Chapter Text
There's darkness in the distance.
From the way that I've been living.
But I know I can't resist it.
1997, April
Ava Silva.
That’s the name on the white plaque under Beatrice’s, newly scribbled on, the sharpie pen still fresh. She could wipe it off if she wanted too. Not that it would make a difference.
Beatrice had just returned from her Saturday morning study in the library, to find the name added to her dorm room door. A new roommate. Took them long enough. She’s been without one for about three months, not that she was necessarily complaining. She had the room to herself and didn’t have to worry about changing, didn’t have to worry about obnoxiously loud music or giggling over the phone to a boyfriend who lives literally 15 minutes away.
Mary McGlynne, after hearing a rumour as to why Beatrice was sent here, begged for a transfer. She now rooms with Camilla, who’s previous roommate was kicked out after the nuns found her stash of cannabis.
She was irritating, so at the end of the day, Beatrice was glad she was gone.
But now she has a new one.
“Ava Silva,” she rolls the name on her tongue slowly. Eyes tracing the looped letters and she begins to wonder what she looks like. Will they get along? Will she try and sneak a boyfriend in like some other girls? Will she glare at Beatrice in disgust when she changes into her pyjamas, after hearing the inevitable rumours floating around.
It’s impossible to say.
But one things for certain. She can’t possibly be worse than Mary McGlynne.
xXx
They have free time on weekends. To use the sporting facilities at the school, spend time in the library or perhaps head into the nearby town. There were tight curfews and strict rules, some girls being faced with a smack, should they disobey them.
Beatrice spent most of her free time alone, unless Lilith or Camilla persuade her to spend time with them. She’s spent most of the day studying or reading, boring to most people, but it keeps her mind busy. Doesn’t allow it to wander where it shouldn’t.
Its 4pm, an hour before dinner on Sunday, when she arrives back to her room and finds a stranger sat on the single bed pushed to the opposite wall to Beatrice’s. The first thing Beatrice notices is the lollipop sticking out the corner of her mouth and how she lazily sucks on it. Then it’s the lone braid in her short hair that cuts off just at her jaw.
She doesn’t notice Beatrice, continues to simply tap away on her Gameboy, from what she can see, Beatrice thinks it’s a Donkey Kong game.
Its not until Beatrice shuts the door behind her, that the click of it makes the girl look up. Eyes widening as she drops her Gameboy and tugs the lollipop out her mouth.
“Oh shit, um hey,” she smiles awkwardly and Beatrice for some unknown reason, can’t speak.
She is vaguely aware of the way that her face grows warm, and her palms begin to sweat, so she won’t offer a handshake she decides. Her throat dries up and her mind goes blank because there’s a very pretty girl in her room.
Sitting cross legged in the schools uniform, skirt, blouse, stockings and footwear that is prohibited in the schools dress code.
“You can’t wear those.” Is what she says for some strange reason. It comes out garbled and her heart skips all the more faster after doing it. The girl squints at her, before looking back down at her shoes, which are on her bed, something Beatrice wouldn’t be caught dead doing.
She blinks.
“What?” The girl says, and pops the lollipop back in, Beatrice averts her eyes, refusing to look at puckered lips.
“The shoes, we all have to wear the same ones-”
“But its Sunday.”
“Yes, it’s just-you’re wearing your uniform today, so I just thought-”
“Ok,” the girl holds up a hand, stopping Beatrice mid-sentence and she shuffles off of the bed to stand before her.
She’s…short. Beatrice looks down on her and feels awkward being in such close proximity to her, especially since she hasn’t buttoned her blouse all the way up and Beatrice’s angle means she’s looking directly down into-
“Ava.”
“Hmm?” Beatrice jerks her head up slightly, eyes meeting Ava’s playful ones.
“I’m Ava, your roommate, Beatrice, right?” Ava asks, rolling the lollipop along her bottom lip absentmindedly.
Beatrice gulps and nods her head.
“Yeah-yes! That’s me, welcome to St Areala’s,” she manages to stammer out awkwardly and Ava simply smiles back at her widely.
Her eyes crease with her smile and she rocks on the balls of her feet. Still toying with that lollipop with the possibly, permanent look of mischief in her eyes and for a split second, Beatrice swears that those eyes check her out. But that can’t be true.
