the other side of someday

Sterling wakes when the first tendrils of sunrise peek through her window, casting long lines of light across the room and slipping warmth into her sheets. It’s like crossing a threshold—one moment she’s dreaming, colors and soft shapes and music in the distance; and the next she is awake, eyes wide open to reality.

It’s the morning of the first tournament round.

She swings the covers off of her, stretching her arms overhead and squeaking just a little as bones pop and crack with the first movements of the day.

The small clock on the bedside table glows red in the low light.

6:47

She had woken up almost an hour before her alarm.

Cursed with an inability to fall back asleep, Sterling knows she’ll just end up tossing and turning in bed so she stands and makes her way to the bathroom, phone in hand.

There are a handful of emails from various professors and clubs and texts from the family chat. Her parents had sent their classic “Kick some butt, sweetheart! You Got This! Love, Mom & Dad”, and Blair had sent a simple string of emojis (skull, skull, fire, knife, trophy, balloons, and strangely, a basketball?) just a few minutes before.

Pleasantly surprised that her sister is up, she calls her.

The little bells trill as the FaceTime call rings, and it takes all of two seconds for Blair to pick up.

“It is way too early for this.”

Sterling blows a little raspberry at the screen before squeezing some toothpaste onto her toothbrush.

“Morning to you, too. Why’re you up?”

“If I had anything less than a 7:30 exam in a class I suck at, I would for sure still be asleep.” She moves off screen, and Sterling hears the click clack of tubes and bottles rattling in Blair’s bathroom.

“Is it that Criminal Trends Through the 1900s one?” Her words are barely intelligible while she’s brushing her teeth, but her sister doesn’t bat an eye.

“No, I love that class. Acing it, sis.” She throws up a peace sign onto the screen. “I am sucking it hard in Law and Society.”

Sterling bends to spit out the foam and suds up some face soap.

“Can we just acknowledge how funny it is that you’re failing at Law and Society?”

“I know, fitting right?” Blair comes back on screen with makeup only on half of her face. “What if I just went like this.” 

“Very spooky. Halloween isn’t till the end of the month.” She doesn’t even have to look to see Blair rolling her eyes.

“The world needs at least a week’s notice before I take on spooky.”

“Oh!” Sterling says, reminded of the text from earlier. She wipes her face clean and pulls the cap off of her foundation. “Your emojis earlier. Why the basketball?”

Blair’s face turns serious.

“Basketball. Slam Dunk. You’re gonna slam the competition, duh. Just absolutely pound them.”

The bottle drops with a crash from Sterling’s hand when April’s face appears in her head.

Her sister is quiet for a moment, undoubtedly spotting the rush of embarrassment and truly, this is one of the times that twin powers are really inconvenient. 

“Who’d you bone?”

“What? Why—” She picks up the foundation, analyzing the glass with unnecessary diligence to try and weave away from the question.

“Sterl. Who’d you slam? And why are my powers so strong from even hours away that I knew to send that emoji. I’m truly incredible. Womb there it is.”

Sterling sets the bottle down, dotting the makeup across her cheeks and forehead to buy time for thinking out her words carefully. She wants to tell her what happened, but like any good sister, Blair had let her anger and hatred for April grow ten-fold when Sterling had tamped hers down. In a protective balance, her twin had kept the flame of the grudge burning high and hot even after all that time. 

This would have to be done lightly.

“I didn’t smash anyone. I did however—” She finishes evening out the spread of foundation and unscrews a few other bottles and tubes as she prepares herself, “run into April.”

Silence.

Silence is never a good thing with Blair, who thinks and feels in decibels. Sterling knows it’s going to be bad at the size of the breath her sister takes before opening her mouth.

“Are you fucking kidding me that bitch absolutely broke your heart after you were so bravely going to put yourself out there for her love that she so selfishly ripped away from you after all you guys had—”

“Blair.”

“—talked about and agreed on and your poor little baby heart had just realized that you were hot for girls and for her to absolutely steamroll it without a second thought because she was a coward—”

“Blair!” she urges. “Stop. Really.”

Her sister’s mouth snaps shut, but she can see her jaw flexing tight in anger.

“Sterl. She broke your heart and did it on purpose.”

“I didn’t—” She breathes. “There was a lot I didn’t know or consider back then. It was so much more complicated than we thought it was and I’m not saying that it didn’t suck, but it was a long time ago.”

