They’re alone now. And, well, it’s different.
They’re sorta always alone so to speak. Sure, the work room is a constant buzz of frequent chatter, clacking heels, and, no duh, Farrah whining like a little bitch. But even so, when Shea and Sasha painted beside each other, Sasha using outrageously large words while contouring the back of her bald head and Shea laughing loudly as she applied layer after layer of matte lipstick, it was as if it was just the two of them.
But now.... now.
They’re really alone now. And they’re sitting in Sasha’s hotel room, surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper and empty glasses and suitcases thrown open haphazardly, and damn, it’s been a long ass night.
The girls wanted to drink, and, while Sasha adores a drunk Trinity Taylor, she was physically and emotionally wiped. And besides, she would only be a passive observer if she stayed back. She was craving something, and while she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, she could tell that sitting on a bar stool watching her sisters drunkenly stumble around in their boy clothes and lucite heels was not doing anything for her.
After saying a kind goodnight and kissing each of them on the head, she aims for the elevator. And just as the doors are closing, she sees a shadow dance up the hallway, outstretched arm towards the quick closing doors of the elevator.
“Wait- Sash! Can you hold it?” Shea’s sprinting down the hallway, and immediately, Sasha is reaching out to intersect the doors before they close.
Lately it seemed like it didn’t matter who was in the room and who was talking and how much noise was blocking out the silence. Sasha felt as if someone had wound her crank to the point of potential destruction, but kept a firm hand on the lid of her box, refusing to let her poke her head out ceremoniously. Sure, the girls were good. They were fun and Sasha could get a good laugh if she wanted to, but no matter how many times they sat around on the crush velvet couches or passively conversed at their sewing tables, Sasha felt so out of it, she might as well be on a different planet all together.
Well, accept for when she was with Shea.
Sasha can hear Shea’s breathing and the rapid beating of her own heart against her ribs. She strokes her neck casually, feeling for her pulse, which, obviously, still seems to be doing its thing despite the fact that she feels like she might be dying just a little bit.
Again, they had never been alone like this. And ya, it was a fucking elevator for shit’s sake, but it didn’t change a thing.
“Long day, huh?” Shea interjects, her breath still a little ragged. She’s sitting in the corner of the elevator, wedged between the two walls with her knees pulled to her chest. And it’s making Sasha ache in an adoring way.
“Ya. I’d say so.”
“Is everything okay?”
The low hum of the elevator developed into a monotone ding, and they realize they’ve reached their floor.
Shea struggles for a bit trying to unfold herself from her current position, Sasha watching out of the corner of her eye. And after a few agonizing moments, she reaches towards Shea. The other rolled her eyes, a playful smile on her face, and took Sasha’s hand, pulling herself up until their clutched hands were sandwiched between their rib cages, their faces a hair’s width apart.
Shea laughs, saying, “oh, damn, today was that bad?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you’re blushing. Over me. And Jesus, Sasha, your eyes are practically shouting.”
She releases Shea’s hand, rubbing her eye as she steps out of the elevator. Shea follows her the full expanse of the carpeted hallway until they’re at Sasha’s door. “I think I’m lonely?”
Shea frowns at her, her bottom lip popping out in a pout. “Sasha.”
Sasha shrugs, “it’s okay. It happens.”
“C’mere.”
And they’re hugging, and it’s sorta wonderful without all the ruffles and fake hair between them as they do so. “I blush over you all the time.”
“Ya, but in a dyke way.”
“Shea!”
They laugh, Shea throwing her head back, her eyes scrunched shut. “You wanna come in?” Sasha asks, taking her key card from the pocket of her sweatpants.
“Take me out to dinner first, baby.” Shea takes the key card and unceremoniously opens the door.
And now they’re here, laying on opposite side of Sasha’s king sized hotel bed, Shea’s head on the pillows, while Sasha has hers by Shea’s feet, staring at the uneven layers of paint on the ceiling. Shea keeps finding herself looking at her.
“Ya know,” Shea begins, and Sasha could already feel herself beginning to laugh, the sound rising in her throat anticipating Shea saying something completely outrageous.
