl who was left in that dorm broken and unable to carry on with life if Beatrice wasn’t part of it. And now here they were, in an airport again, their lips hovering upon one another.

“You know what to do,” Ava said, as she grabbed Beatrice by her blouse’s collar and brought the girl’s lips down upon hers.

And they stood there, kissing one another softly, unable to keep their smiles from one another after spending five days apart, trying to ignore the pain that caused them to think that their time was running out and Beatrice would soon have to depart again.

But they would work it out this time, because they were different people and what had happened seven years ago, the wounds that disastrous night left, were getting patched up little by little.

“Okay, who’s almost fucking in public now?” Lilith asked once she and Camila realized Ava and Beatrice weren’t following.

Beatrice, without ungluing her lips from Ava and as one arm was holding the shorter girl closer to her, used her free hand to show her sister and Camila her middle finger.

“Lesbians are so rude, I swear,” Camila complained, rolling her eyes, Lilith humming in agreement.

“Okay,” Ava said, painfully separating herself from Beatrice. “I would love to continue embarrassing you both as I show Beatrice how much I missed her, but my phone just vibrated on my ass so that means the Uber is here.”

“Your phone did what, where?” Beatrice muttered, eyebrows furrowed, and Ava’s eyes widened as Camila almost face palmed herself and Lilith groaned in embarrassment.

“My backside pocket, Beatrice,” she said, interlacing her fingers with the girl’s.

The four of them made their way towards the exit doors, soon finding the Uber that first drove them to Lilith’s apartment, Camila following the girl behind, and then got them to Beatrice’s own apartment.

Ava and Beatrice entered the elevator, going up as Beatrice put an arm around her shoulders and Ava snaked hers around Beatrice’s waist, the both of them unable to stay apart from the other for more than two seconds.

She didn’t really know what the hell was up with her, and she honestly didn’t want to know. Ava needed to be touching Beatrice constantly, to play with the girl’s fingers or hold her hand or simply put an arm around her waist as Beatrice told her about her trip to Barcelona.

And the taller girl seemed to be the same, putting her arm away from Ava’s shoulders to find her keys in her backpack, but offering her other hand for Ava to hold, them entering Beatrice’s apartment still with their hands interlaced, making their way towards the girl’s room holding one another, Beatrice holding Ava’s pinky finger with her own as she rummaged through the closet to choose the perfect outfit for the dinner with Vincent and Diego.

“If I were you,” Ava said, as Beatrice threw all her choices on her king-sized bed, Ava trying to focus as the images of them laying naked in there only a week ago started to plague her. “I would also get a change of clothes, for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Beatrice asked, as she tried to choose between the golden blouse and the white pants, or the emerald blouse and the black pants, “what’s tomorrow?”

“You’re staying over,” Ava told her, not even bothering to ask because she knew Beatrice would say yes to her.

“Am I?” the taller girl looked at her, with a teasing smile, and Ava rolled her eyes.

“You came back being hornier than usual,” she pointed out, and Beatrice let out an amused laugh.

“I missed you, that is all,” then, Beatrice blushed slightly, “and it didn’t help my case when you sent that picture showing me your new lacy underwear.”

“I was asking for fashion advice, Beatrice,” Ava said, remembering the way Beatrice choked up when Ava sent her a picture of the new red lace underwear she had bought that same day after work, as her and Beatrice were on a phone call.

“Of course, darling,” Beatrice kissed her on the top of her head, though Ava knew both of them were in a desperate need to do something else, especially being in that same room knowing what had gone down last time.

“Anyways, aside from me refusing to sleep away from you tonight, I also want you to stay in my apartment so you won’t have to drive while you’re jet lagged and probably drunk with wine,” Beatrice looked at her with an incredulous look, and then Ava rose her eyebrows.

“Not my fault I like wine so much,” the taller girl muttered out, sounding like a grumpy toddler.

“I know, baby, you like your drinks fancy like the duchess you are meant to be,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, but Ava didn’t miss the smile as she made her way towards the closet and chose three changes of clothes instead of one, Ava not even complaining.

It was a Friday, and Jillian had given Beatrice and Lilith a free three days weekend so they could rest before going back to work on Monday, filling their boss mother up with the information they had gathered in Barcelona and the deals they had made about the upcoming project they would bring there under Lilith’s supervision.

So Ava had decided she would hold Beatrice hostage in her apartment judging by the girl took more clothes than one would if she only stayed for one night, dragging her around with her activities with Vincent and Diego before she would have to go back to real life, so Beatrice could reconnect with Ava’s family after not seeing them for more than seven years.

“Bea,” Ava said, wrapping her hands around Beatrice’s torso as the girl was looking at her closet, still trying to find the perfect outfit for their dinner, “Calma, meu amor.”

“Not the Portuguese,” Beatrice said, Ava smiling proudly, “you know I can’t really focus when you speak in Portuguese.”

Ava had discovered that when she accidentally forgot what English was in one of the video calls they had during the week Beatrice had been away, trying to explain something to her and using several words in Portuguese, her native language. Beatrice had stared at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, and Ava thought the video call had lagged or that Beatrice had gone into some kind of catatonic state, but it turned out that Beatrice simply seemed to have a Portuguese kink. And Ava made a mental note of it, saving the information for some time later.

She didn’t tell Beatrice, though, that she kind of felt turned on as well whenever Beatrice talked in French, making the words sound so elegant and not as if she was literally choking on a bubble gum. She had loved it whenever Beatrice helped her out with French during their days in Saint Melanie’s, how Beatrice had been talking about how Lilith and her had gone to dinner with some of their French investors and she was saying some of the stuff they had been talking about, how she used some of the French words to make fun of said investors, but to Ava it sounded as if angels were singing the Hallelujah chorus as they welcomed her to Heaven.

And that night after the call, multiple scenarios started to develop inside Ava’s mind, about her using her Portuguese to make Beatrice’s skin fill with goose-bumps, and she imagined Beatrice using some fancy words in French as they had a normal conversation and, right now, she was so happy Beatrice wasn’t looking at her because she suddenly was the one blushing.

“Anyways,” Ava said, clearing her throat and unwrapping herself from Beatrice as she put her hair up in a ponytail, “you could be wearing a trash bag, they wouldn’t even care.”

“Them or you?” Beatrice said, arching an eyebrow, and Ava scoffed at her.

“Shut it,” she said, the taller girl laughing, “But I really like the golden blouse and white pants combo, if it means anything.”

“It does, but also…” Beatrice rummaged through her closet, and then took out a see through black blouse that made Ava’s mouth open in shock.

“Okay, reminder that Vincent is a priest and Diego’s ace ass loves to flirt with literally everyone who breathes,” Ava told Beatrice, who looked down at her with a serious expression.

“I don’t dress up for men, darling,” Beatrice kissed her on her cheek, her lips dragging themselves to Ava’s mouth, hovering upon Ava’s lips, “I dress up for women,” and then Beatrice kissed her deeply, and separated as if Ava didn’t have a literal poodle between her legs.

“Jesus,” she muttered, Beatrice trying to hide her proud look but failing miserably, “yes, I like this one.”

“You’re sure?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, sounding actually insecure, “it isn’t too much?”

“No, seriously,” Ava took Beatrice’s hand, “it’s fine.”

“Okay,” the taller girl nodded at Ava, “what about the pants?”

Ava looked at Beatrice’s closet, finding high-waist tight jeans made of a soft blue, and she decided to be selfish and tell Beatrice to wear them that night, Beatrice furrowing her eyebrows, Ava not telling her she wanted her to wear those jeans because Beatrice’s ass would surely look out of this world in them.

“Really?” the taller girl said, who had grown up getting drilled about etiquette her whole life and was now looking five seconds away from fainting at the thought of wearing jeans on a family dinner.

“Beatrice, amor,” Ava chuckled as Beatrice bit her lower lip, “it’s not a fancy dinner. Hell, if you want to wear a damn sweater and sweatpants, walk around barefoot, you can!”

“I just,” she sighed, deeply, “when I was with Leighton, we never really did the whole meeting the family dinner part, you know?”

“You didn’t?” Ava asked, shocked, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“She either was always on tour or buried inside a recording studio, or I was somewhere on a job trip,” the taller girl explained, and now Ava understood the reason why she looked so worried about it.

“You already know Vincent and Diego, though,” Ava took Beatrice’s hands, trying to ignore the way Beatrice related “meeting the family” to them being together in a very serious way. “There’s nothing you have to worry about.”

“There kind of is, though,” Beatrice let out a nervous chuckle, “a whole argument filled with homophobic insults, and seven years of separation.”

“Beatrice…” Ava squeezed the girl’s hand, as Beatrice took in a shaky breath.

“I just…” she let the girl gather her thoughts, find the correct way to express what she was feeling, “I hurt you, Ava. I hurt you badly, and they have every single right to hate me.”

“Look,” Ava made space on Beatrice’s bed and they sat down, “I’m going to be honest with you, Bea. Diego was furious at what happened, but he somehow understood why you did what you did even if he wanted to break your legs until I texted him a month ago, telling him we had found one another and we were fixing things up.”

“Oh, good Lord,” Beatrice sounded truly distressed, and Ava squeezed her knee.

“Maybe he acts a little bit cold, a little bit distant at first… but once he’ll see that we are truly trying, that you’ve truly grown and become the person you were always meant to be, he’ll relax and come around,” Ava didn’t mention that she had been texting him a series of threats for the last five days, reminding him that she knew how to kick someone’s ass and he could be her first victim if he overstepped.

“What about Vincent?” Beatrice asked, eyebrows furrowed, and Ava smiled at her reassuringly.

“He was disappointed at the whole thing, just like any legal tutor would be,” she shrugged her shoulders. “He helped me a lot to process the whole thing during the seven years, especially at the beginning, and he couldn’t help but act protective of me whenever someone new entered my life. I remembered that when JC and I got together, he almost got him drunk with communion wine to ask about what his intentions were with me.”

Beatrice laughed at that, even though her soft brown eyes filled up with concern at the thought of getting drunk with communion wine so Vincent would know what her intentions were Ava would be.

“It will be fine,” Ava told her, and Beatrice sighed.

“I’ll choose to believe you,” she said, nodding, and Ava kissed her cheek before they finished up getting Beatrice’s outfit ready and drove to Ava’s apartment.

*

“They will land in around two hours,” Ava told her from the other side of the counter as Beatrice sat on a stool, eating the banana pancakes with honey Ava had just cooked for her, “said they will check into their hotel, and then will come here.”

“Are you excited to see them?” Beatrice asked her, taking a sip from the freshly brewed orange juice, as Ava nodded excitedly.

She was actually surprised at Ava’s culinary skills, how the pancakes had an amazing sweet taste without overdoing it and how the juice actually tasted like the bottled ones, even if Beatrice had watched Ava squeezing it into a tall glass.

Ava, now, was busy starting to cook dinner. Diego and Vincent both loved lasagna, and so she decided to do that as she would be preparing a salad before they arrived, so it wouldn’t go too bitter with the seasoning.

The vegetables lasagna was already in the oven, Ava had apparently prepared it that morning when she woke up before dawn because of the nerves and excitement from getting Beatrice, Diego and Vincent back all in the same day.

The dish Ava was currently preparing now was pork loin medallions with cheese sauce, using aromatic herbs to increment the sweet taste of the meat and the sauce, like rosemary, the aroma bathing Ava’s apartment and making Beatrice’s stomach growl and mouth salivate even though she had just inhaled a whole plate of pancakes.

Beatrice liked to cook, after all she had learned how to do it if she had wanted to survive University without having to lose all her money in the cafeteria, the place increasing the meals’ prices each week, and at the end of the day it had become an activity she kind of enjoyed, and helped her to relax a little after a busy day of lessons and, afterwards, at work. When she had been little, she had also loved it when her and Isabella sneaked into the kitchen and begged for John the Cook and some of his staff to let them put in some herbs, or stir the pot.

But if Beatrice was honest, her finding joy in cooking and her enjoying food didn’t mean she actually was any good. Most of the days, her dinners ended up being overcooked or they ended up becoming an easily arranged salad. She had grown up being accustomed at getting her meals prepared by someone else, and maybe if she had developed the necessary skills to prepare meals at an early age she would’ve ended up being pretty decent at it.

So watching Ava easily move around the kitchen, knowing exactly what she needed and how much of it she needed, knowing when to stir the pot and flip the meat, moving so easily and fluidly, it made Beatrice’s heart beat fast and her stomach fill with one thousand butterflies.

Anyone who saw her now, supporting her head on her fist as she dreamily looked at Ava measuring the amount of cream and cheese and rosemary she would need so the flavor wouldn’t overpower the pork loin’s, would believe she was a fool. And maybe she was, or maybe she was just sleep deprived, or maybe she was falling in love with Ava so hard for the second time in her life anything the girl would do, even the simplest task, would look like the most beautiful thing Beatrice ever saw in her life.

It was incredible how seeing Ava in person again after five days of separation immediately calmed her down. Her head had been filled with the fact that her own biological parents would come to New York soon, to talk about their family’s inheritance and the properties and all, and the moment Ava told her she would be there next to her made her feel as if someone had punched her in the gut.

Because the last time Ava and the Armstrong-Youngs had shared a space, it ended in the most terrible way for both Ava and Beatrice. And, being quite honest, she didn’t want Ava to be in the same room as those two vile human beings. She wanted to protect Ava with all she had, because she had been unable to do it seven years ago.

But Ava was a big girl now, someone who was capable to stand up for herself and someone who wasn’t scared or broken anymore, even if some of the pain Beatrice had provoked her still remained.

She saw the way Ava sometimes looked at her, with pain at what they could’ve been if things hadn’t gone so wrong, at how now maybe they wouldn’t have to worry that their time together was running out before Beatrice would’ve to leave again.

So, Beatrice would enjoy every single second she had with Ava. She would sigh and blush every time Ava stirred the pot, every time Ava hummed a tune under her breath as she checked the lasagna in the oven, as she looked at her fridge and made sure all the ingredients she would need for the salad and the appetizers were there.

And then Beatrice also dared to imagine, and to hope. She dared to think how it would be like if the situation she found herself at right now happened every weekend, after a long week of work. Ava doing culinary experiments, as Beatrice watched her every move as her heart did somersault jumps inside her ribcage.

Maybe Ava would be wearing one of Beatrice’s oversized sweaters, her legs bare because the jumper acted as a dress on the girl’s smaller frame, her hair up in a ponytail just like it was now, her face free of any make up and her brown eyes filled with joy at the simple fact that she got to play with the ingredients laid in front of her, wondering how could she combine them to make the best food possible.

Beatrice, then, dared to hope a little bit more. Maybe they wouldn’t be living in an apartment, maybe they would be living in a home of their own. Beatrice didn’t really care where the house was located, all she cared about was that there wouldn’t be any more distance between them both, and that at the end of the day they got to be a home for one another. No more video calls, no more late night texts telling each other how much they missed one another.

She imagined a house at the beach, maybe at the front of the shore or maybe up a cliff where they could see the entire ocean expanding below them. It would be white, with terracotta tiles, just like the ones back in Málaga, where Ava grew up. Or maybe it would be painted in some bright colors, yellow or red or even pink or turquoise blue like some of the homes in Porto, standing tall next to the river’s shore.

Their home would have a little garden, so Ava would have her own plants there and her own vegetables, with lemon trees and orange trees, and there would be tall windows to let the sunlight enter and bath the spaces with natural warmth and light throughout the day. And maybe they would have a little dog running around the garden, maybe a cat inside the house, or maybe both.

She imagined a wide living room that would work as a kitchen and a dining room as well, a room without windows that would be used for Ava as a dark room to develop her own photography, maybe a room that could be their joint office or maybe it would be better to work in separate rooms, so they could focus on their own projects and not on one another. There would also be a bathroom on the first floor, and maybe a bedroom, for the days where Ava’s legs were tired and therefore she wouldn’t have to go up the stairs.

Or maybe the stairs could be wide and solid enough, so Beatrice could carry Ava all the way up to their bedroom, trying to cheer the girl up because she knew the way Ava felt whenever her body had one of its bad days, whenever it was hard to move for her.

Their bedroom would be big, it would have a fireplace in front of the bed and the wall would be completely white, because Beatrice would install an image projector on the ceiling and they would watch all kinds of romantic comedies in there, making fun of the grand gestures they displayed.

It would be the space where she and Ava would spend most of the time, surely. Cuddling, and maybe making love on a lazy Sunday morning as the whole world went on with their lives. Because Beatrice and Ava would have all the time in the world to make love to one another, to discover each other’s bodies, taking as long as they needed because none of them had to take a plane any more, and none of them had the need to run away any more.

And then Beatrice’s throat closed up when she imagined a diamond ring on Ava’s finger, wearing matching bands with Beatrice. She imagined the family growing aside from them both and whatever pets they wanted to have, painting a bedroom in a neutral color, maybe green or yellow, as one of them had a swollen belly and they waited for the newest member of the family to arrive. And Beatrice thought about a little version of Ava, or a little version of herself, running into their bedroom and waking them up so they could go down to the beach on a Saturday morning.

Maybe after a couple of years later, another mini version of one of them would join, and they would be a happy family of four, or five, or maybe even six. Beatrice truly didn’t care how many of them were, how many new bedrooms they would have to add, how many furniture they would have to build or how many little yells of excitement would wake them up in the morning. Not if she had Ava next to her.

And then their mini versions would grow up, and would embark into the discovery of life themselves. Beatrice knew Ava would sob in public the day they would have to send them away to college, and Beatrice knew she would be the one getting caught crying in secret as she looked at pictures of their babies when they were, well, babies, and those pictures were ones that surely Ava would’ve taken with her cameras, pictures that would be filling up their house.

And then Beatrice imagined mini versions of Ava and Beatrice’s own mini versions, their family growing, their babies saying “I do”, barbecue Sundays on their backyard as they laughed and remembered about the adventures they lived.

She imagined her and Ava, sitting on the house’s porch, wrinkled and with matching silver hair as they watched the sun go down the horizon, hands interlaced together as their days in Saint Melanie’s were a distant memory, them overcoming the pain they caused one another and the pain others caused upon them and living a happy life together.

And then she imagined one of them leaving the other, the other following behind quickly because life without the other half of their soul wasn’t even worth living, not after they worked so hard to get there, to forgive each other and themselves.

And then they would live it all over again, and they would fall in love with one another again, and again, and again… in this life, and the next, and all the lives to come after.

“Bea?” Ava said, looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

And suddenly she was back to Ava’s kitchen, the cheese sauce aroma filling up her nostrils as Ava was holding a knife, halfway through cutting a red pepper. Beatrice blinked a few times, Ava looking at her between worry and amusement.

“Sorry, what is it?” she said, sitting straighter on the stool and hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as she imagined them to be after daydreaming a future with Ava.

“You dissociated so hard, babe,” her stomach twisted at the pet name, just like it did every time Ava called her in any way except by her name.

She had never been big on pet names, she usually had called Leighton love and that was it, and kind of disliked it every time Leighton came up with some kind of new pet name every week. But Beatrice found she didn’t mind if it was Ava calling her something dramatic such as baby muffin, little cupcake or sugarplum. She was embarrassed at how much she had loved it when Ava had called her “honey bee”, using the way her name was pronounced and the word bee to make up the pet name.

“I’m sorry,” she said, chuckling shyly, hoping Ava wouldn’t ask her what she had been thinking about.

“You know what,” Ava took her apron off, turning both the stove and the oven off when she made sure the food there was on its perfect cooking point, “I think it’s time for us to shower.”

“Truly,” Beatrice said, turning slightly on the stool as Ava stood between her legs, wrapping her arms around her neck. “You smell like cheese and garlic.”

“You’ve called me stinky twice today,” Ava arched an eyebrow, and Beatrice smiled at her, “maybe you should gift me one of those expensive and fancy perfumes you wear.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is for you, huh?” she said, teasingly, Ava shrugging her shoulders, “you only want me for the gifts and the sex.”

“You got me there, Duchess,” Ava pecked her on the lips, Beatrice groaning at the nickname, “it was my plan all along, fuck someone who’s filthy rich only to get fancy stuff from them.”

“Yeah, it looked like it was such a struggle for you to do that the other night when your orgasm was heard all the way from Sydney,” Beatrice nodded once, looking serious, and Ava gasped loud at her, bringing a hand to her chest.

“Are you orgasm shaming me right now, Beatrice Armstrong-Young?” Ava said, and Beatrice shook her head as she kissed Ava briefly.

“It is my job to make your evil plan work, since it kind of is benefitting for me as well,” she shrugged her shoulders, and Ava pursed her lips.

“Just your job?”

“Well,” Beatrice smirked at her, and she could already see a knowing look filling Ava’s eyes, “and my pleasure.”

“God, I love it when you pull through with the sex puns,” Ava snorted, kissing Beatrice on the lips again.

Beatrice smiled on Ava’s lips, the worries that had been plaguing her mind at the prospect of having dinner with Diego and Vincent and her parents next week slowly going away as Ava’s tongue asked for permission, Beatrice opening her mouth eagerly as her hands found their way on Ava’s backside, squeezing it softly.

“I missed you,” Ava said once they ran out of air, “I don’t want you to go away from me anymore.”

“Ava…” Beatrice said, knowing that Ava wasn’t only talking about the five days they spent away from one another. She was talking about the previous seven years, about the way they would have to be separating again soon.

“I know,” Ava said, sadly, “just let a girl wish.”

And then, Beatrice imagined the house on top of the cliff, the backyard and their king sized bed, the diamond rings and vows filled with tears and laughter as they retold how dramatic their love story had been.

“Come with me,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, “to England, I mean.”

“Beatrice…” the shorter girl let out a confused laugh, and Beatrice closed her eyes.

“I mean,” she sighed, “not forever, obviously. You have your life here and all, but… why don’t you come with me for a while?”

“I don’t know,” Ava bit her lower lip, her eyes glassing over as the many possible scenarios started to play inside her mind just like it had happened with Beatrice a few minutes ago, “there’s the whole book deal, and I still have to interview Lilith and Michael and Jillian, maybe even Suzanne so I can spice it up with all of the lesbian drama…”

“Yeah,” Beatrice hated how her heart broke a little, how she felt a little bit disappointed, but she also couldn’t expect Ava to drop everything and go with her, “you’re right Ava, I’m sorry, you have a life of your own and I can’t just come here after seven years and ask you to…”

“Hey,” Ava held her face gently, “Beatrice, you know damn well my ass will go to England one week after you’re gone. But also there are many things to arrange, things to take care of. I could perfectly do my job all the way from there, since now I’ll mostly focus on writing the book, and I know you’ll get on the first plane to New York the moment you’ll be free.”

“But in the meantime, being apart will be a pain in the ass, right?” Ava nodded, and Beatrice smiled sadly at her.

“I’m not letting you go easily now that I have you back, Duchess,” the shorter girl whispered, her hands caressing Beatrice’s hair softly.

“We’ll have enough time to think about what to do once we have to be away,” she said, Ava humming, “but now we were about to do something else, I believe?”

Ava smirked at her, as she took her hands and dragged her all the way towards the bathroom. It was a small one, with a wooden counter and a circular mirror, the shower large and spacious enough to fit two people on it.

Beatrice closed the door, even if they were the only ones at home, but she was sure either Camila or JC had the keys of Ava’s apartment and she truly didn’t want spectators. So, for good measure, she closed the door as Ava pretty much pinned her against it, her kisses hungrier than they had been during all morning, letting Beatrice now she too had been waiting for this exact moment to happen.

Beatrice found the hem of Ava’s shirt, not wasting time on taking it off, her bra following behind and her hands already finding the zipper of her shorts as Ava almost ripped her blouse off with eagerness.

The both of them smiled at one another, amused at how desperate they were and how they hadn’t even been able to wait for two hours to be all over one another. Their clothes went off one by one forming a small mountain in the middle of the bathroom, their naked bodies standing in front of one another, chest to chest and lips to lips.

Beatrice would lie if she said that after having Ava’s naked body in front of her twice before, she was already accustomed to it. She would never be used to it, at the freckles spread here and there or the toned legs. She would never get used at the abdominals which marked her stomach, the soft muscles of her arms, or the way her breasts perked up on her chest.

Beatrice would never get used at the pubes between Ava’s legs, or at the way Ava brought her hands up and undid her ponytail slowly, the way her hair fell down, the way her big brown eyes were looking at her with expectation. She would never get used at the scar going from the bottom of her nape to her lower back, the few freckles that accompanied it, and she would never get used at the way her hands seemed to fit perfectly on Ava’s torso as she brought her closer to her, as she kissed her lips.

She would never get used at the way Ava made her heart race like a wild horse, dressed or not, as she kissed her or made love to her, as she did something as mundane as cooking a meal, or something as beautiful as laughing or singing a song.

And Beatrice almost said it right then and there, the three words, as their tongues danced softly and their chests were glued to one another, making both of their nipples become hard as their hands traveled around each other’s bodies, as their skin filled with goose-bumps caused by the arousal they were already feeling.

But she swallowed them down, because Ava had told her to not rush things and to take it day by day. And Beatrice would exactly do that, as Ava opened the glass door of the shower and then turned the water on, falling in hot droplets and soon filling the room in steam.

Ava’s body was soon wet, her hair sticking to her body and her skin kissed by the droplets of water. Then, she turned their bodies around and Beatrice felt the warm water falling down on her, her body immediately relaxing and letting her know how tired it was after long hours sitting on a plane, without getting any sleep.

Beatrice turned the shower off and took the body soap from the little shelve hanging on the wall, putting an enough amount of it at the palm of her hand. She could smell the coconut and the vanilla, as she spread it around her hands.

“May I?” she told Ava, and the girl nodded before Beatrice gently spread the soap around the girl’s body.

Even if they had the intentions of making love to one another, Beatrice knew it by the hunger she felt and could see in Ava’s eyes, the action wasn’t sexual at all. She started on the girl’s shoulders, then spreading it around her chest and taking a little bit longer than usual when she took care of Ava’s breasts, the girl chuckling amused at her before Beatrice brought her hands down and spread the body soap around Ava’s stomach, and then one hand made its way between Ava’s legs, as the other one took care of the backside, and Ava gasped when Beatrice caressed her folds, slowly, the girl biting her lip and closing her eyes.

“Not yet, darling,” Beatrice said on Ava’s ear, biting the lobe and making Ava moan slightly.