“I just—you were so hurt by her.”

A sigh escapes her lips. She smiles small and soft at the screen.

“I know. But we’re okay now. We ripped into each other for a bit, but then we talked it all out and things are okay now.”

“You guys talked? You didn’t just run in the opposite direction when you saw her demon face?”

“Demon face is a bit extreme. I mean, she—”

“No.”

Sterling’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“No. You already have the hots for her again.”

Like a deer caught in the crosshairs of her sister’s invariably (and annoyingly) accurate twin-tuition, she stands there frozen for a beat too long before scoffing, like, way too loud.

“I have no idea where you’d—”

“Cut the shit, Sterl! Forget the competition, you want to slam her!” 

She feels the tips of her ears go red as the snappy and devastating retort she planned to deliver gets stuck in her throat. There would be no use in lying.

“Blair.” Her mascara slams down on the counter as she plants a hand and hangs her head. “She looks amazing.”

The scream her sister emits is ear-splitting and would most likely net more than a few noise complaints in both Athens and Savannah.

“I honestly cannot believe how gay women can be. Okay yes, I know you’re bi, but like this is next level gay. You saw her for the first time in years and you’re already down to clown? But like, with your heart?”

She does her best to quiet the worst of her need to gush about April and finishes her makeup before stepping outside the bathroom.

“I don’t know! I just—I felt something yesterday and I think she did, too.”

“What?! How do you know? Spill everything now. Right now. Like right now.”

“We ran into each other in the lobby. She found me later and asked to talk. We talked, we yelled, then talked again. Then we had dinner and talked all the way through that.”

“Ugh, you gays do so much talking.”

“Then,” she interrupts, throwing her sister a glare, “we came back to the hotel and we ran into Jean and she thought we were dating. Which, we’re not.”

“Fuck, I CLOCKED little Jeanette as soon as I met her but you didn’t believe me!” Her voice was almost shrill in victory. She calms in the next moment and draws close to the camera. “What did April say?”

“She was…” Sterling thinks for a moment, running the look on April’s face, the inflection of her words through her mind. She can’t help the small smile that forms. “I think she was jealous.”

Another scream.

“Honestly, y’know what? I’m happy for you. God knows you haven’t gotten laid in a while, and if anything can cure your old broken heart, it’s the vagina that got away.”

“Blair!”

“The cat returns!” She yells, triumphant. “Aw, remember that movie? I miss Studio Ghibli sometimes. Maybe I should be a film major.”

“Okay, focus,” Sterling urges, pulling her clothes for the day from their hangers. “What do I do?”

“I mean, you’re just going to have to go the classic lesbian way. All those movies we watched for research are finally gonna be useful.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems to be a simple formula. Lots of talking, prolonged eye contact, plus some sort of physical contact in passing. Girls are so gay for hands.”

“I want to resent the stereotype, but,” her mind flashes to the evening before, “it’s true.”

Her sister comes back on screen, clad in a maroon v-neck and tying her hair up in a ponytail.

“What are the odds honestly? That she’s at the same tournament as you?”

“Bigger than the chances of her being in the room next door.”

Blair drops her phone. The screen goes dark.

Sterling frowns, picking hers up and swiping the screen to the home page. Had Blair’s call cut out?

The phone immediately vibrates with a text.

STERL DO YOU KNOW HOW
THINTHE WALLS OF A
HOTEL ROOM ARE

She frowns, tapping out a response.

what

why does that matter

look, I am not a fan of
little miss prissbut if
you’re gonna have a shot
with herlet’s not ruin it
by her overhearing you
gushing

There is an absolute bolt of realization that runs through her when she thinks of the music that had flowed from April’s room to hers. Fuck, Blair is right. Could April have heard their conversation? Had Sterling been gushing?

oh my gosh

shit do you think she
heard?? YOU were being
loud omgomgomg

She takes a deep breath in and and stills, straining to listen for any indication that April had been sentient and aware of the conversation that had been taking place on her side of the wall. There isn’t a sound but the distant call of birds out her window, and after a sufficient amount of time in silence has passed, Sterling lets herself relax. 

