Chapter Text
Hot water on a hot day shouldn’t have been as soothing as it was, but Lenore found herself enjoying it anyway. She dug her fingers through her hair as thoroughly as she could with a double rinse of shampoo, determined to remove any and all trace of milkshake from the strands and scalp. A bit paranoid, maybe, but she’d rather not come out of the shower with a weird waxy feeling sitting on the top of her hair and weighing it down.
That, and it distracted her from the thoughts that the only thing currently separating her from Annabel were two thin shower sheets and a changing stall.
The rattle of the swimsuit dryer echoed in the private, family sized locker room they’d managed to nab. The public room had been an overcrowded nightmare, and well, the private room at least guaranteed disability assistance if Lenore needed it. Annabel had taken her clothes and swimsuit to rinse in the sink and dry for her, something she hadn’t needed to do and which Lenore only felt a touch embarrassed by.
It’s not like it was weird that Annabel was handling her top and bottom bikini pieces or anything. But it unhelpfully brought her back to their roommate days, when their clothes were piled together in the laundry and would have to be separated out, or when Annabel would help with Lenore’s chores on days she’d had a particularly long and difficult physical therapy session, insisting she rest and there was no need to fuss. The nostalgia made her ache, and Lenore chalked up the warmth bubbling around her chest to the hot shower.
After another scrub of soap and rinsing out the conditioner, Lenore called out, “I’m finishing up!” and hoped her voice carried over the sound of the dryer.
“Alright!”
Lenore hit the shower valve off, heavy steam sifting around her while soft plinks of water droplets tapped the floor. The rattling sound slowed to a stop. She tore the first layer of shower curtain open with a sharp shhhlink and entered the stall where her towel and bag sat waiting for her on the bench, partially open with her horrid looking spare shirt peeking through.
Lenore grabbed the towel to dry off while Annabel’s voice came from the other side. “Do you want to put your swimsuit back on, or are you done for the day?”
“How dry is it?”
“Thoroughly.”
Lenore thought about it a moment, running the towel along her arm, “Sure. It’s only a bit after noon right? Probably a good idea to put it back on.”
“Are you planning to stay much longer?”
“Not sure,” she said as she scrunched through her hair. “I’d like to avoid burning, but we all carpooled in Duke’s car to get here, and he seemed pretty set on lounging around for a couple more hours.”
“Really, six people in one car? That can’t be safe.”
“Maybe not, but Morella is pretty small and Eula is a beanpole, so squeezing a fourth person in the back was doable.”
“How economical,” Annabel said.
“It was the fastest way to get here to find a good spot and maximize peak lounging time.”
“Ah, but of course. Time is of the essence when luxury is on the line,” Annabel said dryly. Their voices had a way of reverberating off the walls, sounding much louder than the level they were speaking at. The outside chaos of crowd and surf could hardly be heard with walls so thick, which had the added effect of Annabel’s voice wrapping fully around Lenore with every word, warm and familiar and inviting.
Lenore snorted. “That’s almost exactly what Duke said as we piled into the car.”
“He certainly likes his indulgences.”
“No kidding. He brought an assortment of French pastries in the cooler and was very annoyed I kept calling his pain au chocolat’s ‘chocolatines’.”
Annabel let out an amused hum, and Lenore could imagine her leaning against a wall and smiling in that beautiful way of hers. “A great French controversy, I assume?”
“You have no idea. Duke said were it not for our friendship, he would have had to slaughter me.”
“A very serious controversy, then,” Annabel said. “Lucky for him he didn’t. He would hate to have to answer to me for that.”
Lenore chuckled, “I’m sure people would pay good money to see you battle it out.”
“Please, we hardly need a re-enactment of the Hundred Years' War. We'd likely have to team up just to shut everyone else up.”
“Now that I would pay to see. I vote on Montresor first.”
Annabel’s giggle from the other side of the curtain echoed around Lenore, and did strange things to her stomach.
“Here,” Annabel said, and her hand poked through the side of the final curtain, clutching a bundle of clothing. Lenore pressed the towel to herself a little tighter as she took the bundle with a soft, “Thanks.”
As she finished drying off and slipping back into her bikini set and boardshorts, Annabel said from the other side, “If you want to leave earlier, you can ride with me. If you want.” Lenore paused and looked up. The curtain blocked her view, but she could see the vague outline of Annabel's silhouette on the other side.
Lenore considered it, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. “How soon did you want to leave?”
