Chapter Text
The OCS library has become a sanctuary for Beatrice. The three-story building has everything a girl could ask for. Books in every genre, nooks, and crannies to hide in when her work seems too daunting to complete, and a Dark Academia style that leaves many speechless. Beatrice stumbled upon this library her freshman year, after a particularly rough Religious Studies exam. Though if you were to ask her, she'd probably say it was “hardly a stumble,” because Google Maps gave her the directions. Since that day, she’s been coming here several days a week. Whether it be for leisure purposes or studying, within these walls is where Beatrice feels the most at peace.
Peace that is almost always interrupted by a hyper-active Ava Silva, but peace enough.
It’s quiet (almost too quiet on some days), and the sun seeps in through the windows on sunny days as she reads; light delicately dancing across the words on her pages. One of her favorite features, though she’ll never admit to her doe-eyed roommate, is the café on the ground floor. It offers a variety of drinks and snacks, plus there’s a 15% student discount with the simple show of a university ID. If Beatrice ever feels swamped, she takes a short break and gets something from the café.
In the last year, Beatrice has befriended (using that term rather lightly) a good amount of the library staff. Luckily for her, her best friend from her hometown, Camila, is one of the baristas. Beatrice approaches the counter with a small smile as she prepares to order.
“Bea! Hi, how long have you been here?” Camila asks with a wide smile.
One of Camila’s curls falls into her face, and she pushes the strand behind her ear. “Not long,” Beatrice counters.
“Your usual?” Camila asks. Beatrice studies the menu for a moment before looking back at Camila. The barista recently dyed her hair pink, and Beatrice is still getting used to it.
Beatrice’s brows furrow as she watches Camila peer over her shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asks. Camila’s eyes slightly widen as she refocuses her eyes on Beatrice.
“Hmm? Oh! Yeah. I’m fine. Thought I saw someone from class,” Camila says with a suspiciously growing smirk. Beatrice contemplates looking behind her, before deciding against it.
“I’ll do my usual, but with a chocola-“
“BOO!” Ava yells in Beatrice’s ear as she squeezes both of her shoulders. Ava and Camila both break out into a fit of laughter as Beatrice stands stunned with her hand over her chest, her breathing suddenly rapid.
“Fucking Hell, Ava!” Beatrice whisper-yells. “And would you two keep it down?” Beatrice glances around. A few people look in their direction. Some with a quizzical brow quirked, others simply using the outburst as a distraction from their ministries. One girl, Dora, from Beatrice’s Aikido class mouths, “You good?” to which Beatrice nods.
Ava wraps her arm around Beatrice’s waist and forcefully throws Beatrice’s right arm over her shoulder.
“Oh, come on Bea! Would it kill you to let loose for once?” Ava looks up at Beatrice beaming her world-famous Silva smile. Beatrice sighs before pressing a kiss to the top of Ava’s head.
“You’ll be the death of me, Silva.” Ava’s smile grows impossibly bigger as she laces her fingers with Beatrice’s right hand.
Camila watches with a brow raised. After a moment, she lightly clears her throat.
The pair focuses their attention on the barista.
“My usual with a chocolate croissant, please.” Beatrice looks at Ava, who is studying the menu.
“Are you going to order, or do you plan on giving me another heart attack before I pay?”
Ava scoffs and lightly pushes away from Beatrice to lean onto the counter.
“Camila. My dear friend. My sweetest cinnamon roll. The yin to my yang, the Pumbaa to my Timon…” Ava rambles.
“Did you just call me a warthog?” Camila questions.
“No, I called you loyal and extremely smart.”
“Does that make me Simba?” Beatrice asks.
Ava pivots around quickly, fast enough to make her cardigan fall down her shoulder. Beatrice looks past Ava at Camila. The barista shrugs.
“You’re Boss Beaver on a good day, Bea.” Ava responds as she turns back to Camila.
Beatrice rolls her eyes but watches on nonetheless.
“You’re holding up my line,” Camila says as she crosses her arms. A smile crosses Beatrice’s face as she realizes that Camila is messing with Ava.
Beatrice fakes a cough to stop herself from laughing and crosses her arms as well.
Ava turns around to check the line but is only met with an annoyed Beatrice.
“There isn’t anyo— “ Ava squints her eyes at Camila as she tries to hold in a laugh.
“I thought I could trust you!” Ava says.
Camila snickers to herself as Ava dramatically places a hand over her chest to feign shock.
“Ava, please.” Beatrice groans.
“Fine. I’ll have a white chocolate mocha Frappuccino with extra whipped cream.” Camila raises her brows knowingly.
“And a slice of lemon pound cake,” Ava breathes out.
Beatrice shakes her head, and bumps hips with Ava to get to the register.
Ava comes behind Beatrice and puts her head on her shoulder as Beatrice prompts to pay. Her hands lightly grip the fabric at Beatrice’s waist to hold herself steady.