But it’s not what she expected.
“I, um, I sorta wanna kiss you right now.”
Sasha giggles, already finding her body shifting closer to Shea. “oh, damn, today was that bad?”
“Shut up.” Shea proclaims, letting her head fall back to the pillow, folding her arms at her chest.
It’s mostly quiet for the next few moments, and all Shea hears is the rustling of Sasha’s sheets. It’s only when she looks up that she notices Sasha moving towards her.
Shea straightens her spine, meeting Sasha in the middle of the bed. “I wanna kiss you.”
“You sure you’re not just lonely?”
“Well, clearly I must be, if my eyes have anything to say about it.” Sasha rasps, leaning past Shea’s lips and up to her ear. “But even when I’m not,”
Shea inhales, her brain short circuiting. Fuck you, Sasha. But of course, it only takes her mere moments to compose herself fully.
“You had a dirty dream about me, didn’t you?” Sasha laughs at that, closing her eyes in hysteria, her forehead lightly knocking up against Shea’s. She intakes a breath, opening her eyes.
“It’s hard when you’re here. Ya know, to not want to.”
“What about when we’re dressed as women?”
“Oh, even harder.” Shea laughs again, putting a hand to the back of Sasha’s neck.
“You’re a hot women.”
“Hot enough to turn you straight?”
“I thought we were dykes?”
“It’s all relative, baby.”
And then they kiss, and it’s a bit awkward at first, their noses and glasses getting in the way. Shea puts a hand on Sasha’s shoulder, stopping her momentarily and taking off her small wire frames before immediately going back in.
Soon, Sasha is on her back, and Shea is readjusting herself over the other, her hand firm on the side of Sasha’s neck.
“You’re my favorite.”
“Oh, really?” Shea teases, whispering in Sasha’s ear. “Do you have much of a choice?”
“You shady bitch.” Sasha rolls her eyes dramatically, sitting up slightly and pulling Shea closer with a hand to the back of her head. “I lied. Farrah’s my favorite.”
“Wait-a kill the vibe.”
“I can’t tell a lie. That whine is charming as fuck.”
Shea smirks, kissing her again. “Well, you’re my favorite.” Sasha blushes and Shea practically melts on the inside like heated sugar cane, not that she lets it show. “For damn sure.”
“Well,” Sasha starts and promptly stops, looking as if she’s started with a point, but veered off the rales seconds later. “Um,”
“No comeback?” Shea asks half joking. She watches Sasha smiling over the wheels turning in that crazy head of hers. “Sasha?”
“You should, um,” She doesn’t look at Shea, her cheeks tinted an obvious pink as she locks her eyes on the sheets below her. “You should move your makeup.” Sasha is looking at her now, her eyebrows raised hopefully and her lips hidden between her teeth.
Shea smiles, seeing Sasha’s uncharacteristic nervousness through her thin veil of neutrality. Sasha doesn’t do neutral.
“You want me to move my makeup?”
“You should sit next to me.”
From Shea’s perspective, Sasha was a complete and total weapon of mass destruction wrapped in an aesthetically pleasing package. Her humor was brilliant and completely unmatched by the other girls. Her taste was leaps and bounds above Shea and Aja and anyone who had claimed to be fashion centered at the beginning of the competition. She understood the game, and it was so beautiful and intensely terrifying for Shea to watch.
But right now, Sasha is small, her sheets in a complete disarray, her sweatpants wrinkled and loose around her hips, skin glowing in a youthful way. Shea, who had since moved her hands from Sasha’s ass to her own lap, really wants to hold her by the face again.
“You’re my favorite. And Nina was being crude to you this week.” Sasha says, her usual cool intensity returning to her face. “And you’re my favorite.”
“You bribing me with flattery and a make out session to get me to move my work station, Velour?”
“The flattery and the kissing are merely a bonus.” She leans close to Shea again, resting their foreheads against each other. “And it worked, didn’t it.”
“Ya.” Shea responds, inhaling and happily placing her hand on Sasha’s cheekbone, tracing it delicately. “I’ll move my stuff tomorrow.”