“Not so soon, but knowing Duke, sooner than him. It’s only become more crowded and hotter since this morning and there’s hardly any space on the beach now without feeling like a packed sardine.”
As magnetic as Annabel was, she had never been one for crowds, always preferring time alone in their old dorm to game or read, rather than partying in the quad or someone’s room. Though, of course, she had never minded Lenore’s presence when Lenore stayed with her. Her one exception was the opportunity to ruthlessly beat people in competitive games. Whether it was at a dorm or common room party, video games like Smash Bros. or a classic Chess match, Annabel was merciless, unyielding, and remained forever undefeated.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just want me all to yourself, Annabel Lee,” Lenore teased lightly as she pulled out the hideous and blaring red Hawaiian shirt Duke had provided for her from her bag, slipping it on. Silence answered her.
Lenore paused, frowning, and ceased the task of buttoning. The joke must not have landed. “Annabel?”
“Oh! Yes?”
“Everything alright?” Lenore asked as she pulled back the curtain. Annabel sat on the bench in the middle of the room, head turned to the side while she leaned back on one hand, the other resting on her hip, with her shawl now wrapped around her waist in a flowing skirt down to her knees. The sight made Lenore swallow against a suddenly dry throat. She hadn’t forgotten how Annabel looked today, but talking with the curtains between them had made her lower her guard.
Annabel was so breathtaking it made Lenore’s chest ache. Her stomach was round and soft and curved with the way she sat, and Lenore did her level best to not stare at Annabel’s chest or think about how nicely the bikini top shaped her breasts, nor how the shawl only seemed to emphasize the shape of her thighs and hips. Her hair was tossed to one side, revealing a devastating view of how her shoulder curved up to her neck, curls full and round and perfect.
Lenore fixed her eyes to the view of the locker just above her friend’s head and quietly died.
Annabel turned toward her, none the wiser to Lenore’s sudden crisis. “Oh, oh yes, sorry I was—” She suddenly stopped, eyes wide and lips parted. “What… what are you wearing?”
Heat burned through Lenore’s cheeks and down her neck and she ran a hand down her face. “I told you, Duke bought me a stupid shirt.” Combined with her board shorts, she looked not unlike a fire hydrant.
“I see…”
“I see that look, you don’t have to spare me,” Lenore said. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?”
Annabel stared at her with such a strange intensity Lenore felt herself flush harder. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
Lenore swallowed, and wondered why she felt so exposed. She laughed it off. “It looks a bit like a jungle threw up on it.”
“Well, at least it goes with the season.” Annabel smiled at her in that breathtaking, gorgeous way, and it made Lenore think of dangerous, stupid things. “And you’re hardly the only one wearing something like it.”
Lenore snorted and brushed still damp locks of hair aside so it would look less of a mess. The back of it had already soaked the collar of her shirt and clung to her skin and she had no doubt she looked like a drowned cat. “I am fairly certain the majority of college kids out there are trying to remove as much clothing as possible, not put it back on.”
“And they’ll live with the cancerous consequences in their old age,” Annabel joked, and patted the empty space on the bench next to her. “Sit with me.”
Lenore sat, though not without saying, “Shouldn’t we get going? Not sure how long we can hog the family locker room.”
“If someone needs the room, they’ll knock. And I rather enjoy the escape from the noise at the moment.” Annabel emphasized her point by leaning against Lenore, shoulder to shoulder, which made Lenore’s heart lurch into a sudden gallop. She swallowed and willed it vainly to still, horribly aware of how hot every part of her suddenly felt, scorching into a focal point of where Annabel’s skin met hers.
Be normal, Lenore.
A comfortable moment of silence passed between them, outlined by the faint echo of the chaos outside and slow dribbling of the faucet.
“I’ve missed this.” Lenore found herself saying after she’d collected herself enough to speak.
“Oh?”
“You know, spending time together. Yeah, we’ve seen each other around today and ran into each other last week but… well, do you remember laundry days?”
“Very much. The fight to secure a washer before they were all taken took careful timing.” Not to mention required camping out in the shared laundry room more often than not. Half the machines always managed to be out of order, and if anyone in the hall left their clothes unsupervised, it wasn’t unheard of to come back and find a still damp pile from an interrupted cycle tossed somewhere nearby. The two had learned to spend every wash cycle studying away or swapping turns on Annabel’s Gameboy Advance or Switch to pass the time.