Beatrice falters for an imperceptible moment when she feels Ava’s breath on her neck. Well, imperceptible to most. Camila gives Beatrice a pointed look as she witnesses her friend gulp slightly.
“Same spot?” Ava asks.
“Yes,” Beatrice replies shortly.
“Okay! I’m gonna go grab our table.”
She plants a kiss on Beatrice’s cheek then deadpans to Camila. “Watch those videos I sent you, or else,” she says then skips away.
Camila nods then watches Beatrice closely.
Her eyes are screwed shut. At this moment, she can’t tell if the sound she’s hearing is the espresso machine or blood rushing through her veins, but it’s deafening and all too overwhelming. All it took was a kiss on the cheek to render her, well, a useless lesbian as the kids like to say.
In… Two... Three...
Out... Two… Three…
“Bea?”
In... Two... Three...
Out… Two… Three...
Camila timidly reaches forward to tap her friend’s hand.
Almost instantly, Beatrice is awakened from her trance. She releases one final breath and stares down at her debit card. “How much do I owe you?” Camila drops her hand and tilts her head slightly as she looks at Beatrice.
“Bea…” Camila says with a sad smile. A smile that, to some, is kind enough to make clouds part for the sun, or commit very small acts of crime for.
Lilith would know.
But Beatrice puts on a strong front. Or at least she tries to.
In all their time being friends, Camila has never been one to push Beatrice into talking about how she feels. Even when Beatrice stayed with Camila and her family for their last two years of High School.
The move was a no-brainer, and Camila’s family welcomed her with open arms.
The two of them met in Junior High, and Camila was one of the only people Beatrice opened up to about her family situation… Well before Ava (and the rest of the group).
The summer before junior year, Beatrice’s mother barged into her room to find her shirtless and on top of her then-girlfriend, Isabella. Beatrice scrambled to get up when she heard the doorknob rattle, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her mother screamed as she followed the couple to the front door.
What Beatrice didn’t know was the fact that that would be the last time she would ever kiss her girlfriend.
The next day, Beatrice got a call from Isabella. She told her that they couldn’t be together anymore, and not to contact her. Beatrice knew her parents had something to do with the abrupt nature of Isabella’s decision, but she was too tired to fight anymore.
Heartbroken, Beatrice packed three large duffel bags with as much clothing, and personal items as she could, and soon found herself crying as she knocked on Camila’s front door.
Camila is practically Beatrice’s sister. She knows her.
She also knows how much Beatrice is hurting, whether she admits it or not.
“Don’t.” Beatrice finally breaks and looks up at her friend. “Please.”
Camila sighs and presses a few buttons on the screen of the cash register. Beatrice swipes her card and steps away from the counter to wait for their order. In the distance, Beatrice can see Ava leaning back in her chair, with both of her legs propped up on the table. She’s smiling down at her phone, most likely watching some random video she found at 2 am one night. Beatrice allows her eyes to drift across the girl’s form.
God help me, she reflects.
Ava is wearing high-waisted brown pants paired with a dark belt. Beatrice remembers when Ava pulled her through the mall the day she purchased them. Ava claims she needed more clothes that made her “look like a scholar.” Whatever that means. “You have no reason to look like a scholar, seeing as though you keep skipping class, Ava.” Beatrice retorted with a roll of her eyes. Though she acted annoyed the entire evening, she would do anything the girl asks of her if it means Ava will intertwine their hands, as she goes on and on and on about God knows what.
If you were to ask Camila, Beatrice is completely whipped. But Beatrice just chalks it up to Ava being her best friend.
Her beautiful, breathtaking best friend that could probably get a statue to break into a fit of laughter.
Her beautiful, breath-taking best friend that Beatrice would move mountains for if she so much as mentioned it.
Beatrice is beyond screwed, isn’t she?
Currently, sliding off of Ava’s shoulder is a beige cardigan that Beatrice has only seen Ava wear once, but who’s keeping count? But under that… under that is a black crop top with a low neckline that made Beatrice leave their apartment a flustered mess earlier. Aside from the… obvious benefits… the top shows just a teasing amount of Ava’s midriff.
Enough to make Beatrice’s mouth completely dry at the sight.
“Hey, Bea! Can I get your help?” Ava yells from her bedroom. “One moment,” Beatrice responds as she finishes up an equation on her chemistry homework. She places her assignment in her binder and heads to Ava’s room.
Beatrice wraps at the door frame before entering.
“Everything oka—“
The words die on her lips as she takes Ava in. She stands in front of her closet, in only her pants and her bra, as she rapidly searches through her clothes. Ava is mumbling to herself, or maybe humming, but Beatrice can’t hear anything anyway.
Beatrice’s eyes can’t help but seek refuge in the contours of Ava’s back. The shorter girl refuses to work out with Beatrice ever again (they went once, and Ava couldn’t walk for three days). It was more like a day and a half, but Ava definitely complained for three days.