She then turned Ava’s body around, taking care of spreading the soap around her back, tracing the long scar with one finger, crouching to take care of Ava’s legs and feet, leaving a small kiss on Ava’s backside and making her giggle.

“Idiot,” Ava said, fondly, as Beatrice pushed Ava’s body gently underneath the shower head, turning it on again in the slow pressure mood as water washed the soap away, Beatrice using her hands to help Ava.

Then, she took the lavender scented hair shampoo and put some on her hand, knowing very well that was the one Ava used because she had been overwhelmed by the scent a few nights ago, as Ava slept soundly on her naked chest and Beatrice tried to stay up as much as possible to enjoy every single second of it.

She spread the soap on Ava’s hair slowly, from top to bottom, several times. She massaged the girl’s scalp, stealing kisses from her as she went by, watching Ava close her eyes in bliss with a soft smile on her lips. And Beatrice imagined themselves doing this after coming to their home from work, maybe getting a bathtub instead so they could lay there and simply relax as their bodies were glued to one another.

Once she was done, once the shampoo went away, Ava looked at her and smiled softly.

“My turn,” she said, gently, and repeated the same process as Beatrice did, taking longer than she should in certain places of Beatrice’s body, washing out the soap and kissing her breasts, her shoulders, her biceps before she proceeded to wash her hair, needing to get on her tiptoes and making the both of them giggle at the situation.

“Now what?” Beatrice asked, once both of their bodies were washed, the water turned off but and their bodies filled with goose-bumps because they were wet from head to toe.

“Now we show one another how much we’ve missed each other,” Ava said, and her lips soon found Beatrice’s.

*

Ava could feel her legs weakening as she let out pants of pleasure, her hands braced on the glass wall and her front side facing it as Beatrice made love to her, the girl’s body glued on Ava’s back. One of Beatrice’s arms was wrapped around Ava’s stomach, her left middle and ring fingers buried deep between Ava’s legs, as the other hand supported Beatrice herself on the glass wall, fingers interlaced with Ava’s, sporadically traveling to Ava’s chest and squeezing gently, playing with her nipples, which seemed to be something Beatrice truly enjoyed to do.

“Bea,” Ava panted, tilting her head back as Beatrice kissed her neck, the girl’s own pants audible but her soft paced rhythm never faltering.

“Yes?” Beatrice asked between kisses, Ava cursing under her breath.

“I’ve missed you,” and Beatrice didn’t point out she had said that already several times before, she simply said she had missed her too, and showed it to her by burying her fingers deeper, kissing her more urgently, as Ava’s cum gushed from between her legs and she let out a moan of pleasure that marked her climax.

“Jesus,” Beatrice muttered, looking down at her hand, and Ava did the same, “you really did miss me, huh.”

“I told you,” Ava turned around, sweat mixing up with the water of the shower. Beatrice braced each one of her arms on each of Ava’s side, and the girl looked down at her before she kissed her.

Ava squeezed Beatrice’s backside, the girl making a sound of surprise and pleasure, never stopping her kissing.

“Can I ask you something?” Ava said, once Beatrice separated her lips from hers.

“Mhm,” Beatrice muttered, her lips finding Ava’s jaw again.

“Are you a boobs girl, or an ass girl?” Beatrice looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, not understanding where the question was coming from. “Come on, Bea, boobs or ass?”

“Boobs,” Beatrice said, nodding once, after she thought about her answer for a few long seconds, “definitely boobs.”

“I knew it,” Ava said, proudly.

“How?”

“Babe…” Ava pointed at her own chest, at the love marks Beatrice had left as she had pinned Ava against the shower’s glass wall, burying herself deep inside the shorter girl, before she made her turn around and fucked her from behind.

Which, judging by the last time they had sex, it seemed to be something Beatrice had also enjoyed as well. And Ava, honestly, had fucking loved to get her on her knees and hands for Beatrice.

“Oh…” Beatrice’s face softened, and then her eyes immediately filled up with worry, “Ava, I’m sorry.”

“What?” she couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, “why are you sorry?”

“I just…” Beatrice rolled her eyes, “I really needed you badly and I didn’t take care.”

“Beatrice…”

“Does it hurt?” Beatrice traced one of the love marks she had left with the tip of her finger, Ava’s nipple hardening at the gentleness of the touch.

“No,” Ava reassured her, taking her hand and kissing it. “I love the way you treat my little girls.”

Beatrice let out a snort, any trace of worry leaving her as she saw that Ava was truly fine, that she liked the way Beatrice started rough and then finished with her gently. She liked the way Beatrice became bolder and bolder each time, exploring Ava’s body deeper and letting her own desire run wild, always asking for the girl’s opinion, what she needed, if she was enjoying herself or liked what Beatrice did.

“Well,” Beatrice smirked, “not so little.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Beatrice!” Ava said, being unable to hold back her laughter and letting it out at full force, Beatrice giggling as well.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” the girl said, once the laughter died down, and Ava rolled her eyes.

“I’ll need you to stop apologizing every time you touch my body, or fuck me rough after I beg for you to do it, or you simply say my boobs have a decent size, okay?” Ava said, looping her arms around Beatrice’s neck, as Beatrice still looked slightly insecure.

“I just don’t want you to think I only want you for your body, Ava,” Beatrice blushed, looking down at the shower tiles, and Ava smiled softly at her.

“I know you don’t want me only for my body,” she kissed the tip of Beatrice’s nose, “I can see it in your eyes, Bea, and the way you always treat me so gently whether sex happens or not, the way you’ve tried to fix things up and the way you never really gave up on us, and neither did I.”

“I’m glad you can see, but I wanted to make it clear anyways,” Beatrice kissed her forehead, caressing her cheeks with her thumbs.

“I still want you for all your cash,” Ava shrugged her shoulders, Beatrice arching an eyebrow at her, “sorry but I’m in a desperate need of a sugar mommy.”

“Shut up,” Beatrice laughed, kissing Ava on the lips, and then looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, “what about you?”

“What about me?” Beatrice wiggled her eyebrows.

“Ass or boobs?” the taller girl asked, and Ava let out another bark of laughter as Beatrice looked down at her, expression serious even if she could see the laughter in her eyes.

“I mean,” Ava squeezed Beatrice’s ass and the girl couldn’t keep up the serious façade anymore, letting out a yelp that turned into laughter.

“Match made in heaven, huh?” Beatrice asked, kissing Ava on the lips, the shorter girl humming in agreement.

Ava made sure to return the favor to Beatrice, showing her how much she had actually missed her too, and then they had to clean themselves up again because their hair was tangled and their bodies… well, needed some more washing up to do.

When they finally got out of the shower, each one dressed into the outfits they had selected for the night. Beatrice with her see through blouse, wearing a black bra, and her jeans, while Ava decided to wear a white buttoned tank top and soft khaki white pants.

“Stunning,” Ava said from the kitchen as Beatrice came back from the bedroom and Ava gave a look at her, suddenly having the need to repeat what they had done in the shower.

Later, she thought, or tomorrow. We have time.

“Can I help you with anything?” Beatrice asked Ava, wrapping her arms around Ava’s waist and kissing her head, supporting her chin on her shoulders as she watched her bathing the pork loin with the cheese sauce, cutting small pieces of parsley before spreading them on the pan that she covered with a lid made of glass.

“Yes, I need a kiss,” Ava said, turning around, and Beatrice obeying immediately, “and wine.”

Beatrice took the half empty bottle from the counter, pouring two glasses of wine for each other. The girl had taken one of her super fancy and super expensive bottles, so they could drink it during dinner, and Ava was saving it up even if she wanted to taste it already.

Ava and Beatrice started to prepare the salad after they got several appetizers ready, surely Diego and Vincent would be starving after a long flight and she could hear both her and Beatrice’s stomachs grumbling as well.

Ava was preparing the lettuce, as Beatrice chopped up the other ingredients, and Ava couldn’t help but tease the girl when she saw she was pretty much hopeless with a kitchen knife, deciding to exchange places but not without taking the chance of romantically holding Beatrice from behind, grabbing her hand gently and guiding her movements, both of them losing concentration easily.

And they stood there, as Ava decided to play one of her playlists with soft jazz music, talking with one another and sipping wine as they prepared dinner. And Ava couldn’t help but imagine themselves doing the same every night, after a long day separated because of their respective jobs, Beatrice talking about the things she did in Barcelona and Ava asking questions to the girl.

The dynamic simply felt so natural, the both of them talking and reminiscing about the past, trying to avoid the painful parts so the conversation wouldn’t go into a somber note, one of them asking for the other to pass something, the other doing it, and Beatrice soon knew where Ava kept all the utensils she needed, coming to a point where they just moved around on autopilot, sipping wine, preparing dinner, kissing each other’s cheeks whenever they had the opportunity.

Ava didn’t have to touch Beatrice’s waist every time she walked behind her as she started to set up the table, and Beatrice could easily reach for the plates on the cabin without having to put a hand on Ava’s shoulder or her back. But they did it, because they simply were unable to stay away from one another.

Ava could see it clearly, how this could be their dynamic in the future, preparing meals on the weekend, watching a movie on the couch and ending up lazily making out with one another as the movie went on. She could see Beatrice waking up first in the morning, scrolling through her phone as Ava remained clinging to her side, awake but not wanting to let go of Beatrice’s warmth.

She could see it so clearly again, just like she had seen it back in Saint Melanie’s, and it both delighted and terrified Ava. It delighted her because it was a good sign, it meant that things were going to the right direction and that the both of them felt comfortable enough to act the way they were doing right now. And terrified, because the last time Ava dared to hope of a future with Beatrice, building their own little home, it ended as fast as it started.

But things were different now, Beatrice had finally broken free from her family and Ava’s heart was almost whole once again, ever since Beatrice had re-entered her life and, even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t be so easily forgiven, the moment Beatrice smiled at her she had been lost, unable to keep up her promise.

They didn’t have to worry about all of the things that broke them apart in the first place, and a future between them both was possible. Sure, Beatrice would soon leave and Ava would be busy with the book and everything, and at first they would have to figure out the whole distance thing and all, and maybe later on that wouldn’t be a worry anymore, neither.

Come with me, Beatrice had said, and Ava immediately imagined them both living in a London townhouse, or maybe a country house in the middle of nowhere like Armstrong Hall had been. Just Ava, and Beatrice, and all the time in the world resting on their hands.

Ava had honestly panicked, even if Beatrice immediately said it would be temporary, as if she had meant for Ava to go to England with her, stay there for a few days, and then come back here. And Ava, shockingly, had been ready to drop everything and go to England, or to wherever Beatrice wished to go.

She had always dreamed about living in a house by the beach, ever since her mother had promised her she would teach her how to swim and then they would move there, next to the sea, so Ava could practice her skills. And of course it never happened, because if Ava remembered something about Patricia Silva, that was how the woman’s head had always been filled with fantasies.

Her mother had always said she would be famous one day, and she would take Ava all over the world to see the most beautiful places Earth had to offer them. She had also said they would move to France, or maybe to a small island in Greece, as if they were Donna and Sophie Sheridan and lived a happy mother-daughter life without having to bother about any man. Her mother had promised her so many things… and Ava never felt resentment towards her mother because they never happened, because her mother didn’t have enough time in this world to make those things happen.

She had always wondered what her life would be like if her mother had never died, if her mother hadn’t suddenly decided one day to close up the bar for a while to take Ava on a road trip to Spain. Would she have ended up at Saint Melanie’s? Would they have moved to France, buying a house near the sea like her mother said they would, maybe being neighbors with Beatrice whenever she was vacationing in France? Would Patricia still be around? Would Ava have met Beatrice in that life, because the Universe had wanted them to meet in all the lives possible?

Ava had never been scared of becoming like her mom, a woman full of life and happiness and kindness, until now. Until she dared to imagine, to fantasize about her and Beatrice sharing a home, preparing meals, maybe building a small family of their own one day. And she wasn’t scared of what they had, whatever it was, would turn into a future together. No, what scared Ava the most was how Patricia Silva had dared to hope way too much, only for all those dreams to be cruelly taken away from her. And Ava didn’t want that, she didn’t want for Beatrice to be taken away from her.

“Bea?” Ava said, the sudden urge to say those three words way too overwhelming. She imagined a life without Beatrice, a life where her hopes and her future were taken away from her, and her chest hurt because she couldn’t bear the image.

“Yes, darling?” Beatrice said, finishing putting the wooden bowl with the salad on the table, the appetizers scattered around.

“I…” Ava said, and her throat seemed to close up. Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, walking towards her.

“Is everything okay, Ava?” and Ava looked at Beatrice’s eyes, how they looked like melted caramel with rays of gold. The freckles on her cheeks, which extended around her shoulders, the soft sun kissed skin and the hair put on a neat bun.

“Bea, I…” Ava, for whatever reason, couldn’t say it. She couldn’t utter the words I love you, terrified at the fact that maybe if she spoke them all of this would vanish, and it all would’ve been a twisted dream.

Beatrice put her hands on her shoulders, tilting her head and looking at her, waiting for her to speak. And Ava closed her eyes, wetting her lips, thinking fuck it because you only truly live one life and it’s never too late to tell someone you love them, especially if you know they most likely love you back. Because Ava knew Beatrice was getting there, too, judging by the way she treated her so gently and didn’t want to hurt her in any way possible.

So Ava swallowed, ready to say those words. She had never really imagined herself to say them in her messy kitchen, as they waited for her family, in a rush so the moment would be theirs and only theirs. But she had always imagined herself saying them to someone in particular, the girl standing in front of her.

And the thing was, Ava had dated a few people after the whole cataclysm with Beatrice. There had been JC, and her little situationship with Elora. There had been Zori, and a boy she had met back in college before Camila introduced her to JC. The only one between all of them who Ava had truly felt something for had been JC, the both of them going out together for a pretty long time. But in the year or so that the relationship lasted, Ava had never told those words to JC. Because she had never been ready to tell them, because the last time she had let herself love someone had been… interesting. And because Ava had always loved Beatrice, it didn’t matter how much time it would pass.

So as Ava’s tongue got ready to form the words, as Beatrice kept on looking at her as if something was very, very wrong with her. And they stayed there, in that kitchen, as if time had stopped. Until the bell rang and Ava let go of a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

“Oh, that must be them,” Ava muttered, and Beatrice nodded.

“What did you want to tell me?” the taller girl said, as they made their way towards the door. Ava waved a dismissive hand.

“Honestly, I lost track of my thoughts,” she lied, and she knew Beatrice didn’t believe her, but she didn’t have time now.

Ava breathed deeply, and from the corner of her eye she saw Beatrice swallowing down the rest of her wine. And then she opened the door.

*

“HEY!” Diego pretty much yelled, as he engulfed Ava in a tight hug, Vincent behind him looking at them with a tender smile.

Beatrice was almost gaping at how much Diego had changed, his hair still as black as midnight now reached his shoulders, his ears pierced, and his massive left arm covered in a tattoo as his head almost touched the top of the door, Ava looking like an ant next to her younger brother.

“Asshole, I can’t breathe!” Ava complained, as she hugged her brother back as fiercely.

“We brought cake!” Diego announced, unaware of Beatrice’s presence.

Vincent, though, had seen her. And the man didn’t look angry at her, he didn’t look ready to strangle her with a rosary, he simply nodded his head at her with a soft and knowing smile, and Beatrice waved back at him.

The last time she saw him, his hair had streaks of gray. Now, though, his hair was completely silver and so was his beard, still wearing his round glasses and his priest outfit changed for a white shirt, a brown cardigan, and black jeans.

“Vince,” Ava said, hugging the man lovingly, and then Diego’s brown eyes landed on Beatrice and he arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her.

“Ava, mi niña,” Vincent said, patting Ava’s back, “we did indeed bring cake.”

“You stop staring daggers at my…” Ava said, choking on her words, Beatrice feeling the need to cover her small gasp with a cough. “Beatrice.”

“Diego, go say hi,” Vincent told the guy, as he closed the apartment door and offered Ava the cake they brought, the girl bringing it to the fridge as she looked at her brother.

“Hello, Diego,” Beatrice said, awkwardly, kind of intimidated by the almost two meters tall twenty-three years old “boy”. He crossed his arms upon his chest, humming and pursing his lips.

“Hi, Beatrice,” he ended up saying at the end, Ava smiling proudly at him as she gave Beatrice a thumbs up.

“I hope you guys are hungry,” Ava told them, making her way towards the oven without her gloves.

“Ava, love,” Beatrice pointed at the gloves on the counter, and Ava offered her a soft smile as she put the gloves on.

Before Vincent and Diego had gotten here, something weird had happened with Ava. She had wanted to tell her something, and then it looked as if her brain had completely stopped working. Beatrice had worried for a moment, as Ava’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. And then Ava’s family arrived, and Ava snapped out of it, and Beatrice had been left standing there like a fool.

Whatever it was, it seemed as if it was making Ava feel slightly on edge as they sat down, Vincent and Diego in front of them both, as they all started to eat the salad and appetizers while the lasagna cooled a little bit.

“So,” Ava said, getting the bowl from Beatrice, “how was the flight?”

“Cool,” Diego said, and then pointed his fork towards Ava and Beatrice. “Are you two dating or something now?”

“N-no,” Beatrice said, as Ava choked on her glass of water and Vincent looked at Diego in disapproval.

“Not yet,” Ava said, winking at Beatrice, making her blush furiously.

“Beatrice,” Diego said, munching his lettuce, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth, “you really fucked my sister up, you know?”

And in other different ways too, Beatrice had wanted to say, the smirk on Ava’s lips letting her know she probably thought of the same comeback.

“I know,” she said, nodding her head, as Diego didn’t look away from her.

“But, judging by the way you two seem to be… getting along, to put it somehow,” the younger guy said, arching a knowing eyebrow and making Beatrice choke for the second time, “I’ll leave you two alone, for now.”

“Wow, thank you so much Diego,” Ava said, sarcastically, bringing her hands to her chest and making both Beatrice and Vincent smile in amusement.

“I’m watching you, though,” Diego said, and Vincent sighed at the boy.

“Diego, please,” the man said, and Diego put up his hands in defense.

“Babe, where did you put the wine?” Ava asked Beatrice, dramatically grasping her arm and over pronouncing the first word. Beatrice tried to hold in her laughter.

“I’ll get it, darling,” she said, not before kissing Ava’s cheek and looking at Diego innocently, who mocked them both.

Beatrice sat down, and poured wine to all of them, as the salad and appetizers slowly disappeared and, soon after, Ava served her lasagna to all of them.

“Oh my god, is it the veggies one?” Diego said, suddenly forgetting he had been trying to act like a macho five minutes ago.

“Obviously, idiot, your favorite,” she smiled at him, and he smiled at her, and then all tension was finally gone.

Ava asked Vincent about Valencia, where he had been living at for a couple of years, and then Diego talked about how he was on talks to actually enter the big European football leagues if everything went according to plan.

“How’s work?” Vincent asked to both girls, and Ava looked at Beatrice encouraging her to speak. “Beatrice, Ava told me you work at Arq-Tech, and the whole project with Duretti. Did you know we used to study together in Seville?”

She had let Ava do the talk, ask the questions, and she would ask questions of her own (mostly to Vincent), not trying to take the spotlight away from Ava and also still feeling slightly intimidated by Diego’s stares. So she was kind of happy that Vincent showed interest in her, pleasantly surprised to know that Ava had talked to him about Beatrice and what she did.

“You studied with Duretti?” she asked, eyes wide, and Vincent nodded at her.

“Before he studied engineering and all, he studied theology at University with me,” Vincent explained to her, a fond smile on his lips. “Actually, I believe I have a picture of us both.”

“What do you do in Arq-Tech?” Diego asked her, suddenly his eyes wide and not looking at Beatrice as if he wanted to murder her.

“Diego is actually a technology freak,” Ava said of her brother, who shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re currently working on this project to create sustainable housing for people with not many resources,” Beatrice explained to the guy, who was listening to her intently. Sometimes, Beatrice could’ve sworn him and Ava truly were blood siblings if it wasn’t for his raven hair and sun kissed skin. “The plan is to start in New York, and then we’ll move it to Barcelona and London, though last week I spent some time in Barcelona and there are Swedish and French investors interested as well, the ones from Japan still debating whether or not they want to work with us.”

“That actually sounds amazing, Beatrice,” Diego said, looking truly impressed as he nodded his head. “Ava and I wish the orphanage in Málaga had been something fancy, huh?”

“I know, right? I swear to God my back broke several times with those hard as shit mattresses,” Ava complained, making Beatrice laugh.

“Language, Ava,” Vincent said, as he kept on searching his picture with Duretti on his phone, his tongue poking from the side of his mouth as he scrolled through his phone using his index finger.

“Beatrice and her siblings Lilith and Michael are about to become CEO’s of Arq-Tech,” Ava said, nudging Beatrice on the shoulder and making her blush.

“Are you serious?” Diego gasped, and Beatrice nodded.

“Jillian wants to take a five years long vacation, according to her,” she laughed, interlacing her hands on the table as their plates emptied. “She also wants us to take over the company. I would be directing the engineering department and the England Headquarters as Lilith takes care of the legal department and Spain’s Headquarters while Michael will be the chief architect and stay here in New York.”

“Holy shit,” Diego whistled, “but also… England?” the boy looked at the girls, and the both of them let out a sigh.

“We’re still trying to figure that part out,” Beatrice said, taking Ava’s hand in hers, the girl smiling at her softly. “We want to take it slow.”

“You guys better not stay seven more years separated,” Diego said, finishing up his wine, “I don’t think I could resist that.”

“We won’t do that,” Ava said, looking at Beatrice, “not again.”

“Found it!” Vincent said, and then he turned the phone screen towards all of them, “Francesco Duretti and I down in Seville, when we were twenty.”

Beatrice leaned towards the phone, where a picture of two young guys smiling at the camera with books under their armpits greeted her. The guy standing next to Vincent was truly Duretti, not looking much different than before since the man really liked to take care of himself.

But Beatrice’s eyes were glued on Vincent and, for some reason she felt as if she had seen him before even though she knew very well it couldn’t be possible, for she had never been to Spain before she turned twenty, when her and her two adoptive siblings decided to go on a trip around Europe to celebrate making it to another decade, as Michael had claimed.

There was something familiar about the color of his hair, the soft brown with no streaks of silver, and the way his eyes used to be slightly wider before he started to wear glasses, how they were a chestnut brown.

There was also something fairly familiar about the shape of his face, back to a time where it was fuller with youth, free of any wrinkles or a full beard, and the way he smiled, with two dimples on his cheeks, how his grin was slightly crooked and mischievous.

Beatrice couldn’t understand what it was, why a Vincent who was twenty years old in that picture looked so familiar to her. Beatrice hadn’t even been born, there was no chance in hell she had met Vincent before that first time nine years ago at Saint Melanie’s. She looked at him now, how he was thinner, his cheekbones were more prominent and the dimples weren’t as visible now with his beard, how his crooked smile was also more serious now, even with a tinge of sadness on it.

His hair was completely silver now, more disheveled. His eyes looked smaller because of the glasses, wrinkles underneath and on the sides of his eyes. But the color was the same chestnut brown, and there still was a familiar spark of mischief that Beatrice had seen somewhere else before, and his face still had that round shape, his cheeks less full.

And then it hit her after Vincent put his phone away, the moment Ava put a hand on her forearm, asking Beatrice to help serve the pork loin since now Diego and Vincent were rambling about football and she wasn’t even interested on it anymore.

Beatrice looked at Ava, really looked at her. She looked at the wide brown chestnut eyes, at the soft brown hair and the eyebrows with a familiar arch. She looked at the full cheeks, at the prominent cheekbones and the crooked grin she was offering to Diego as he said something Beatrice didn’t hear. She looked at the dimples on her cheeks, at the way her eyes closed slightly when she smiled just like Vincent’s had done in the picture. She looked at the chin, so similar, and the shape of her forehead.

And Beatrice felt as if one thousand trucks had just hit her all at once, as she realized why young Vincent had looked so familiar to her, why it seemed as if she had seen that face somewhere before, and Beatrice started to wonder why the hell Ava had never truly realized about that.

“Bea?” Ava said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, sorry, the pork loin,” Beatrice got up in a rush, and Ava looked at her in confusion but followed her behind.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked her, her voice low, as they made it to the kitchen area.

“Question,” Beatrice said, trying to calm down her heart at the realization, at how it seemed impossible for so many different reasons. “How did Vincent look when you met him?”

“What?” Ava let out a husky chuckle as she took four plates, ready to serve the meat on them, “will you please put a small branch of rosemary to decorate the plate?”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, taking four branches, “but please can you answer me?”

“What’s gotten into you?” Ava said, shaking her head with a confused smile on her lips, as Beatrice observed Ava’s nose, how it had a similar shape to his but hers was smaller.

“I just…” Beatrice thought quickly of an excuse, “I just want to know more about your time at the orphanage.”

“It sucked,” Ava said, as she put three pieces of meat on each plate, “but to answer your question, Vincent has always kind of looked like that ever since I met him. He was around… I don’t know, maybe my mother’s age when I met him? Maybe two or three years older, though I always compared the way he looked to the way my mom looked. I though he looked ten years older than his age, thin and with wrinkles and gray hair already.”

Ava then bit her lip, looking back at Vincent, and then at Beatrice who was pretty much holding her breath and clutching the empty plate she was holding in her hand.

“I always thought he looked kind of sad, and lonely, just like me,” Ava shrugged, filling up the plate, “maybe that’s why I became so close with him.”

Or maybe that wasn’t the reason, not the actual one, for if Beatrice was right they shared something deeper than sadness and loneliness. But she didn’t say anything, waiting for Ava to finish up filling the plate, the girl looking at her in a weird way.

“Beatrice, was the lasagna bad?” Ava asked her, putting a hand on her arm, “you look kind of pale.”

“It was amazing, Ava,” Beatrice smiled at her, reassuringly, but Ava didn’t seem convinced, not even after Diego had asked for a second serving.

Beatrice wanted to ask Ava what she thought about the picture of young Vincent, if she had noticed something at all when looking at what was her literal face reflected on the screen. But Ava didn’t even seem bothered at all, bringing the plates to the table and talking with the two men.

What if Ava already knew and she had forgotten to mention that little detail to her? What if she had discovered it during the time they were apart from one another, and the issue hadn’t come up in their conversations?

