Chapter 11
Glinda spent the entire drive home replaying the moment in her head.
It wasn’t just the panic attack—it was the way Elphaba had looked at her. Steady. Solid. Like she wasn’t going anywhere.
She didn’t know why that mattered so much.
By the time she got home, she was exhausted. She went through the motions—showered, changed into pajamas, curled up in bed—but her mind wouldn’t quiet. Her mother had sent another text.
Make sure you’re well-rested for practice tomorrow. You need to be better than last time.
She turned her phone over, face-down on the nightstand. She couldn’t deal with it right now.
Meanwhile, across town, Elphaba sat in bed, staring at her phone.
She told herself she was reading. The book was open, the words in front of her. But her eyes weren’t tracking the lines.
Because her mind was back in that classroom, with Glinda’s hand in hers.
She had felt the shift between them. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it wasn’t nothing.
Before she could overthink it, she grabbed her phone and typed out a message.
Elphaba:You good?
She hesitated for half a second, then hit send.
Back in her room, Glinda’s phone buzzed. She frowned, flipping it over, expecting another text from her mother. Instead, she saw Elphaba’s name.
She blinked at the screen, rereading the message like she was imagining it.
It was just two words. Simple. But she didn’t have to send it at all.
Glinda swallowed, hesitating before typing back.
Glinda:Yeah. Thanks.
She hovered for a second, then added—
Glinda:Goodnight, Elphaba.
Elphaba stared at the response. Goodnight. She hadn’t expected that.
After a moment, she typed back.
Elphaba:Goodnight, Blondie.
She smirked as she sent it, imagining the way Glinda would huff at the nickname.
Sure enough, back in her room, Glinda let out a small, incredulous laugh.
She didn’t correct her.
She just set her phone down, rolled onto her side, and—for the first time in a while—fell asleep easily.
That day at lunch, the boys were on a mission.
"Come on, Elphie,” Crope whined, dramatically draping himself over the cafeteria table. "You never come to these things."
"Because I don’t want to," Elphaba deadpanned, stabbing at her food with zero enthusiasm.
"Yeah, yeah, we know," Tibbett said, waving her off. "But this one’s different. Big game. Big after-party. Huge turnout. You have to be there."
"I really don’t."
Boq chimed in from beside her. "They’re never going to drop this. You might as well say yes now."
Elphaba scowled. "Who’s side are you on?"
"I’m just saying," Boq shrugged. "It’s Fiyero’s party. Glinda will be there."
Elphaba’s entire body went still.
Crope smirked. "Oh? Interested now?"
"I—" Elphaba’s mouth opened, then shut again. She should say no. She should say she doesn’t care.
Instead, she exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’re all insufferable."
Tibbett grinned. "So that’s a yes?"
Elphaba sighed, already regretting every decision that led her to this moment.
"Fine. But if it’s awful, I’m leaving early."
Crope clapped excitedly. "We’ll make sure it’s worth your time."
Elphaba doubted it.
But she also doubted she’d be able to keep her eyes off a certain blonde for the entire night.
Glinda was determined to focus this time.
She really was.
But five minutes in, she knew it was hopeless.
She sat across from Elphaba at the same corner table in the library, trying to concentrate on their project. She should care about this. She should be engaged. Instead, she kept tapping her pencil against her notebook, mind drifting.
And the worst part? Elphaba noticed.
"You promised to focus," Elphaba said without looking up, flipping a page in her book.
Glinda jolted slightly. "I am focused."
Elphaba hummed. "Sure. That’s why you’ve been writing the same sentence for the past ten minutes."
Glinda scowled, looking down at her paper—and, okay, fine. Maybe Elphaba had a point.
She sighed, tapping her pencil against the desk. "My brain is fried. I can’t think anymore."
Elphaba finally glanced up, raising a brow. "Rough day?"
Glinda hesitated. Did she want to talk about it?