But looking at her now, Beatrice can tell just how much skating tones out her body. With every small movement, the muscles in Ava’s back flex as if they’re doing a delicate dance — a dance Beatrice hopes will never end. She continues to rake her eyes over Ava, as the shorter girl pushes and pulls at the hangers in her closet.
Beatrice can’t seem to look away, no matter how hard she tries.
From the hair on the nape of her neck to the dimples at the base of her back. Dimples that, at this moment, Beatrice wishes she could press into. Smooth the pad of her thumbs over, delicately caressing Ava’s supple skin.
Time seems to slow when Beatrice zeros in on Ava’s tattoos. She’s got quite a few scattered about her skin, but right now the minimalistic forget-me-nots on her right shoulder blade, and the quote “In this life, or the next,” tattooed down her spine scream at Beatrice for her attention. Ava explained to Beatrice that the quote is from a show she watched when she was younger about, lord forgive her, tactical nuns?
But they still haven’t gotten around to watching it during one of their many, many Netflix marathons.
“Yes!” Ava exclaims as she finds the top she was looking for.
“Bea! Are you— Oh. Hi!”
Beatrice snaps her eyes to Ava’s, “Hi.”
For a split second, and truly a split second, Beatrice catches herself glancing at Ava’s… assets, before using all of the strength in her body, and will in her mind to maintain eye contact with her roommate. For a moment, there’s an indiscernible look on Ava’s face as their eyes meet, before she ultimately breaks eye contact.
Beatrice finds herself blushing as Ava’a eyes drift down her body.
In this small window, Beatrice’s eyes dip to the inside of Ava’s right forearm, where Ava’s newest tattoo, an anthropomorphic sun broken into two pieces, lay under a fresh piece of saniderm.
Beatrice has got to get out of here.
She hasn’t felt this enervated in, well, ever. Ava isn’t doing anything special, and Beatrice can feel herself slipping through the cracks into an Ava-shaped hole.
“You’re wearing the sweater I got you,” she notes with a slight smile. Beatrice looks down at her blue sweater. Under it is a striped button-down, paired with her retired pair of Hakama pants.
“It’s comfortable.”
“It looks good on you.” Ava smiles.
“Did you need something?”
“Oh! Right! Yes. Okay, so I have a presentation in my Comms class today, and the professor said business casual, but I have no clue what business casual means, because I, as you know, have never had a job.” Ava giggles slightly. Beatrice quirks a brow and tilts her head, her eyes dipping to Ava’s lips as she speaks.
“Although, I should probably get one because that’s what adults do. But I also don’t really know what casual means? My casual is certainly not the same as Professor Gibson’s casual. But I think I’m just overthinking. I don’t know. I’m also supposed to meet up with JC after class, so I don’t want to look like a prude, but— ”
Beatrice crosses the room and places her hands on Ava’s shoulders in an attempt to ground her. Taming Ava is like trying to land an airplane with your eyes closed, but Beatrice somehow manages to do it.
“Ava. Breathe.” Beatrice runs her hands up and down the sides of Ava’s arms. “How can I help?”
“I need your help deciding on a top.”
“JC that bad in the sack?”
“Bea!” Ava yells, punching Beatrice in the shoulder.
Beatrice throws her head back in laughter for a moment, Ava visibly pouting.
“What are the options?”
Ava holds up two tops. One being a white blouse, and the other being a black crop top.
Beatrice steps back a bit to weigh the options. Ava can’t stop herself from studying Beatrice as she makes a decision.
Beatrice doesn’t know it, but Ava finds Beatrice’s concentration face to be absolutely endearing. Her brows slightly furrow, and if she’s thinking hard enough you can see the tiniest bit of pink from her tongue slip past her lips.
As Ava has described it to Camila, it’s pretty adorable.
“I’m also wearing that,” Ava cranes her neck to a beige cardigan thrown haphazardly on the bed. Beatrice follows Ava’s gaze, before turning back to her friend.
“Wear the black one,” Beatrice decides. Ava smiles, then tosses the white blouse on the floor.
“Ava,” Beatrice chides before picking up the blouse and hanging it back up in Ava’s closet. As she turns away, a red and black flannel catches her eye.
“Ava, is this my flannel?” Beatrice questions still facing the closet. “Uhh probably,” the shorter girl responds.
“You can’t just steal my…”
“Bea?”
Beatrice’s ability to speak seems to leave her when she faces Ava again. In the time that Beatrice put away the shirt, Ava managed to slip on the top and a few pieces of jewelry. She also put half of her hair up, which has become one of her (and Beatrice’s) favorite styles since she cut her hair.
If God could see the images running through Beatrice’s head right now, she would gladly check herself in for an extended stay in Hell.
She just saw Ava in her actual bra, but a crop top is what causes her to short circuit?