But Beatrice didn’t think that was the actual truth, she didn’t think Ava would keep this kind of information for herself, not after they had been updating one another with their lives and all. She was sure Ava would’ve told her something about it, so Beatrice guessed that Ava was still pretty much clueless to the truth, or maybe she wasn’t and didn’t want to accept it.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at Vincent every now and then, and the more she looked at him the more she saw the resemblance. Beatrice didn’t know if she was over thinking now, but for her it was so obvious it was impossible no one in that room but her had noticed it. Ava wasn’t a fool, Diego wasn’t one either, but then again both of them had met Vincent at a moment of his life where, as Ava said, had looked sad, and lonely, and older than he should’ve.

“Cake time!” Diego declared, getting up and making his way towards the kitchen as Ava followed him behind asking him to relax.

“Beatrice,” Vincent said, interlacing his fingers and looking at her with a curious expression. She couldn’t help but avert her eyes, “something’s bothering you?”

“No,” she said, almost harshly, and then looked at him. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Now that we have a moment alone,” Vincent cleared his throat, making sure Ava and Diego were still busy trying to figure out how to unveil the cake, “I wanted to say how happy I am you and Ava found one another again.”

“Are you?” Beatrice said, her voice coming out softer, as the priest nodded at her.

“I was really upset when all of that happened, when there were days in which Ava couldn’t really get out of bed, or where she started to feel insecure about herself,” every word felt like a stab on Beatrice’s heart, even if Vincent wasn’t attacking her in any way. “But I couldn’t be angry at you.”

“Why not? She’s your…” Beatrice didn’t say the word, her brain searching for a better option, “you took her in, you should’ve been angry at me.”

Vincent then put a hand on her forearm, smiling softly at her, his chestnut eyes filling up with love for the girl who was now laughing loudly in the kitchen as Diego struggled to cut the cake. There was also sadness and nostalgia, as if he was remembering something that happened a long, long time ago.

“I made mistakes too,” Vincent said, “I gave up on people who I loved dearly because I was scared too, and I regretted every single minute of my life, and I paid the consequences of my actions,” his voice became lower, sadder, broken. “Life didn’t give me a second chance, but it did with you. So, please, don’t waste it.”

She didn’t know why, but she understood what he meant without him having to say anything else. And Beatrice nodded, as she squeezed Vincent’s hand and decided to keep what she had discovered, what she was suspecting, all for herself until the time would be right.

“I won’t waste it, I promise.”

*

Diego and Vincent left after they refused Beatrice’s offer to drive them to the hotel, claiming that they wanted to spend some time alone. Of course, Diego had claimed that he needed time to think different ways in which he would ruin Beatrice’s life if she hurt Ava, but then Beatrice started to talk about all her martial arts skill and Diego became paler by the second, as Ava and Vincent giggled in amusement.

Ava, though, knew that Vincent and Diego wanting alone time meant that they needed to discuss tonight, their sensations, and if they thought that this time things would be different, if they accepted Ava’s… relationship?

She didn’t know what had happened with Beatrice, though. There had been a period of ten minutes where the girl had looked completely petrified and pale. And Ava feared she had maybe cooked something badly, or maybe she had put expired food in the lasagna without even noticing.

But then, after Beatrice and Vincent talked with one another as her and Diego prepared the cake, Beatrice seemed to go back to normal, feeling more relaxed and even daring to put an arm around Ava’s shoulders even if Diego glared at her.

The both of them had finished clearing up the table and the kitchen, and they were now sitting on the couch after changing into comfortable clothes, Beatrice almost sprawled upon it and Ava cuddling her as some documentary played on the TV, the two of them too tired to even know what it was about.

“So,” Ava said, sitting up, Beatrice looking at her, “how was the food?”

“Amazing, you’re amazing Ava,” Beatrice patted her thigh, and Ava smiled at the girl.

“Did Vincent have a talk with you?” Beatrice nodded, and Ava wiggled her eyebrows, “a What-Are-Your-Intentions-With-My-Daughter kind of conversation?”

For whatever reason, Beatrice’s eyes widened when she asked that last question and then laughed nervously, making Ava arch an eyebrow. She was acting weird, and Ava didn’t even know why. It had started once Vincent had showed that picture of him, to which Ava hadn’t even really paid attention because the moment he had showed it and olive had fell to the floor and she bended down to get it, trying to fight Diego off as he bended too, the photo long gone once she sat up again.

“He just said everything was fine,” Beatrice said, recovering, “he said we all make mistakes, and we’re lucky to get a second chance.”

“That, we are,” Ava said, kissing Beatrice on the cheek, the girl smiling at her.

“Also, Diego and I exchanged phone numbers and I’m kind of terrified and amused in equal parts,” Ava let out a chuckle, Beatrice shuddering dramatically.

“He’ll most likely only send you annoying memes,” Ava waved a hand dismissively, and Beatrice looked at her as her hand went up and down her thigh mindlessly.

“So just like you?”

“Rude!” Ava hit her with a pillow, and Beatrice laughed.

“Please, don’t, my body is all sore,” Beatrice complained, and Ava smirked at the girl, “because of the plane, of course.”

“Sure,” and then, she remembered about the bracelet. “Oh my God, stay here!”

Ava ran towards her bedroom, rummaging through her drawer until she found the little bag with the silver bracelet in it, smiling proudly at herself for being able to find it on record time.

When she got back to the living room, her breathing almost stopped at the way Beatrice was sitting with her legs crossed upon the couch, barefoot, clutching the pillow Ava had hit her with against her stomach as she was totally engrossed with the documentary on the TV, eyes slightly wide and mouth in a small O shape.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, not leaving her eyes from the screen, “I want to communicate with a dolphin.”

“Okay, babe, but I believe you need to turn yourself into a dolphin to do that,” Ava chuckled, and Beatrice pouted, as if her brilliant brain hadn’t even thought about that possibility.

“What you got there?” Beatrice asked, craning her neck to try to get a look at what Ava was hiding behind her back.

She sat down, offering the small bag to Beatrice, who opened it eagerly and her lips widened in a smile when she saw the bracelet inside, a small B hanging from it.

“I saw it the other day as I was walking home,” she explained to the girl, who was looking at the bracelet as if it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, when she was pretty sure Beatrice owned jewelry which was worth thousands of millions of dollars.

“It’s so beautiful, Ava,” Beatrice said, and Ava saw the way her brown eyes filled up with tears, “I love it.”

“Bea,” she said, hugging the girl tightly, knowing very well that she most likely hadn’t really gotten any kind of gift until she started to date Leighton, or until she met Jillian, Michael and Lilith.

“You didn’t have to, though,” Beatrice said, sniffling.

“Bullshit, if I see something beautiful that reminds me of you, I’ll get it,” Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head, as she kissed Ava briefly on her lips.

“Help me put it on?” Ava took the bracelet, and then she clasped it around Beatrice’s wrist, making sure she remained holding Beatrice’s wrist gently, her fingers stroking it.

The bracelet was a little loose, but it also fit her perfectly and Beatrice observed her wrist as if it was the first time she saw it.

“You’re adorable,” Ava sighed, and Beatrice looked back at her and blushed.

“Come here, love,” and the shorter girl didn’t have to be told twice, she immediately wrapped her arms around Beatrice’s waist and supported her head on the girl’s chest, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything from Barcelona, Ava. I didn’t even have time to take a pee.”

Ava snorted, making Beatrice giggle proudly just like she did every time she made the shorter girl laugh, as if every successful joke was a reason to feel extreme pride, as if it was her life mission to make Ava smile at any chance she got.

“You brought yourself, didn’t you?” Ava looked up at Beatrice, who was still looking at the bracelet, and Ava smiled softly at her.

Then, Beatrice, without warning, took Ava around the waist and made her lie on the sofa as she supported herself on her forearms, Ava letting out a squeal of surprise. Beatrice leaned down, filling Ava’s face with kisses as Ava was unable to stop laughing, feeling Beatrice’s hands on her torso as they tickled her.

“What’s gotten into you?” Ava asked between laughs, and Beatrice simply looked at her before kissing her nose.

“I’m just grateful for having a second chance,” the girl said, her voice lower and softer, and Ava then closed the small space between their lips and kissed Beatrice.

She would never get tired of kissing Beatrice and she would never get tired of the way their bodies simply seemed to fit perfectly together with one another, how their hands had been made to hold each other, how their lips had a magnet and always found one another.

“Bea,” Ava said, out of breath, as their making out was starting to get slightly heated, “let’s go to the bed room.”

Beatrice got up, kissing Ava as they made their way towards the bedroom. And Ava pushed Beatrice gently on the bed, straddling her, Ava receiving her eagerly as their lips found each other again.

Her hands found Beatrice’s skin underneath the sweater, making their way up to her chest as Beatrice’s own hands were going up and down Ava’s back, making her buzz with excitement and anticipation inside.

And as Ava kissed Beatrice on the neck, a sound filled the room. Ava disconnected her lips from Beatrice’s neck, looking at the girl who was already looking at her with a stunned expression.

“Did you just yawn?” Ava said, taking out her hands from Beatrice’s chest and biting the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing.

“Oops?” Beatrice said, innocently, blinking. And then the both of them were laughing, Ava’s body leaning down and Beatrice holding her closer to her.

“How about we leave it for tomorrow?” Ava asked the girl once they calmed down, who hummed in agreement.

“As much as I would love for us to have sex right now,” Beatrice said, sighing dramatically, “I’m very tired.”

“Then let’s sleep, amor,” Ava said, kissing Beatrice on the forehead.

The both of them got underneath the sheets, letting out matching sighs of pleasure as Beatrice wrapped her arm around Ava’s shoulders, Ava sneaking her arms inside Beatrice’s shirt.

“No funny business, Silva,” Beatrice joked, and then the both of them kissed each other before Ava turned off the lights.

“Good night, booboo,” Ava whispered, her eyelids already dropping.

“Good night, darling,” Beatrice said, already halfway through on her way to the land of dreams.

And Ava’s last thought was that she could get used to this, at Beatrice’s arm wrapped around her, the sheets covering their bodies, Beatrice’s soft breathing lulling her to sleep.

She could totally get used to this.

*

A week went by incredibly fast.

Beatrice had spent the weekend at Ava’s apartment before going back to her own, and she honestly had never felt so much at peace before in her life. Waking up in the morning and having enough time to watch Ava sleep peacefully next to her, the lazy morning sex before they got a little bit more of sleep, preparing breakfast together before the both of them would join Vincent and Diego, going out for lunch, meeting up with JC, Camila, Michael and Lilith, the latter two immediately falling in love with Diego and the way he loved to provoke Beatrice, the both of them actually becoming as close as brother and sister in law after forty-eight hours of spending time together.

And Sunday night, when she gathered the little clothes she had brought with herself, leaving Ava’s apartment had been a complete nightmare. She didn’t want to go back to her own place, no matter how much she liked it, but while Ava would be having a free week Beatrice didn’t, and she didn’t want to bother the girl with what would surely be a crazy work schedule until next Friday.

“Why don’t you stay here for the week?” Ava asked her, as they finished eating their dinner before Beatrice would go.

“Because God knows at what time of the night I’ll be able to get here, and I don’t want to be a bother, Ava,” the shorter girl bit her lip, and Beatrice knew her brain was working overtime to find a good excuse.

“Only for tonight?” Ava begged, pouting, her hands behind her back.

“I don’t have any clothes to go to work,” Beatrice tried to fight it, because there was nothing more than she wanted to stay with Ava, forgetting about all of her responsibilities, laying in bed all day.

“The suit you wore…” Ava said, shrugging, “you washed it up and it’s clean and ready to be used again.”

Beatrice didn’t have to fight much longer, and she ended up giving in and spending one more night with Ava, making sure they enjoyed every single second of it before they would spend busy weeks without being able to hang out much with each other.

“Have a good day at work, amor,” Ava said, still wearing an oversized shirt she stole from Beatrice, supporting her body on the kitchen counter as she prepared her breakfast.

The girl kissed her, as Beatrice was carrying the backpack she used to bring to her workplace and the images of her and Ava sharing a future where one of them would kiss the other goodbye and wish them a good day at work flooded her mind again, the house on the cliff, the backyard, the pets, them spending the rest of their lives together.

On the other part, though, Beatrice was kind of thankful she wouldn’t have to spend much time around Vincent, because she felt as if she would explode with what she had figured out after he showed her a picture from his youth.

Beatrice had decided to tell nothing to Ava, for so many different reasons. First of all, it wasn’t really her place to tell her what she had believed to discover, and second of all… what if she was wrong, and it was all just a mere coincidence?

Ever since she had gotten social media, she had been sulking a lot on Twitter and had seen the amount of funny tweets comparing random people who looked a lot like each other. What if this was just a mere coincidence, and Ava and young Vincent simply shared almost 80% of each other’s features with no blood relations between the both of them?

She still didn’t understand how no one had ever realized the resemblance, and she had wanted to ask Camila and JC so bad but it seemed like a little bit rude, especially since she didn’t know the pair much yet and she didn’t want them to run to Ava and tell her what Beatrice had realized. But out of all people, she was surprised Ava never really paid much attention to it.

Ava had showed her pictures of her mother on Saturday night after they shared funny stories about Isabella and Patricia, and Mrs. Silva had literally looked exactly like Ava too, which made Beatrice’s head spin and keeping the possible secret all for herself had been even harder as Ava scrolled through her gallery, having a folder called Mamãe only with pictures of Patricia Silva, claiming she didn’t want to forget her face the same way she was starting to forget her voice.

When Beatrice looked at Patricia, she saw Ava in a few years. The woman’s hair had been a little bit lighter than Ava’s, and way longer. But her face had also been round, her cheekbones prominent and her smile mischievous, her eyes a softer brown but still a beautiful chestnut color. And when she remembered young Vincent, she saw Ava as a teenager and young adult Ava in him. And it didn’t matter whose face she looked at or remembered, Patricia or Vincent, Ava looked like both and Beatrice felt as if she was going crazy.

Her mind soon was filled with other things, though. Her and Lilith informed Jillian and Duretti with all of the aspects they had agreed with the various investors back in Barcelona, how new investors from France and Sweden had been interested in the project, and as Jillian smiled proudly at them, Beatrice couldn’t help but look at Duretti and almost ask him about Vincent Ulloa, if he knew if the man had some long lost daughter or something.

But she decided she shouldn’t do it, mostly because it would sound kind of weird, and Beatrice occupied herself with the supervision of the compound building process in New York, which was advancing at a great pace, and when she was in her office she helped Lilith and Michael to draft the upcoming projects in England and Spain, sending them to the investors and not even having time to breathe.

It had come to a point where Beatrice had three mountains of project drafts her staff had been concocting, several assessments they had been doing about the buildings, and it had come to a point where both her and Lilith had to yell with the representatives of both the engineering and legal departments of England and Spain’s Headquarters she totally forgot about the little fact that should be stressing her out, instead of Ava’s potential father figure being in New York.

It was Wednesday, almost midnight, and she was still in her office reading one of the project assessments as her eyes were getting drier by the second when her phone started to ring.

She saw her father’s name flashing on the screen, and Beatrice’s eyes widened when she remembered they would be landing in New York in less than forty-eight hours. Beatrice dropped the assessment, taking a deep breath, and answered the phone.

“Beatrice,” Edward Armstrong said coldly.

“Father,” Beatrice said, almost calling him by his name.

“I’m calling you to remind you your mother and I will be landing soon in New York,” the man said, Beatrice humming, too tired to pretend she wanted to talk with him, “I have been told your boss has made a reservation at a restaurant.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, and before her father could ask anything else, she talked again, “she will be there, with her children.”

“It is a family reunion, Beatrice,” Edward Armstrong argued.

“They’re my family,” before Edward could argue further, Beatrice found herself smirking, “by the way, Ava will be there too.”

“Ava?” the man said, confused, as if he had forgotten about her.

“Yes, Ava Silva,” she heard Edward choking on what surely was some expensive Brandy, “you know her, I believe?”

“I told you to stay away from her,” he said, his voice going colder than usual, angry, but Beatrice put her feet upon her desk, inspecting her nails, and shrugged.

“You have no rights to tell me what and what not to do anymore, Edward,” she said, the man going dead silent on the other side of the phone, “I made that clear seven years ago. Also, I hope you don’t have any other plans for Friday night. There’s something urgent I really want to talk to you about.”

Edward Armstrong was about to argue back, to surely scream at her or throw some cold and insignificant threat her way, but Beatrice reminded him to be at the restaurant Jillian had chosen at eight in the afternoon sharp before she hung up the phone, and decided to go back home because she had enough of reading documents until exhaustion.

Beatrice had known her parents would be staying at The Ritz-Carlton, Eustace had let her know once the Armstrong-Youngs had told Beatrice they would be coming to New York. So Beatrice told one of the staff members who worked at the hotel to let her know when her parents would arrive, so she would be able to keep track of them and avoid going around that neighborhood at any costs, not needing to see them before she should.

Friday soon arrived, and Beatrice would lie to herself if she didn’t admit that she was feeling anxious. She saw her parents at least once a year, to be present in at least one of their stupid aristocratic gatherings so they could still keep up the reputation they so desperately needed to maintain, but Beatrice never stayed, and always went back to her apartment in London, or to the one place away from everyone and everything that truly felt like home.

She hated the sensation she always had whenever she had to meet her parents, the pressure in her stomach and the way all the things they made her feel for eighteen years of her life seemed to resurface after being dormant for a long, long time. But the memory that was stronger, the one that hurt the most, was her father’s hand coming down to strike her cheek, the way he forced her to stay away from Ava and the way she had been unable to fight back, too scared to oppose him, letting herself lose the most precious thing she ever had.

But now Ava was back in her life, and they were patching the wounds up. They were in the place they had always meant to end up at, together, stronger than ever, falling in love freely without having to feel judged by anyone. Beatrice found herself imagining how different things could’ve been if she had gotten into that second flight to New York seven years ago, if she had chased Ava and asked for her forgiveness.

Beatrice was sure she would’ve ended up finding Jillian, Michael and Lilith anyway, because she once had read somewhere that the good people who were part of your life were always meant to find you, it didn’t matter how or when, but they always ended up showing up one way or another.

The thing was, no matter what, Ava was back in her life and they were healing and making good progress. One month and a half ago, it would’ve been unthinkable for Beatrice to be sleeping in Ava’s apartment, or to kiss Ava and make love to her. And Beatrice, every day, had to pinch herself because she couldn’t imagine all of this was real, that all they had needed was to spend a whole day together, to truly speak, and to start healing together like they had always meant to do.

As she thought of Ava, she heard the bell of her apartment ring and she immediately knew it was her. Beatrice smiled, drinking the last bit of whiskey from her glass, and made her way to open the elevator door.

Ava was standing there, nervously typing something on her phone, and Beatrice felt as if she was close to fainting at how beautiful the girl in front of her looked, at how lucky she was to even be blessed by Ava Silva’s presence in her life.

“Hi,” Ava said, looking up and kissing Beatrice on the lips, “sorry, I’m kind of freaking out and Camila is giving me support.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said, as Ava entered and she couldn’t take her eyes off her, “me too.”

“Oh, cool, whiskey,” Ava took the bottle, and sipped from it directly as she took her black blazer off and Beatrice literally gasped at the majestic sight.

She was wearing a long, white dress that covered her legs in full, and Beatrice would’ve thought Ava had done it on purpose so the Armstrong-Youngs wouldn’t say anything to her for showing skin, but then her shoulders and back were fully uncovered and the dress’ neckline left so little to the imagination, covering enough to hide Beatrice’s love marks, and Beatrice hated the way her eyes landed directly on Ava’s cleavage, the girl totally aware of it judging by the arched eyebrow and the smirk on her lips.

Ava’s eyes were surrounded with perfectly done eyeliner, her ears decorated by two circular black earrings, and she had decided to leave her hair down.

The girl put the bottle of liquor back on the kitchen counter, walking towards Beatrice, and twirling around. The upper half part of her back was uncovered, the scar on full display, the muscles flexing and making Beatrice want to cry right then and there.

“So?” Ava asked her, innocently, and Beatrice smiled.

“Oh, they will hate it so much,” the shorter girl smiled proudly, before Beatrice leaned down and kissed her.

She put her arms around Ava’s waist, tasting the liquor on her tongue, and bringing her closer as she deepened the kiss. And Ava did the same, looping her arms around Beatrice’s neck and opening her mouth in an invitation.

“Bea,” Ava said, breathless, and Beatrice hummed as she kissed Ava’s neck, the vibration making Ava bite her lip to keep herself from moaning, “baby, it’s almost time and you haven’t dressed yet.”

“Okay,” Beatrice nodded, taking Ava’s hand, “help me out, please.”

Ava chuckled, as the both of them made their way towards Beatrice’s bedroom. She had already showered and done her minimal makeup, but she still was wearing an oversized Oxford University shirt and sweatpants and she was honestly so close to choosing that as her outfit.

She showed Ava the options she had taken out, a burgundy suit with a vest of a matching color, a white blouse she would use as an option for that one, a green suit, and a black one.

“Choose the sluttiest one, babe,” Ava said, pointing at the black suit. It was a tight one, clinging perfectly to Beatrice’s silhouette, the sleeves reaching her mid forearm and the pants being tight on the upper half of her legs, widening at the end, but making Beatrice’s… assets be on full display, though covered.

Ava then made her way towards one of her drawers, and found a white sleeveless top that would pretty much leave Beatrice’s stomach on sight, tight enough to make her chest look more prominent.

“Oh, yes,” Ava whispered, turning around and showing Beatrice the top.

“Oh, fuck,” Beatrice muttered, swallowing and looking back at the white blouse.

“Baby,” Ava walked towards Beatrice, who was biting her lip nervously, “you don’t have to, but I believe you would truly look so stunning I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Saying that as if you hadn’t dressed up to kill,” Beatrice murmured under her breath, though Ava heard her perfectly, “I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep my eyes up, or to keep it together.”

“We could just, you know, have a full on make out session in front of them,” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, and Beatrice couldn’t help but snort.

“Oh, they would surely take away my inheritance and would give it all to my cousin,” Beatrice then furrowed her eyebrows, Ava looking at her with a mischievous smile on her lips, “maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, actually?”

“So…” Ava said, “what’s the choice, Duchess?”

Beatrice looked at the tight black suit, the white open toe stilettos, and the white tight top Ava was holding. And, honestly, she really wanted to leave her parents speechless and raging. And she imagined herself walking into the restaurant with Ava, holding her hand, Ava’s cleavage on full display as Beatrice showed her stomach after her parents had always reprimanded Isabella for wearing tops.

And Beatrice knew she would feel stunning, especially judging by the way Ava was already looking as if she was making up fantasies that Beatrice was sure involved ripping out dresses and tops from each other’s bodies. She started to feel beautiful once she had been able to find her own style, once she started to dress however she wanted to, but the way Ava looked at her even when she was wearing a messy bun and her pajamas… it made her feel like a Victoria’s Secret angel sometimes.

And tonight wouldn’t be different, because this meeting with her parents wasn’t like the regular ones. Ava would be there, looking like that, and Lilith and Michael would also be there with Jillian. And it was the perfect opportunity to show them Beatrice didn’t need them, not anymore, that she was perfectly happy surrounded by the people she considered her own family. And she didn’t need to follow their rules, not anymore. She didn’t need to think of looking like a prude, and she was allowed to show off her skin if she wanted to.

And honestly, doing that wearing something her parents would disapprove of and would make her feel actually hot would be really worth it, no matter what they told her. The look on their faces, the pure horror and discomfort… oh, it would be so worth it.

“You know what,” Beatrice said, taking the top from Ava, “you’re right.”

Ava hummed, as Beatrice decided to undress herself fully in front of the girl, and she didn’t miss the way Ava’s eyes unashamedly roamed all over her body, inspecting the faint scratch marks on Beatrice’s back or the various hickeys she had been leaving all over her body every time they had a moment to be together the last week, even if it had been only for one hour.

She still remembered how Ava had come to visit her as Vincent and Diego had been in the MOMA, how they had one hour to be together alone in the office since Lilith had a meeting, and Beatrice decided to close her office door with her key, turn the blinds down, and fuck Ava on top of her desk as she covered the girl’s mouth and she bit her own lip to keep the sounds of pleasure inside, hoping Lilith’s meeting wouldn’t be cut short.

It had been like that during the last week, when they had a moment to be together, when Beatrice would go to Ava’s place for dinner and would get there before Vincent and Diego did, the kitchen counter being their preferred place so they would hear them coming if they needed to.

Now, Beatrice didn’t miss the way Ava bit her lip as she took her shirt off, not wearing a bra underneath, or as she took her sweatpants and no underwear was on sight.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” Beatrice asked her, fully naked in front of the girl, who sat down on the armchair next to one of her bookshelves, legs crossed upon one another surely making pressure against each other.

“Mhm,” Ava said, her hands curling up in a fist, “doing fine over here.”

Beatrice smiled at her innocently as she walked towards the drawer where her underwear was, and took out a black lace thong, choosing not to wear a bra underneath her top, and she heard Ava inhaling sharply as she watched her putting on her underwear, dramatically slowly, surely imagining the ways she would take it off later at night.

“Ava,” Beatrice chuckled, as Ava was tilting her head and pretty much devouring Beatrice’s body with her eyes only, her teeth biting down harshly on her lip.

“Sorry,” the girl said, blushing slightly, sitting straighter, “you’re just too beautiful for my own good, it’s unfair.”

“Unfair?” Beatrice said, as she put the top on, “have you seen yourself?”

“I mean, what’s unfair is that we have to leave in like thirty minutes,” Ava’s pupils dilated, as Beatrice looked at her unmoving, “because I really want to fuck you right now.”

“Oh,” she said, pretending she was shocked as if she hadn’t been thinking about the same ever since Ava entered through that door, “How much time do you need?”

“What?” Ava asked her, eyes widening slightly.

“How much time do you need to fuck me, darling?” Beatrice said, and Ava smiled at her as she walked towards her and kissed her.

Beatrice took the thong off again, as she sat on top of a low drawer chest and opened her legs for Ava, not needing any kind of stimulation because she had been ready for the girl. Ava sucked on her middle finger and plunged it deep inside Beatrice, who let out a moan as she held tighter on the surface, not wanting to grab Ava’s hair so she wouldn’t ruin it.

Beatrice didn’t need much time neither to be undone, once Ava added another finger inside and fucked her in a quick pace, Beatrice lasted no longer than three minutes as she was moaning Ava’s name out, grateful that she had decided to fully get rid of the thong because she was sure it would’ve gotten ruined as her cum gushed out.