Lenore smiled, “But never a dryer.”
Annabel rolled her eyes, smiling back, and leaned into an old debate they’d had at least a dozen times before. “Cutting out the dryer was far more strategic and guaranteed us a chance, remember? Besides, hang drying is just as effective, not to mention better for the clothes. Your American need to machine dry your clothing is forever beyond me.”
“How very medieval of you,” Lenore said. “I just figured you turning our room into an old world street market was out of nostalgia.”
Annabel tossed her hair back with a huff, raising a brow. “Oh, please. I dried your swimsuit just now, did I not?”
Lenore couldn’t help herself. “That you did. I’m impressed you overcame your foreign sensibilities for such a task,” which earned her a shove.
“I shall note that the next time you’re covered in a disgusting mass of goo to leave you to your fate then. Clearly my efforts are unappreciated.”
Lenore put a hand over her heart. “Oh no, whatever must I do to regain her highness’ favor?”
“Hmmm.” Annabel looked up and tapped her chin in an exaggerated motion, then met Lenore’s gaze with one that was triumphant and utterly self-pleased. “The pleasure of your company should do nicely. How about every Saturday?”
“Every Saturday?” Lenore blinked. “But I thought you had to study? And then there were all those conferences?” Lenore made a face. “Not to mention Ada always monopolizing the living room with Montresor.”
“The latter has been dealt with, trust me. And as for the rest, well, it’s the beginning of summer break and I find my schedule suddenly cleared. Besides,” Annabel shifted, and brushed some of her hair aside, curling a finger through a ringlet, “I miss you.”
The words were said softly, reaching into Lenore’s chest and unwinding something tight and afraid. Warmth washed through her and fluttered down her middle, and she knew she was blushing.
“Oh.” She tried very hard not to look at Annabel’s lips. “I’ve missed you too.”
An eager light lit up in Annabel’s eyes. “Then you’ll come over on Saturdays?”
Lenore chuckled. “Is that even really a question?” Then added, “You just want to reclaim your place in Mario Kart, don’t you?”
It was not often Lenore received a glare from her friend, but competition had a way of bringing out Annabel’s contentious side. “That last game was a fluke.”
“Fluke or not, no one likes a sore loser, Annabel Lee.” A sudden malfunctioned controller or no, it still meant Lenore had passed her at the last moment to the finish line.
Annabel let out a huff, “Is that so?” then eyed her with a suddenly wicked gleam that made Lenore all sorts of nervous, utterly unprepared for when Annabel then leaned over and nipped her right on her shoulder.
Lenore jolted. “Oy!” But Annabel was already twirling away with a giggle.
Lenore snorted, grinned, and leapt up after her, hand extended in a grab when at the worst possible moment, lightning struck through her hip and down her leg. Her hip had finally had enough.
She gasped, stumbled, and barrelled right into her friend, who caught her with wide eyes and a surprised squeak. The momentum had them stagger unevenly, with Annabel backing up to right their balance until she was flush against the nearest locker, Lenore pressing against her with eyes squeezed shut.
Lenore felt a hand run through her hair and brush it backwards, while another placed itself firmly on her back. “Pet!? Are you alright??”
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” As quick as the dagger-sensation had come, it left, a slight and dull throb the only remnant. She grimaced, and blinked her eyes back open. “I forget my hip doesn’t always like sudden movements after sitting too long.”
Two hands on her cheeks, and all teasing mirth had been replaced with concern. “I’m sorry, this is my fault.”
“Don’t be, I’m…” Fine died on her lips the moment Lenore’s gaze refocused and caught itself in Annabel’s own. They were near nose to nose, enough to feel each other's breath on their lips, if breathing were something Lenore was still capable of. Her mind and body had shut down entirely, rendered blank, and all she could feel was every soft part of Annabel pressed against her, vaguely aware of the shape of her friend’s hip filling one hand and the cool press of the locker against the other.
Neither of them moved.
“Pet?” The question barely came out as a whisper. A thumb ran across her cheek.
“Um…” Lenore’s eyes flicked down to Annabel’s lips. They looked soft. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Annabel’s voice sounded strange, almost strained. Breathless. It did things to her.
They stood there suspended in an eternity, neither willing to move. Lenore knew she should pull away—that would be the polite thing to do. The good friend thing to do. It had been an accident and Annabel had caught her and helped her and she should pull away and say thanks. But she couldn’t. Annabel was too warm and soft and wonderful and all Lenore wanted in that moment was to kiss her.