Beatrice, frozen in place, thinks about what Mary would say if she were here. Something along the lines of growing a pair, or being lucky that she fell in love with the most oblivious person in the world. Either way, Beatrice has about three solid seconds to figure out an excuse for ogling her best friend.
“The—“ Beatrice points at Ava’s shoulder.
“What?”
“Your—“ Beatrice approaches Ava. “May I?”
Ava is a bit confused but nods her head.
Beatrice slowly reaches forward and brushes Ava’s hair off of her shoulders. It’s not necessary since Ava’s hair stops right at her shoulders, but Beatrice couldn’t help herself.
She hooks her index finger under Ava’s left shoulder strap, which must have twisted when she put on the top. Ava’s eyes follow Beatrice’s hand then focus on her face. This close, Ava swears she could count the freckles on the taller girl’s face.
“The straps are messed up,” Beatrice whispers and she begins to smooth out the shirt.
The only way to describe the look Ava is giving Beatrice is with pure unadulterated adoration and contentment. She knows she’s safe with Beatrice, with all of their friends really, but especially with her freckle-studded friend.
Ava had it pretty rough growing up. She was in and out of foster homes for several years after her mother died in a car crash. Ava managed to escape the crash with pretty minor injuries, considering the severity of the wreck. She thought the cast on her left arm was pretty cool, though. She still struggles with some tingling and numbness in her arm, but it’s bearable. Aside from that, she was left with a handful of scars, especially on her back.
Beatrice first saw them when they went swimming during their first year of college, and Ava called them her badass battle scars. Now, in their third year, Beatrice could probably map Ava’s scars with her eyes closed. Mainly because Ava, for some reason, always loses an article of clothing when she’s drunk or wears rather revealing tops. Either way, no one is complaining.
Except for Lilith. And Mary. And occasionally Shannon if Mary’s complaints start to annoy her.
Ava’s sense of optimism was birthed during the darkest times of her youth. She was placed in her first home with some not-so-great foster parents that were only in it for the money. It was Hell, but luckily Ava was able to escape at school or in whatever TV show she could find. She was removed from that house after only a few weeks, when the cops were called at two in the morning because the foster dad’s mistress showed up drunk, screaming, and wielding a machete.
An eventful night, that was.
Ava spent the next seven years being tossed about the system, hoping she would land somewhere safe. In her final foster home, she got close to a boy by the name of Diego, who she still refers to as her little brother most of the time. He was only two years younger than her, but she felt it was her duty to protect him at all costs. On one of the rare nights that their foster parents, Jeremy and Melissa, were away, Ava and Diego decided to give each other stick and poke tattoos of a paper airplane. It was a promise to themselves that no matter what happens, no matter where the wind takes them, they’ll find their way back to one another. And that was a promise Ava intended to keep.
Or so she thought.
A couple of weeks later, Melissa began to belittle her and lie about her conduct in the house. Ava suspects, disgustingly enough, that it was because Jeremy would often act inappropriately with her. She would catch him staring at her, or stand extremely close to her when they were in the house. Ava brought it up to Melissa and called Ava a “lying whore”. That night, Ava cried herself to sleep.
One night, the two adults were having a screaming match that resulted in a few plates and dishes being thrown. Ava and Diego sat at the bottom of the stairs as they watched the encounter. That was until Melissa looked at the stairs, pointed at Ava, and yelled, “You’re really going to ruin our marriage over some little skank?”
Ava, taken aback, bolted up the stairs, with Diego in tow. She packed what little she had, promised Diego she would find him one day, and left.
That night she wandered into a diner several miles away from the home and sat in a booth in the far corner. The owner, an older woman with a scar decorating her face, noticed her.
————
“Hard day at work?” The owner says breaking through the silence.
Ava looks up from her lap, and shoulders the biggest smile she can manage. “Something like that,” she replies. Bags are evident under young Ava’s eyes as she looks at the owner.
“Would you like something to eat, sweetie?”
Ava perks up for a moment before she viscerally deflates. “I don’t… I don’t have any money.”
The owner gives a reassuring smile and takes a seat across from Ava. She takes hold of Ava’s hand.
Ava looks up. Tears threatening to spill.
“That’s not what I asked, hun. I asked if you would like something to eat.”
Tears fall freely as Ava responds with a timid, “Yes, ma’am.”
The owner gives Ava’s hand a gentle squeeze and says, “Oh please, call me Suzanne. I’m still young!”
Ava smiles through her tears. She sniffles and watches the woman make her way to the kitchen.
An hour and one full stomach later, Jillian Salvius waltzes up to Suzanne, kisses her on the cheek, and makes her way over to Ava.
“You must be Ava.”
Ava doesn’t know why, but something tells her that she can trust these two women, so she does.
————
On the eve of her 14th birthday, she was adopted by Suzanne and Jillian. Luckily for her, the women also have a son her age named Michael.
With them, Ava felt, for the first time in years, that she had a family.