“Jesus,” she muttered, slightly embarrassed, “I really thought I could hold on longer.”

“Now you feel me, don’t you?” Ava smirked, before kissing her jaw and crouching.

“What are you doing?” Beatrice asked the girl as she pushed the dress’ skirt up, kneeling between Beatrice’s still open legs.

“You have to clean up after the work’s done, babe,” Ava said, as she licked Beatrice’s thighs and then her folds, making her way to Beatrice’s clit and taking her time to leave her clean.

“Ava,” Beatrice moaned, putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders, “fuck, I’ll come again and you’ll have to do this again and it will be a cycle and-” she let out a moan as Ava kissed her clit, “and we’ll never leave.”

“So let’s stay,” Ava said, looking up at Beatrice and almost making her cry out in pleasure, her makeup intact.

“You look too beautiful to stay home,” Beatrice said, and Ava smirked at her. “As much as I love it when you take charge.”

“I can let you fuck me in this dress, if you want? So the effort won’t be wasted,” Beatrice closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh, the idea too tempting.

“Later,” she managed to say, as Ava shrugged her shoulders innocently and got up, kissing Beatrice on the lips and letting her taste herself.

“As my Duchess wishes,” Ava whispered, kissing the top of her nose and reaching out for Beatrice’s thong, putting it on for Beatrice.

Finishing to get dressed was a nightmare, because her legs were weak and her brain was fuzzy with pleasure and the way Ava had worked her way on her so fast, so skillfully, her eyes never leaving Beatrice’s and her lips never touching hers using the excuse of not ruining their makeup.

Beatrice hadn’t even had time to process what had happened, because she had been screaming Ava’s name and regretting trying to challenge her, knowing very well Ava was capable of making her come undone with a single look.

Beatrice was usually the one taking charge when they had sex, Ava always giving her commands of what she needed her to do and Beatrice obeying the girl gladly, Ava always needing her to be on top, intolerant to Beatrice’s teasing. And then, sometimes, Ava liked to return the favor as she asked Beatrice for what she needed from her, encouraging her to be vocal and not be ashamed to share her needs and fantasies.

But other times, Ava was the one fully taking the charge, surprising Beatrice just like it had happened now, and Beatrice didn’t care if she wasn’t on top for once, letting Ava leave behind her usual bottom preferences to make Beatrice scream in the best way possible.

Beatrice, finally, finished up dressing even if her hands were still shaking, and there was a pool of need between her legs that she wouldn’t be able to get rid of any time soon, Ava offering herself to take her of it multiple times, Beatrice struggling more and more to keep her hands to herself as Ava’s cheeks were slightly blushed, her lips still red and swollen, the urge of making love to Ava as she was wearing that dress becoming stronger.

“I have something for you,” Beatrice said, almost forgetting as she finished putting her earrings.

She opened her top drawer from her nightstand and took out a rectangular box, walking towards Ava. She opened it, and Ava gasped when she saw the diamond incrusted necklace inside.

“Beatrice, what the fuck,” the girl said, leaning down to take a better look, “you didn’t have to!”

“My parents’ gave it to me for the first time I entered society,” she explained to her, and Ava looked at her sadly, “it actually was a great night, even if I was all on my own. Isabella had already…”

Ava took her face between her hands, kissing her softly, and then smiled at her.

“I shall wear it with honor, my lady,” the shorter girl said, and Beatrice laughed at her.

“Turn around, then,” Ava did as said, and Beatrice took the necklace out of the box and put it around Ava’s neck, matching perfectly with the white dress and falling gently on Ava’s lower neck.

“How does it look?” Ava said, looking herself at the tall mirror in the corner of Beatrice’s room. She walked behind the girl, wrapping her arms around Ava’s waist and supporting her chin on the girl’s shoulder.

“Beautiful,” she said, both of them knowing very well she wasn’t talking about the necklace, making Ava blush and smile at her shyly as if she hadn’t been buried deep inside Beatrice a few minutes ago.

They finished preparing themselves, Ava putting the blazer upon her shoulders and Beatrice drinking one last glass of whiskey before they made their way down towards the Uber that was already waiting for them.

“Did I help you calm down, Bea?” Ava asked her, genuinely, and Beatrice nodded.

“You help me calm down by only looking at me, Ava,” Beatrice told the girl, then furrowing her eyebrows, “scratch that, I lied. When you look at me I get even more nervous.”

Ava laughed, and then interlaced her fingers with hers and Beatrice exhaled. She could tell Ava was nervous too, surely not forgetting what happened the last time she saw Beatrice’s parents. But she nodded at the girl, who nodded at her back as the elevator doors opened and they came out of the building, getting inside the car.

“It will be fine,” Beatrice muttered, trying to convince herself and Ava and getting rid of the nerves inside her stomach, “right?”

“Bea,” Ava told her, never letting go of her hand, “the moment you tell me you want to leave, we’re getting up and out of there.”

“Same to you, Ava,” Beatrice said, squeezing the girl’s shoulders, “if when we get there they say something to you, don’t hesitate to pull me away. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“I wish I could say I don’t want to give them the pleasure of making me feel upset,” Ava said, chuckling dryly, “but I know it will be hard, especially if they talk to you as if you were worth nothing.”

“I’ll let you use your kick boxing skills if it’s needed,” Beatrice said, Ava immediately smiling at her.

“Will you?” she nodded, Ava smiling wider.

“And I’ll bail you out of jail if it’s required,” Beatrice added, Ava laughing at that.

“What if we both end up in jail, then?” the taller girl hummed, pretending to think hard of a strategy, shrugging her shoulders at the end.

“I hope the documentary they make about us gets us rich, so they’ll be even angrier,” Ava said, making Beatrice chuckle, “Plus, Orange is the New Black made gay jail sex look so hot.”

Ava and Beatrice spent the rest of the ride trying to make each other laugh, easing each other’s nerves as they didn’t stop holding each other’s hand, their bodies close to give each other the comfort they needed.

Jillian had reserved a whole room at the Eleven Madison Park restaurant, one of the fanciest ones in the city in which she apparently was a regular, to Beatrice’s surprise. So if Jillian told someone in the staff to poison her parents’ food, they surely will and no one would even bat an eye. Beatrice liked it.

“Ready?” she asked Ava, who kissed her knuckles and nodded firmly.

The both of them let go of their hands in order to get out of the Uber, and they soon rejoined each other at the entrance. Beatrice, to her dismay, felt slightly paralyzed and she was unable to move, looking at the massive glass door.

“Bea,” Ava said, softly, squeezing her hand, “I’m here with you.”

“I don’t want them to hurt you, Ava, not again,” and then, Beatrice said one of the many thoughts she had been keeping to herself throughout the week, one of the fears she had after Ava offered her support for tonight, “I don’t want to lose you again because of them.”

Ava breathed deeply, and then she walked in front of Beatrice and looked up at her, holding both of her hands and squeezing them before she stroked her knuckles gently, as Beatrice felt her heart slowing down and her surroundings becoming clearer.

“They can’t beat us, Bea,” Ava said, smiling softly at the girl even if Beatrice could tell she was also worried, “not together.”

“I know,” Beatrice told her, her voice low, and then she supported her forehead on Ava’s, “I know, darling. Thank you for coming with me, I will never be able to repay this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bea, I would’ve come with you anyways. After all, I’m your…” Ava looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, and Beatrice smiled at her, waiting. “No, you say it.”

“Girlfriend?” Beatrice asked her, feeling as if she was a sixteen years old girl again, asking for her crush to be her girlfriend. “You’re my girlfriend?”

“I’m your girlfriend,” Ava nodded, unable to keep the smile and the bashful giggling at bay, “and you’re mine.”

“That, I am,” Beatrice told Ava, before they decided to make their way inside the restaurant.

Forever, Beatrice thought as they found Jillian, Michael and Lilith waiting for them.

I’m yours forever, Ava Maeve Silva.

Chapter Text

Ava’s body was buzzing with energy, and she didn’t know if it was because Edward Armstrong had just called Beatrice to let her know they were on their way, or if it was because it had been fifteen minutes ever since Beatrice and her had officially become… girlfriends.

Ava had dreamed about this moment for two years straight back in Saint Melanie’s, and then it had become a nightmare, and then it had turned simply into some kind of impossible dream. And when Ava had ran into Beatrice one month and a half ago, all those emotions had come flowing back out and she remembered how embarrassing it had been of her to stay up all night daydreaming about Beatrice asking her to be her girlfriend, Ava yelling YES so everyone on Earth and outside of it could know that she, Ava Maeve Silva, was Beatrice Armstrong-Young’s girlfriend.

In her imagination, it had always been some grand and super romantic gesture because, again, her and her mother spent their free time watching romantic comedies. And in reality it had been simple, the question coming because Ava almost slipped up again, Beatrice immediately catching on the implication and Ava’s heart fluttering wildly because the girl didn’t freak out, simply stayed there holding her hands as her eyes filled with hopefulness as she simply asked…

… Girlfriend?

They had promised one another they would take things slow, but fuck it honestly. Beatrice was about to leave soon, tonight could either go surprisingly well or disastrously bad, and if she wanted to keep a good memory from it, then it would be them becoming girlfriends in the middle of Madison Avenue, as if they weren’t twenty-five years old girls, but simply two sixteen years old girls again, scared of life and the future, but choosing one another over and over again.

Ava had suddenly forgotten what was about to happen, who they were about to meet, especially after Beatrice asked the waiter to bring a water she would share with her girlfriend, Ava unable to hold her smile and almost squealing as she sat in one of the most expensive restaurants in all of New York City.

“Girlfriend?” Michael and Jillian asked, their blue eyes wide and their smiles occupying all of their faces.

“Fucking finally,” Lilith groaned, as she drowned her whiskey.

“You could take notes, you know,” Ava told the girl, Beatrice humming in agreement as Lilith flipped them both off.

“Please, don’t do that when they get here,” and Ava’s heart broke when she heard the nerves in Beatrice’s voice, the way those two still had a massive hold on her.

Ava found Beatrice’s hand upon the table, squeezing it, the girl never letting go. Jillian started to talk to them about her newest drama with Suzanne, this time the woman being horrified at the way Jillian cooked her pasta, as the time was going by slowly and Ava saw Beatrice’s eyes traveling to the entrance every once and again.

They were in a room all by themselves, the tables surrounding theirs empty as they sat in the largest one, located in the middle of the room. Jillian and Michael took the seats on each head of the table, Lilith sitting on Ava’s left and Beatrice on her right, the two seats in front of them empty.

She saw Beatrice’s leg going up and down, how her free hand was drawing nervous circles upon the tablecloth.

“You know what,” Michael said, catching his sister looking at the entrance, “we could all get up and say something came up, go back to the karaoke bar and get drunk to celebrate you two finally made it official.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Beatrice said, drowning her glass of water without even breathing, “pass me the wine.”

“Nope,” Ava said, and Beatrice looked at her with confusion. “Bea, you already drowned three glasses of whiskey back home. No more alcohol.”

“Fine,” Beatrice muttered, as if she was a toddler who just got denied getting a lollipop. “But once it’s over, I’m getting drunk.”

“Once it’s over, you can do as you please,” Jillian told her, acting like a supportive mother.

“Also,” Lilith arched an eyebrow, “home?”

“What?” both Ava and Beatrice asked at once, making Lilith smirk.

“You already call each other’s apartments home,” the taller girl pointed out, making the couple blush. “Lesbians really work fast, huh.”

“Shut up,” Ava slapped the girl’s arm, as Beatrice said “Ava’s always been my home.”

“Aw,” Michael said, bringing his hands to his chest as Ava looked at her with her mouth hanging open, “even after all this time?”

“Always,” Beatrice nodded firmly, and Ava kind of wanted to kiss her right then and there but she knew the girl would panic knowing her parents would appear at any second.

“Are they really quoting Harry Potter on us?” Lilith asked Jillian, who shook her head incredulously.

“I think the author of those books would go into cardiac arrest if she saw a gay man and a lesbian quoting her,” the blonde woman said, Lilith and Ava nodding at her.

“Fuck her,” Beatrice muttered, pouring more water and drowning it, surely pretending it was liquor. “Trans rights.”

“You tell them, babe,” Michael said, raising his glass and drinking from it.

The five of them kept talking with one another, as Ava made sure her hand didn’t leave Beatrice’s, as she started to wonder what Beatrice would do once her parents arrived.

Would she drop Ava’s hand? Would she hide it under the table? Would she even acknowledge her throughout the dinner?

Ava now was the one feeling anxious again, remembering how Beatrice had acted the last time the both of them had shared a space with her parents. But she knew Beatrice was also different, that she wasn’t scared to stand up to them and, honestly, Ava would be shitting her own pants too if that kind of people were her parents. She was shitting her pants without having any kind of blood relation with them.

“Fuck,” she heard Beatrice mutter, and she looked towards her, seeing the glass doors opening and a couple entering the room.

They had changed, Ava wouldn’t lie. They both still were tall, walking as if they owned the room, looking straight ahead and not even being close to each other. Beatrice’s mother, Sophia Young, was wearing an expensive looking red dress, with an expensive looking ruby necklace falling upon her sun kissed chest.

Her hair was still raven black, just like Beatrice’s was, with streaks of silver falling around, looking immaculate and making Ava feel angry at how pretty she was for being such a disgusting human being.

Edward Armstrong was wearing a black suit, and Ava remembered his hair had also been completely black but now it was completely silver, looking pretty old and tired even though he only was around sixty-five years old. And Ava thought that maybe the man was paying for his sins, for making his only daughter and heir abandon him, putting his legacy at risk. She couldn’t help but smirk.

Beatrice got up as her parents stopped walking, her hand still holding Ava’s firm, tugging it gently so she would join her side. Ava did, and she felt Beatrice’s arm sneaking around her waist as she looked at her parents, chin raised slightly.

“Welcome,” Beatrice said, and if the situation wasn’t actually nerve wrecking Ava would’ve found it so hot, the coldness and the authority into which Beatrice switched immediately, as if she hadn’t been getting drunk with water one moment ago.

“Beatrice,” her father said, her mother not even bothering to acknowledge her as her eyes found Ava, a scowl forming in the woman’s face.

“You remember Ava, my girlfriend, right?” Beatrice said, and Ava felt her knees buckling as she heard the word again, a very tipsy Lilith letting out a snort, Michael and Jillian probably looking proudly at Beatrice.

“Girlfriend?” Sophia Young snarled, looking up and down at Ava as her dark eyes filled with anger when she saw that she wasn’t looking like a low-life anymore, when she recognized the necklace she was wearing.

“Yes, girlfriend,” Beatrice said, as Edward Armstrong arched an eyebrow to the point Ava feared it would disappear up his scalp.

“Weren’t you with that girl,” he tried to sound as if he cared, not even remembering Leighton’s name.

“Leighton,” Ava reminded him, Beatrice squeezing her waist gently. She saw the man stiffening when she talked to him directly, without asking permission or calling him Highness or whatever Dukes got called.

“Right,” he said, swallowing as if he had just bitten a lemon.

“It’s nice to see you both again,” Ava continued, and she saw Beatrice biting her lip so she wouldn’t smile. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Yes,” Edward said shortly looking deeply bothered at Ava’s nerve to address him personally, without letting Beatrice do the talking for her.

“Let’s sit,” Beatrice said, pointing at the seats reserved for them as she moved Ava’s chair for her to sit down.

“Thank you, babe,” Ava said, smiling sweetly at her girlfriend, who winked at her in return.

One of the waiters walked towards them, ready to move the chairs for the Armstrong-Youngs, but Jillian waved a hand at the young man.

“We don’t want the Duke and Duchess to feel old, do we?” the woman said, leaning back into her seat, “they can move their chairs themselves.”

“That would be very rude,” Michael nodded, as Lilith sipped from her whiskey and her eyes never left Beatrice’s parents, “making them both feel old.”

“Not at all,” Edward Armstrong said, as he looked at his wife not knowing what to do at all. The woman scowled yet once again, removing her own chair and sitting down, her husband following behind.

“So,” Lilith said, after she drowned another glass of whiskey, “how’s life?”

“Lilith,” Edward said, “I haven’t seen your parents in a while.”

“Join the club,” Lilith said, letting out a dry chuckle.

“Lilith’s family and mine actually know one another,” Beatrice explained to Ava, interlacing their hands upon the table, Sophia Young clenching her jaw as Ava stroked Beatrice’s fingers.

“Funnily enough, Bea and I never ran into one another until University, and then saw each other at one of those stupid balls,” Lilith smiled as Edward Armstrong coughed dryly when she used the word stupid to describe the balls.

“You were probably somewhere getting drunk,” Beatrice said, laughing amusedly at her sister, who smiled wildly at her.

“Or fucking someone’s daughter, or son, I don’t really have a preference,” Lilith said, making Ava choke on her water. Jillian shot a hand and put it on Lilith’s forearm, squeezing softly.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” the woman warned her, as Edward and Sophia Armstrong-Young looked at the raven haired girl with matching expressions of shock and horror.

Michael put a fist on his mouth, pretending he was trying to get rid of a coughing fit, but Ava could see the tears in his blue eyes and she could see Beatrice trying to remain serious as her lips clenched, and Ava couldn’t help but snort at the situation, at the expressions on Beatrice’s parents face, and at the way the Salvius family was taking it upon themselves to make the night entertaining for ones, and a living nightmare for others.

“Sorry,” Ava said, coughing dryly when the married couple looked at her after snorting, “I’m getting rid of a cold.”

“The weather in New York is crazy,” Beatrice said, nodding firmly, as Michael punched the table, still pretending he was coughing and not laughing.

“God,” Sophia Armstrong-Young muttered, looking at her husband angrily, who had a muscle on his jaw twitching hard and Ava feared it would get stuck that way.

“You came here for business, right?” Beatrice said, as the waiters brought dishes filled with vegetables cream.

“Yes, we did,” Edward Armstrong said, and Beatrice looked at him.

“Well, I’m listening,” his daughter and heir arched her eyebrows, and Ava almost had to clutch her knee to keep the horny thoughts at bay.

“Already?” Edward Armstrong stuttered, six pairs of eyes falling on him.

“Let’s stop pretending, father,” Beatrice said, taking her spoon, “no one wants to truly be here, let’s not pretend you actually want to catch up with my life. Mother’s doing an excellent work of showing her true feelings.”

Sophia Armstrong-Young seemed to want to say something to her daughter, clutching her spoon tightly and Ava believed her left eye was kind of twitching too, but she didn’t say anything at all, and ate the vegetables cream in silence.

“Well, fine then,” Edward cleared his throat, him and his daughter not touching their food as the rest ate and didn’t leave their eyes from the pair, “we are bankrupt, Beatrice.”

Ava and Michael now truly were going through a coughing fit, as Jillian almost dropped her spoon into the cream. The only ones who were looking unfazed at the information were Beatrice and Lilith, Ava looking from one to the other.

“That, I know,” Beatrice said, shrugging her shoulders as she poured wine inside her parents’ glasses, her mother Sophia eagerly drowning it. “That’s the urgent matter I told you we needed to discuss.”

“How?” Edward Armstrong asked, trying to not show emotion, but Ava didn’t miss the way his shoulders stiffened slightly.

“I was in Barcelona last week, with Lilith,” Beatrice said, the girl nodding at the married couple, “some of your… friends from England were there, and those men really like to talk when they get drunk. Especially when they hate you, and they know I do too.”

“Motherfuckers,” Sophia Armstrong-Young muttered, clutching her refilled glass, Edward Armstrong clearing his throat as if that would make her stop.

“So you mingled into a business that’s not yours,” Edward Armstrong told Beatrice, who furrowed her eyebrows.

“Technically, it is mine,” she smiled apologetically at him, not even an ounce of repentance in her eyes, “that’s why you don’t want to give it to Jonas, is it?”

Edward Armstrong stopped his movements completely, eyes wide, as his wife let out a dry chuckle which would’ve chilled Ava’s bones if she wasn’t enjoying herself so much, and continued drinking wine without even finishing the food in her plate first. Ava looked from Beatrice to her father, as if she was watching a tennis match.

“I was just surprised you were willing to give it all to me,” Beatrice said, eating her cream slowly, “after you swore over all of our ancestors I wouldn’t… how did you put it? Oh, yes, I wouldn’t see one single penny coming from you.”

“Don’t forget what they said, Bea,” Lilith said, raising her empty glass at Beatrice, Ava looking at her girlfriend with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah,” she let out a chuckle, which actually was filled with amusement, “apparently I’m richer than you, father? The daughter who would amount to nothing, remember?”

“Holy shit,” Ava said, gasping, Beatrice smirking at her, “why did I not know anything about this?”

“Well, darling, it would’ve ruined the surprise and fun wouldn’t it?” Beatrice arched an eyebrow, sipping from her water, as Ava felt her chest swelling with pride, “I won’t lie, I found it quite strange that the both of you were willing to travel to see me. Then I understood, you simply were desperate because your little play pretend is close to an end, given that this whole bankruptcy thing, according to the people Lilith very well bribed to speak, has existed for quite the long time.”

“And now you come crawling back like sewer rats,” Ava said, looking at Beatrice’s parents, shaking her head as the pride got replaced by an anger that she had felt for too many years, burying it deep inside, as if it had been a volcano getting ready to explode, “asking for financial help from the daughter you never bothered to look at, the daughter you hated since the moment she was born, the daughter you didn’t let be free and happy so your conservative stupid asses would stay relevant, exemplar, trying to use her as your little pawn once again.”

“Ava,” Lilith said, putting a hand on her arm, warning her to stop before Edward Armstrong would explode.

Beatrice, though, didn’t say anything because she knew Ava had been dying to say those words, she had been dying to repay them what they had done to her, what they had done to Beatrice. So her girlfriend let her speak, sipping from her water as her eyes never left Edward.

“You’re pathetic,” Ava said, scoffing, Lilith’s hand retreating as she saw that Beatrice was fine with it, as she understood Ava needed to speak, “you thought you owned the world, and now it turns out you’re human like the rest of us.”

“Now,” Michael snarled, the always smiling and happy boy looking at the pair with stone, cold eyes, and Ava would lie if she said she didn’t find it slightly terrifying, “now you’re the ones who own to the world.”

“But you deserve it,” Ava continued, Michael letting her speak freely Jillian nodding approvingly at him, “you deserve it for all the pain you caused to everyone close to you, but most importantly to your daughters. You never gave a fuck about Isabella dying, immediately replacing her as your little pawn with Beatrice, who was never allowed to mourn her properly.”

She heard Beatrice inhaling deeply, the only sign of weakness she would give. Not weakness towards her parents, but towards what she felt every time her sister was mentioned, every time she remembered how she hadn’t even been allowed to cry at the girl’s funeral until she was back home, her parents leaving her all by herself, crying on Eustace’s shoulder instead.

“The worst part is that Beatrice is too good for this world, too kind, which is surprising since the both of you are pieces of shit,” Ava continued, deciding that she would let any kind of filter go, not bothering if she overstepped boundaries, “and I know that she will pull through with it, that she will help you because Beatrice has something neither of you have, and that’s honor and kindness.”

She watched as Edward Armstrong clutched his napkin with a fisted hand, his knuckles turning white as his wife finally stopped drinking wine, her eyebrow forming a perfect triangle without a base.

“Beatrice doesn’t have to worry anymore, though, about having to deal with you after she does some charity work,” Ava said, squeezing the hand she hadn’t stopped holding throughout her speech, “she has a new family, people who want her for who she is as a person and not for what she has in her bank account, people who care for her, and love her.”

Ava almost choked at the last word, as she saw Beatrice’s eyes widening slightly, the gesture almost imperceptible, hoping her parents wouldn’t notice and would believe that they hadn’t just declared themselves each other’s girlfriend less than an hour ago.

“She has me,” Ava finished, shrugging her shoulders, and taking her glass of water to sip from it and calm down the nerves she was feeling, the satisfaction that she felt at finally being able to say what she had wanted to say seven years ago, what she had buried deep inside for seven years.

And she was feeling so proud of herself, because she hadn’t broken at all, and she was feeling so proud of Beatrice because she looked unfazed by whatever her parents said, by the looks her mother gave her or the way her father had looked at her like his little precious prize in the form of a dollar sign or, well, a pound.

Ava’s hand stopped mid air as she was bringing the glass of water to her lips, as Sophia Armstrong-Young let out a cackle empty of any kind of humor, of amusement, sounding as cold as ice and making the room feel like a freezer.

Her husband looked at her, a wrinkle in his brow, as she kept on laughing, unable to stop. Beatrice looked at her mother with furrowed eyebrows, Ava’s eyes slowly traveling to her girlfriend’s face.

“She has you,” Sophia laughed, even punching the table and making all the items upon it rattle, “the poor and orphaned little slut!”

“What did you say?!” Beatrice said, her voice raising automatically, Ava putting a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder and forcing her down to her chair.

“The truth, stupid girl!” Sophia now wasn’t laughing, her face filled with a scowl that made it look as if she had been having an aneurysm, “I’m saying the truth.”

“Sophia,” Edward warned his wife, not touching her, simply uttering the word as if it would be enough. But Sophia Armstrong-Young was too drunk to stop, too tired to do everything her husband said.

“You two wouldn’t even have found one another if it hadn’t been for my husband,” the woman said, her words slurred, and then both of the girl’s eyes landed on Edward Armstrong, who had the decency to drop the act and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Enough,” he told his wife, knowing that it would be to no use.

“What does she mean?” Beatrice asked her father.

“Yes, dearest, what do I mean?” Sophia said, sipping back from her wine as Ava was unable to stop looking at him.

“She’s talking non-sense,” Edward said, his wife cackling once again, “I said enough!”

“You bastard,” Sophia muttered, “tell them, Edward, tell them how much of a fucking sinner you are.”

“Speak,” Beatrice said, her voice cold as ice.

Edward looked at his daughter for long moments, debating whether or not he should actually speak. His wife now was laughing silently, her brown eyes filled with some kind of triumph, as if she had been aching for this moment to happen, as if she had been dying to see her own husband reach for the sun and fall.

“Go on,” Sophia Armstrong-Young said, purring, her husband’s jaw twitching.

He looked at Ava then, and breathed deeply as he squared his shoulders, sitting straight on the chair, and Ava automatically did the same.