“So um, how bout a tour before dinner,” she asks, moving around Beatrice to pull the door open and then lean against the doorframe. “That ancient nun just like dropped me off and then disappeared, freaky shit-”
“Language,” Beatrice finds herself saying sharply and something flickers in Ava’s eyes, something akin to amusement.
The other girl smiles, “you’re kidding right?”
Beatrice doesn’t answer.
Ava sighs softly and jerks her head, motioning for Beatrice to follow her. She closes the door behind her and hurries to catch up with Ava, who’s wandering down the halls without a care in the world, sucking on her lollipop.
“Foods not allowed in the hallways.”
Ava promptly ignores her.
Every now and again, Beatrice points out certain things, whether it be paintings or statues seen in the courtyard through the large looming windows. Despite asking for the tour, Ava seems very reluctant to actually listen and take in any of the information.
She asks things like “how often can I leave the property?” Or “what’s the rules with alcohol?”
Beatrice doesn’t really mind, its better for them both to get off on the right foot, rather than the wrong one. Besides, despite her preferred solitary lifestyle, it might be good to make another friend, since she’s quite sparse of those recently.
Its not that Ava is disinterested per say, she’s just got different focuses and priorities, which Beatrice can respect, even if she disapproves. There is one question that catches her so off guard that she trips over her own feel. Humility burning her cheeks as cotton mouth seems to take a hold of her.
“So, what’s the deal, are there much repressed girls here exploring their sexuality, or is that a myth. Asking for a friend,” Ava asks far too casually for Beatrice’s liking.
“I-what?”
Ava rolls her eyes and smiles, “ugh y’know girls fingering in the closet during bible study or something?”
Beatrice splutters and her hand fumbles with the door she’s trying to pull open. Not even Lilith would speak so crassly in front of her. She finds herself lost for words once again and she hates the look on Ava’s face when she realises the effect her question had on Beatrice.
“That’s not a no,” she says, eyebrows raised in question and before she can say anything else, Beatrice finally pulls open the door and for some stupid reason, waves her arm in front of her, in some kind of awkward flourish.
“Dining hall.”
And she takes off, making a beeline towards the hot foods counter, not bothering to look back over her shoulder until she’s grabbed a tray and lets out a sigh of relief when she sees Ava sitting with a group of girls.
Dear God.
Her shaky hands are clenched tightly around the thin plastic tray and if Camilla notices her white knuckles, she doesn’t say anything.
The girls sat in a large woolly jumper, seeing as it’s a Sunday and they can wear their own clothes. She stirs absentmindedly at her soup, greeting Lilith happily when the taller girl sits down, and they all sit in companiable silence for a few minutes.
All before hell breaks loose.
“New roommate,” Lilith says. Not a question, not a statement, simply voicing her thoughts and Camilla perks up at the words, looking to Beatrice for confirmation.
She sighs and rests her spoon against the bowl, nodding her head in the direction that Ava’s at, surrounded by a large group of girls. Apparently, she made friends very quickly and very easily, something Beatrice isn’t accustomed to.
“Ava Silva,” she mutters and grabs onto Camilla’s elbow to stop the girl from rising out of her seat for a better look. Lilith looks behind her, unbothered and returns to her meal.
Whilst Camilla bombards her with as many questions as possible.
“Is she nice, did you guys talk, is she weird, does she think we’re weird? Did you get her number, oh does she have a phone, that’s silly everyone has a phone, well except Lilith because y’know-”
“Camilla,” Beatrice cuts in, and the girl winces, and smiles sheepishly.
“I’m just curious.”
“Yes well,” Beatrice sighs and watches Ava tip her head back in laughter, snorting loudly in a very unladylike fashion, which has one of the sisters scowling at her from across the room. “She’s…interesting, I don’t think we’ll talk much.”
Ava’s giggles die down and she glances over, eyes locking with Beatrice’s, and she stares for a moment, smile wavering and Beatrice sits frozen, before ducking her head down and continuing her meal.
It’ll be an interesting term.
“So, you’re 17?” Ava asks as she pulls clothes out her suitcase later that evening.
Beatrice shakes her head, not looking away from her book.
“Just turned 18, this is my last term at the school.”
“Oh shit, sweet freedom, right?” Ava laughs lightly, looking over at Beatrice, who doesn’t return the smile or sentiment. “Well, I’m 17, I got another year at this place,” she says, still staring at Beatrice, as if she were prodding her, trying to make her engage in conversation. “Its weird they paired us up for roommates, right? Seeing as you’re a year above me?”