She finally felt that life was affording her the happiness, protection, and love she deserved. That she craved.
To live and love freely. Unburdened by her past or her insecurities.
And right now at this moment, this minuscule, most likely irrelevant moment, Ava knows that Beatrice would forever be her family as well.
“There,” Beatrice says as she takes a step back.
“Thanks, Honey-Bea.” Ava responds, toying with the bottom of Beatrice’s sweater.
“Oh, God.” Beatrice rolls her eyes and walks toward the door.
“You love it, and you know it!” Beatrice shakes her head, as she tries to hide her growing smile.
“Good luck with your presentation today.”
“No luck needed. I’m gonna kill it.”
A devilish smirk graces Ava’s face, and Beatrice already knows what’s coming.
“Ava, no.”
“I guess you could call me… Hannibal Lecture,” Ava retorts with a toothy smile and finger gun pointed in Beatrice’s direction.
“Awful. God awful, you are.” Beatrice groans as she heads back to her room.
Beatrice lightly closes her bedroom door, and leans against it with her eyes closed. Images of Ava in that shirt, in her bra, staring at Beatrice like she—
“Nope,” Beatrice murmurs as she pushes off the door. She hastily gathers her things and heads out for the day.
“I’m leaving!” She yells as she speeds past Ava’s door.
Ava leans her head out of her door frame.
“Okay! See you la—“
The front door slams before she can even respond.
“Later…” Ava mumbles.
“BEATRICE!” Camila waves two paper bags, and a cup holder in the air.
“Oh. Sorry…” Beatrice reaches for the order, but Camila pulls it back before she can grab it.
“Cam,” Beatrice pleads.
“Do you ever plan on telling her?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Beatrice takes the order from Camila, who drops her shoulders in defeat. Hans, Camila’s manager, pokes his head out from the back.
“Take your lunch in 30.”
“Okay,” Camila responds to Hans before turning back to Beatrice. “I know you don’t wanna lose her, but don’t lose yourself trying to run from feelings that aren’t going anywhere.”
Beatrice nods and heads toward Ava, who is… climbing on a shelf?
“Ava Silva.” Beatrice scolds.
She places their cafe items on the table, and speed walks over to Ava.
“Down.”
“Oh, hey Bea!” Ava says as she leaps down to the ground. Clumsy as she is, she doesn’t quite stick the landing and stumbles into Beatrice. A giggle erupts deep within Ava, causing her to bury her head into Beatrice’s shoulder to stifle her laughter.
Beatrice grips Ava’s waist with one hand and cradles the back of her head with the other. Feeling Ava’s deep bellow ignites something deep within Beatrice. She’s kept any feelings for her friend locked away in the deepest, darkest, depths of her mind. Willing herself, her body, to forget.
Not Ava. Not the one person in the world she refuses to lose. Not after everything she’s been through, she cannot lose Ava.
But recently, it’s like the shorter girl has taken a sledgehammer and broken down her walls, brick by brick until she’s nothing but a heap of mess and rubble. A pathetic pile of want and desire. An empty shell that can only be filled with Ava, Ava, Ava.
Oh why have you forsaken me, she thinks.
A formidable sense of longing, of hunger, is clawing up her throat and threatening to pull Ava’s lips to hers and kiss her until they are forcefully separated by the screaming of their lungs as they beg for oxygen.
But she can’t. She can’t because this is Ava. Her Ava. And she is Ava’s Beatrice. And they are best friends. And Ava, much to everyone’s displeasure, is with JC.
She can’t help but rest her head atop the giggling ball of sunshine in her arms, as a sigh escapes her. Her pulse thunders in her throat as she takes in Ava’s new apple-peach shampoo. She claims it was on sale, but Beatrice knows Ava only bought it after she complimented the scent at the store.
Her best friend’s laughter reverberates through her bones and shakes her to the core. The sound, though muffled, blares in her ears and splits her open like a stripped pine after a long winter.
She pulls away slightly and brings her hand from the back of Ava’s head to her cheek, lightly caressing it. God. If she had the guts, she would press her lips to Ava’s in front of the entire library. Maybe even take her lip between her teeth, and leave it swollen and bruised.
But for now, she gives a small smile.
“Are you alright?” she asks, her hand coming up from Ava’s waist to graze the side of the girl’s neck.
“I’m fine,” Ava responds in a daze— likely from laughing for so long. “Better…than fine.”
“You could’ve gotten hurt…”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you could’ve.”
“Bea, I’m fine. Scouts honor.”
Beatrice knows she should let go of Ava, but she can’t will herself to loosen her grip.
“What were you doing up there anyway?”
“Getting a book, silly,” Ava says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “We’re studying Frank Marie..Francis Marie? Or whatever his name is.”
“Francois-Marie Arouret.”
“Yeah, him!”
“You literally speak French.” Beatrice responds, confused that Ava doesn’t know such a prolific writer and philosopher.