“I paid for your school tuition,” he told Ava, and her heart stopped beating inside her chest, and she would guess the same happened to Beatrice because the girl also sat a little bit straighter, her hand immobilizing on top of Ava’s, telling Ava enough that this also was coming as a surprise for her.

“You what,” Beatrice said, voicing Ava’s exact thoughts. And then Beatrice let out a small oh, as her body leaned back, as she nodded in understanding, “now it makes sense.”

“What does?” Ava asked her, unable to look at Beatrice.

“Why he didn’t want me to befriend you, to be around you, so the world wouldn’t know he had done something right for once,” Beatrice said, but Ava shook her head. There was something that didn’t make sense to her.

“How did you know about me,” she almost whispered, Edward Armstrong looking at her.

“I knew your mother,” he said, his voice strained, as if the memory was painful for him. Ava clutched Beatrice’s hand, who had gone completely still.

“Tell her how you knew her, Edward,” Sophia Armstrong-Young said, smugly, seeming to enjoy this situation so much.

“The girl doesn’t have to know,” Edward said, and Ava scoffed.

“The girl has to know,” Ava said, and he looked at her with a pained expression on his eyes, “you can’t just fucking tell me you paid for my scholarship out of the blue, that you knew my mother, and then call it a day.”

“She’s right,” Beatrice said, “it makes no sense to me, father, how you decided to do something good for her and then completely mistreated her.”

“Come on, dearest,” Sophia said, sarcastically, and Ava was ready to stuff a napkin on her mouth if that meant she would shut up.

Jillian, Lilith and Michael seemed to be holding their breathing, not knowing if they should stay or give the four of them privacy, as Ava and Beatrice looked Edward in the eyes and waited for him.

“Your mother and I,” he started, as if the words were hard to come out, “I met her when I traveled to Portugal, around twenty-eight years ago.”

“Okay,” Ava said, furrowing her eyebrows, as Edward swallowed.

“We…” the man inhaled air, letting it out slowly, “we had… history, together.”

“Huh?” Ava said, the buzzing inside her head too loud to understand what the hell he was saying.

“An affair, Ava,” Beatrice muttered, the girl sitting straighter again. “They had an affair, while my mother already had Isabella back home. You had an affair as you had a wife and a three years old daughter at home.”

“Beatrice,” Edward said, but Ava didn’t hear what he said afterwards, suddenly looking at the daughter he had despised so much with softness in his eyes, as if he was trying to make her understand.

“How long,” Ava asked him, not caring if she had cut off whatever he was telling Beatrice.

“How long what?” he asked, stupidly.

“How long it lasted,” Ava repeated, as she felt one tear falling down her cheek.

“Two years and a half,” Edward answered.

“Why her,” Ava asked him, shaking her head, unable to understand how someone like him could’ve loved someone like Patricia Silva.

“Because I was miserable,” he told her, his voice coming out in an angry tremble. “I was thirty-seven years old and I felt like I had never lived. Forced into a marriage I didn’t want, forced into a life I never wanted, and then I met your mother and… everything felt right.”

“You were so much older than her, you bastard…” Ava said, feeling bile rising up from her stomach at the thought of a young Patricia willingly wanting to have something to do with an almost forty years old man.

“It got cut off sooner than we wanted to,” Edward continued, Beatrice letting out a dry chuckle.

“By me,” Beatrice said, and Ava looked at her, remembering the last time Beatrice’s face had looked like an emotionless mask, “because mother got pregnant with me.”

“Yes,” her father admitted, having the decency to look ashamed.

“And that’s why you despise me so much, because I forced you to go back to real life,” Beatrice said, her voice never breaking, and Edward Armstrong nodded his head slowly.

“Yes,” he said, Beatrice inhaling sharply as if she had been hoping he wouldn’t admit it, as if he had said his dislike for her had just been something he developed over time, as if Beatrice didn’t want him to admit he had hated her long before she had even been born.

“And you?” the taller girl asked, looking at her mother, “why do you hate me?”

“Because you were created out of guilt,” Sophia explained, shrugging her shoulders. “Your father hadn’t touched me at all ever since Isabella was conceived, not even after she was born. For three years, he didn’t even sleep next to me. And then, all of a sudden, he comes back from Portugal and the first thing he did was…”

Sophia let out a dry laugh, shaking her head, as if she still wasn’t able to understand or to grasp her husband had been capable of doing that to her. And Ava hated herself for having a slim feeling of empathy for them, especially when Beatrice was looking like that, finally understanding why she had been so unwanted, so hated, only loved by her dead sister.

“I understood immediately, you know?” Sophia continued, “he fucked me out of guilt, especially every time he came back from Portugal, it was always especially rough and passionate those times.”

“Oh-kay, I don’t think we need to know how you both…” Michael said, his mother shushing him immediately.

“He never finished, though, and I didn’t understand why,” the woman continued, her eyes glassing over, “and then I got it, I understood that if he unloaded inside of me… his little adventure, his little act of rebellion, it would be over.”

“Why does she use those words?” Lilith asked, sounding disgusted, as Jillian looked close to barfing.

“But it didn’t work out, did it?” Ava muttered, Beatrice swallowing loudly, not sure if she wanted to listen the way she had been conceived.

“He was too eager, unable to stop himself I guess, he didn’t realize that he…” Sophia shrugged her shoulders, “he didn’t touch me after that, and he didn’t care when I said I was pregnant again, especially after I said it was another girl. I was so angry at him, and so angry at Beatrice because it meant he would never touch me again. So I ended up telling his father.”

“And he made Edward stop seeing my mother,” Ava finished for her, and Sophia hummed. Beatrice’s grandfather, the only man who had cared for her, the one who she also ended up losing sooner than should be allowed.

“Smart girl,” Sophia said, sarcastically, and Ava didn’t even bother to say anything to her.

“I saw her one last time, a few months before Beatrice would be born,” the way Sophia didn’t even show any kind of shock told Ava enough, “to tell her why I needed to stop seeing her, but I believe she had someone else already, because she didn’t even show… she didn’t show any kind of emotion I expected for her to show.”

“Edward,” Ava said, before she could stop herself, catching the man off guard as she addressed him by his name. Ava knew her calculations were slightly off and there were several things that made it clear, but she had to ask him anyway. “Are you my…?”

“Oh, no,” he said, his eyes widening in panic, and Ava felt slightly relieved and she could tell Beatrice did too, because well that would’ve been… kind of awkward. “Not me, no.”

“Not you?” Ava asked him, feeling as if there was something more to it, “then who? Do you know him?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Edward sipped down his wine, as everyone in the room held their breathing.

“SAY IT,” Ava said, punching the table with both fists as Edward refilled his glass and drank the wine down in one take, “Please.”

She felt Beatrice’s hand landing on her thigh, not in a sensual way but as a way to try to calm her down, to try to tell her she was there, with her, and it would be okay. But Ava right now couldn’t focus on anything else, not the beautiful girl sitting next to her nor the way Sophia Armstrong-Young was smirking once more at her. Edward swallowed.

“Your father was the man who called me one afternoon,” he let out a dry chuckle, “he had been quite drunk, telling me he knew about me and Patricia. And at first I pretended I didn’t know what he said, until he gave me detailed information of things… only her and I could know, things that could be easily proven to be true if he fulfilled his threat of letting the whole world know about me.”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe he had been easily bribed, easily scared by someone who Edward Armstrong should’ve considered no one, a mere insect in his presence.

“He told me how smart you were, how he knew my own daughter attended a school that could give you the opportunity to achieve all the dreams you had,” the more he spoke, the less Ava heard him and the more her surroundings became blurred.

How was it possible? She had never known her father, and he had never tried to find her during all the years she had spent in the orphanage. There had been only one man who had known about her big dreams whenever she spoke about the future, just like her mother had fantasized about her own life. There had only been one man who knew her so well, who had complained many times about how he wished he could give to her all she wished for. And Ava remembered that afternoon nine years ago, how she had been laying on her bed as the man had come to her with an opened letter.

Of course he had opened it, and he had read it excusing it by saying he needed to be sure it was real, but in truth he had needed to make sure Edward kept his word and managed to get Ava inside the school, paying big amounts of money to assure she at least would be able to study there for two years, before she would be eighteen and whatever little money her mother had left for her would be enough to pay for at least her first year of university.

And of course Edward didn’t make some anonymous donation anymore for Ava’s college tuition, not after she had single-handedly managed for his daughter to set free from the shackles of her family, not when he became bankrupt in secret during the last year of Saint Melanie’s he couldn’t even pay for no one’s University, Beatrice having enough money of her own in her bank account for her to pay for as many degrees as she wanted to.

Ava felt herself being unable to breathe properly, as Beatrice didn’t move at all next to her, as the hand she had put on her thigh dropped, as if she had stopped having control of her body just like Ava felt right now.

“Say it,” she muttered to Edward, not even knowing how she managed to say the words, “say his name.”

Edward looked at her, and there was no pride or smugness in his eyes. There was so much sadness, surely caused by him remembering about Patricia, about why he ended up paying for Ava’s tuition even if it was in secret.

Because he had surely loved Patricia, because he had been miserable without her, and because he had spent twenty-five years of his life resenting Beatrice because it had been the reason why he had been forced to stop seeing Patricia.

But Edward Armstrong had been human, anyway, and when he had been aware of Patricia’s daughter wanting to achieve big things, he had been unable to say no, because everyone had been unable to say no to Patricia, to her charm and kindness and beauty. Even if you were a man who swore to God you would never lie down with a woman, nor would engender children of your own.

“Vincent,” Edward said, sighing, as if he was relieved that he finally could unveil a secret he had been keeping for almost ten years. “Vincent Ulloa is your father.”

*

“Ava!” Beatrice said, running out of the restaurant and into the street, trying to stop Ava from running into literal traffic.

She grabbed her girlfriend by the arm, out of breath, as a car honked at them.

“Ava,” she said, softer now, her heart hammering inside her chest because of the amount of emotions she was feeling.

Beatrice had expected it, Beatrice had suspected it ever since she saw that photograph, but she never in her life would’ve expected her own parents to know the secret, which surprised her even more than Edward confirming that Vincent was, in fact, Ava’s father.

She had always thought Ava’s secret money donor had been a distant relative of the girl, perhaps someone who had taken pity on her but didn’t really want to do anything with her. Because if Ava and Beatrice had known something about life at age sixteen, that was that there were many cruel people around the world.

But Beatrice had never guessed it had been her own father, she had never really paid much attention to the whole scholarship mystery because Ava, honestly, had never really paid much attention to it anyway.

They had talked about it one night, when Beatrice asked her if she wasn’t curious. And Ava said that at first she really had been, and she had drilled Mother Frances with questions, but the woman hadn’t said anything at all to her and simply told Ava to be grateful of the opportunity she had received.

And honestly, once Ava had realized no one would answer her questions, she simply dropped the issue and made the best of it, even if Ava was someone who needed to know about anything surrounding her life. But when you keep on asking questions, and all you get are no answers, when you try to walk through a street without an exit, you end up giving up and moving on. Even Ava understood that, Beatrice was sure.

But Beatrice also knew how Vincent had pretended he didn’t know who had donated the money for Ava to attend Saint Melanie’s, when he himself had been the one calling Beatrice’s father, bribing him to pay for Ava’s tuition or his secret affair would be exposed to the world, causing some kind of scandal between the English aristocracy who, until now, had held him into the most highest of pedestals.

Beatrice should feel relieved because she had finally discovered the reason why her family hated her, why probably Isabella had been able to play with her father’s wishes because she surely had somehow ended up discovering the whole thing, but right now she didn’t care at all if she finally could move on with life after knowing that they hated her for something that wasn’t even her fault, something she couldn’t even control. All her life she had wanted to know why they disliked her so much, and she finally knew.

She should feel relieved because she had been able to humiliate them just like they had humiliated her for her whole life, because Ava had finally had the chance to get her own sweet revenge, but now Beatrice didn’t care about any of that anymore. She didn’t even care about her own suspicions being true, about how Ava truly showed her she had never even thought about it, not even when Vincent took special care of her, something he hadn’t done with any of the kids in the orphanage.

Of course he would’ve, Beatrice thought, it was his own daughter. And he knew it, and never said anything.

“Beatrice,” Ava sobbed, bringing her hands up and putting them behind the back of her head, Beatrice not knowing how to act, if it was a good idea to tell her she had suspected it, “Beatrice, he’s my…”

And Beatrice decided to hug Ava, as the girl sobbed into her shoulder. She didn’t care if the smeared makeup ruined her suit, all that mattered now was Ava, her Ava.

“How can someone be so fucking stupid?” Ava said, separating from Beatrice to catch some air, “the more I think about it, the clearer it is. All the fucking signs were there! The way he adopted me, out of all people, after he had been running that orphanage for twelve years, how he always seemed to have some kind of deeper care for me, how he took Diego in because he knew I would be lonely without him… I always thought he pitied me or something! I was the only girl in that place who had gone through an almost death experience, who had almost lost her ability to walk, who had seen her mother die and hadn’t been abandoned… and I always thought that he… Oh my fucking God, Beatrice.”

“Ava,” Beatrice said, again, swallowing hard, “how could you know it was him? If I had been in your same position, it wouldn’t even have crossed my mind either.”

“How can you be so calm and level headed?” Ava said, putting her hands up, “as if the news are not even a shock to you!”

Beatrice cursed herself when she looked down, ashamed, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows at her. The girl walked slowly towards her, as Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Beatrice?” the girl said, tilting her head, trying to get her to look into Ava’s eyes, “why don’t you look shocked?”

“I…” Beatrice said, and Ava’s eyes widened.

“Oh my fucking God,” Ava said, letting out a cold chuckle, and then turned around and walked away.

“Wait!” Beatrice said, trying to catch up, “Ava, it’s not like that! They didn’t tell me, I didn’t even think of that possibility until one week ago!”

“What?!” Ava said, turning to look at her, “one week ago?!”

“When Vincent showed us the picture of him and Duretti,” she said, catching her breathing, “back in your apartment, when we had dinner with him and Diego.”

“The picture?” Ava shook her head, and Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“Didn’t you look at it?” she asked.

“My olive fell,” Ava explained to her, as if it had been obvious, “I bended down to get it as he showed the picture.”

“Seriously?” Beatrice asked, not being able to believe what Ava was saying.

“I remember Diego bended down too, trying to steal it from me,” the shorter girl kept on retelling, and Beatrice let out a sound of shock.

“I can’t believe this,” she said, but Ava still looked at her angrily, upset, and Beatrice felt her heart breaking. “Ava…”

“Why didn’t you say anything, Bea?” she asked, her voice shaking, and Beatrice sighed.

“What if I was mistaken?” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “what if I told you right after I have the suspicion Vincent’s your father because him at twenty years old looked almost like you, and then it turned out to be one simple coincidence?”

“How would it be a coincidence?” Ava shook her head, and Beatrice groaned.

“I don’t know, Ava! It surely would happen if it was me saying it out loud!”

Ava started to pace around, and Beatrice bit her lip. The girl didn’t look as angry anymore at Beatrice, trying to process Beatrice’s explanation, but she knew Ava would remain pissed off for a period of time because she hadn’t said what actually ended up being the truth. And honestly, Beatrice didn’t blame her at all because maybe if she had said something now Ava wouldn’t look so upset, so confused, so anguished.

“Eighteen years, Beatrice,” she said, not even looking at her, “I’ve known Vincent for eighteen years and he never said anything to me, not even once for fuck’s sake!”

Ava looked furious, Ava sounded furious, and Beatrice was starting to feel furious as well. Because Vincent had every single chance to tell Ava the truth, to tell her he actually was her father. There was so much to unpack in there, given that he was a Catholic priest and he was supposed to bow to never lay with a woman or have children.

But instead, he had known Ava and instead of keeping his secret safe and stay away from her, he decided to act like a father. He cared for her, took her in, loved her like a father would his daughter. And never once, in eighteen years he had known her, he bothered to unveil the truth to her.

“He listened to me rant about my father,” Ava said, her voice coming out shaky as tears fell again, “whenever we went out of the orphanage and I saw a dad and a daughter playing together, whenever I watched a movie and a father walked his daughter down the aisle. He always listened to me, wishing how I knew I had known him even if it had been for a day, and never had the fucking decency to say anything.”

Beatrice didn’t approach Ava, letting her speak her mind, letting her pace around and let the anger and the disappointment out. She would let Ava take it out on her, because after all she had one part of the blame. She had suspected it, and didn’t say anything, hoping it was simply one stupid suspicion.

“Twenty-five fucking years,” Ava continued saying, “he could’ve showed up at any moment before the accident, maybe if he did now my mom would…”

“Ava,” Beatrice said as Ava stopped moving, covering her mouth with her hand as she let a sob out.

“I could’ve had a family, Beatrice,” she said, looking back at Beatrice, “a real family.”

“You have one, Ava,” Beatrice said softly to her, “you have Diego, and Camila and JC. You have Suzanne, and… and you even have Lilith, Jillian and Michael,” Beatrice took Ava’s hand, “and you have me as well, Ava.”

“I don’t blame him, you know,” Ava said, letting out a dry chuckle and dropping Beatrice’s hand, “sometimes I… sometimes I think that… that if he left us was for a reason, and that reason was me. Because I was way too much, even as a baby, and I’m broken, Beatrice, who wants to have a broken child?”

“Don’t ever say that again, Ava,” Beatrice couldn’t stay away from Ava, so she put her hands on the girl’s cheeks, “you’re not broken, you make everyone around you whole.”

“So why did he leave?” Ava said, confused, “why did my father, Vincent, leave?”

“I don’t know, Ava,” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, as Ava leaned into her touch and closed her eyes, “I’m not the one who has the answer.”

She looked up at her, and she nodded slowly understanding what Beatrice meant by that.

“I should talk to him,” she said, whispering the words, “they leave on Sunday.”

“We can wait for tomorrow, Ava. We can go home now, maybe fill up the bathtub and try to process all we learned tonight.”

“No,” Ava said, firmly, but not angry at her. “No, Beatrice, I need to go talk with him now.”

“Ava…”

“I don’t care if it’s late,” Ava said, shaking her head to make a point, “I have to do it now.”

“Let’s call an Uber, then,” Beatrice took her phone out, “I’ll come with you.”

“Bea,” Ava put Beatrice’s hand down gently, smiling sadly at her, “I need to do this alone.”

It didn’t upset Beatrice, because she knew Ava didn’t mean it in that kind of way, she knew Ava wasn’t pushing her away and after all this was Ava’s father. What would Beatrice do? Hold her hand as Vincent tried to defend himself?

Ava was right, and as much as it hurt Beatrice, she knew Ava was brave enough to stand her own ground, to get the answers she needed to get. And it would be something very hard to do, to learn the truth from someone who had known it for many years and kept it a secret, but Ava needed to face it alone and all Beatrice could do was to be supportive of her, to open her arms for her if Ava wanted so.

“Okay, yeah,” Beatrice said, nodding at Ava, smiling softly at her to let her know she wasn’t upset, “I’ll be there waiting for you, though. You only need to call, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Beatrice,” Ava said, urgently, and she looked at her, “I’m very proud of you for what you did tonight, I thought I should tell you before I leave.”

“And I’m very proud of you always, Ava, and very grateful for having you next to me tonight, for letting me watch you obliterate those two,” Ava snorted, rolling her eyes, as she hugged Beatrice tightly.

“I promise the rest of our nights as girlfriends won’t be so dramatic,” Ava said as her head buried in the space between Beatrice’s neck and shoulder.

“Oh, I live for the drama, darling,” Beatrice said, and Ava looked at her with a soft smile and amused eyes.

Beatrice felt droplets of rain falling down the sky, both of them looking up as the rain increased, and Beatrice couldn’t help but remember the last time her and Ava had been under the rain together, how it had ended and how it had meant the beginning of the catastrophe that kept them apart for seven years.

She also remembered how Ava had told her once she didn’t like the rain, and Beatrice wanted to convince the girl once again to let her go with her, or at least accompany her on the ride towards the hotel. Ava didn’t like cars, or rain, so Beatrice didn’t want Ava to be alone in a car as it poured. The girl, though, looked determined and as if nothing would stop her, not even a storm or the rain.

Beatrice looked down at Ava, who’s tears were mixing up with the rain, as the girl’s arms were still around her neck and as both of them didn’t truly want to let go from one another, to face what was to come.

“Ava,” Beatrice said, and Ava looked at her as the rain started to pour down New York City, “I understand that the events of tonight might’ve shocked you, and I understand that you need to face Vincent all on your own. And if you need time to process it all, if you need to be alone, then I’ll give you the space you need. But please, for the love of God, don’t shut me out from your life, not now that I have you back.”

“Beatrice…” Ava said, swallowing, as if she suddenly wanted to gain time and not face Vincent anymore, as if she wanted to stay there under the rain, as if she didn’t want Beatrice to go back inside and face her parents. “I promise I won’t do that. I won’t say that I’ll feel fine immediately after talking to him, that I’ll want to… you know, act normal, and I’ll most likely want to be alone for a few days with my thoughts. But I won’t shut you out of this, I swear. Not anymore, remember?”

“Good,” Beatrice let out a wet chuckle, not knowing if she was crying or if it was the rain, “because I love you too much to let go of you, Ava.”

Ava looked at her, eyes wide and her mouth forming a small O shape, not saying anything for a few seconds. Beatrice didn’t know if it was correct, how long the standard time of wait was to tell someone you loved them. She had gone with the flow with Leighton, saying it after the girl had said it first a few months after starting to date. But she felt like she and Ava were an exception, and they were allowed to become girlfriends and say I love you the same night, because they had been waiting seven years for this.

“Ava?” Beatrice then said, when the seconds became longer, when she was starting to feel cold and the rain didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

And then, Ava’s lips clashed against her under the rain, and Beatrice found it funny how Ava had always wanted grand love gestures, how kissing under the rain after Beatrice confessed her love for Ava was probably giving her the time of her life even if her world had been turned upside down in the matter of a few minutes. And Beatrice wasn’t happy, because she knew Ava was in pain and confused and hurting, but she was glad she had been able to make her forget for a moment.

“For the record,” Ava said, once they separated, “I love you too, Beatrice.”

“Was it too soon?” the shorter girl chuckled, even if her eyes were filled with one thousand questions.

“More like the opposite,” Ava said, kissing her briefly, “I’ve waited seven years to hear you say this.”

“You don’t have to wait any more, Ava,” the shorter girl hugged her tightly, and Beatrice did the same.

“I should get going,” Ava said, reluctantly, and Beatrice nodded.

“I’m just one phone call away, Ava,” she reminded her, before Ava stopped a taxi right as it was driving next to them.

“I’ve changed my mind about the whole needing alone time after the conversation I’m about to have,” Ava said, sighing, “Can I come over after I’m done?” Beatrice smiled down at her, nodding her head.

“I’ll cook something for us, since we didn’t even get to eat anything,” Beatrice squeezed her hand as the taxi waited, neither of them really wanting to let go knowing what they would have to face in the next minutes.

“I’m sorry I have to leave you alone with them,” Ava looked behind Beatrice, a scowl on her face.

“I won’t be alone, and neither will you,” the shorter girl took a deep breath as the taxi driver honked urgently, and Beatrice kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later, yes?”

Beatrice watched the taxi drive away, her heart leaving with Ava and feeling the need to go after her, to sit next to her as she demanded answers from Vincent. But Beatrice had something else to deal with, and honestly all she wanted to do right now was to leave, to go home and prepare a warm meal for Ava, put on some romantic comedy and eat popcorn as they cuddled next to each other, trying to figure out what the hell happened that night.

She made her way inside, and she saw her parents seemed to be ready to finish the conversation as quickly as possible. Jillian, Lilith and Michael had moved into another table, happily eating their food, the three of them knowing that the Armstrong-Youngs weren’t their business, but Beatrice’s.

Beatrice saw Lilith looking at her, worried, and Beatrice nodded at her telling her everything was fine, and her sister offered her a small smile of encouragement as Jillian and Michael looked between her and her parents, the boy looking serious like Beatrice had never seen him before.

“Is she okay?” Edward had the decency (and the guts) to ask Beatrice, her mother looking her wet hair and wet clothes up and down with a blank expression.

“No, she’s not,” Beatrice said, sitting down in front of them.

“I thought she would be relieved,” the man said, interlacing his fingers.

Beatrice looked at him, as if confessing he had once been in love with Ava’s mother had lifted a weight off his shoulders. He looked vulnerable, even worried for Ava’s wellbeing. Beatrice fisted her hand under the table, trying her best not to say what truly was going through her mind.

Now you care about Ava? When you never had a problem to remind her she was useless the first time you saw her, when you didn’t have a problem to make me mistrust her and stay away from her, hurting her and myself in the process?

“So what do you expect me to do,” Beatrice said, breathing deeply, her father furrowing his eyebrows.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to pay for the townhouse’s rent,” he said, ashamed, “and I know you bought Armstrong Hall before coming here, right after I finally put it in the market, making it your private home aside from the London apartment.”

“I will sell the apartment soon, once I’ll get back to London, make Armstrong Hall my permanent home,” Beatrice explained to him, not even knowing why she bothered to say anything, “the money I get from it will be yours.”

“That apartment is not worth-” her mother started to say, but Edward and Beatrice looked at her and she immediately shut up.

“As you wish,” Edward said, nodding.

“I will sell the other properties to Arq-Tech, except of course the one from Armstrong Hall and our summer home in France,” Beatrice kept telling her dad, who was nodding along. “I could give you a part of the benefits, a small one, use the rest of it to invest in the company and the project, and to build a house for Ava and I.”

“Where?” Edward asked, softly, even gently.

“Where, what?”

“Where would you build the house?” he said, as if he cared, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“Wherever she wants, I don’t care,” she cleared her throat, finding it uncomfortable how suddenly her father even cared for her, for her plans of the future.

“The small parts I plan into giving you should be enough to keep your act going towards the rest of your aristocrat friends,” Beatrice said the words bitterly, her father swallowing hard, “you could tell them you decided to sell the properties to Arq-Tech yourself, to support me.”

“Yes,” he nodded, and Beatrice did the same.

“That is all, you can go now,” Beatrice tried to get up, but her father raised his hand as if he was trying to put it on her arm, and she cringed away, eyes wide. She saw Michael and Lilith almost getting up from their chairs, Jillian stopping to eat as her expression became hard.

“There’s something else,” Edward said, putting his hands away.