I don’t hear anything
from herroom. hopefully
she’s still asleep

gosh, good catch. but I
wasn’tgushing anyway so

Her phone buzzes, once, twice in rapid succession.

you were about to

God, there’s a sex joke
in theresomewhere

Sterling rolls her eyes and tosses her phone down on the bed. She turns around to check out her outfit in the large round mirror—the deep grey of her skirt compliments the white of a loose, flowy top and tendrils of her hair hang from a ponytail to frame her face. It is an image of a put-together, professional woman prepared to kick ass, but still, she tugs on her sleeves and the waistline of her skirt in a nervous anticipation that is different from the usual adrenaline she feels during these competitions. 

Grabbing her bag from the desk, she double-checks the contents to make sure she has everything she needs and looks around the room again. 

Her eyes come to rest on the wall she shares with April. 

There is no denying that her mind is anchored in the room next door, floating in and around April. Just one night together, talking and laughing and thinking way too many thoughts, and she can already feel the grip on her focus slipping away. It’ll take everything she has to keep from getting too distracted.

Sterling sighs and rests a hand on the wall, palm flat against the coolness of the patterned wallpaper. 

It’s a familiar feeling—being so close, yet so far from this girl she had lost and won and lost again just a few years ago. She closes her eyes.

A beat passes and with a breath, she steps back, resolved in her focus. It’s almost like an old habit, how she folds the idea and feeling of her up, small and safe, tucking her away as she walks towards the door.

Sterling steels herself for the competition, knowing that the first round is always the hardest to navigate, always the easiest to let herself break apart in the pressure. The knob turns in her hand with a sharp click and she’s out the door, already unshelving all the research she had done in her mind. If she were to take the affirmative in—

Something catches her eye. A shade of light fluttering down to the floor by her feet.

A post-it.

She picks it up.

Good luck today.
Just lean into it.

April had beat her out of the room this morning, undoubtedly early to prepare for the day and left a note on her door before leaving. The words resonate with something far in the past—something that echoes in her soft voice, in her gaze that always seemed to cut right through Sterling. 

Her heartbeat flutters and the hidden spot where she had just tucked April away unfurls like an old map, creases and folds opening to their familiar places. There’s no way to stop it, no way to keep this warmth and affection and hope from expanding to every inch of her body.

It ripples across her skin, through her fingertips against the paper and she lets herself think, just for a moment, that April is telling her to lean into this feeling between them.

//

When the elevator doors open to the lobby, Sterling is woken from her daze by a wave of sound and movement. The level is flooded with people criss-crossing the floor, calling out for teammates and friends or anxiously discussing the upcoming rounds. She snaps out of it in an instant and steps out onto the marble, eyes scanning the crowd for Dr. Sherman and her clubmates.

Last year, she had been overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the tournament—the beauty of college is the freedom of choice and her pool of competitors was no longer half-filled with uninterested peers. Every person in this event is there to gun for a win, and it double-times both the anxious churning in Sterling’s stomach and the adrenaline in her veins.

She spots a waving arm and the dark bob of Doc’s hair in the far corner, calling her over. 

Sterling steps quickly across the lobby, weaving through and between bodies. Jeez, were there this many people last year?

“Sterl! How we doin’?” Dr. Sherman says, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Did you sleep well?”

A nervous smile.

“Yeah, I—I’m good. A little jittery, but that’s normal.”

“Darn right, it is. I’m surprised you weren’t down earlier! I’m glad you got some good rest.”

“I was talking to my sister and got,” Distracted by feelings? Side-tracked by a girl? She swallows it all and just lets the sentence trail off. “Did you get our assignments?”

Dr. Sherman nods enthusiastically, immediately motioning for everyone to gather around her.

Jean sidles up to Sterling and smiles, gently nudging her in a little good morning. She smiles back, but is hit by the revelation from the previous night. Her stomach churns again. 

Honestly, if she knew there’d be this much girl trouble at this freakin’ event, she would have stayed home.

(The image of April smiling at her over dinner pops into her head. Maybe she would have risked it.)

“Alright, y’all, just a little overview for Mitchell since it’s his first time,” she pats him on the shoulder and the freshman grins sheepishly. “Bit of a round-robin style event, every member of each team is separated into different groups for the first two rounds. You win both rounds, you advance automatically. Two losses, you’re out. One win and you’ll have to wait for the full pool of competitors to finish before they fill out the field for elimination rounds. Everyone clear?”