“His biography is up there, but it was higher than expected.”
Beatrice furrows her brows at Ava, then looks above them. She scans the titles until she lands on Voltaire Almighty by Roger Pearson. Ava looks up and over her shoulder.
“See it?” She asks.
“Mhm…” Beatrice exhales deeply before making a rather inapt decision. She presses further into Ava, causing her back to hit the shelves behind her. It takes everything in Beatrice to focus on the books above them when she sees Ava’s lips slightly part -- feels Ava’s chest rise and fall against her. “Everything okay?” Beatrice asks with the slightest smirk on her lips. Ava only nods in response.
Beatrice does, however, make the mistake of looking down at Ava after she asks, and her resolve nearly crumbles. Their faces are mere centimeters apart, and there’s a look in Ava’s eyes that Beatrice can’t quite place. It’s somewhere between confusion, excitement, and… curiosity?
And by God when did Ava’s lashes get so fucking long? And why is the slope of her nose so perfect? And why are her lips— the book.
Beatrice looks away from her best friend and stands on her tip-toes to reach the book. After a bit of straining, she pulls the book from its place on the shelf and holds it delicately between her hands.
She runs her thumb along the title of the book before looking into Ava’s eyes once more. She swears she can see a light flush on her best friend’s cheeks, but she tells herself it’s just the lighting.
“Voltaire.”
“Hmm?” Ava hums.
“Voltaire is his pen name,” Beatrice says handing the book to her.
“Oh. Yeah. Thank you.”
Beatrice spins and takes a seat at their table. Ava exhales, loudly Beatrice would add, and follows her back to their table. Ava takes her usual seat across from Beatrice and stares at her as she checks the bags with their pastries. When Beatrice looks up at Ava, she notices her repeatedly flexing her left hand.
I should get her a brace one of these days, Beatrice decides.
Beatrice hands Ava her cake and Frappuccino then rifles through her bag for her notebook and pencil case.
Ava happily sways in her seat as she pulls out the slice of cake. Beatrice slightly lifts her head, when she hears Ava hum a tune as she surveys the cake.
Beatrice completely stills when she hears Ava release the lowest moan, upon taking her first bite.
Beatrice has no clue what’s gotten into her today, but Ava is affecting her in a way she never has. Sure, she gets lost in her best friend’s eyes here and there, or she sometimes can’t fall asleep without Ava holding on to her like a robber is going to steal Beatrice from her in the middle of the night. But today is different.
How she feels today has almost been...
Carnal.
Despite that, Beatrice hides what she’s feeling well enough. Which is perfect given that Ava is, as Mary says, the most oblivious person alive.
“I swear it gets better every time.” Ava lets out. Beatrice’s eyebrow raises as she witnesses Ava devour the slice.
You’d swear Ava has never eaten a day in her life. And quite honestly, she probably wouldn’t eat if Beatrice wasn’t always there to remind her to eat solid foods, rather than various snacks. Ava’s convinced she could survive off of cheese-balls, dry Lucky Charms, or whatever Beatrice has in her backpack, despite Beatrice’s constant claims of her favorite snacks not providing her with the nutrients required to sustain a body.
Ava knows Beatrice packs extra snacks just for her, but who is she to stop such divine intervention?
“Ava, please chew your food. I do not wish to explain to Jillian and Suzanne that their daughter died choking on a piece of cake.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“And you’re a walking safety hazard.”
“Can’t a girl enjoy the sweet, sweet, delicacies of life in peace?”
Beatrice shakes her head and begins jotting down information into her Areala University branded calendar. She spends the next hour, or so, scribbling tests, quizzes, assignments, and other important items into the book.
Ava on the other hand, spends this time fidgeting in her seat, watching videos (quietly because she left her headphones at home), and using an array of filters on an unexpecting Beatrice who looks up with a simple “Bea.”
Every. Single. Time.
“I’m bored…” Ava says through a grunt as she plops her head onto her hands, elbows on the table.
Beatrice sets down her pen, and leans back in her chair, arms crossed.
“You could always study.”
“Why do you hate me?”
“Oh, quite the opposite, darling.”
Ava rolls her eyes and dramatically drops her head onto the table with a groan. Much to Beatrice’s relief, as that sentence, was a surprise unto herself.
“Weren’t you supposed to be hanging out with JC today?”
“Yeah,” Ava responds, sitting up. “But he’s hitting up some underground rave with Randal.”
“You’re not joining them?”
Ava shifts her weight in her seat.
Beatrice can tell her best friend is avoiding the question. Unfortunately for Beatrice, she knows Ava like the back of her hand. Her quirks, what makes her tick, what makes her laugh, and even what time of the day she starts to get a bit groggy because she needs a nap.
All the minute details that make Ava, Ava.
Those details also make Beatrice want to bash her skull in with the nearest blunt object, but that's neither here nor there.