“You can tell me as I walk you both out, I don’t want to spend any other minute in your presence,” Edward had the decency to nod, understandingly, as Sophia simply scoffed at her but got up anyways.

“We put a deposit on your sister’s bank account she could benefit of when she would turn eighteen years old,” her father started to say, standing in front of Beatrice, “just like your own deposit, we thought she could use it to pay for University and buy her first home.”

“What’s the point of this?” Beatrice said, arching an eyebrow.

“The moment Isabella turned eighteen, she decided to hire a lawyer of her own and wrote her own will,” Beatrice didn’t really like where this was going, and her heart dropped to her stomach. “Beatrice, Isabella… she…”

“What? She what, father?” Edward inhaled a shaky breath, closing his eyes before he continued.

“She wasn’t… in the best mindset, because of us,” Beatrice clenched her jaw, fisting her hands as she waited for her father to continue, “she left two things in her will, two things that belonged to you only, and we didn’t respect that.”

“You didn’t respect what?” Edward looked at Sophia, who now was looking slightly ashamed, the floor tiles incredibly interesting for her, “Speak, God fucking damn it!”

“The first thing was this letter that I always carry with me, so no one will ever be able to find it and so I can give it to you if the moment ever comes,” Edward took an envelope from his breast pocket, which had clearly been opened before, “don’t read it until you get home, please.”

“What’s the other thing?” Beatrice said, her voice shaking, taking the envelope and holding it tight wishing that the thing she was starting to think it carried wasn’t true and she was simply making up way too many scenarios.

“She wished for all her money to go to you, Beatrice, but since you were a minor back then we took it for ourselves and never gave it to you,” Edward continued, avoiding to look at his daughter, “we thought you would come begging for money, and our heritage was already dwindling, so we grabbed onto everything and we thought it would be a bait for you to… well, stay under our control.”

“You stole money from Isabella?” Beatrice muttered, starting to see red. Her father sighed, nodding slowly.

And then her fist clashed against his cheek, making him lose balance and hit the floor as her mother screamed in horror, Lilith and the rest getting up to protect her if Edward fought back.

But Beatrice was already long gone.

*

The ride on the taxi had gone by in a blur for Ava, her mind jumping to one thought to the other, not letting her have a minute to wonder what the hell would she say to Vincent once he would open the hotel door.

It had felt as if Edward Armstrong had poured a bucket of freezing water upon her, and for a moment all she had been able to do was to sit on that chair, looking at the man, not being able to move as she felt Beatrice clutching her hand, telling her something she didn’t hear. And the next thing she knew, she was running out of the restaurant, Beatrice following her behind.

Beatrice confessed her she had suspected it when Vincent had showed the picture, and Ava wondered how could she be so blind and how did she not even notice any kind of resemblance her and Vincent shared for over the eighteen years they had known one another.

She couldn’t really be angry at Beatrice for holding it in. After all, the girl had only kept her suspicions for herself for not even a week, and it made sense how she hadn’t wanted to be the one to say anything just in case it actually wasn’t true, and it all was some kind of odd coincidence.

Ava had gone from pacing around the street, almost getting run over for the second time that summer, her heart hammering against her chest as all she had believed for twenty-five years of her life completely crumbled down.

And then, Beatrice had casually told her she loved her, and it all felt right for one moment there and Ava forgot about everything, the only clear thing being Beatrice and the love they had shared for nine years, the love they finally confessed to feel. And most importantly, it had been under the rain just like in almost all the romantic comedies Ava had watched as a child.

But then, she got into the cab and the weight of the world fell back upon her shoulders, regretting telling Beatrice she would do this all on her own because she was a big girl and she could do it.

Now, the taxi was slowing down as the hotel where Vincent and Diego stayed at came into view, and the rain was still falling down at a rapid and aggressive pace, Ava feeling her bones chilling now that the height of emotions was coming down.

“We’re here,” the driver said, looking at her through the rear mirror. Ava nodded, giving him the money, and got down.

She stood there for maybe one minute or one hour, looking at the hotel, the rain falling down on her and soaking her again. And then she swallowed, and for the first time in her life she found herself hating her mother and the man who had opened his arms and his home for her, the man who had turned out to be the one Ava had been searching for all her life, and never said anything.

And that was enough to fuel her fire again, it was enough to get her to cross the street, enter the hotel and take the elevator to the floor where Vincent and Diego’s rooms were.

She wanted to knock on Diego’s door first, tell him what happened, and drag him with her so she would have someone who would stop her from rocking Vincent’s shit. But then again she thought about Beatrice, how she told her she needed to do this alone, and decided to knock on Vincent’s door instead.

“Ava,” he said, wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, his tattooed arms on full display.

Ava remembered the first time she saw those arms, how Vincent had told her he had a dark past before he found God and in Him, his salvation. But Ava, now, wasn’t sure God would really appreciate Vincent lying to her face for eighteen years.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his smile dropping as he saw her looking at him blankly, her chest going up and down rapidly, “what did they do?”

“They?” Ava said, her voice coming out low, scaring even herself, “more like what did you do.”

“What?” Vincent blinked at her, confused, “why don’t you come in? You’re soaking wet, Ava.”

“Oh, now you fucking care?” she let out a dry chuckle, crossing her arms upon her chest, not caring if she was forming a puddle of rain water on the carpeted hallway.

“Ava, what’s going on?” and she couldn’t keep it in anymore, letting out a scoff, arching an eyebrow at the man.

“You tell me, dad.”

And then she saw it, the way Vincent’s brown eyes widened in panic, the way his face went completely pale and he had to support himself into the door’s frame, letting out a small gasp as the secret he kept for a long time was finally out.

“He told you,” he muttered, his eyes unseeing, avoiding Ava’s at all costs.

“He did,” she said, and Vincent looked furious for a moment, and Ava couldn’t believe the audacity he had.

She wouldn’t care so much if she had met Vincent one week ago, randomly. But she had known him for more than half of her life, and she had asked him so many times why had her father never loved her enough to stay, to meet her, to act like a father. And he had given her thousands and thousands of explanations, of excuses that inside of little Ava’s mind made actual sense, while it had been him all this time.

“Why did you never tell me?” Ava asked him, and she wanted to scream but her voice came out small, vulnerable, confused as she felt her lips trembling, her eyes filling up with tears, “why did you never tell the truth, Vincent? Why do you hate me and dislike the idea of being my father so much?”

“Ava,” Vincent said, his own voice shaking and his own eyes glistening, “come in, please, let’s talk inside.”

Ava walked inside, and they sat on opposite ends of the small sofa resting at the feet of Vincent’s bed. He clasped his hands on his lap, as if he was a priest ready to make a member of his congregation confess to save themselves from a sin. But the truth was, Ava was the one who wanted to make Vincent confess.

“So?” she said, after he didn’t say anything, “will you answer my question?”

“I don’t hate you, I never did,” Vincent said, his voice small but filled of desperation, as if he needed Ava to believe him, “it’s always been the opposite.”

“So why did you never tell me the truth, Vincent?” Ava asked him, her voice now a little bit louder, more insistent, “why did you lie to me all this time?”

“I couldn’t,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, as if the answer was plain and simple, “because I’ve never been deserving of that position.”

“What?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, and Vincent let out a shaky laugh without any humor in it.

“A vile human being like me never deserved your mother’s love,” he explained to her, Ava letting out a sound of confusion, “I never deserved your love, Ava, and every single day where you looked at me as if I was your hero, every single time you look at me like a daughter looks at her father, it kills me.”

“But why?” Ava shook her head, “you could’ve… I don’t know, Vincent, you could’ve told me anyway, maybe when I was old enough to understand. And then you could’ve dipped if you hate the idea of being my father so much.”

“Would that make everything better?” he asked her, sarcastically.

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, “because this way I wouldn’t have spent eighteen years of my life daydreaming about you being my father, loving you like I should’ve loved him, and I wouldn’t have spent eighteen years of my life wondering why it couldn’t be you all this time when, in fact, it was you.”

“Ava…”

“At least I would’ve known, Vincent,” Ava tried to make him understand, “at least now I would hate you for actually leaving me, and not for lying to me.”

“I couldn’t, okay?!” Vincent got up, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I was, and I still am, a priest.”

“Well, that didn’t seem to be an excuse to…” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, “I don’t know, get someone pregnant.”

“Because I loved her too much, Ava, I loved Patricia so much I forgot about my vows and how they saved me from…” Vincent let out a long sigh, shaking his head as he put his hands on his waist, pursing his lips.

“How did it happen?” Ava asked him after he was silent for a long time, and Vincent looked at her with a pained and pleading expression, “I deserve to know, don’t you think?”

Vincent then let out a sigh of defeat, as he nodded his head, and made his way towards his suitcase. He rummaged through it for a while, as if he was searching for something, and then he took out two stacks of letters, Ava furrowing her eyebrows.

“I can try to explain it to you,” Vincent said, sitting next to her again, closer this time, and offering her the letters, “but the story in here makes it all clearer.”

“I didn’t come here to read, Vincent,” Ava said, taking the letters from him and putting them on her lap, “I want to hear it from you.”

“I know,” he said, biting his lower lip, and Ava took her time to actually look at him.

When she had met him, he had always looked like this. His cheeks were usually hollowed, his hair was already almost silver and his bushy beard had always covered a big part of his face. But the eyes, Ava thought, the eyes were exactly the same as hers, and if she looked at the nose she could see a similar resemblance to it. And now, as Vincent had a little wrinkle between his eyebrows, Ava could see herself on it as well because she too looked like that when she was thinking hard.

It had always been there, but Vincent had made sure to keep it hidden from her. And maybe Ava, unconsciously, had decided to be blind to the truth of her existence because maybe that would be easier than admitting it, and maybe all those times she had imagined Vincent being her own father, in a life where he wasn’t a priest and she wasn’t an orphan, it was just her realizing the truth but choosing not to acknowledge it because their reality would hurt way more than her little fantasy.

“It all started around twenty-eight years ago,” Vincent started, his voice sounding distant as he recalled the story he had kept a secret for so long, “I moved from Madrid to Seville, because I would start studying there. My mother died after giving birth to me, my father abandoning me when he realized he would’ve to take care of a child, so I grew up going from one orphanage to the other, from one foster home to the other.”

Ava gasped slightly, taken aback by the fact that her life wasn’t so different from Vincent’s own life. He had always talked about having a bad and painful past, how that had been his old life before his new one, how it wasn’t worth remembering it.

“When I was around fourteen years old, I was fostered by this family with not many resources, needing at least two children to get help from the government. I soon encountered a life style of drugs, alcohol, and my… well, foster father, he ran an illegal fighting club and made me fight there to get money.”

Ava felt a lump on her throat, wanting to take Vincent’s hand but unable to move as he continued talking.

“I stayed there until I turned sixteen, when I decided to run away from them,” Vincent then looked at his tattoo covered arms, “I got these at that age, actually, because after every fight you won you got to get a tattoo to celebrate your victory.”

Ava’s mouth fell open, unable to form any words, and Vincent smiled sadly at her.

“I spent days and nights on the street, until I found a priest who decided to take me in. He offered me a house, a bed and food, if I helped him out during his sermons and if I continued my studies before University. You see, in Spain you can stop attending school after age sixteen, and that had been my plan because I truly had no aspirations, but he was the one teaching at the school and I was unable to refuse. He inspired me, the way he dedicated his life to help the misfits and the outcasts, guided by God’s message,” Vincent smiled softly, his eyes turning sad at the memory of the man who helped him in the worst moment of his life.

“That’s why you decided to… help people like me, and you?” Ava asked, and Vincent nodded his head.

“At age eighteen, I moved to Seville to study there, where I met Duretti,” Vincent told her, “I graduated from University at twenty-one years old, one year earlier than I should, and then I entered the seminary, graduating from there at twenty-eight and ready to start my work as a priest.”

Ava wanted to tell Vincent to hurry up, to tell her about how he met her mother already, because she truly didn’t care about his University years and seminary. She wanted to know the truth.

“I met your mother when I was twenty-eight, when she had come to visit some friends in Seville who, turned out, were friends of mine as well,” Ava felt her heart starting to hammer loudly at the anticipation, “I was two years older than her.”

“So she was my age when you two met?” Vincent nodded, and Ava swallowed, letting him continue.

“I told her I was a priest, freshly out of the seminary, and she asked me if I could confess her right in the middle of the street,” Vincent let out a chuckle, his eyes clouded with nostalgia, “there were many things wrong with that suggestion, but there was something about your mother… I couldn’t say no.”

“So I’ve been told…” Ava muttered, and Vincent looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Continue.”

“She told me she felt so guilty to the point she needed a priest, someone who had never even believed in God in the first place,” Vincent said, his voice low, “she said that… for a year, she had seen an older man, someone who was married and had a child.”

“Beatrice’s father,” Ava said, Vincent humming in agreement.

“She asked me if she was a sinner for that, and I told her she wasn’t, because she didn’t have any child nor husband back in Porto, while he did,” Vincent chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, “your mother was… one of a kind, Ava.”

“What happened then?” she asked him, needing to know more.

“I fell in love with her after only needing an hour to talk with her,” he said, sounding extremely guilty, “imagine how I felt, already trying not to break my vows right after getting out of the seminary.”

“Right,” she said, her eyes not leaving his.

“For a year and a half, maybe a little less than that, I tried to keep my distance from her but it was impossible, Ava,” Vincent sighed, “I was madly in love with your mother, and I went down to Porto to see her many times as well as she came to Seville to see me.”

“And then he left her, right?” he nodded, Ava clenching her fists at the thought that her mother could’ve been in love, manipulated by a man who had been eleven years older, a man who had been capable to create such an extraordinary human like Beatrice was.

“Your mother was heartbroken,” Vincent said, “she came to see me to Seville, telling me he had come only to tell her it needed to end because his wife was pregnant.”

“What did you do?” Ava asked, and she saw a muscle twitching on his jaw.

“I broke my vows, because Patricia needed comfort and… I needed her, even if it was only once in my life,” he looked at her, and Ava didn’t need any more details to understand that she had been the produce of her mother’s heartbreak, of Vincent’s need.

“And then?”

“The January of the next year, on 1998, Patricia said Beatrice had been born,” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, wondering how her mother had known, “what she didn’t tell me was that she was pregnant as well, of three months.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Vincent shook his head, Ava feeling her heart dropping to the bottom of her stomach.

“Your mother came to visit me again six months later, on July of 1998,” she widened her eyes at him.

“I was born in July…” he nodded at her, humming.

“She brought you with her, and told me what she had kept a secret the last time I saw her,” Vincent shook his head, “even though sometimes I would like to know she didn’t know by then, maybe not yet.”

Ava wanted to tell him that she surely had known, because according to Ava’s logic the time they met one another before she presented Ava to Vincent, her mother would’ve been around three months pregnant, a time where it starts to become evident for several reasons.

“What did you do?” Vincent smiled sadly.

“She told me you were our daughter, and I could tell because of your tuff of brown hair and the way your nose was just like my mother’s. I remembered from the few photos I had of her,” Vincent then sighed, “and because Patricia decided to name you after her, as well.”

“What?” she muttered, and Vincent shrugged his shoulders.

“I think I never truly knew Patricia, Ava,” he confessed to her, “and sometimes I can’t help but think that… maybe she named you like my mother as a bait, so I would stay with her.”

“But you didn’t,” he shook his head.

“Ever since I slept with your mother, I felt overcome with guilt because I broke my vows, even if I had wanted it badly,” he scratched his hair, “I went back to my bad habits, the alcohol and the drugs that I had managed to keep away for twelve years to deal with… with the things I felt.”

Vincent pointed at the letters, and Ava was starting to guess that one pile belonged to him and the other belonged to her mother.

“I fled,” he said, as if it hadn’t been obvious, “I abandoned her like Edward did, though I’m sure she didn’t love me like she loved him.”

“Don’t say that,” Ava had the need to say, wanting to defend her mother but also wanting to comfort him.

“I was Patricia’s revenge, Ava, against Edward,” he said, his voice breaking slightly even after all this time, “to let him know he had no control over her anymore, that she could live her life anyways.”

Ava had heard those words before, about a girl defying Edward to let him know he didn’t own the world and he didn’t own anyone living in it. And maybe one of the reasons why Edward Armstrong had been so distant with his eldest daughter, Isabella, was because that constant need of opposing and defying him reminded the Duke of someone else, someone who was long gone but her ghost still seemed to loom upon them all.

“So you’re saying she had me to piss Beatrice’s dad off?” Ava asked Vincent, not angrily, but feeling as if right now that could very well be a possibility. Anything seemed possible to her right now, after tonight, even if it was the most twisted thing anyone could do.

“Never,” Vincent said, his hand shooting to grab Ava’s, but stopping mid-air, “she loved you dearly, Ava, because you became her little companion after the people she had always loved the most abandoned her. It was you and her, against the world.”

Ava couldn’t help herself but let out a sob, at the memory of her failing her mother and being unable to fight the world and the cruelty it had showed to her, about how she only remained by her mother’s side for seven years after her mother tried to shield her from the drunk driver.

She still remembered how the car hit them on the passenger’s side, how her mother let go of the wheel and quickly covered Ava, taking the worst of the crash to the point she died on site. Patricia Silva had protected Ava, her world, leaving her to mend for herself. Just like everyone had left Patricia in one way or another, intentionally or not, and Ava was supposed to remain by her mother’s side forever. Her mother was supposed to remain by Ava’s side forever, not letting her get hurt by no one, not letting Ava be abandoned by anyone. And yet, her mother leaving left Ava unprotected. Because she, too, had been left heartbroken seven years ago, but she also had been luckier than her mother because her lover had gone back to Ava, and Patricia never had that.

“I told your mother I didn’t want to have anything to do with her, nor… you,” Vincent said, his eyes filling up with guilt, and Ava wished it didn’t hurt so much, “but it was a lie, because I was in a very bad place and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you grow up next to someone like me, Ava.”

“Someone like you?”

“Someone weak, someone who was hurting, someone who broke vows and promises,” Vincent told her, and now Ava couldn’t help herself but put a hand upon the man’s, her father, caressing it softly. And he squeezed it back, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief.

“Where did you go, then?”

“To Mexico,” he told her, “I asked the bishop who was in charge of the diocese I worked in if I could go away, telling him it had always been my passion when in truth all the things I loved dearly were next to me.”

Vincent had never really talked about his past, and Ava understood why. She had known he had spent time away, but she had never known where he had gone or why he had gone away. Now it all made sense.

“I wrote a letter to your mother, telling her that I needed to stay away for a while,” he said, looking at the letters on Ava’s lap, “and it became a thing, you know? We wrote letters to one another every once in a while, where she talked about you and all the little progress you made, making me feel as if I was watching you grow up from the distance.”

Ava sniffled, wiping her tears away, as Vincent continued speaking.

“And it hurt me like hell, Ava, because I wanted to stay away and pretend you didn’t exist so I wouldn’t have the temptation to be part of your life and hurt you,” Vincent smiled at her, shaking his head, “But at the same time, learning that your first word had been borboleta, butterfly, and that you learned how to walk before you should… it filled me with happiness and pride.”

“So you were there, anyways?” Vincent nodded, and Ava let out a shaky, incredulous laugh.

“I was there when you learned how to speak, how to walk, how to ride a bicycle, only that it wasn’t physical,” Vincent shrugged his shoulders.

“And you never wanted to come and visit us?” he smiled at her, squeezing her hand once again.

“I fought the urge for seven years, but then Patricia told me you had started school and you started to ask why you didn’t have a father,” a tear fell down Vincent’s cheek, “so we decided that we would meet one another during summer, after I got offered the director position of the orphanage where we met.”

Ava’s mind started to work again, doing the calculations. If Vincent waited for seven years, if they decided to meet one another during the summer time eighteen years ago, in Málaga…

“You and your mother went to Seville first, to visit some of her old friends,” he started to explain, something that Ava already knew, “she hadn’t been in there ever since she had you, ever since I left.”

Vincent let go of her hand, getting up and pacing around his hotel room, as Ava looked at him silently, watching his every move. He was scratching his beard, breathing quickly.

“I had been sober for around five years,” he started to say, not stopping his movements, “you took me out of that place, little by little, my fears disappearing. But then, the night your mother and I were supposed to meet so I could be introduced to you, really introduced to you, all those fears came back, because that meant you would know me, that I would be part of your life again, that I could put you in risk.”

Vincent’s voice came out quickly, as he was panting the words, as he looked more and more anxious by the second, as Ava was starting to imagine something she really wished not to be true judging by his reaction.

“I was living in a small apartment next to the orphanage, before I fully moved in there,” he said as Ava felt her own breathing increasing, “I drowned a full bottle of wine and I lost count of how many glasses of whiskey I took, too overwhelmed by the thought of meeting you and the ways I could hurt you because of my bad habits.”

“Did you decide to stay home?” Ava asked, her voice almost inaudible, as Vincent stopped and looked at her, shaking his head.

“The alcohol gave me confidence,” he said instead, “so I got into my car and I made my way towards the place we were supposed to meet one another.”

Ava now understood why her mother had suddenly decided to take a vacation after seven years of not wanting to, why she had made plans with Ava to move to Málaga, in a house next to the sea where she would teach her how to swim. She understood it all now, how her mother had wanted to move out from Porto, to go to Málaga, so Ava could see her father often if everything went well that night. And she wished that Vincent stopped talking right then and there.

“None of us made it to the place, Ava, none of us reached the bar that night,” he said, casting his eyes down and taking a deep breath.

“It was you?” she asked, voice trembling, feeling as if she was about to faint at any second. Vincent nodded slowly, his eyes haunted, his arms slack next to his sides as he pulled up his fringe, showing Ava a faint scar on his brow. “Why don’t I remember you?”

“You were unconscious,” he explained to her, as Ava felt numb, not knowing how to react at what he was telling her, “I got down the car, and I immediately recognized Patricia. I didn’t have to work hard to guess who the little girl was.”

“You killed my mom,” Ava muttered, and Vincent looked down in shame, “the woman you loved.”

“I know, Ava, and I’ve been repenting every single day for the last eighteen years,” he said, sounding angry, not at her but at himself, “and I tried to make amends for it, but every night I fall asleep thinking of the both of you in that car, not knowing if you were dead or alive, waiting there unable to do anything until someone called the ambulance for me.”

“You didn’t even call them?!” Ava got up, unable to keep the anguish she was feeling inside, “you fucking crashed against us, killing my mother, and didn’t even call an ambulance?!”

“I was paralyzed, Ava,” he said, raising his hands hopelessly.

“You came for me in the hospital, when they told me I couldn’t stay there anymore,” Ava remembered, Vincent nodding, “how did you know I still was there?”

“I came to visit you at every chance I got, during the time you spent being unconscious, and when you awoke I visited you at night, when you were sleeping. And when you went into the operation room, I sat outside until I got told it had been gone well, and I stayed with you until you woke up once the anesthesia ran out,” Vincent put his hands inside his pockets, “Maria, your doctor and surgeon, she was a good friend of mine and Patricia. She let me be there for you at all those times, even if you never saw me.”

“She knew? About you?” Vincent shook his head, Ava almost feeling betrayed by yet another adult in her life, “why did she let you keep tabs on me, then, if I was there because of you?”

“You remember the priest I told you about, the one who took me in and paid for my education?” Ava nodded, “he always said I was a son to him, and when he died he left me a huge amount of money. I used a part of it to pay for my crime, the judge didn’t send me to jail but… I had to pay a lot of money.”

“And the other part?” Ava furrowed her eyebrows, knowing very well that Vincent never really had much money to begin with, having to bribe Edward for Ava’s tuition and always struggling financially until Ava and Diego managed to help him out with their own money.

“I used almost all of it to pay for…” Vincent sighed, “for your surgery, Ava. Maria knew this colleague of hers, a surgeon expert in cases like yours, but the surgery and posterior treatment was so expensive.”

“So you paid for my surgery, and the posterior rehabilitation?” Vincent nodded his head, “to fix the fact that I was like that because of you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, and Ava had to sit down once again, pinching the bridge of her nose, “and I wanted to leave it at that, to stay away from you after all the pain I had caused you without even knowing you, but Maria told me that you should leave the hospital already, that your room needed to be occupied by someone else because they didn’t have any more free spaces, any more staff who could be there for you. And I didn’t want you to be sent away, to some random family.”

“When I got into the orphanage and I understood what the fate of the kids who were there was, you didn’t even bat an eye when I begged you to lie for me, to tell the families who were interested that I was the worst kid in that place,” Vincent let out a chuckle, and Ava bit her lip, “you were fine with it, so I would stay with you.”

“It was as if you had known,” he sat down next to her again, “we had a special kind of connection, you and I, and just like any father in the world it came to a point where… I couldn’t stand the thought of giving you away, not seeing you anymore.”

“Why did you never tell me any of this before, Vincent?” he swallowed, his breath coming out in a tremble.

“Because then you would know all the truth, that I’m a monster and if you lost your mother it was because of me,” he told her, “and because the more it went, the less I could stand the thought of you knowing it all, you leaving me even if I deserve it.”

“It was something I guess neither of us could escape,” Ava said, after a few moments of silence, Vincent nodding. “Does Diego know?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“How did you manage to find Edward? To bribe him and all?” Vincent couldn’t help but smile with a bit of triumph at that.

“I knew all about him because of what Patricia told me when we met, because of the letters,” Vincent explained to her, “and I wanted to give you the Universe, Ava, even if you hate me now. And I knew I couldn’t give it to you, but I knew he could and I knew Patricia would have wanted to get her revenge over the man who hurt her so much. So… I did it for her, for you.”

“How did it happen?”

“I called him, told him who I was to Patricia. I told him about you, and he mocked me for it,” Vincent shook his head, snarling, “then I told him I had Patricia’s letters, how she talked about you in them and I could prove all those things since he wrote letters to her as well, even though she had burned them after he left her. I made him believe the letters still existed, because your mother wrote his words on the letters she sent to me, and I told him I would get those letters published if he didn’t cooperate.”

“Whoa,” Ava said, eyes wide, “you could’ve told him to pay for my college tuition too, so I wouldn’t have had to work my ass off.”

“I’m sorry,” Vincent chuckled, “but the whole thing with Beatrice happened and… I was scared you would find out.”

“Always scared of me finding out your secrets,” Ava said, scoffing, and Vincent smiled sadly at her. “He wouldn’t have paid, anyway, the bitch is even more broke than you are.”