The circle nods. Dr. Sherman pulls out a folder from her bag and opens it, passing out sheets of paper to everyone.

“Here are your group assignments. The first topic is, ‘Specialized high schools increase the quality of education in the United States’. There’s a pretty even split between affirms and negs between you all so work together if you want to or get some reviewing done before the first bell. We’ve got just under an hour till the round kicks off, breakfast is over there, you’ll get two hours before the second round so let’s meet at lunch.” She’s positively breathless as her words run together with nervous excitement. Everyone is antsy and itching to go, so they all nod and break, dispersing into the crowd.

“Sterling!”

She turns to see Jeanette following close behind.

“Hey!”

“Which side were you assigned?” Jean holds up her sheet. Sterling glances down and scans the paper.

“Uh, I’m group two and affirmative. You?”

“Damn. I’m group five. Negative.” She frowns slightly and it pulls at something inside Sterling.

“You’re gonna do great, J. Don’t worry.”

“Ugh, I don’t know why we do this to ourselves. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”

Soft notes and a twanging voice filter through Sterling’s head and she has to physically tamp it down.

“Stick to your points, stay flexible with the cross and remember to talk slow. You’ve got this.”

“Your cardinal rules, I know, but—”

Her friend’s voice almost immediately fades away from her attention when her eyes are pulled to something in the distance.

A flash of brown hair and a laugh.

April. 

She is standing amid a sea of dark green blazers, clad in one herself over light brown pants. It’s as if something pulls at April, because not one moment after Sterling spots her, their eyes meet.

Fuck.

“Hey Jean,” she says, interrupting her, “I’m sorry, I have to go. Just trust yourself and be strong. You’re gonna be fine.” The last words are thrown over her shoulder as Sterling moves around her friend and she all but trips when she looks back up to see April still looking at her.

Gazes locked, the sounds around Sterling reduce to a single hum and all she can do is watch as April raises a finger to pause the guy she’s talking to and make her way towards her.

There’s a brief flash of wanting to run the other direction, far and away from the overwhelming rush that exists in proximity to April Stevens, but there is a larger desire pulling at her, making her move towards the girl and the feeling that always seems to tag along.

“Hey,” she breathes when they meet halfway.

“Hi.”

“I—thank you for the note. That was sweet.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” April is absolutely unable to quell the smile that pulls at her lips.

“Mmm, don’t want to let your frat bros know you’re helping the competition, right?”

April rolls her eyes. Before Sterling can think twice, she reaches out to rub April’s lapel between her thumb and forefinger. The soft fabric is warm from her skin. “I can’t believe you guys have matching blazers.”

“Look, I can’t help that they made this club a fraternity like eons ago. They’ve had more than a few girls join, but they’re so adamant about keeping the title. I’m lobbying to get them to change it.”

She smiles. “Of course you are.”

“Yeah! I mean, I keep telling them that it’s totally unfair to the women who are part of the group, but they insist that the meaning of fraternity isn’t a brotherhood, per say. One of them tried to tell me it means a fellowship and I almost punched him in the face.”

It pulls a laugh from Sterling and April grins wide, chuckling along. They look at each other for a beat, two beats, three, then both look away, Sterling adjusting the bag on her shoulder and April clearing her throat. 

“Uh, where are you starting?” Sterling asks, voice just a little too high.

“I’m in group five. You?”

She nods, secretly relieved that they wouldn’t be facing each other that day. 

“Two.”

“You nervous?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be okay,” she breathes. She imagines the ripples of the water from the night before, its coolness to the touch. “I’m gonna lean into it.”

April smiles, the very tops her cheeks and tips of her ears turning pink.

“Okay, well I have to go. We’ve got some prepping to do,” she says, pointing a thumb behind her. Sterling looks over her shoulder to a group of guys who seem to be trying very hard not to look at them.

“Your brotherhood awaits.”

She laughs as April rolls her eyes and turns to go, looking back just for a moment before heading over to the gaggle of green blazers waiting for her. Sterling goes to find her clubmates again, and when there’s a chorus of hoots and hollers behind her followed by a smack and a harsh “shush!”, she just blushes and pretends she didn’t hear.

//

Time blurs, more and more as the clock runs closer to the beginning of the first round. It’s all Sterling can do to keep herself focused on her notes, on her preparation. It’s like a syncopated rhythm, how her thoughts alternate between talking points and April. 