“We got into a fight earlier…”
“Again?”
“Bea.”
“What?” Beatrice responds pointedly.
“You’re doing that thing with your face when you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re annoyed.”
Beatrice’s face contorts in confusion, as she sits up and leans her elbows onto the table, hands clasping together.
“I do not make a face.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I do not.”
Ava smirks as she leans onto the table. Beatrice’s eyes widen as she unexpectedly comes face to face with Ava’s chest. At this point, Ava’s basically crawling across the table, and Beatrice does everything in her power to keep her eyes trained on Ava.
“Yes,” Ava delicately touches Beatrice at the base of her neck, and Beatrice gulps to try to dislodge the lump formed in her throat. “You do.” Ava moves her hand up to Beatrice’s face and smooths out the wrinkles formed between Beatrice’s brows. “You do this cute ‘lil thing with your brows.”
“I—,” Beatrice tries to respond, but she is interrupted by Ava putting a strand of hair behind her ear that escaped from her bun.
“And you get this lopsided scowl? I’m not even sure what to call it, but your mouth pulls to the right juuustttt a bit.”
Ava sits back down with a triumphant giggle and begins to pack up what little school supplies she pulled out of her bag.
“Whatever,” Beatrice says under her breath as she closes her calendar, and puts away her other belongings. Ava gathers their trash and disposes of it in a nearby bin, before sitting back down.
“Where’s your board?” Beatrice
“I need to fix the trucks.”
Beatrice hums.
“Plus, this outfit is too pretty to fall in.”
Beatrice takes a moment to take in her friend’s appearance. Ava’s jaw slightly drops before a big smile graces her face.
“Beatrice Deneau Liu-Kline.” Ava gasps.
“Ava Renata Silva.”
“Did you just check me out?!?”
Beatrice shrugs and pretends to read something on her phone.
“You hungry?” Beatrice asks after a moment of silence. She rarely uses social media, but she needs to focus anywhere but on the girl across from her. “Only if you’ll spoon-feed me,” Ava responds nonchalantly.
“You’re so—“
“Hey, you guys!” Camila exclaims as she reaches their table.
“CAMMIE!” Ava jumps up from her seat and launches herself at Camila. The curly-haired barista laughs into the embrace and gracefully avoids tipping over from the sudden force.
“Aves, I spoke to you an hour ago. And you’ve been waving at me every five minutes since you sat down.”
“Why doesn’t anyone love me?” Camila looks to Beatrice who, in turn, shrugs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Ava. Release Camila.”
“Shut up,” Ava responds, letting go of Camila, and scooching back to sit on the table.
Beatrice sighs and continues scrolling on her phone.
“We were about to grab lunch, wanna come?”
“I only have 15 minutes left on my break,” Camila says looking back towards the cafe. “But maybe next time! Where ya headed?”
Ava’s mouth opens and closes as she thinks of an answer. Realizing she doesn’t know, she looks over her shoulder at Beatrice.
“Duretti’s. Maybe,” Beatrice says apprehensively, suddenly feeling the heat of her two best friends' eyes on her. “Is that cool with you?” She directs Ava this time.
“That’s perfect!”
Beatrice unexpectedly feels shy under Ava’s gaze, and she doesn’t know why. Well, besides the obvious. Ava shoots her wink and turns back to Camila.
“I sub-pose we’re getting sandwiches…”
Camila can’t help but laugh at Ava’s God-awful pun. Beatrice, on the other hand, sinks further into her seat as the two girls chat it up.
After about 10 more minutes of incessant rambling from the two shorter girls, Beatrice stands and slings her backpack over her shoulder.
“I should get back before Hans yells at me,” Camila says.
Ava groans and pulls Camila in for a hug.
“Talk you to later Aves. Bye, Bea!”
Beatrice nods before Camila skips back to the cafe.
Ava swivels towards Beatrice, with a goofy grin.
“A meatball marinara is calling my name, come on!”
She grabs Beatrice’s wrist and tugs her out of the library.
An hour later, the two friends are walking back to their apartment. Luckily they live right off campus in some student apartments, so the journey isn’t that far. But that doesn’t stop Ava from making the short walk feel impossibly long.
Something else about Ava that Bea has come to love is her ability to see the good in everything, and everyone. She can look at any situation, any item, any person, and give it meaning.
And that’s why, at this moment, Beatrice is standing above Ava as she sits criss-cross apple sauce on the sidewalk as she speaks to one of the many very socialized campus squirrels.
“Chip! You’re looking buff today, old man!” Ava greets.
Beatrice rolls her eyes but smiles gingerly.
“How do you know that’s Chip?” Beatrice asks.
Ava looks up at Beatrice with a scowl.
“Don’t be rude.”
Beatrice throws her hands up in surrender.
“I can’t stay long, but I’ve got a treat for you.”