“I’m sorry, Ava,” he said, genuinely, after being silent for a moment, “I don’t know what else to say except that I hope one day you can forgive me.”

“I don’t know,” she got up, taking her purse and the letters with her. “I don’t know if I can, at least not for now.”

“I understand,” he said, still sitting on the sofa as Ava made her way towards the door.

“I can’t really stay here, I need to… think, walk… I don’t know, but I can’t stay here,” the man nodded at her again, but Ava didn’t want to really go. “Will you tell Diego?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Ava nodded, putting the hand on the door handle but not opening it. “I’m glad you told me, though. All of it.”

“You are?” Ava nodded at him.

“I don’t have to lie up at night wondering, not anymore,” Ava looked at the window, at the rain outside.

She had disliked it when it poured outside for eighteen years, always blaming it for making her mother lose control of the car, for making Vincent lose control of his own. And tonight, Beatrice had confessed her she loved her under the rain, and they had run under the rain seven years ago, and Beatrice had told her she hated her as it had been raining outside. And Ava had always hated the rain so, so much, because it reminded her of the most painful moments of her life. But maybe tonight, she would stop doing so. Because she finally had all the answers she had wanted, knowing that Beatrice loved her, knowing who had crashed against her mother’s car, knowing who her father was.

“I’ll see you on Sunday to get you to the airport, okay?” she said, and Vincent got up.

“Ava,” he said, trying to walk towards her, trying to say anything, his hand raised as if he wanted to reach her but didn’t know how. “Okay,” he said, putting his hand down, nodding at her.

Ava got out of Vincent’s room and made it a few paces down the hallway until she felt a sob coming out of her mouth, an unbearable pain piercing her chest. She supported her body against the wall, covering her mouth so no one would hear nor see her, and she slid down until she was sat on the carpeted floor of the hallway. And she cried, and cried, and cried, letting out a pain that had lasted for eighteen years.

“Ava?” she heard, Diego’s tall frame coming out of his bedroom, running towards her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Ava? What did she do?”

“Not her,” Ava sobbed, not even knowing how he was capable of forming words, “Him.”

“Who?” Diego asked her, trying to get her to look at his eyes.

“Vincent,” she said, the name hurting her heart, “he’s my father, Diego. Vincent is my father.”

There were at least ten different emotions passing through Diego’s eyes, his jaw clenching and his lips a straight line. And she knew the ultimate emotion he was feeling was anger and betrayal, just like she did, but he didn’t do anything.

He simply sat there, his arms wrapped around Ava, as he let his sister cry into his shoulder until she didn’t have any more tears to shed.

*

Beatrice was so drunk she had completely lost track of time. She knew that it was probably around midnight, maybe even later than that. She had gotten to her apartment at ten, the hand she had used to hit her father swollen and numb, calling Jillian and telling her not to follow, as she took out a bottle of wine and kept sipping from it, looking at the envelope in front of her with her name written on it with Isabella’s immaculate handwriting.

Beatrice had a clue of what was inside, and she really didn’t want to read it because then all of it would’ve been a lie. The challenge in Isabella’s eyes, the smiles and the laughter and all the things that had kept Beatrice sane until she lost her sister, how Isabella most likely left her not by accident but simply… because she couldn’t take it all anymore, too tired to keep up the façade, too tired of the opposition and the way she rejoiced into challenging all she and Beatrice had known.

And that would hurt Beatrice more than knowing that Isabella had simply been reckless, had simply accidentally hit herself against a rock, losing conscience and drowning herself, instead of doing it willingly.

She didn’t know for how long she had been sitting there on the floor, the envelope in front of her, the minutes and the hours passing. Beatrice had texted Ava, asking if everything was okay, but she hadn’t gotten any response. She wasn’t surprised about that, not after what Ava had discovered, what Beatrice had suspected for a week.

Beatrice had been relieved when Ava hadn’t blamed her, when she hadn’t yelled at her but simply understood why she had kept it to herself. Because Ava had spent twenty-five years wondering who the hell her father was, and Beatrice hadn’t wanted to be wrong and give Ava false hope.

She knew Ava would go back to her, it didn’t matter at what time, but she knew the both of them needed one another for the comfort, to be there for each other. So Beatrice simply sat there, looking at an envelope, drowning down a bottle of wine to digest all she had learned that night.

Her father had known Ava because he had an affair with Patricia Silva, breaking his own rules because he too had wanted to be free instead of taking care of a family he never really asked for. And he had taken what Isabella had saved for Beatrice, what she had wanted to give to her as maybe an apology for abandoning her, because he needed to pay his debts disrespecting his eldest daughter’s last wish. And her mother, who Beatrice had always despised, had simply been a broken woman, a woman who had been betrayed by the man she loved.

Beatrice hated herself for feeling pity for both of them, for the things they had to endure in the name of keeping up a façade, things Isabella couldn’t stand at the end of the day and things Beatrice had decided to leave behind, because she thought it was what Isabella would’ve wanted her to do. But, as it turned out, Beatrice had a faint clue that she never really met Isabella, nor their parents, or at least not their real versions.

“Open it,” Isabella said, sitting next to her. Beatrice closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“You’re not real,” she said, and Isabella smiled sadly at her.

Before coming to New York, during her last therapy session, she had told her therapist about how sometimes she could hear Isabella, how sometimes she could imagine the girl sitting next to her, just like now, always wearing that white dress and looking pale, her hair falling down her face and framing it perfectly, looking like the last time she had seen her.

Her therapist had said it was because she was now grieving Isabella, after breaking free from the family who never let her grieve properly for the sake of not showing weakness to the world. And it was because she had so many things left to say to Isabella, so many promises neither of them fulfilled, it was like Isabella was simply there, waiting for Beatrice to close that door forever.

The therapist also said that Isabella had always been Beatrice’s conscience, trying to guide her through a different and better path. Isabella had been the one who had told Beatrice what was right and what was wrong, and once she had lost her… she didn’t know anymore. And then she broke free, and had needed her older sister and compass to guide her. Beatrice still needed Isabella today, twelve years later.

“I know I’m not,” Isabella told her, crossing her legs, “but you’re drunk out of your ass right now, and your girlfriend is nowhere to be seen, so you need someone to tell you to open the letter and accept what I did.”

“I don’t care if I’m drunk, you shouldn’t be here,” Beatrice muttered before taking a sip of her bottle, “and I’m waiting for Ava.”

“Ava just learned her father is the man who’s taken care of her for eighteen years,” her sister reminded her, and Beatrice scoffed, “it’s understandable if she takes time to come here, if she needs to be alone for the night.”

“Did you see her?” Beatrice asked, looking at Isabella.

“Bea, I’m not real,” her sister said, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Then why are you here, why am I seeing you?” Beatrice gasped, putting a hand on her head, “am I going crazy?”

“No, silly,” Isabella let out a laugh, “you’re just in pain, reliving what happened to me… accepting the truth.”

“I don’t want to accept the truth,” Beatrice said, grumpily, “I’m good with my own version of the truth; the one that I thought was real all this time.”

“But you always had a suspicion, didn’t you?” Isabella nudged her shoulder, “about the whole thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“It never felt right to you,” Isabella furrowed her own eyebrows, “you always thought me dying was some kind of last stand against them, but you also knew I wouldn’t be stupid to go surfing when there was a massive storm happening.”

“Shut up, Izzie.”

“You always understood, somehow, even if you weren’t even aware of it,” Isabella continued talking, and Beatrice buried her face behind her hands, “but you never asked, never wondered, and tried to ignore the suspicion you always had, pretending that it was better to believe I had simply tried to challenge them and failed over thinking that I…”

“Shut up!” Beatrice screamed at the emptiness of her living room, feeling tears stinging her own eyes, her heart hammering fast inside her chest.

“Just open the letter, Bea, and try to forgive me.”

Beatrice blinked back the tears, and Isabella was nowhere to be seen anymore. She looked back at the letter, biting her lower lip as she tried to calm her breathing down and, after finishing up the wine, she opened the letter.

*

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of suicidal intentions. Read carefully.

Booger,

If you’re reading this, it probably means I have failed my promise of taking you out of there and bringing you with me to build our own home and become our own family, just like we’ve always been.

I don’t really know when you’ll read this, because I forced the lawyer who took care of everything promise to me that he would only give it to you, but you aren’t old enough yet so I know this letter won’t probably fall into your own hands until probably later in life, if ever.

I wanted to say sorry, Bea. I’ve fought for nineteen years, but it’s come to a point where I feel like I cannot go on anymore. And it pains me so much, because that means I’ll leave you alone with them. But I know that you’ll break free, that you’ll manage a way to leave them behind, because you’ve always been stronger.

For almost thirteen years, I’ve fought to make you happy, to make you feel less lonely in this world. They didn’t want to send you to Saint Melanie’s, because they said we needed to stay away from one another, but at the end I forced them to bring you there with me so I could protect you for the remaining time I had there, so you wouldn’t have to spend time with them and they wouldn’t change you just like they tried to do with me.

They’ve always hated us, and I’ll tell you why. They hated me because I doomed them to live a life of misery together instead of happiness apart, because I being born meant that they would have to put up a perfect family façade, to pretend they were happy. They’ve always slept in separate beds, you know? And they always tried to avoid the whole… “producing an heir” part for as long as possible, until people started to ask questions they didn’t want to answer.

And they hated you, because you were a child made from guilt. He had been seeing a woman who wasn’t our mother, letting himself fall in love and have a little taste of freedom for the first time in his life, and then you happened and his little fantasy was cut short. And when she looked at you, at me, we were a reminder that she was doomed to stay next to him for the rest of her life, in a miserable and loveless marriage.

We’ve never been wanted, Beatrice, and I’m sorry I have to be so bold about this. I would love to sugar coat it, to tell you they love us dearly but struggle to show it, but we both know it’s a lie and I would never dare to keep lying to you.

I told you I would be going to do some surfing with this girl I met, Cassie, but the truth is that she has never even talked to me until a couple of weeks ago, when we were put in a project together, and I’ve been daydreaming about us going out ever since. I know you probably won’t understand, you’ll think it’s wrong… but I promise you it’s okay, no matter what they say, we are allowed to love whoever we want.

It’s not a lie that I’ll go to the beach, but what I’m planning is something very different. I also heard there will be a storm happening, so it will be the perfect opportunity to do what I want to do. To do what I’ve wanted to do for a long, long, time.

I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on any longer, Beatrice, but it’s come to a point where it’s unbearable. They keep on calling me, on reminding me I’m the worst person on Earth, and I always tried to not let them get under my skin. But it turns out that it’s hard to do without my little sister and my only source of joy being away from me.

I hope you can forgive me one day, Beatrice, and I hope that one day you’ll get to do what I was never able to do: live, and love freely. As I said, you’ve always been stronger than me and you may not believe it now, but one day you’ll see I was right. Because older sisters are never wrong, remember?

You’re on your own, kid. Good luck.

Isabella.

*

Beatrice had texted Ava the entrance code, and she tiredly typed it as the elevator reached the top of the building. It was late, around three in the morning, and she had spent several hours walking on the street, feeling the air after it finished pouring, trying to take in all she had learned that night.

She had sat there in that hallway with Diego holding her as she cried bitterly, not being able to say anything to her for a whole hour. And he had walked with her, and she explained to him every single thing she had learned from the moment she entered the restaurant to the moment she left the hotel room. She was hoping walking around with her brother, letting go of all she was feeling, would be the cure to her pain. But she knew it wouldn’t be and it would take her a long time to understand, to forgive.

But now, honestly, all she wanted to do was to be with Beatrice. All she wanted to do was to crawl into bed with her and feel her arms around her as she told her everything would be fine, that they would get through the mess their lives turned out to be together, no matter if one of them had to leave soon. They would make it, because they turned out to be the only real thing in their lives, their love the only thing that hadn’t been a lie, even if it took seven years to confess it.

The apartment was dark, and Ava thought that Beatrice was already in bed, waiting for her there, maybe already sleeping or simply watching something on her phone, trying to fill her mind with something else that weren’t estranged dads or family secrets.

So she took her blazer and her shoes off, leaving the purse on the coffee table, and made her way towards her girlfriend’s bedroom when she heard someone croaking her name.

“Ava?” she turned around when she heard Beatrice, the way the girl’s voice sounded as if she was going through the worse cold of her life, and Ava immediately blamed the rain for making Beatrice sick.

But then she heard Beatrice sniffling followed by a sound that seemed some kind of whimper or a sob, and Ava’s heart jumped inside her chest and immediately made her way towards the source of Beatrice’s voice.

The New York lights and the moon were enough to illuminate Beatrice, her back supported on the kitchen counter as she sat on the floor with an empty wine bottle next to her, a letter sitting on her lap.

Ava, for a moment, wanted to ask if she had read the letter she had written to her seven years ago, but then she remembered it still was tucked away safely, still not knowing if she should let Beatrice read it or not.

“Bea?” Ava said, sitting next to the girl, putting a gentle hand on Beatrice’s tear streaked cheek, “what’s wrong?”

Beatrice didn’t say anything, simply offered the letter for Ava, having enough light to read the words written in the darkest ink possible. As her eyes burned through the letter, as Beatrice had her eyes closed and started to cry once again silently, Ava felt her own tears falling down.

“Oh, Bea…” was the only thing she was able to say, putting the letter aside and closing her arms around Beatrice, who hugged her back as she sobbed in the space between Ava’s neck and shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Bea.”

“She’s right,” Beatrice said, her voice muffled, “I always had the suspicion at the back of my mind, but I never wanted to…”

“I understand,” Ava said, a hand stroking Beatrice’s head, “it would hurt way more than the little fantasy you built inside your mind, right?”

Beatrice let go of her, and then stroked her own cheeks, wiping the fresh tears falling down as her eyebrows furrowed, knowing that Isabella’s letter couldn’t have provoked Ava’s tears.

“How did it go, Ava?” the girl asked, voice small, “I’m sorry I’m making this about me.”

“Tonight is about us, Bea,” Ava shook her head, “about finally discovering the truth and… trying to figure out how we’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t know how we’ll do it, but I know for sure I want you next to me,” Beatrice said, letting out a shaky chuckle, and Ava smiled at her.

“Me too,” she kissed Beatrice’s cheek, and then the taller girl put a hand around her shoulders and Ava supported her head on Beatrice’s shoulder.

“Did he tell you the truth?” Ava nodded, and Beatrice waited for her to gather her thoughts.

“I discovered so much shit I don’t know how the hell I got here,” she muttered, Beatrice squeezing her shoulder, “he pretty much did Catholic therapy to my mom after your dad…”

“Abandoned her?” Ava nodded once again, Beatrice humming.

“He fell in love with her and… well, here I am,” she tried to joke, Beatrice snorting slightly. “Him and my mom spent seven years writing letters for one another, when he left to Mexico overcome with guilt, and the reason why we went to Spain was to meet him.”

“But you didn’t, right?” Ava sat up, looking at Beatrice, not knowing if she wanted to say the next words.

“He was the drunk driver,” she simply aid, not wanting to elaborate, her voice shaking and her eyes filling back with tears. Beatrice gasped, sitting straighter, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes wide as they roamed around Ava’s face.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Beatrice was only able to mutter those words, and Ava nodded in understanding.

“My thoughts exactly,” she shook her head, “there were so many things I could’ve done, Beatrice, to know the truth about who had hit our car all those years ago. But I was so fine with my new life, with Diego and… and Vincent and you, I kind of made up my mind and let go of the past, deciding to just… be blind or maybe just… start anew, leaving the past where it belonged, maybe needing it to understand my mom was simply gone.”

“I guess we both tried to do the same,” Beatrice said, Ava nodding, “ignore the possible realities, or not seek the actual truth, because we were already hurting enough we just…”

“Wanted to move on?”

“Yeah,” Beatrice let out a shaky breath, and Ava supported her body on the kitchen counter as she found Beatrice’s hand. “It’s not healthy, not the right way to deal with it, but we were so young Ava.

“We were just kids,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows, “when I lost my mom and you lost Isabella, and yet the Universe… it was so cruel with us.”

“We found one another for a reason,” Beatrice squeezed her hand, Ava looking at her, “to heal.”

“And we managed to ruin even that,” Ava snorted, and Beatrice simply giggled at her.

“Again, we were kids and we were scared because we saw how cruel the world can be way too soon,” the taller girl reasoned with her, and Ava hummed, deciding to agree with her.

“And we’ve found one another again,” Ava then said, looking at Beatrice and the girl looking back, “And we are not children anymore, and maybe it’s time to actually heal now that we know it all, to deal with the past. Together.”

“Do you want to talk about everything, Ava?” Beatrice said, kissing her knuckles, “we didn’t have time to do it at the restaurant.”

“I’ve done enough talking for today, which is something I never thought I would say,” Beatrice chuckled, “how did the rest of the dinner go?”

“Oh, I punched my father when he told me he took the money Isabella had left for me, so he could try and cover some of his debts,” Ava gasped at Beatrice, suddenly feeling how her knuckles were swollen but Ava didn’t even think about it.

“Beatrice, oh my God, you punched him without me?!” Beatrice now let out a genuine laugh, even though there were still falling tears down both their eyes, even if their chests were still hurting with what they learned that night.

“Next time, I’ll let you do the honors,” Beatrice kissed her cheek, and Ava kissed Beatrice’s lips, and they both sighed as they supported their foreheads together.

“Thank you for letting me stay, by the way,” Ava said, and Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.

“Thank you for wanting to stay,” the taller girl said, knowing well that both of them were talking about something that had nothing to do with Ava sleeping over Beatrice’s apartment.

“Can we make out and go to sleep?” Ava asked after a few moments of silence, and Beatrice chuckled.

“We need to get changed first, maybe I should put ice on my hand,” Beatrice pointed at Ava’s dress and her own outfit, “then we can make out and sleep.”

“Is it okay if we don’t have sex tonight, as much as I would like it?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows at her, Ava biting her lip nervously.

“Ava…” Beatrice shook her head, “of course it’s okay, love, you don’t even have to ask that. Plus, I believe I would probably start crying in the middle of it and… that’s not much of a turn on, is it?”

“First you yawn as I try to get my way with you,” Ava laughed, sniffling, wiping away a tear that was making its way down her face, “and now you say you might cry as we are getting at it? Are you calling me boring?”

Beatrice titled her head back as she laughed, and Ava couldn’t help but laugh herself, feeling glad that Beatrice had been there for her and Ava had been there for Beatrice after that rollercoaster of a night.

And she was happy that they had one another for the good, and for the bad, and they had managed to find a way to make each other smile and laugh even after their whole worlds, all they had believed to be true for twenty-five years, had been turned upside down in the span of a few hours.

Beatrice got up, offering a hand for Ava, and then surprising her by carrying her on her arms bridal style and making her way towards Beatrice’s bedroom, leaving behind a tear stained letter and an empty bottle of wine.

“You could never be boring,” Beatrice told her, kissing the tip of her nose, “you’re perfect.”

And after they got changed into their pajamas, after they covered one another underneath the sheets and realized they were too emotionally drained to make out, and after Beatrice held Ava close to her throughout the night, their soft breathing lulling one another to sleep, they both believed that it didn’t matter if tonight their lives had somehow changed and they got answers they had been seeking for a long time.

At the end of the day, Ava had made the choice to go home to Beatrice, and Beatrice had made the choice to go home to Ava. And as long as they were each other’s homes, things would be okay.

“Beatrice?” Ava said, her eyes closed, her brain already fuzzy with exhaustion.

“Yes?” the girl said, sounding as equally exhausted.

“I love you so much,” Ava tilted her head up, kissing Beatrice’s chin, “I waited seven years to say it and I never will stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Beatrice said, kissing the top of her head, “I love you too, Ava.”

She was sure of it, Ava thought before completely falling asleep. Things would finally be okay as long as Beatrice was with her.

Chapter Text

“Holy shit,” Beatrice muttered, Ava humming next to her as she was holding a mug of tea.

Beatrice let out a huff of air, leaning back on Ava’s couch, as she let go of the last letter Patricia Silva had written to Vincent, retelling everything the man had told Ava and Edward had insinuated to them during the dinner.

It had been two weeks since that dreadful night, since the first time they told each other “I love you” under the rain, since Beatrice had discovered the truth about Isabella and her father as Ava finally got the answer she had been seeking for twenty-five years.

It had been hard to process it all. Beatrice had accompanied Ava to the airport, to say goodbye to both Diego and Vincent, and honestly it had been the most awkward moment of her life. Diego had been holding Ava’s hand the hold time, Beatrice holding the other, as Vincent walked a few steps behind them. She had been unable to talk to the man, to address him, and it had hurt her heart to watch the way Ava herself had struggled to look into the eyes of the man who had been taking care of her for eighteen years, the man who had lied to her.

Diego and Beatrice texted every day so he could keep tabs on Ava without wanting to bother his sister much, him giving Beatrice advice on how she should try to deal with the situation, with the way there were moments in which Ava went dead silent, almost catatonic. Beatrice, honestly, was trying her very best despite of her own world turning upside down as well. Her and Ava were trying their very best, being there for one another, talking, and letting it all out instead of closing themselves off like they used to do in the past.

Beatrice had contacted her therapist after almost two months of avoiding it, asking the woman if they could do an online session because there was so much she needed to tell her, and now they had agreed to at least call each other once a week, as well as Beatrice’s therapist had decided to attend Ava as well, at least until she could find a therapist of her own.

So Beatrice told it all, how she had ran into Ava, what had happened between them, what she had discovered two weeks ago. She hadn’t known why she had felt so angry the day after she had read Isabella’s letter, not at her parents but at her sister.

“She was a coward,” Beatrice said, sitting on her living room’s couch.

“Why do you think that, Beatrice?” the woman on the other side of the screen said, letting her speak.

“Because at the end of the day she was like them,” Beatrice scoffed, “she preferred to put up a façade instead of telling the truth.”

“Maybe she was scared, Beatrice, and being scared doesn’t make you a coward,” her therapist said, making her furrow her eyebrows, “maybe she wanted to protect you, to not worry you.”

“I didn’t need protection,” Beatrice felt the tears filling her eyes once more, her voice trembling and her throat closing up, “I needed the truth.”

There had been a lot of crying during the last two weeks, Beatrice always saving it for when she was with Ava since she tried to get her job done and carry on with her responsibilities back at Arq-Tech, even though Michael and Lilith had caught her sniffling a few times when they entered her office, the both of them sitting down with her and letting her explain what she was feeling, offering her comfort.

Her therapist had said the crying was totally fine, because after all she had spent many years keeping it all in, never being allowed to grieve her sister properly thinking that it would be some kind of weakness first, and then not allowing herself to do so because time had gone by and Beatrice had thought the mourning should be over by then.

“We never stop mourning the loss of someone we loved,” her therapist made her understand, as Beatrice was once again crying as the woman looked at her with empathy from the other side of the screen, “and it doesn’t matter if it’s been twelve years, Beatrice.”

The woman said that the tears she was letting out, the sudden grieving as if Isabella had died now and not years ago, was a mix of anger towards her sister, hatred towards what her family had caused Isabella to do, but also some kind of relief because she now knew the truth, and she didn’t have to feel as if Isabella had done it out of spite, as if she had never cared about Beatrice at all. The problem had been that Isabella had cared so much, it ended up burning her out.

“There’s so many battles one can fight, Beatrice, but everyone has a limit,” her therapist continued, Beatrice nodding quietly as she wiped her tears away.

“But she had me,” Beatrice whispered, her voice hoarse, “I could’ve helped her.”

“Beatrice, you need to understand that you did all you could even if you weren’t fully aware of what was going on inside your sister’s mind,” her therapist told her, her voice soft, trying to get Beatrice to understand, “and sometimes people win battles against themselves, but other times they lose them. And that doesn’t make them cowards.”

“But she left me,” she said, shaking her head, “she left me alone with them, knowing that I wasn’t even thirteen yet, knowing that I needed her… isn’t that selfish?”

“It is,” her therapist nodded, agreeing with her, “but Isabella also spent almost thirteen years being selfless, protecting you from them.”

“She was my hero,” Beatrice smiled softly, sadly, “because she was always there for me, and then she wasn’t, and now I learn that she… she left me, consciously.”

“Isabella reached her limit, Beatrice, one that she had been testing for so long,” Beatrice looked at the woman’s face on the screen, “she was at a point of no return, and she decided to do something for her for once.”

“You make it sound as if what she did was supposed to be good for her,” Beatrice said, feeling the anger coming back again, the lump in her throat becoming heavier.

“She was in pain, and in her mind that seemed like the best decision at that point to stop feeling the way she did. And, again, she wasn’t a coward for making the choice she made,” Beatrice looked at the screen, at the woman, as her mind worked overtime.

“Am I wrong for being angry at her, then?”

“No, Beatrice,” her therapist said, offering a soft smile, “you’re entitled to feel like that, because after all you felt abandoned by her and you still do. But also, you need to try and comprehend her actions, how she was in a desperate situation, how she couldn’t keep on going anymore. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Not yet,” Beatrice admitted to her therapist, letting out a long sigh, “but I think I will understand, eventually.”

She had told Michael, Jillian and Lilith the next day, calling them and inviting them over her apartment, letting them read the letter and receiving hugs from them as Ava sat next to her, holding her hand, never letting her go as she too was trying to process everything she had learned about her own family.

And Beatrice’s family, her real family, hugged Ava as well and told her that they were there for her too, that neither of them were alone in this and they would help them out with everything they needed, whether that meant doing a collective video call and cry, or going to the gym to punch a bag to let go of the anger and frustration knowing the truth had provoked them both.

Beatrice’s parents had apparently taken a plane that same night after the dinner, not bothering to tell her anything, and Beatrice had transferred into her father’s bank account enough money for him to pay rent for the London townhouse. And Beatrice knew Ava didn’t fully approve, that if it had been for the shorter girl she would’ve let them starve and live on the streets, but at the end of the day they were Beatrice’s parents. And Ava understood her, because even if she hated Vincent right now, if he asked for help she would do it too.

“I feel kind of dizzy knowing all of this,” Beatrice muttered, Ava sipping from her tea, letting out a long sigh.

“Not to try and be funny about this, but this is better than the telenovelas I watched back in the orphanage,” her girlfriend said, and Beatrice couldn’t help but snort, making Ava giggle.