Charter schools have significantly higher scores in standardized state testing than their local public school systems.

The way April’s cheeks dip when she smiles.

Magnet schools are proven to increase both engagement and future studies in STEM, especially for women.

The color of her eyes.

Private schooling allows for greater financial support to improve the quality of education in everything from faculty to student resources.

Her lips—

“The affirmative will be the first to start. You may proceed.”

Sterling is wide-eyed as she realizes where she is—standing at a podium alongside her opponent, a stout boy in a jacket one size too big, and two judges looking up at her expectantly.

A bell rings. The first round has begun.

Shit.

//

Sterling almost stumbles out of the room, still spinning and floating somewhere above her own head. It seems almost impossible that she had come out of that round with a win, and to think it was only because her opponent had accidentally refuted his own argument in the last two minutes makes her want to vomit. 

Her insides feel as if they’ve knotted, then knotted again and she can barely stand upright as she makes her way down the hall.

What the hell just happened?

She plops down on a bench and lets her bag fall to the ground, resting her too-warm forehead on her hands. 

Distracted is an understatement—she had been on auto-pilot almost all morning, submerged in a sea of April only to resurface the very moment before the first round. She had gripped that podium like it was a life preserver and very nearly drowned. It’s so embarrassing she could die.

Sterling breathes once, deep and harsh to try and get a grip. It feels like her brain had scattered like stars across the sky and now, she has to draw constellations through them again, lining and connecting what matters most at this exact moment.

Debate, yes. April, no.

There would be time for her later.

She combs through the last hour in her head as she makes her way to the conference hall to pick up her lunch. Her points and arguments are hazy at best—she’s pretty sure that she referenced the Bible and Michelle Obama in the same sentence, and then referred to the judges as “y’all” at least twice.

A groan escapes her lips as she walks out a set of double-doors to a patio. She chucks her food down on a metal table and sits.

It was an immense stroke of luck that she got through the first round with a win while literally flying blind, so that’s it. No more of this. She checks her watch and pops open the box holding her sandwich, wolfing down a huge bite.

There are two hours till her next debate. It’s time to get down to business. Sterling has to be able to get through the rest of the day without April scrambling her mind like the soft egg it is—

“Care for some company?”

Sterling looks up with a mouthful of sandwich and almost chokes at the sight of the object of her thoughts standing right there. She narrowly misses swallowing her lunch whole and moves her stuff closer to her, indicating for April to sit. 

All Sterling can do is watch as she sets her things down neatly, taking a seat and pulling off her blazer before turning to hang it over the back of the chair. 

“Hey.” She grins small and April answers with one of her own.

“Hey yourself. Congrats on your first round win, killer.” 

The leftover buzz from the almost-disaster of her debate still rings in her ears, but she just nods. She’d rather die than let it be known that she almost lost because of sheer yearning.

“Thanks. How’d it go for you?”

“If I were to give myself a grade,” she starts, popping open the plastic top of her lunch, “it would be an A plus.” She looks at her in that classic April way, self-assured and proud and so resoundingly her that it pulls a genuine laugh from Sterling.

“And why’s that?” She takes a bite, knowing she has to at least try to control her smiles.

“I made my opponent cry.”

“Of course you did.”

April gasps at her in mock outrage.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sterling looks at her for a moment as she unscrews the cap of her water. She takes a sip, eyes turned to the sky and reminded yet again of the storm that’s been brewing inside her since the day before.

“It means that you, April Stevens, show no mercy.” 

She grins, wide and almost delighted. “This is true.”

“Very ‘take no prisoners’ as my coordinator would say.”

“Take no prisoners?” April bites into her food and tilts her head at her.

“Yeah like, no mercy. Eyes on nothing but the prize.”

Her eyebrows lift as she lets out a thoughtful hum, bottom lip tucking as she chews on the inside of it. 

“What?”

“Um, nothing.”

She clears her throat and something catches in Sterling’s.

“So,” she says, desperate to keep her mind running, to keep it from settling too long on the color of April’s eyes in the cool, autumn light. “Do you still talk to anyone from Willingham?”

It had been an interesting spread for their class upon graduation—nearly half had opted for the tradition that is UGA, while all the others looked for new paths in new places. It had been quite a shock when the news of April choosing Emory University had circulated through the community, but it had made sense to Sterling whenever she let herself think about it. Away from the troubled familiar, towards a fresh start. 