"Just… a lot on my mind." She waved a hand, brushing it off. "It’s nothing."
Elphaba didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she just arched a brow. "Well, stop fidgeting, it's driving me nuts."
Glinda narrowed her eyes, holding the pencil up dramatically before placing it on the table. "Fine. Happy?"
Elphaba shrugged. "For now."
The tension in Glinda’s chest eased just slightly. She wasn’t sure if Elphaba was trying to make her feel better, but somehow, she had.
They worked in actual silence for a while after that. Or at least, they tried to. But something was different.
Every time Glinda looked up, Elphaba was already watching her. And every time Elphaba looked up, Glinda was already staring.
They both pretended not to notice.
Eventually, Elphaba stretched, shutting her notebook. "Alright. That’s probably the most productive we’ve ever been."
Glinda snorted. "That’s a low bar."
Elphaba smirked, gathering her things. Usually, this would be where they left. But as they packed up, neither of them moved right away.
Glinda hovered, shifting in place like she wanted to say something. Elphaba noticed, waiting. Letting her.
But in the end, Glinda just exhaled, shaking her head. "Nothing."
Elphaba’s brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t call her out on it. "Alright."
They left the library together, walking out into the cool night air. Glinda wrapped her arms around herself, eyes flicking to Elphaba. It wasn’t awkward. Just… different.
When they reached the part of campus where they usually split, Glinda hesitated again. She had something she wanted to say. But what?
She didn’t know. So instead, she just said, "Good night, Elphaba."
Elphaba looked at her for a second too long before nodding. "Good night, princess."
Glinda rolled her eyes but didn’t correct her.
They went their separate ways, but this time, Glinda texted first.
Glinda:Thanks for putting up with me tonight. I actually think we made progress.
Elphaba saw the message and, for some reason, smiled.
Elphaba:Progress? Miracles do happen.
Glinda huffed a laugh, biting her lip before replying.
Glinda:Good night, Elphaba.
Elphaba hesitated for only a second before typing back.
Elphaba:Good night, Glinda.
And somehow, they both fell asleep a little easier that night.
Elphaba had no idea why she agreed to this.
She hated parties. The noise, the crowds, the smell of too much alcohol in the air—it was everything she went out of her way to avoid. But here she was, standing in Fiyero’s massive house, already looking for the nearest exit.
Crope and Tibbett were thriving. They had disappeared into the crowd almost immediately, leaving Elphaba stuck with Boq, who looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.
"You could at least pretend to have fun," Boq muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
Elphaba huffed. "You could at least pretend to stop making bad life choices."
Boq rolled his eyes. "And yet, here we both are."
Elphaba didn’t bother responding—her attention had been caught elsewhere.
Across the room, Glinda stood with Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla, drink in hand, laughing at something someone had said. She was radiant, as always—golden, untouchable.
But she wasn’t untouchable. Not really. Because she had looked over. At her.
It lasted only a second, but Elphaba saw it. Felt it. The way Glinda’s eyes flickered to her, the way something passed over her expression—too fast to read, but not fast enough to ignore.
Then, just as quickly, she turned back to her friends.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, tearing her gaze away. She needed a drink.
Glinda should have been having fun.
She was surrounded by her friends, the music was loud, the drinks were flowing. This was her world. She was good at this—laughing at the right moments, twirling her hair when Fiyero wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling like everything was perfect.
But she wasn’t paying attention. Not really.
Because she had seen Elphaba.
And worse—she had caught herself looking for her.
She downed another sip of her drink, trying to shake the feeling, but Fiyero noticed. He always noticed.
"You okay?" he murmured, voice low against her ear.
Glinda turned to him, blinking like she had to force herself to focus. "Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?"
He studied her for a beat too long, then smirked. "Good. Then dance with me."
He pulled her toward the crowd before she could argue, his hands warm on her waist, pulling her closer than she wanted to be.
She let him. She always did.
But it didn’t feel right.