So she did.
It was no more than a peck, reality crashing back into her the moment their lips touched and she heard a sharp intake of breath. Lenore pulled back with an apology at the tip of her tongue, but her eyes caught in Annabel’s wide gaze and she felt the breath leave her. Annabel’s lips were round and parted, her face so beautifully and fiercely flushed in a way Lenore had never seen before, and it made Lenore want to kiss her friend all over again. But she never got the chance, because as soon as the thought entered her mind, Annabel pressed her thumbs into Lenore’s cheeks, pulled her close, and kissed her deeply.
A dam finally broke between them, whittled down after a day—no, it was months, if not all two years—until all of the things Lenore had resisted thinking about and doing broke through and overcame her. She let out a whine, snaking her arms behind Annabel to wrap around her back and pull her desperately closer, while Annabel’s hands moved to her hair and gripped for dear life. Lenore gasped, and Annabel caught her bottom lip between teeth and pressed lightly, dragging another whine from Lenore, and tugging at her hair in a way that made her shudder.
Lenore pushed them further against the locker, slotting a knee between Annabel’s legs, one hand dropping and sliding up Annabel’s thigh and the other burying itself in Annabel’s hair to cradle the back of her head. Annabel moaned, moving down Lenore’s neck and latching onto a spot where she kissed and sucked until Lenore nearly buckled.
As Lenore pulled her back into a kiss, a sudden knock at the door and the sound of Prospero’s voice made them both freeze.
“Annabel Lee, are you in there?”
They sprang apart as if scalded by boiling water, Lenore having never moved so fast in her life. She could feel her face burning, and was sure the entirety of her now matched the red of her shorts and shirt. Her throat closed around itself like the very air had been stolen from her.
Annabel was still pressed against the locker, face flushed and chest heaving, wide eyes looking right at Lenore, with hair fluffed wildly against the locker in a way Lenore knew she would hate once she realized it. At some point her shawl had come undone and dropped to the floor, now splaying itself at her feet in an unceremonious pile.
Lenore was devastated all over again. Unable to say if the frozen movement of her limbs was from the increasing horror that she had just made out with her best and oldest friend (while Prospero was right outside!), or from the sight of Annabel looking utterly, gorgeously ravished.
Annabel cleared her throat and looked towards the door. “Yes, love?! Did you need something?” Her voice was almost too high.
“Only checking on you, you’ve been gone for a moment. Morella said you would be by the locker rooms.”
Lenore crossed her arms and found herself staring hard at the floor, wondering how fast she could spontaneously combust through sheer force of will.
Annabel cleared her throat, but rather than reply to Prospero immediately, she said in a lowered, uneven voice, “I… I’d like to talk about this. But I should probably go.”
Lenore let out a nervous chuckle, “Ah, sure,” then dared to glance up at her friend, who looked as stricken as she was flushed. “Well… we could always ignore him.”
Annabel’s face went scarlet, pressing a hand to her collar as she let out a bright, giddy laugh. One she immediately tried to stifle. “Lenore!” she whispered harshly, trying to keep her voice down. Lenore raised her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug like What? What I do?
“Annabel?” Prospero again. Annabel’s eyes jumped to the door, as if half-expecting Prospero to have walked in.
“Ah—yes! I was just finishing up now. Give me a moment and I’ll be right out!”
Then there was silence, only the murmur of the outside world filling in the blank space that covered the room entire. Annabel blinked, cleared her throat again, and pushed off the lockers, attempting to adjust her hair to something orderly. “Well, that was, ah…”
Annabel wasn’t usually one to be lost for words, but whatever she wanted to say died on her lips. She fidgeted, looking nervous, bright blush refusing to leave her cheeks.
“Yeah,” Lenore added helpfully, knowing her own face burned just as badly. She took a few tentative steps toward her friend, picking up the shawl off the floor in an offering. Annabel accepted it and wrapped it around her shoulders. Lenore tried to ignore the tingle left on her fingertips from where Annabel’s own brushed against them.
They stared a little too long at each other. Annabel adjusted her hair again, which looked as in place as it could, and took a step back. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Lenore wanted nothing more in the world. “I look forward to it.”
Annabel smiled so beautifully Lenore felt a part of herself break, and watched glumly as Annabel walked away and towards the door. It opened, then shut, and Annabel was gone.