“I’m sure you can guess, but only Ezekiel and Hannah.”

“How’re they doing?” Much like anything else, Sterling had only caught glimpses of them over the past few years while scrolling here and there.

“Ezekiel’s traveling with an acting troupe around the East coast and loving it. Hannah…..well, she’s convinced she’s redefined herself by dropping the ‘B’ from her name, but she’s as Hannah B as ever.”

“Both points make total sense,” Sterling says, nodding and April breathes a soft laugh.

“What about you?”

“I see Hannah G around sometimes, but other than that, not much leftover from high school. And Blair doesn’t count.” 

“How is she?”

“She’s great, actually. She was kinda sulky at first about UGA, but she’s really liking what she’s studying. Signed up for all these activist clubs and we visit home once a month, which I know she loves.” Sterling looks up from her food to see April look down. Crap.

It’s an unsaid understanding that April hadn’t been home to visit since they started college. Every break and holiday had passed without her unmistakable presence in their town and Sterling would be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed. 

“But,” she continues quickly, trying to resolve the mood, “y’know school’s so much better. Like home is so...boring and not that—” she clears her throat, “important.”

The fact that she’s trying to cover up the need for April to explain, to justify not being home is so clear that Sterling feels like an idiot. She’s blathering on, unable to keep the words from tumbling out, but she can’t bear how quickly the sadness had rushed over April so she just lets it happen.

“Yeah,” she almost whispers. “I—yeah.” A sigh falls from April’s lips and the breath of it skitters across Sterling’s fingers. 

“Nothing but ancient history there,” she says, barely getting the words out.

“The past is in the past, right?”

Her tone is so sad that Sterling looks up in surprise, and April’s eyes turn impossibly soft.

It’s almost overwhelming, the feeling that rises in her chest. It feels like butterflies filling the pleural space, a fluttering that keeps her from breathing for one, two, three beats.

Their silences are so full of something— it’s like the moment before lightning strikes, the fizzle of energy and potential gliding through them, between them. It makes the blood race under Sterling’s skin, every bit of her attuned to April like a compass pulled north.

A car beeps in the distance and both girls jump as the outside world comes rushing back in.

April clears her throat and turns to dig through her bag. She pulls out her phone and lets out a small “shit” under her breath.

“I’ve gotta go. My teammates are looking for me.” Her movements are deliberate and almost strained as she gathers her things, as if she would rather stay than anything else. “I promised I’d go over a few things with them before the next round.”

Sterling focuses on chewing and swallowing like a normal, chill, cool human being. Totally not watching as April moves in the sunlight, her profile dipping in and out of its shadow.

“Your brothers need you.”

She meant for it to pull a laugh, to ease the strange tension that had suddenly settled into April’s bones, but she just hums in agreement, teeth biting into her bottom lip.

Sterling’s eyes are drawn to it like magnets, the pull of the sight almost electric.

April turns in her seat to get her blazer and slips it on.

“I’ll—see you later?” She asks, straightening her collar. The tone is hopeful, so soft. Sterling just smiles and nods, not trusting herself to speak.

April gathers her things. She pauses for a moment, deep in thought, before turning to Sterling and placing a warm hand over hers. 

Everything inside her quiets.

It rests there for a moment, soft and still, and while Sterling considers the merits of spontaneous combustion, April swipes a slow thumb across her knuckles before standing up and walking away.

She just watches, dazed and speechless and wondering whether April had wanted to say something in that too-full silence.

God knows she wanted to.

She groans, folding her arms on the table and resting a forehead on the cool metal. Exasperated doesn’t cover it. She is edging towards recklessness with her feelings, absolute negligence with her emotions and all of these confusing moments between them are not helping. Is April feeling all of this, too? Is she being crazy for letting her heart pool up with all this desire from the past? 

She closes her eyes and all she sees is April. Smiling, laughing, looking at her with those eyes. Jesus Chr—

Her phone buzzes in her bag. She pulls it out to see a text from Doc.

Less than an hour left
till Round 2.Haven’t
seen U yet. Doing OK?

Fuck. Again. April is going to be the death of her. 

Or at least her debate career.