“Not really, it’d be strange if you were 15 and I was 18,” Beatrice murmurs, turning the page and Ava lets out a short puff of laughter, replying with a quiet “yeah” before unbuttoning her blouse and begins to get changed.
Its normal, everyone shares a room, and you get used to changing in front of others, but Beatrice quickly turns her head away. Shame burning in her chest and guilt swirling in her stomach. She hadn’t expected Ava to already be so comfortable with changing in front of her.
“What do you guys do for fun around here?” A voice asks behind her and Beatrice turns, assuming Ava is decent and changed but instead finds the girl stood in sleep shorts and her bra, toying with what looks to be a Garfield t-shirt.
Don’t look down.
Look at her eyes.
Do. Not. Look. Down.
“Uh,” Beatrice says, and she blinks rapidly, straining her neck up and taking immediate interest in a thin crack running along the ceiling. “I read.”
“Read?” Ava sighs and Beatrice nods, eyes widening when she hears the clasp of the bra unclip and fall to the floor. This is the worst day of her life. Second worst day, actually.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it-oh you can look now by the way,” she says teasingly and Beatrice’s pink cheeks flare an even brighter red when she sees Ava’s smirk. The girl crawls under her bedsheets and sighs loudly.
Beatrice ignores her.
The sudden rap of knuckles on the door makes them both jump as sister Francis’ voice shouts from the other side, “lights out!” Ava groans loudly and mutters some unpleasant words under her breath, before switching off her light.
Beatrice rolls her eyes and puts a bookmark in her book and laying it on the bedside table. The lamp is switched off and they both lie in darkness.
She finds herself holding her breath a little bit, for some reason hyperaware of her breathing and how loud it sounds. It doesn’t help when it feels like something is sitting on her chest. Sweaty hands play with the comforter, finding a loose thread to wrap tightly around her index finger.
The crack in the ceiling is long, spreading and branching out across the yellowing white ceiling. Much like a Lichtenberg figure. There’s no cause for concern, the cracks are thin, a superficial wound, if you will.
She wants to run her fingers along it, her eyes trace the cracks and grooves. The long branches and how they all stem from the corner of the wall.
Beatrice wonders if-
A bright yellow light fills the room as Ava’s light is switched on. Beatrice blinks blearily at the sudden onslaught of harsh light and turns to look at Ava, who’s sitting up in bed. The girl looks at Beatrice and rests her chin on her shoulder, biting her lip as she does so.
“So, what’s your deal?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Y’know how long have you been here?”
“Why does that matter…”
“Come on Bea, we’re bonding,” Ava smiles mischievously and Beatrice huffs in annoyance.
“Three years, since I was 15.”
Ava frowns a little, “so you transferred here too, I’ve been between schools as well-”.
“Late entry,” she says quietly, staring up at that crack on the ceiling. Its true, she’s been in a private school in London, but her behaviour had her sent away to this Catholic Boarding school in Switzerland of all places.
The other girl hums at the answer, “so what you were a bad girl, parents sent you to catholic school to ‘make up for it?’ I mean this is basically the girls version of being threatened into going to military school,” she laughs lightly. Beatrice doesn’t laugh with her.
“So, what did you do?”
Beatrice breathes in, chest tightening, “I wasn’t falling into line, now I’m here.”
“What a bullshit answer.”
“Excuse me?” Beatrice turns on her side to glare at Ava.
“Come on, give me something good, what did mom and dad catch you frenching some chick in their Geo Prizm?”
It’s a joke. Beatrice knows that. She just doesn’t find it very funny.
She scowls and turns onto her side, facing the wall and having her back to Ava and squeezing her eyes shut.
“We have morning mass early tomorrow; I suggest you get to sleep.”
“Oh, come on Bea,” Ava whines, sheets rusting around her. “I was just kidding-”
“Don’t call me that and don’t make those jokes around me,” she says, her voice cold and almost unrecognizable to herself. Hate dripping from her words and she can perfectly picture the shocked look on Ava’s face.
She understands the implications of Beatrice’s words. Its crystal clear.
“Oh,” its quiet and small sounding coming from someone with such a loud voice and big personality. A voice of hurt at Beatrice’s obvious dismissal, the obvious disgust at what Ava suggested. She’s surprised actually, that Ava would be offended by it.
“Night then,” Ava says quietly, and Beatrice hears her turning onto her side too, lamp switched off once more as the blanket of darkness once again falls upon them. An awkward silence sits between them, and Beatrice swallows the lump in her throat.