“Ava.” Beatrice’s eyes widen as Ava pulls out a small packet of mixed nuts from her pocket.
“Bea.”
“You can’t keep feeding the squirrels. One’s going to attack you one day.”
“I doubt that. Plus, this guy is my friend!” Ava retorts as she faces Chip. “Right, buddy?”
Much to Beatrice’s surprise, the squirrel chirps as he stuffs the mixed nuts into his cheeks.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’ve got a stick up your ass.”
Beatrice looks around the campus. As expected, the campus is quite bare. It’s a Friday evening, meaning people have gone home for the weekend, or are preparing for a night out.
After promising to bring Chip more food, Ava stands and brushes off her pants. She walks in front of Beatrice and turns around.
“Is there anything on my butt?” Ava asks innocently.
Beatrice quirks her brow and looks.
“You’re fine.”
“Sweet.”
The two of them continue their walk to their apartment.
Ava is rambling on and on about her Comms class, or something regarding school, but Beatrice isn’t really listening.
The sun is beginning to set, and it’s painting Ava in breathtaking hues of orange and pink. Ava continues to talk animatedly, as Beatrice releases the occasional mhmm or ah, to make it seem like she’s paying attention. Randomly, Ava jumps in front of Beatrice, which causes her to stumble into her to stop.
Ava holds Beatrice by the shoulders.
“Hi,” Ava says warmly.
“Hello.”
Beatrice is very obviously confused, her arms involuntarily flexing under Ava’s touch as she fights a shiver.
“We should go out to- Holy fuck, Bea! Have you been working out more?”
Ava wraps her hands around Beatrice’s triceps
and gives them a good squeeze.
Beatrice blinks rapidly as her mouth goes dry. Think Beatrice. Think.
“I’ve been sparring with Lilith more, along with my weight lifting, yes.”
Ava runs her hands from Beatrice’s elbow, up to her shoulders. Even under the sweater, Ava can tell Beatrice’s arms have become more defined recently. And to be fair, she would know. She is always touching Beatrice.
Always.
It took Beatrice a while to understand that Ava is a rather tactile person. Within the first weeks that they met, Ava would lace her arm through Beatrice’s as they walked about campus, hold her hand randomly, or even pull Beatrice in for tight hugs.
And Beatrice doesn’t hug just anyone.
It took Beatrice several months to hug Camila, and don’t even ask how it went the first time she hugged Lilith.
But if anyone would like to see it for themselves, Mary has the video on two different phones.
They’ve gotten less awkward with one another, but both Lilith and Beatrice enjoy their personal space.
But Ava is different. She’s always been different, and it took Beatrice almost a year to admit why.
“Well, it’s paying off.” She says with one more squeeze before taking Beatrice’s hands in hers. “We should go out tonight!”
“What?”
“You, me, the whole gang. We should go out!”
Ava releases Beatrice’s hands and puts her hands behind her back as she sways left and right.
“I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”
“Do it tomorrow! Come on, Bea. When was the last time you went out and enjoyed yourself?”
Beatrice analyzes the situation. She does have a lot of homework to do, but she’s already completed half of it. Realistically she only needs about an hour to finish her work. And if she wanted to — oh no. Not the eyes.
“Come on, Bea.” Ava pouts. Her big brown eyes soften in a way that she knows will get Beatrice to do anything she wants.
Beatrice squints a bit, appearing to be weighing her options, even though she made her mind up the second Ava started to sway in place.
“Please? For me?” Ava takes Bea’s left hand and fiddles with the rings on her fingers.
Beatrice looks down at their hands, then back up at Ava.
“Fine.” Ava’s face lights up like a kid in a candy store. “Fine.” Beatrice gives in. “But I’m not changing.”
Ava squeals as she jumps in place. She then leans forward to kiss Beatrice on the cheek.
“I’ll text the group chat!” Ava says as she skips forward toward their unit
Beatrice sighs, but can’t help the smile on her face, and for the first time in a while, the butterflies in her stomach.
“Ava…”
The shorter girl somehow manages to stop mid-jump and turn to face Beatrice. They’re several feet away from each other, so Beatrice continues walking until they’re right in front of each other.
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t say it earlier because of that horrible joke you made, but—“
Beatrice falters a bit, swallowing her next words. This didn’t have to mean anything, right? Ava probably won’t think of it as anything anyway, so what’s the issue?
“You look really beautiful today… Well most days.”
Ava tilts her head a bit, confused by Beatrice’s sudden honesty. After a second, she smiles.
“Most days?”
“I’ve seen you slurp the cheese out of a mozzarella stick. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can see the cheese pu—“
Ava slaps Beatrice’s shoulder. Again.
“You’re such a dick!”
The two of them share a laugh, as Ava wraps her hand around Beatrice’s waist. The taller girl’s arm automatically comes up to rest across Ava’s shoulders.
“Come on. The girls will be over in a bit to pregame.”
What could possibly go wrong?