Chapter 19
Glinda felt sick.
All day, she’d done everything right. She’d smiled at all the right moments, laughed at Pfannee’s jokes, acted like everything was fine. She’d sat at lunch with her usual crowd, pretending the air wasn’t too thick, pretending her stomach wasn’t twisting every time she stopped talking long enough to think.
She didn’t look at Elphaba.
Not once.
And somehow, that made it worse.
By the time she got home, the exhaustion hit like a brick. She went through the motions—dinner, shower, staring at her homework without absorbing a single word. Everything felt wrong. Tight. Suffocating.
Her phone was right there.
She shouldn’t do this. She should go to bed, wake up, push through it.
Instead—her fingers moved before her brain could stop them.
Glinda:I can’t be here right now.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t casual. But she didn’t care.
Her phone buzzed almost instantly.
Elphaba:Where are you?
Glinda swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected that.
Glinda:My house. But I don’t want to be.
There was no hesitation this time.
Elphaba:Be outside in five minutes.
Glinda wasn’t sure what she expected, but Elphaba pulling up in her car at exactly five minutes on the dot? That did something to her.
She climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door softly, hands gripping her phone tightly in her lap. She felt wired, restless, like she could come undone at any second.
Elphaba didn’t ask questions. She just drove, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gear shift.
The streets were quiet, the world asleep, but inside the car, it felt like everything was moving too fast.
After a long stretch of silence, Elphaba finally spoke. "You want to tell me what’s going on?"
Glinda let out a breath, shaking her head. "Not really."
Elphaba nodded like she understood. Like she wasn’t going to push. "Okay."
More silence. More tension. More weight between them.
"I just needed to get out," Glinda admitted eventually. "I don’t know why."
Elphaba hummed, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. "I get it."
And maybe that was the problem—that Elphaba always got it.
Glinda turned her head, studying her profile in the dim light. The strong line of her jaw, the way her hands gripped the wheel, steady and sure. Like she was something solid. Something safe.
Elphaba pulled into a secluded parking lot, shifting the car into park. The hum of the engine faded, leaving only silence between them.
Glinda swallowed, the air thick, heavy. Her fingers curled against her thighs before she turned slightly in her seat, facing Elphaba fully.
"Elphie," she said before she could stop herself. Soft. Barely above a whisper.
Elphaba’s hands stilled on the wheel, knuckles going white. "Yeah?"
Glinda hesitated, heart hammering. Then, slowly, she unbuckled her seatbelt, shifting closer, tucking one leg beneath her as she turned in her seat, the center console pressing against her hip.
Elphaba turned her head, their faces inches apart now. The light from the dashboard cast shadows across her sharp features, her green skin glowing faintly in the dark.
Glinda’s breath caught. She wasn’t thinking anymore.
She leaned in, her fingers twitching where they hovered between them, like she wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.
Elphaba’s breath was slow, measured—but she wasn’t pulling away.
And then Glinda kissed her.
A soft press, hesitant at first, barely there—
Until Elphaba moved.
Her hands found Glinda’s waist, pulling her in. The kiss deepened, slow but certain, like neither of them wanted to stop.
The car was suddenly too small, too warm, too much.
And Elphaba—
Elphaba kissed her back.
Glinda felt like she was floating. Not in a good way.
She hadn’t slept. Not really.
Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that car—Elphaba’s hands warm on her waist, the taste of her lingering, the space between them evaporating into nothing.
And now it was morning. And she had to see her.
By the time she got to school, everything felt too loud. The halls buzzed with their usual energy, but it all blurred together, an indistinct hum against the pounding in her chest.
She spotted Elphaba before Elphaba spotted her.
She was at her locker, alone, flipping through a book with a careful kind of focus that Glinda now recognized as avoidance. Her posture was relaxed—too relaxed. Like she was trying not to look up.
Glinda lingered for a second too long before turning away, pulse hammering.