This is going to be a long term.
xXx
Its kind of impressive, Ava supposes, how she’s been to three different countries in an attempt to find a school for her that actually works. The nuns at the orphanage in Spain tried, but she wore them down, with the copious copies of Playboy magazines under her bed at age 14 or her inability to follow any kind of rule or command.
Public schools weren’t strict enough, so she’d been sent to three different private ones in Spain, Catholic, of course. Neither worked out. Years before, she had been taught in Portugal, her home, before moving to Spain with her mother and before the accident which landed her at the orphanage.
Someone reached out about this Catholic boarding school in Switzerland, it has this program that specialises in “troubled youths” and “rebirths them” whatever the fuck that means.
So, she packed her bags, and the orphanage sent her here. With the few belongings she had, clothes, Gameboy and her newish phone, courtesy of her ex, JC. Nokia 8110, its pretty sweet. She wasn’t sure what to expect, or how fancy it could be, but judging by the fountain in the courtyard, it’s definitely the type of place she’ll get kicked out of quickly.
It doesn’t really matter, she’ll be finished school in a year and once she’s 18, the foster system no longer cares for her. She can already taste the sweet, sweet freedom.
The building is kind of old, like a renovated castle type place, but the dorms and hallways are painted white, yellowing a bit, probably from the bright rays of the sun beaming through the large fucking windows.
The place reeks of celibacy and crushed dreams, your typical all girls catholic boarding school. Plaid green skirts, white blouse, green bow, Bibles tucked under the arm as you skip off to Latin class, which they actually have here.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she had a fun roommate. Someone to smoke pot with or watch new episodes of Friends with, or re-runs of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Giggle to about boys, room decorated with posters of the usual, Freddy Prinze Jr, and George Clooney, Ava would try to stick up her Pamela Anderson one with the guise that she really loves Baywatch and its inspired her to become a lifeguard.
That’s obviously not the reason.
But no.
She got stuck with Beatrice Young. Member of the chess club and captain of the rowing team. She also fluently speaks 4 languages, voluntarily reads shit like Pride and Prejudice and scowls at Ava when she leaves her X-men comics lying on a pile next to her bed.
It sucks ass.
They don’t really get along, they’re polar opposites! North pole, south pole. She gives herself a mental fist bump for the pun.
She acted super awkward when they first met for some reason. And maybe, Ava tried flirting with her a few times, only to quickly be shut down. It didn’t help when she jokingly made a comment about Beatrice kissing a girl and she looked like she wanted to murder Ava.
So, her roommate is an uptight homophobe.
It could be worse.
She could be an Oasis fan.
Ava’s a diehard Blur kind of girl.
xXx
For reasons unknown, Camilla loves Ava and Lilith hates her.
Beatrice finds that she sits somewhere in between. It would be wrong of her to despise someone she barely knew, but at the same time, how could she possibly like Ava Silva. The girl makes rude jokes and plays her Gameboy under the covers while Beatrice is trying to sleep.
What’s even worse? She’s an atheist. An atheist who hates, dismisses and ignores God. She scoffs when they’re in Mass or when Father Vincent reads particular passages.
“Forty days my ass.”
She makes fun of Beatrice’s strict study regime and comes back to the dorm late on Friday nights with dilated pupils and a pungent, earthy, bitter smell clings to her clothes as she giggles and stumbles her way into bed.
She’s everything Beatrice strays away from.
But for some reason she keeps bothering Beatrice, drawn to her for some strange reason.
“So, what’re you going to do when you get out?” She says from where she’s sat on the table in the library, watching Beatrice skim the shelves. She kicks her feet as she does so, not a care in the world.
Beatrice pulls her attention away from the book she’s been reading the back off, to look over at Ava. “Why do you make it sound like we’re in prison?”
Ava lets out a short and surprised laugh, “I mean, it’s an all-girls Catholic boarding school. There are hook-ups in the showers, near diabolical food served to us, cranky old ladies who patrol the halls making sure we’re asleep in our rooms-the only thing separating this place from a prison is the orange jumpsuits.”
Beatrice rolls her eyes, “that’s a little dramatic,” she chastises, pushing the book back onto the shelf. “Besides, when I leave, I’m going to take my vows and become a nun.”
Ava falls off the table.
