talk with your fingertips
“Well.”
“Yup.”
Silence. Alice stares straight ahead, sheets clung tight to her chest. She doesn’t want to look over to see the expression on Margo’s face. To see her slightly flushed cheeks and hair out of place. To just see her at all.
There’s not much to say, but Margo breaks the silence, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
That forces Alice to whip her head to the side, finally taking the sight of Margo in. Surprisingly, Margo is still staring straight ahead just as Alice was. Part of Alice wants to persuade her to look at her. She’s always been able to read something through their eyes and it’s unnerving to be denied of that. Even though the last time she was looking into Margo’s eyes, well…she tries not to think about what she saw while in between the sheets and in the soft light of Margo’s nightstand light.
“Are you telling me that you’ve thought of this before?” Her voice comes out more shrill than she would have liked, but it’s not like she can take that back now. It’s not like she can take anything back, now.
It’s the magic words to bring Margo back to her, but she immediately regrets it. Because instead of denial or going on the defensive, Margo just turns and looks at her with a look. The kind of look that sends a shiver down her back. The kind of look that probably got her here in the first place. Margo throws in a few quick glances down at Alice’s lips and Alice clenches the sheets tighter to her chest.
“Of course I have. Just look at you. Why wouldn’t I?”
It’s the kind of thing she’s used to, the expectations and the way people just knoweverything about her before she gets a chance to explain herself. Her talent, her family, her legacy. It’s the kind of reverence usually reserved for her brain.
Never for her looks. Not even with Quentin. Which is why it catches her off-guard, and settles something inside of her that she’s not ready to start again.
Margo picks up on it and smiles wider, leaning in just close enough for Alice’s breath to hitch. “Are you telling me that you haven’t?”
Alice has enough decency to scoff - although unconvincingly - and roll her eyes, “Of course not.”
“Ah, I see.” Margo takes the chance to stretch a little bit and let her sheets fall, turning her body to lounge lazily beside Alice, tracing the sheet covering Alice’s legs. “So you just happened to fall into bed with me - what? By accident?”
Alice knows her cheeks are red, and hates how it must look. She composes herself, “After everything with Quentin. I don’t know - I just wanted to see what the big fuss was about, I guess.”
It’s immediately the wrong thing to say because Margo’s eyes light up. “Oh, so you have thought of this before.”
Alice doesn’t like the implication in Margo’s tone. The same combination of honey and fire that helped convince her this was a good idea when she was looking for all the reasons it wasn’t.
“That’s not what I - shut up.”
It’s Alice’s turn to look away, even though she can feel Margo staring at her. She feels Margo move her fingers up higher as they start to trace patterns on her arms, but she takes the chance to cross them and shift slightly away from the touch.
It’s enough to discourage the advances, because in less than a second there’s a soft sigh from beside her and Margo is up by the side of the bed. Alice chances a look over when she realizes Margo is looking for her clothes.
“Wait - you’re just leaving?”
“Oh, honey,” Margo offers her a small look of pity in between looking for her clothes and Alice tries not to wince. Margo finds her skirt and looks back over at her, “I’m not really a pillow talk kind of girl.”
Margo is about to put the skirt on when she gives Alice another look. She’s going to start calling it The Look in her head because she now knows what it means - she now understands what possibilities could follow it.
“Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Margo shrugs, “Unless there’s a reason I should stay?”
Alice’s heart races and she’s hit with all the memories of the night before. How surprised she was at how much she enjoyed it. Soft skin and hard bites. Smooth touches and rough kisses. The quick and stumbling turning into slow and practiced.
She thinks of the conversation she had with Quentin days before. How good it felt to just push past the awkwardness and say what she wanted. To free herself of all of the stupid shame and just be honest.
For once - for once in her life - to just be honest.
She sits up a little straighter and lets the sheets fall a little bit, allowing as much conviction as she can to come through in her voice, “How about round two?”
It’s not as strong as intended and her voice cracks the tiniest bit, but Margo is smiling wide and already halfway there, throwing her skirt behind her with a small laugh as she jumps back into bed.