She wasn’t ready. Not with Pfannee and Shenshen at her side, not with Milla’s knowing glances. They were catching on.
She spent the day pretending. Laughing, smiling, nodding along—but she wasn’t there.
It wasn’t until later—between classes, in an empty hallway—that she found her chance.
Glinda slipped past a group of students and caught Elphaba just as she was leaving the library.
"Hey." Her voice was quiet, breathless. Nervous.
Elphaba blinked, stopping mid-step. She glanced around, then tilted her head slightly. "Are we hiding?"
"A little," Glinda admitted, glancing over her shoulder. "I just…" She sighed. "Are we going to talk about last night?"
Elphaba studied her for a long moment before nodding, stepping into the alcove by the window, where the shadows stretched long. Out of sight. Safer.
"Do you want to talk about last night?" Elphaba asked, voice low.
Glinda bit her lip. "I don’t know."
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, tilting her head. "You look like you didn’t sleep."
"I didn’t," Glinda admitted, barely above a whisper.
Elphaba hesitated, then—"Neither did I."
That shouldn’t have made her feel relieved.
And yet.
They stood there, tension thick, the quiet pressing in on all sides. Glinda wanted to reach for her. She didn’t.
Footsteps echoed down the hall—too close. Voices.
Glinda stiffened. Pfannee.
Elphaba caught the shift instantly. Without a word, she reached past Glinda, tugging the library door open. "In here."
Glinda didn’t hesitate.
The door shut behind them, the noise of the hallway muffled. They were alone. Close. Too close.
Elphaba leaned against the bookshelves, watching her carefully. "You’re not ready."
Glinda swallowed. "No."
Elphaba nodded, like she already knew that. Like she wasn’t going to push.
"We’ll talk later," she said instead, voice steady.
Glinda nodded, too quickly, before slipping back into the hallway like nothing had happened.
And Elphaba—
Elphaba let her go.
Glinda knew they were watching her.
It had been happening all day—Pfannee’s sharp glances, Shenshen’s lingering stares, Milla’s quiet smirks. They knew something was off.
And she was trying. Oz, was she trying. Laughing when she was supposed to, chiming in at the right moments, flipping her hair and smiling and pretending like everything was fine.
But it wasn’t.
And Pfannee could tell.
"So," Pfannee drawled at lunch, tapping her manicured nails against the table. "Are you ever going to tell us what’s going on with you?"
Glinda blinked, barely catching the question. "What?"
"You’ve been weird." Shenshen arched a brow. "Distracted."
"Distant," Milla added, smirking. "It’s almost like you’ve got a little secret."
Glinda’s stomach twisted. "That’s ridiculous."
"Is it?" Pfannee tilted her head. "Because I know I saw you sneaking off with her yesterday."
The air in Glinda’s lungs turned to stone. Too fast. Too sharp.
"Who?" she tried, forcing out a laugh.
Pfannee’s lips curled. "You know who."
Shenshen leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. "You wouldn’t actually be friends with Elphaba, right? I mean, come on."
"Right," Pfannee said, watching Glinda carefully. "You’d never do something so… pathetic."
Glinda’s pulse roared in her ears. The walls were closing in, shrinking, suffocating.
She should say something. She should defend herself. Defend Elphaba.
But she wasn’t ready.
So instead—she overcorrected. Too fast, too hard, too cruel.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Please. You really think I’d waste my time on her?"
Silence.
For a second, it almost felt like it worked. Like she’d said the right thing, played the right role.
And then—
A shift. A weight. A presence behind her.
The blood drained from Glinda’s face.
Slowly, stiffly, she turned.
Elphaba stood just a few steps away, tray in hand, expression unreadable.
Glinda’s throat closed.
Elphaba didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. Didn’t so much as flinch.
She just held Glinda’s gaze for a single, heavy beat—then turned and walked away.
And Glinda—
Glinda felt like she was going to be sick.