Usually, Beatrice would laugh at such a sight, despite it being an obviously immature reaction. But she finds herself lost for words as she watches Ava grunt and stand up, brushing her skirt down and swearing softly, pushing herself back up on the table.
She clears her throat.
“So why?”
“Hm?”
“Why be a nun?”
Beatrice smiles sadly, and Ava stares at her. “Well, I’m a devout Catholic, dedicated to God. It’s a stable way of life, an easy one.”
“Yeah, but easy is boring,” Ava snorts, swinging her legs again. “You’re smart, pretty, you could do like, anything,” she protests loudly, loudly enough that the librarian loudly shushes her. Mortified, Beatrice ducks her head and moves further down the shelves.
Ava sighs and jumps down, jogging after her, tripping up over the laces of the converse which are definitely not a part of the uniform.
“I’m serious,” she says, leaning against the bookcase, as Beatrice pulls out a chunky blue one on Greek mythology. “Dude, do you want to be a nun, or do you want to be a nun because your parents want you to be a nun.”
“You said nun three times, Sister Francis might appear over you while you sleep,” Beatrice teases quietly and Ava rolls her eyes.
“Haha, she has jokes! Hold on, this is one for the history books,” she reaches into her battered satchel to reveal a polaroid camera. She pulls it up to her face and Beatrice is unsure what to do, so she stands there awkwardly with the book in her arms.
Click
The small picture prints and Ava waves it in the air for a few seconds before looking at it and laughing loudly.
“Let me see that-” and she snatches it from Ava’s hands, pulling a face when she sees herself in the photo, book held awkwardly in her arms and eyes squeezed, face grimacing at the unexpected flash. “Absolutely not-burn it.”
“What? No,” Ava laughs, snatching it back, “this is for my wank bank,” and at Beatrice’s horrified face she snorts, “dude I’m kidding, obviously.”
“Right,” Beatrice gulps, nodding and continuing her search for more books. Ava is left standing awkwardly behind her.
“So um, I have to meet Camilla I forget,” she goes to turn but then meets Beatrice’s eyes briefly. “See you later.”
xXx
They see each other in classes, but barely talk. Beatrice has extra curriculars and extra Bible studies which keep her out the room thankfully, allowing Ava to have some alone time. It had taken a few weeks to work out Beatrice’s schedule, but noticing the girls calendar on her side of the room definitely helped.
So what does she do with her free time on Wednesday evenings while Beatrice is out?
She relieves all that tension that builds up over the week.
“Fuck,” she breathes, face turned into her pillow, eyebrows scrunching and eyes squeezing shut. Her face pulls in concentration and pleasure, body taut, legs shaking and hand picking up its pace from where its shoved between her legs.
The cool fabric of her comforter feels really fucking fantastic as her legs spread to lie flat and her heels dig in.
That pit in her stomach digs deeper, carving, carving away and burning hotter with every stroke.
“C’mon, uh—fuck-”
She’s so fucking close, and for some unknown reason, as the tension grows tighter in her muscles and her stomach grows hotter, she begins to picture a face. She’s never really needed to do that before.
Beatrice. Beatrice in her fucking tank top that she wears to rowing.
“Bea,” she whimpers quietly, hand moving furiously now, picking up the face and her whole body begins to twitch and jerk with pleasure. “Oh Bea-fuck-”
But suddenly the door swings open.
“Fuck-Beatrice!” She pulls the hand away and sits up, aware that she’s only in a t-shirt and scrambles to grab a blanket to cover herself.
The girl stands frozen in the doorway, mouth wide open and looking like she might pass out at any given moment.
“Close the door,” Ava hisses, waving her in and Beatrice nods dumbly, closing the door behind her, dropping her coat on her bed.
“Why-what are you doing here?” Ava asks frantically, wondering where the fuck she threw her sweatpants and Beatrice still just stares at her, mouth agape. Ava snaps her fingers at her, and the other girl shakes her head.
“Sorry what?” Beatrice mumbles, blinking slowly, cheeks reddening with every second passed. “Oh, the weather we-we couldn’t get on the river.”
Ava nods and awkwardly wipes wet hands on her bedsheets, clearing her throat loudly and promptly ignoring the throbbing between her legs.
“I’ll go, I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry,” Beatrice more or less sprints out the room, leaving Ava sat, breathing heavily, chest pounding, and sticky hands clenched onto her blanket.
They don’t speak of it.
Ever.
xXx
She tries to make Beatrice like her in the only way she knows how to.