The last two weeks hadn’t been easy for neither of them, trying to process it all, but they found some kind of joy by having each other’s company. Beatrice hadn’t felt as much at home as she felt sitting next to Ava right now, after spending another weekend sleeping over the girl’s apartment.

There were days where Ava showed up in Beatrice’s apartment after work, and other times it was Beatrice driving to Ava’s place to have dinner with the girl and keep her company through the night, which used to be the worst part of the day. It had kind of become a routine, not letting the other sleep alone for the last two weeks, and there were already some of Beatrice’s clothes in Ava’s closet as well as some of Ava’s clothes were in Beatrice’s place.

They usually had breakfast together every morning now, after spending the night sleeping next to each other, and whenever they could they met up for lunch. Some days it was the two of them alone, other times they were joined by their best friends, who had also made sure to never leave them alone, at least until things would be better.

Despite of the both of them feeling as if a massive hole had opened up inside their chests, despite them walking around feeling as if they carried the world’s weight upon their shoulders, Beatrice found joy in Ava and Ava found joy in Beatrice. When they were together, the bad things didn’t disappear at all but they were able to talk about it, to listen to each other, to find ways to process it all standing next to one another. And it hurt, it would hurt for a long while, but Beatrice was happy to know none of them were alone in this, not anymore.

Beatrice had decided to put all of her energy into the company’s project, going to the building site to supervise the great progress it was making in the mornings and spending her afternoons in her office, before going back home to Ava. And Ava had received permission from Suzanne to work from home, to focus on the book, but the shorter girl had decided to go to her workplace anyway, to surround herself with her friends and not get swallowed up by her apartment’s walls.

Beatrice was helping Ava out with everything she could regarding the book, telling her funny stories about Jillian, how they had met, how she had immediately become the mother Beatrice never truly had, for her and for Lilith, and there were times were they spent long hours at night writing about Jillian, sharing stories of the time her and Ava remained separated.

And Ava’s own work was advancing at a quick pace, Lilith and Michael helping out as well as much as they could, using that as an excuse to go visit Ava whenever Beatrice would have to stay late at work. There had been many times where she got to Ava’s apartment or her own and heard the girl’s laughter from outside, finding Michael and Lilith with her, telling Ava something embarrassing about Beatrice.

Other times, Michael and Lilith would be joined by JC and Camila as well and the six of them would have dinner together, sharing stories from their college days, Ava and Beatrice filling up the spaces they had missed from one another’s lives, making it feel as if they hadn’t been separated at all. And Beatrice hadn’t said anything to Ava, but she was so happy they were building a little family of their own, just them both and their best friends, casually joined by Jillian and Suzanne, all of them helping Beatrice and Ava heal and move on.

And then their friends would leave to go to their own homes, and Beatrice and Ava would find themselves in bed, making love to one another, because even if their hearts were heavy they also couldn’t stay away from one another, always having the constant need to feel the other’s body in new ways almost every night, to make up for the lost time they had.

“I love you,” Ava would pant as Beatrice was on top of her, making her feel loved in all the ways she could.

“I love you, Ava,” Beatrice would tell the girl, before Ava would moan her name, before they would fall asleep next to one another.

So the last two weeks had been a rollercoaster. There were days where the both of them felt almost back to normal, and there were other days where all they could do was cry or feel anger at the way the Universe had treated them, at how sometimes they wished neither of them had discovered the truth.

But the only constant in those days, during those two weeks, was each other. Beatrice knew she would wake up and fall asleep next to Ava, and Ava knew the same, and it was one of the little things that made them stay sane.

“Ava,” Beatrice said as they sat on Ava’s couch, the letters scattered all over the coffee table and the floor, “I just remembered something.”

“What is it?” Ava asked, arching both of her eyebrows, and Beatrice smiled softly at her.

“We agreed to go on a date, didn’t we?” her smile widened, as Ava did the same, “I know that we’re not in the best place right now, emotionally speaking, but I think it would be good, you know?”

“I think so too,” Ava said, after thinking about it for a while, “even though we kind of got ahead of ourselves with the whole becoming girlfriends and confessing our love under the rain.”

“Oh, would you have had it differently then?” Beatrice said, teasingly, and Ava kissed her lips.

“Never, it’s perfect the way it is,” Beatrice smiled, caressing Ava’s cheek, the girl leaning into her touch. “So what are we going to do in this date?”

“You leave that to me, darling,” Beatrice winked, getting up to get started with preparing lunch.

Something they had done for the last two weeks, every evening, was cooking together. Ava had decided to take it upon herself to guide Beatrice, to teach her how to not overcook anything she tried to prepare, and Beatrice was a fast learner even though she liked to pretend she needed Ava’s constant guidance, only to feel Ava grabbing her hand gently as she cut down parsley, or to feel Ava guiding her arm gently as she fried garlic in a pan. It was obvious that Beatrice acted lost on purpose, and it was obvious how much Ava enjoyed taking charge, being the one helping Beatrice out.

“Mysterious, I like it,” Ava said, wiggling her eyebrows from the couch as she watched Beatrice get everything ready. “Are you sure, though?”

“Ava,” Beatrice turned on the stove, waiting for it to heat up before putting the oiled pan on it, “I’ll have to go soon, and I refuse to leave without giving you the best date of your life before I get on that plane.”

It was another thing that had been bothering them, the fact that Beatrice was only a month away from leaving to England. It was crazy how two months already had gone by, how they were almost halfway through September and Beatrice was about to move to England once again.

She had found someone interested into buying her London apartment, and they had agreed to meet first thing when she would go back to England so she could finally get rid of that lonely place, finally being able to move into Armstrong Hall, the only place that held happy memories, even after it was where she got told about Isabella. Whenever she was there, she remembered about Ava, Diego and her putting up the Christmas tree. She remembered the both of them playing piano, or she remembered about her and Isabella being happy children around those rooms and halls.

But was Isabella ever truly happy?

“Can you please not mention that,” Ava said, groaning, and Beatrice smiled at her, “if I pretend you didn’t say that, maybe it won’t happen.”

“Darling,” Beatrice said, putting the pan upon the stove, “you know nothing will change.”

“Except that I won’t be able to sleep next to you,” she knew Ava was trying to joke about this, trying to act nonchalant, but she saw the way her eyes clouded.

For the last two weeks, Ava’s nightmares had increased. There had been many nights were Beatrice woke up in the middle of the night because of Ava’s whimpering, the way the girl repeated her mother’s name over and over again, how she had cried even in her sleep or how she had clutched the mattress. And Beatrice calmed the girl down, every single time, remembering the song Patricia used to sing to Ava and using it to calm the girl down.

Many times Ava wasn’t even aware of it all, still drowned into her nightmares, Beatrice’s touch calming her down regardless. Other times, though, Ava woke up in a start, breathing heavily and her body filled with sweat, and then she apologized over and over again for waking Beatrice up before Beatrice made her talk, express what she had dreamed and what she felt, Ava opening her heart to her and calming down knowing that in the morning Beatrice would be there.

The whole going-back-to-England topic was one neither of them really wanted to mention, even though they knew they would find a way to be there for one another even if there was an ocean between them. Beatrice refused to let Ava go and Ava refused to let Beatrice go, but the both of them knew they had responsibilities of their own, and it would take a while until maybe they could move in together, maybe spend half the time in New York and the other half in London. Whatever they would decide, Beatrice knew this time it wouldn’t be like seven years ago.

Beatrice hadn’t told Ava about her buying Armstrong Hall right after her father put it up in the market, because she wanted it to be a surprise. She wanted to remodel the house, repaint the rooms and modernize it before she would show it to Ava, before she would bring the girl there and tell her it was her second home. She had so many ideas to turn it into something that would be theirs, that would feel like a home for Ava whenever she would go there. One of the few things she had in mind was to build a massive greenhouse for Ava, to turn one of the rooms into an office for the girl, even use another one for Ava to go and do her photographer stuff.

Michael had been secretly helping her to redesign the home, to design the greenhouse and whatever other things they could add there so Ava could call it a home, their home, until they would be ready enough to build their little house on a hill, overlooking the beach, turning Armstrong Hall into their little retreat for when the world was too much. Ava didn’t know any of that, though, and it was all in Beatrice’s mind. But every day, she was more  sure it could happen.

It would be one of the first things Beatrice would do after landing to England, making a home for her and Ava just like Ava had turned her own apartment into a second home for Beatrice. And she knew Ava would complain, would tell her she didn’t have to do all of that, but seeing Ava happy made Beatrice happy.

“Oh, by the way!” Ava jumped from the couch, cutting Beatrice’s thoughts, “wait here and don’t move.”

Ava made her way towards her dark room, Beatrice craning her neck until she couldn’t see the girl anymore. She stood there, eyebrows furrowed as she almost burned the oil in the pan.

“Look!” Ava said, enthusiastically, showing her a photograph. Beatrice looked at it as she turned the stove off, smiling.

She saw both her and Ava’s faces on the photograph, recognizing it as the one Ava took of them both the day they decided to meet up, spend the day together and finally try and start to fix everything that had gone wrong with them both. It had only been around two months ever since then, but for Beatrice it felt like two years.

Ava was smiling at the camera, eyes twinkling, and Beatrice was looking at Ava the same way she imagined herself looking at the girl ever since the afternoon where she had saved her from Crimson, the afternoon when her heart stopped being hers and she unconsciously gave it to Ava.

The sunset was behind them, giving to the picture a natural orange gloom, making both of their skins glow and their eyes shine more than usual. And Beatrice chuckled, because she finally saw they had never stopped being in love for seven years, maybe even longer than that.

Beatrice had known it after losing Ava that she had been in love with her, because she had been unable to let herself love anyone the way she had loved Ava. But now she had the proof in front of her eyes, and when the picture was taken, neither of them knew they would be here two months from then, sharing a kitchen, being finally together like they had always been meant to be.

“It’s beautiful,” Beatrice said, smiling at Ava, not knowing why she felt like crying. “I really like it, Ava.”

“Would it be too soon if I decided to make a copy of it and frame both of them so you would have your picture in London, and I would have mine here?” Ava asked her, biting her lip, her eyes looking at her with nerves.

“Never too soon to be dramatic about your long distance relationship,” Beatrice laughed, and Ava smiled.

“I would look at the picture dramatically every night, as if I was an army wife waiting for you to return from war,” the girl said, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Ava. “I have more from that day.”

Ava gave Beatrice a stack of photographs, and she furrowed her eyebrows because she didn’t remember Ava taking so many pictures of everything they had been doing that day. And as Beatrice looked at the pictures, she realized half of them had been sneakily taken by Ava, Beatrice never even being aware of it.

There were pictures of Beatrice eating her lunch at the park, Beatrice looking ahead with a soft smile on her lips watching kids running around the park. A picture of her at the antiques store, looking at her grandfather’s painting which she ended up buying and putting up in her New York apartment. There was a picture of her walking ahead of Ava, sunglasses on, as she looked up at something above her. There was a picture of Beatrice up at Arq-Tech’s roof, looking at the sun go down, and a picture of her Ava had somehow taken as she had been eating dinner at the Spanish food restaurant.

“There was the little possibility of me never seeing you again after that day,” Ava told Beatrice as she kept looking at the photographs, “so even though I was still very angry at you, I decided to take as many pictures as possible. So I could remember you.”

There was the picture that Beatrice clumsily took of New York’s skyline, how she also had tried to snap one picture of Ava. Both of them were blurry, yet perfect at the same time, since Ava’s blurry body seemed to be in motion, trying to get the camera back from Beatrice, an amused smile on her lips.

And then there was a picture of them both back at the pub where they had found JC, where they had danced close to one another and had almost kissed, where they opened the doors of their hearts and refused to close them up no matter how much they tried.

They had been dancing, smiling and laughing. She looked at herself, hair loose with her eyes closed in bliss, a smile of pure happiness on her lips, her head turned away from Ava’s and facing the camera, unconsciously. And Ava was standing there, a soft smile on her lips, her eyes filled with love. As if that exact moment the girl had some kind of realization, Beatrice not even needing to wonder what had it been because she, too, had the same kind of epiphany that night.

“JC took this one,” Ava explained to her, sneaking her arms around her waist and looking at the picture too, “I told him to keep my bag safe with him because the camera was there, and I guess he had five minutes and a dream.”

“And didn’t waste the chance he got,” Ava hummed, Beatrice chuckling.

“I was developing the pictures the other day, while you were asleep trying to recover from…” Ava wiggled her eyebrows at her, Beatrice rolling her eyes as she blushed, “and then this one showed up, and I told him why he used my camera without my permission. He said he did it because he knew I would thank him one day.”

“Did you do it?” Beatrice said, looking at Ava, and the girl furrowed her eyebrows, “thank him, I mean.”

“Yes,” Ava said, taking the pictures from Beatrice and putting them on the kitchen counter, “I give thanks every day for having you back, Bea.”

“Me too, Ava,” Beatrice said, kissing Ava on the lips before she carried the shorter girl into the bedroom, their lunch long forgotten.

*

“I’m actually losing my mind,” Ava told to Camila over the phone, as she was getting dressed up.

“She was nowhere to be seen in the morning?” her best friend asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“And we are supposed to go on a fucking date, Cam!” Ava groaned, struggling to put on her jogging leggings, “I wake up this morning without her, with breakfast ready, telling me to meet her at the fucking gym before lunch.”

“She’s taking you on a gym date?” Camila let out a snort, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I don’t even-” Ava was cut off as the bell of her apartment rang, both her and Camila with matching expressions of surprise.

“Maybe it’s her?” her best friend said, “maybe she went to get something.”

“Nah, she has the key,” Ava made her way towards the door, opening it and arching an eyebrow when she saw Michael there, grinning widely at her.

“Oh, hey Mike!” Camila said, waving her hand from the other side of the screen.

“Hello, Cam,” the young man said, “thank you for keeping her entertained as I got here, traffic was a nightmare and the plan almost got postponed.”

“Wait, what?” Ava said, almost stuttering as Camila and Michael had matching innocent smiles.

“Anything for you, bro,” Camila said, saluting him, “have fun, Ava.”

“Camila, wait, you little shit!” but her best friend hung up the call, Michael watching her with amusement in his eyes. “Okay, what the hell’s going on?”

“I believe you have a date?” he said, furrowing his eyebrows, “unless I got the wrong address and Beatrice is actually seeing someone else. If that’s the case, I apologize.”

“You’re an asshole,” Ava said, pointing a finger at him.

“I’m only but my sister’s servant, Mrs. Silva,” Michael said, dramatically, and Ava scoffed at him.

It had been a week ever since she and Beatrice agreed to go on a date, after they had pretty much spent two weeks trying to make sense of everything that had gone down the night Beatrice’s parents had come to… “visit” to put it somehow.

Ava hadn’t talked to Vincent in all that time, feeling incapable of doing so without taking the first flight to Spain and beat the shit out of him for lying to her for eighteen years, for being the one who had made her become an orphan in the first place, but also desperately needing to hug him, to tell him it would be okay, and they would start all over again like father and daughter.

She hadn’t been able to believe it, to make sense of it all, the fact that the answer to all of her questions had always been there, next to her, and yet she had been incapable of seeing it. And Ava, honestly, had felt like the most stupid person on Earth.

“You’re not stupid,” her new therapist said, the woman who had been treating with Beatrice and had offered her help to Ava as well.

“It was so obvious,” she said, shaking her head, sitting down on her bed as she video called the woman, “it had always been him and I was so blind to it.”

“Do you think you were willingly blind?” the therapist asked Ava, and she bit her lip.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “sometimes I feel like I knew, unconsciously. I always wondered why Vincent and I had such a special connection, why he seemed so… invested into taking care of me.”

“Did you imagine yourself being his daughter when that happened, when you still didn’t know?” Ava nodded at her, “and how did that make you feel?”

“Weird,” Ava said, chuckling nervously, “because he wasn’t supposed to have kids and all. But now… it doesn’t make me feel weird, it makes me feel angry.”

“Why do you feel angry?” Ava looked up, blinking slowly.

“I think the right question should be… who makes me feel angry,” the therapist hummed, waiting for her to elaborate. “He and my mother make me feel angry, I make myself feel angry.”

“You feel resentment towards your mother?” Ava nodded, though she didn’t want to admit it.

“She lied to me when I started to ask about my father,” she said, sighing, “at first she said she didn’t know, then she said he was away, working, which technically was the truth. I just wish she had told me the truth, even if I was a kid and she thought I wouldn’t understand.”

“What about Vincent?” she felt her stomach turning, just like every time she heard his name, “what do you wish you could tell to him?”

“That I hate him for lying to me all this time,” Ava looked down, fidgeting, gulping down, “but also… that I kind of want him next to me, and I don’t want to lose him, which makes me feel stupid because I should want nothing to do with him.”

“Are you ready to tell him that, Ava?” she looked at the woman, sighing deeply, shaking her head.

“No,” she admitted, feeling ashamed, “not yet.”

Her life had completely changed in three weeks. She had gone from thinking she had known her mother, even if she had only spent seven years with her, to believing her a total stranger who had carried so many secrets with her.

And it was the same with Vincent. She had believed all she had known those eighteen years since she had lost her mother had been the truth and nothing but the truth, that Vincent had been a priest who wanted to help her and then simply became attached to her just like she did with him. But in truth, he had been the man Ava had been searching for all her life.

She should feel happy, because she finally knew who her father was, and she knew he was a good man who had always wanted the best for her. But it also had been the man who had crashed the car against them, who had killed Patricia Silva as she tried to protect Ava so it wouldn’t be her the one to take the full force of the crash, and had kept that secret to himself all this time.

There had been so many things Ava could’ve done, and the more she thought about it the stupider she felt. But then again, she had taken a plane to New York at age eighteen and decided to leave everything and everyone behind, except Vincent and Diego, pretending that her past life and the things that had caused her so much pain were long gone and never existed.

Funnily enough, the only thing that had felt real to her the last three weeks was Beatrice. Beatrice, whose world had also been broken the same night as Ava’s world did, Beatrice, who had also been forced to learn the truth as if a bucket of freezing water had been thrown at her.

And if Ava managed to get through the days after she had learned the truth, it was thanks to Beatrice and their friends. The girl had remained next to her and Ava had done the same for her, and they were the only thing they were sure about at this point. The love they had, and wanting to be each other’s compass and safe place for as long as it was possible.

Ava had been glad Beatrice had suggested going out on a date, finally, before she would have to leave. It had been something Ava had dreaded, imagining Beatrice being away from her, not being able to feel her body next to hers as she fell asleep at night and woke up in the morning next to Beatrice.

But she also knew they were adults, with responsibilities, and once they would figure everything out they would be able to fully be together, with no distance between, and she knew this time it would be different and it would work out.

They still had a month ahead of them, and the both of them would work hard to make things feel as normal as possible while also grieving the ghost of the past that had come to visit them, unannounced and unexpected, changing everything they had believed to be true.

Ava had spent the whole week trying to get information about the date Beatrice told her she would plan for them, so they would have something memorable to remember since all they had gotten was pain and tears during the two weeks they had officially been girlfriends. But Ava disagreed, because whenever they were together all the pain went away.

Beatrice, though, hadn’t even said anything about what she had planned. Every time Ava mentioned the date, Beatrice changed topics immediately and Ava would’ve been scared if it wasn’t for the glint on Beatrice’s eyes, the mischief and the excitement she was seeing in them.

Now, though, she was furious. It was Saturday, the day of the date, and she had woken up in an empty bed. At first she had panicked, maybe thinking Beatrice had some job emergency meeting and the whole thing got called off. But then she saw a handwritten note on Beatrice’s pillow, telling her breakfast was waiting for her and she would meet her at the gym before lunch.

And she wondered why the hell Beatrice would take her to the gym for their first official date as girlfriends. Even if she trusted Beatrice would have a solid reason behind it all, who the hell decided that the gym and exercising would be the best idea to go on a date?

She wanted to do another kind of exercising with Beatrice on a Saturday morning, and she texted Beatrice and called her to ask her what the hell was going on, but the girl’s phone was turned off. So she ended up calling Camila, who she had trusted would hunt Beatrice down and demand answers. And now it turned out Camila had been an accomplice as well, just like Michael, and she was sure the rest of their friends would be somehow involved into this whole thing.

Ava grabbed her gym bag after she followed the instructions Beatrice had written on another note, resting next to her breakfast.

Put your gym clothes on after getting breakfast, and grab a bag with something comfortable you can wear afterwards.

I’ll see you soon.

Love, B.

Once Ava was ready, she followed Michael down and she saw that Beatrice’s Bentley was parked in front of her building, not believing she would let Michael take care of it if it wasn’t fully necessary.

“Okay, talk,” Ava said, sitting on the passenger’s seat.

“How about no?” Michael smiled at her, wiggling his eyebrows, and Ava almost punched him in the arm.

“Who the hell thought it was a good idea to tell Beatrice to take me to the gym on a first date?” Ava scoffed, Michael sighing, “we haven’t even trained together! She always goes there either super late at night, or super early in the morning.”

“Ava,” Michael said, looking at her with an amused expression, “can you calm down?”

“No!” she said, crossing her arms upon her chest, making him laugh.

“You’ll understand it all once you get there, okay?” he said, “trust Beatrice.”

“She’s the only person I trust,” Ava said, rolling her eyes, and deciding to change the topic of conversation for the rest of the drive.

Michael finally dropped her off to the gym, telling her Beatrice would be waiting inside and driving away after Ava grabbed her bag and made it inside the building.

For a Saturday morning, the gym was completely deserted when she knew very well it usually was filled with everyone who, during the week, didn’t have time to go and get some exercising done.

And then she saw Beatrice up in the boxing ring, her hands braced on the protective strings, a smirk on her face as she watched Ava approach her.

“Hey there,” Beatrice said, nodding at Ava, who dropped her bag to the floor.

Beatrice was wearing a sleeveless black top and tight sport leggings, which kind of made Ava salivate, but she wouldn’t admit that.

“New shirt?” Beatrice said, looking at the sleeveless hoodie Ava had stolen from her girlfriend.

“You’re so funny, did you know?” Ava said, walking closer, Beatrice looking down at her.

“I’ve been told,” she said, nodding, and Ava scoffed as she joined her.

“A gym date, really?” she asked the taller girl, who smiled at her.

“The goal of this date is to remember the past in a way that won’t make us want to cry,” Beatrice explained, putting her hands behind her back and walking around Ava. “One of my favorite memories was when we trained together back at Saint Melanie’s.”

“Oh, you loved to watch me eat the floor?” Beatrice couldn’t help but snort at that, and Ava smiled.

“No,” the girl said, “I loved to see you get even more confident by each time, you learning how to control your body and emotions, you kicking some of those stupid bitches’ asses.”

“Beatrice, language!” Ava gasped, and then arched an eyebrow. “So you want to get your ass beat by me? I already spank you every once in a while.”

“Ava,” Beatrice sighed, and Ava shrugged her shoulders.

“Okay, sorry, continue,” Beatrice rolled her eyes at her.

“You came at Saint Melanie’s looking scared, feeling small, all of them made you feel like that, even me,” Beatrice sounded angry, and Ava wanted to take her hand and tell her it was over now, “but you proved everyone wrong, even after Crimson did that to you, you stopped being scared and decided to show everyone you were better than us.”

“So you want us to fight in our first date?” Ava arched an eyebrow, Beatrice humming, “I’m asking just in case I have to run to the restaurant next to the gym, because I’m afraid the ice packs in here won’t be enough for you, my love.”

“Oh, cocky,” Beatrice said, nodding approvingly, “I like it.”

“Bea, amor,” Ava said as the both of them started to circle around each other, “if you wanted to touch me, you only had to ask.”

“You didn’t have enough last night, darling?” Ava tried to ignore the way her knees almost buckled, at how hot Beatrice looked while taunting her and wearing that outfit.

“I can never have enough of you, you already know that,” now it was Beatrice the one breathing deeply, pretending her words hadn’t affected her.

“You remember the defensive movements I taught you, right?” the taller girl tried to change topics, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows.

“Do you remember them?” Ava said, trying to act cool and nonchalant as she watched Beatrice put her hair up in a bun, suddenly feeling her mouth going dry.

“I certainly do,” Beatrice said, sounding confused, “I have a black belt in aikido, aside from many other martial arts, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Ava said, and Beatrice looked at her with amusement in her eyes as she offered a hand to Ava, grabbing it gently and walking Ava towards her, “so you will aikido me into submission during our first date?”

Beatrice smirked at her, walking towards Ava. “Do not test me, I might do it.”

“I like it when you do that,” Ava said, shrugging her shoulders.  Beatrice leaned down, kissing Ava gently on her lips, and then looked at her.

“Do your best, sweetheart.”

Before Ava could even react, she felt Beatrice’s leg hooking around her ankle as her arms sneaked around her chest, her body immediately falling to the ground and the taller girl softening the fall as her body hovered upon Ava’s, a smirk on her lips.

“Oh, fuck you!” Ava groaned, Beatrice arching an eyebrow.

“Later, maybe,” the girl winked at her, and Ava felt all the air leaving her lungs as Beatrice got up, offering a hand to Ava.

They kept going like that for a while, Ava immediately remembering all the moves Beatrice had taught her in the school’s dojo, the both of them all alone with no one to watch them. She remembered how Beatrice had tried to touch her as little as possible back then, how Ava blushed furiously every time the girl’s hand brushed her arm, or her hand, or her waist.

Now, though, their movements were fluid and familiar, Ava being able to read what Beatrice would do before the girl did it, their hands firm upon each other’s body, Ava remembering how to stop Beatrice and how to attack, the both of them laughing and challenging one another as they remembered those long afternoons Beatrice had worked with Ava, building her confidence up and looking at her with pride.

Ava didn’t know how she had managed to do it, but she had Beatrice pinned to the ground after surprising her with a high kick, Beatrice losing balance and Ava being able to hook her arm around the girl’s waist, bringing Beatrice’s body down to the ground, the girl letting out a surprised huff of air as Ava put each of her legs on both sides of Beatrice’s hips, her hands pinning Beatrice’s above the girl’s head.

“I win,” Beatrice said, out of breath, and Ava furrowed her eyebrows.

“I have you pinned to the ground, Bea,” she said, thinking maybe Beatrice had actually hit her head too hard or something.

“I know,” Beatrice said, a shit eating grin occupying her face.

It took a little bit for Ava to understand, until she did and let out a bark of laughter, Beatrice smiling proudly.

“That’s something I would say,” Ava said, still giggling.

“I know,” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, “well, shit.”