She gathers all of her things in her arms and hightails it to her team’s little meeting area, cursing herself and punctuality and time itself for chugging along without a single care for her feelings.

//

less yearning, more
learning!!

these lines are just
writingthemselves omg

blair, please stop
I’m dying

nail the second round!

then nail April later

Are you there, God?
It’s me, Comedy.

help

*water drop emojis*

//

They say practice makes perfect, that preparation is key to victory. Insert every single stereotypical statement here and you’ll see that winning means a focused mind, clear eyes, a heart not distracted by the reappearance of a girl in green.

The last bell rings and she is no closer to clarity than the first moment she laid eyes on April the day before.

Sterling loses her second round.

//

There’s a buzzing in her ear that radiates through her, running like a live wire under every inch of her skin. The feeling of it constantly changes, morphing from confusion to sadness to utter astonishment by the second. 

She stands at the monstrous results board, looking up at the spread of names, groups and the final tallies of the day. Her name sits bold and red on the right side, a curt Wesley, S. followed by a 1-1.

Sterling has never been that kind of competitive. She’s more invested in the pursuit, in the meanings; hell, she’s even lost on purpose because of what she believes in. But this?

After preparing for weeks, the loss burns. 

She counts 12 people with a 2-0 record, a certain Stevens, A. among them and disappointment boils low in her gut. Her fate for the rest of the competition was in the hands of a panel of judges that would round out the final 16. All she can do is wait.

And if there’s one thing Sterling is terrible at, it’s waiting.

“Can you believe her? She’s like the debate queen.”

A voice rings behind her and she turns to see a lanky guy in a dark green blazer chatting with a girl.

“You’re so lucky you have her on your team. Is it true she studies every single person in the competition?” the girl asks, taking a sip from her cup.

“Yeah, it’s unreal. She has these dossiers of information she can use on everyone. Weaknesses, secrets, history. Anything to get under their skin and take them out of the running.”

Something pulses deep inside her.

Anything to get under their skin.

Weaknesses. History.

Could it be? Fear and anger roil through her as she considers the possibility that April had tripped her up, had done everything on purpose since the first moment to get ahead.

It doesn’t make sense, but there is no sense in how Sterling gives into the anger, turning on a heel and taking off towards the bustling conference hall.

Voices and the clink of silverware rattle through the space as the entire tournament mingles over an evening mixer. Food sits warmed in large silver vats and crowds of students converge over white plates and soft drinks—their laughs and conversation are loud, echoing through the large hall littered with cloth-lined tables. Although the occasional sullen face interrupts the spread of people, undoubtedly bitter from a loss or more, the overall temperature of the room is a relieved comfort after a long day.

Sterling does not feel the same.

Her eyes scan the crowd till she spots the group in a familiar green huddled around a table in the center of the room and all she can do is stand there as April’s voice, April’s laugh rings clearly in her ears.

A voice of careful reason nudges at her inside. Is this even something she’s capable of? Would she do this to you?

But Sterling can’t hear any of it as she marches over, following the sound like a radar towards the only thing she’s been able to think about for the past 24 hours. 

April appears in the crowd, face absolutely alight and almost ...smug in her air of victory. She’d cleaned up the competition, there’s no doubt about it, and it radiated from her like heat off of a furnace. 

Sterling’s skin gets warmer and warmer the closer she gets to her.

Without a second thought, she breaks into the circle and April immediately quiets, eyes wide and locked onto hers.

“I need to talk to you.”

April nods, small and careful, and stands from her seat. A murmur runs through the group of guys, but she silences it with just a look.

“Lead the way.”

Sterling turns and walks out towards the hallway, intimately and frustratingly aware of every move made by the girl behind her. She doesn’t dare turn around to look, but she knows she’s just a step behind, close and concerned and eyes locked on the back of Sterling’s head.

It’s disorienting how attuned she is to her. Just one day—one fucking day—and all of this. Led astray and off-course by the sudden reappearance of the girl who slipped away so long ago, she is lost and without direction in a sea of April.

She whips around and April almost runs into her at the sudden stop. 

“Sterling, what’s wrong?”

She’s buzzing, the energy and adrenaline of what she might do keeping her from standing still.

“I—”

“Did something happen? Are you okay?”

The concern in her face is so genuine that it tugs on Sterling’s heart. April is actually worried for her and it threatens the breakneck pace the anger speeds through her veins. 