Be super funny, which comes easy because Ava’s a comedic mastermind. Move over Seinfeld, Ava’s here and much funnier than you’ll ever be.
“Can you pass me my bottle of water?” Beatrice asks quietly in the study class that they’re in and Ava grins cheekily.
“You mean your bo’oh’o’wa’er?” Ava says in an atrocious English accent. So bad that Lilith smacks her over the head and mutters under her breath about the harm she’ll cause to Ava if the girl ever did it again.
Beatrice didn’t look amused either, so Ava quickly scraps that plan.
xXx
Its nearing the end of April and Beatrice still hasn’t warmed much towards Ava Silva.
They have the odd laugh, but there’s still a thick line of unspoken tension that separates them both from ever truly connecting.
Ava’s pretty. Beatrice has eyes, so of course she knows that. It doesn’t help that a pretty girl who sometimes flirts with her and makes risqué comments every five minutes, is also her roommate. In fact, it’s really thrown a spanner in the works.
The other girl tries to speak with her, pushing for some sort of connection that Beatrice can’t be bothered to reciprocate.
“What do you mean I have to do an extracurricular?”
Beatrice resists the tempting urge to roll her eyes and instead taps her finger on the pamphlet clenched in Ava’s hands.
“We have Chess, photography, rowing, athletics and softball.”
Ava squints up at her, sun in her eyes, “isn’t softball just baseball for lesbians?”
Dear God.
Its comments like this which makes Beatrice’s hairs rise on the back of her neck and for that nervous tingle to zig zag down her spine like lightening. Ava never makes comments like these around the others, only with Beatrice.
Why?
What does she know?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she dismisses, focusing her gaze on the rolling green hills outside their windows. Refusing to look at Ava, knowing the look that’ll be on her face.
“Really?”
Beatrice snaps her head back around to look at the girl. Ava stares back innocently, wide eyes blinking calmy like she didn’t just cause Beatrice’s heart rate to double for beats per minute, making her choke on her words. Making her sweat.
She can’t speak.
“No,” her voice is rough and Ava refuses to break eye contact. It holds for the longest 20 seconds of Beatrice’s life. Tongue feeling swollen and heavy in her mouth. Throat parched but hands rubbing anxiously on her bedsheets to try and rid themselves of the sweat.
She clicks her tongue, “ok,” she shrugs and points to one of the columns, paired with a grainy image of a camera. “I’ll do photography.”
“Good, that’s-yeah good,” Beatrice says, nodding excessively and tapping her fingers along her thigh, ignoring how close Ava is sitting. How her converse bump into Beatrice’s sensible leather shoes, how her white stockings are pulled up unevenly, one just reaching her knee and the other halfway down her calf.
Ignores how she can smell Ava’s perfume, sweet and florally.
Ignores how she can see the little details of her skin. The small silvery scar by her ear or the barely visible birthmark on her forehead.
“So never tried softball?”
She jerks her head up to look back at Ava, noses almost bumping.
“No, you?”
Ava bites her lip and thinks for a moment. The weight of the situation gives Beatrice the hint that this isn’t necessarily about the actual sport.
“Sometimes I like softball, sometimes I also enjoy…tennis.”
She blinks slowly, looking up at Beatrice with half-lidded eyes, “do you enjoy tennis Beatrice?”
“No,” she says quickly before she can even think about it. Eyes widening at the implications behind her answer, heart pounding in her ears.
“So…softball then?” Ava says slowly, fingers drawing a pattern on Beatrice’s bedsheets, slowly dragging along the fabric.
“I-,” the words get stuck in her throat and she finds her lips moving without any sound coming out. Her chest rises with every deep breath and her eyes move to find Ava’s inches away from her own, pouty lips parted as she watches Beatrice.
The hand moves to Beatrice’s thigh, just below where the skirt cuts off and Beatrice gulps at the feeling.
“Bea-”
KNOCKKNOCKKNCOK
“Ava come on! You said you wanted to see my collection!”
Ava drops her head in exasperation. “I told Camilla I’d see her Trolls collection.”
Beatrice nods knowingly, “she’s very proud of them.”
The girl slides off of Beatrice’s bed, heading towards the door and she looks regretfully over her shoulder, back at Beatrice. White knuckled hand holding the door handle.
“I’ll see you later?”
Beatrice nods as the girl slips out and as soon as the door closes with a soft click, she falls back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief.
She likes Ava Silva.
“Fuck.”