A group of people walk past them in the hall and if there’s anything she needs right now, it’s privacy.

Without another thought, Sterling groans and takes her hand, pulling her through a door behind them. It’s a small room, halfway dark with chairs stacked in the corners. A ceiling light flickers in a dull, irregular beat and it makes the room shift in and out of dim shadows.

“What—” April starts but is silenced by the sound of Sterling shutting the door and locking it. The small click reverberates through the space.

Sterling’s chest is almost heaving as she considers her words. April’s eyes are wide and confused as she searches her face for any sign of what’s going on. 

“It’s been like, 24 hours since I saw you again and I almost bombed both of my rounds today because of you. No, I did actually bomb my second round because of you.”

April’s eyes squint slightly. She shakes her head as she processes what Sterling is saying.

“Are you blaming me?”

“No, I—” Sterling brings a hand to her forehead, eyes closing in frustration. Why couldn’t she just say what she’s feeling? “Did you make a dossier on me?”

“Excuse me?” Her features turn dark and sharp, taking on the energy of the frustration roiling through Sterling.

“Your dossiers. Did you make one about me?” The emotions threaten to spill over, making her voice waver and she hates the sound of it.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You—I spent three years forgetting you and keeping you out of my head! And then you waltz back in and it takes less than a day for you to make me this crazy again? Are you doing this on purpose?”

April flinches as if the words had physical impact. Her lips open, teeth chewing on her tongue as she breathes through her thoughts. Sterling is almost shaking now and she can’t differentiate her anger from her fear, her heart from her head.

“You think that I would use our, our history to mess you up for this debate tournament? That I have been acting like this only to make you lose?”

“Yes! No, no I—” It’s positively dizzying how Sterling can’t get a hold of what she thinks, what she believes. Could April do that to her? Maybe. Would she? No.

“No. I did not make a dossier on you.” A breath. “You’re the only one I didn’t make a file for.”

April is as unreadable as ever, the only hint of her feelings coming from the sharp depth of her eyes, irises almost completely dark in the shadows.

Sterling pushes back the tendrils of hair around her face and turns away, taking a few steps just to move in the anxious energy that pulls at her bones. She whips right back as words pile up on her tongue.

“I don’t know what to think, April. I don’t know what’s happening. I barely made it through my rounds because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and that post-it this morning and lunch and your hand. And that song last night? I mean, did you mean to make me—”

“Wait, what?” The confusion is sharp and sudden in April’s face.

Sterling pauses, head cocking slightly as the question hiccups her anger like a speed bump.

“You played Slow Burn last night in your room. Our song. Loud enough for me to hear.”

A flushed pink rises through the column of April’s throat.

“You heard that?”

Sterling’s eyebrows furrow, her brain kicked into overdrive at the revelation that April had played that song for herself, not knowing that she could hear on the other side of the wall.

But that means—

She doesn’t want to face it. 

“April, what are we doing here?”

She sighs then, deep and exasperated as a hand reaches back to run through her braid. “I don’t know, Sterling. You pulled me in here.”

They both know that isn’t what she was asking. 

The storm inside her calms as she considers the truth. How is it possible that this girl always makes her feel like she’s on fire, burning on the edge of sanity? Whether it was in high school or now, April has the uncanny power of taking over every bit of her thoughts, crowding her mind and heart beyond reason.

All she can do is feel her way through all of the spinning thoughts in her head. Trace through them as if following a string, hand over hand in quiet realization.

Every moment between them had been real. Sterling let herself be carried away in a vortex of doubt and fear, sweeping her far from the reality that maybe, just maybe, April is feeling the same things she is. It’s both too much and not enough.

“What do you want, Sterl?” she says, looking up at her. A small sigh escapes her lips, the sound of it winding around the small space. When had she gotten so close? “What are we doing here?”

Her breaths even out and the heartbeat in her chest quiets—in resolve, in resignation, in acceptance. 

Here is April, once again, in the soft light of a dark room alone with Sterling and all she wants to do is the same thing she did all those years ago. 

She watches the girl in front of her, whose eyes flick back and forth between hers in quiet trepidation of a moment that feels like the two of them standing on the edge of a cliff. 

What are we doing here?

Sterling steps in closer and raises a hand to cup her jawline.

“Leaning into it.”

They kiss.