Chapter 25
The Upland estate glittered like something out of a storybook. The grand halls were filled with socialites, politicians, and the elite of Gillikin, all dressed in their finest for the Upland’s annual Lurlinemas party.
Glinda had been trained for these nights since childhood—smiling, performing, being perfect.
But tonight? Tonight she was buzzing with something else entirely.
Because she had a secret.
Elphaba was coming.
The first text had been innocent enough:
Glinda:I wish you were here.
Then another:
Glinda:Actually, do you want to be here?
Then:
Glinda:I could sneak you in.
Elphaba had stared at her phone for far too long before typing back, You’re ridiculous.
Glinda:And yet, you haven’t said no.
Elphaba had absolutely intended to say no.
She should have said no.
But then, Glinda had called her. And Elphaba had picked up, despite herself, despite the fact that she knew Glinda had probably been drinking, and that whatever she was about to say was going to be dangerous.
“Pleaseeeee, Elphie,” Glinda had murmured into the receiver, voice low, coaxing, borderline spoiled. “Come keep me company. I hate it here.”
Elphaba had rolled her eyes. Tried to sound unaffected. “I hate it everywhere.”
Glinda had giggled, too delighted. “Then come hate it with me.”
And somehow, that was all it took.
Which was how Elphaba found herself sneaking in through the servant’s entrance, swearing under her breath at how deeply unhinged this entire situation was.
Elphaba barely made it up the stairs before Glinda was there, practically bouncing in place.
“You actually came!”
“Against my better judgment,” Elphaba muttered, glancing around suspiciously. “Tell me again why I agreed to this?”
Glinda grinned, unapologetic. “Because you like me.”
Elphaba scoffed. “Questionable.”
And then—
Glinda stepped fully into the light.
Elphaba’s thoughts short-circuited.
She had known Glinda would be dressed up. Had known, theoretically, that she would look nice. But she had not been prepared for this.
Glinda’s gown was a soft, shimmering gold, clinging in all the right places, sweeping along the floor in perfect folds. Her hair was curled, pinned up elegantly, but a few loose strands framed her face.She looked—
Untouchable.
And it made something in Elphaba ache.
She snapped her gaze away immediately, mortified by the warmth creeping up her neck.
Glinda’s lips curved.
“You’re staring,” she teased.
“I’m blinking,” Elphaba shot back, desperate to recover.
Glinda giggled, delighted. “You’re flustered.”
Elphaba scowled. “I am not.”
“You so are.” Glinda reached for her hand. Elphaba did not pull away.
“Come on,” Glinda whispered, tugging her along. “Let’s hide.”
The first sip burned, but Elphaba kept drinking.
Glinda, already tipsy from the event downstairs, was loose-limbed and giggling, cross-legged on her bed. Her gown pooled around her, her cheeks flushed from warmth and alcohol.
Elphaba sat on the floor, back against the bed, holding her drink awkwardly, fighting the urge to look at Glinda too much.
“This is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed this party,” Glinda admitted, voice soft.
Elphaba snorted. “Because you’re hiding from it.”
“Exactly.”
Silence stretched between them, comfortable, but thick with something else.
Elphaba was still trying to ignore how unfairly pretty Glinda looked, but her thoughts were warm, unfocused, and she was definitely tipsier than she intended to be.
Glinda turned her head, watching Elphaba with a look that made Elphaba’s stomach flip.
“I like having you here,” Glinda said, quiet, genuine.
Elphaba’s throat went dry.
She exhaled sharply. “You’re drunk.”
Glinda smirked. “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it untrue.”
Elphaba didn’t answer.
Didn’t trust herself to.
The door creaked open, and Elphaba froze.
Glinda didn’t. Instead, she sighed in deep relief.
“Ama,” she murmured. “I thought you were Mother.”
Elphaba glanced toward the doorway, where Ama Clutch stood, unimpressed.
“Miss Glinda,” Ama said, voice even. “You’ve smuggled in a guest.”
Glinda smiled innocently. “I got bored.”
Ama rolled her eyes but said nothing, stepping forward with a tray. Tea. Biscuits. Something grounding.
“You’re lucky I found you before Lady Larena did,” Ama muttered. “And lucky I won’t say a word.”
Elphaba exhaled, still wary. But Ama simply turned to her, studying her with mild curiosity.
Then, unexpectedly—
“Don’t keep her up all night, Miss Elphaba,” Ama said dryly before leaving the room.
Elphaba blinked, and Glinda giggled into her glass. “She likes you.”
Elphaba huffed.
The room felt smaller now. Warmer.
Elphaba let her head tilt back against the edge of the bed, her eyes fluttering shut. “I still think you tricked me into coming here.”
Glinda hummed, stretching out beside her on the floor. “Mm, no trickery. Just persuasion.”
Elphaba cracked an eye open. “Same thing.”
Glinda rolled onto her side, studying Elphaba. Then, after a pause:
“I was writing about you, you know.”
Elphaba stilled. “What?”
Glinda flushed, looking away. “My poetry.”
Elphaba turned toward her, really looking now.
Glinda let out a soft laugh, suddenly shy. “I—never mind.”
Elphaba’s heart skipped.
But she didn’t push.
Not yet.
Instead, she simply said, soft and certain: “I’d like to read it sometime.”
And Glinda’s breath hitched. But she nodded. Just once.
And for now, that was enough.
Silence stretched between them, comfortable, but thick with something else.
Glinda shifted, tipping forward onto her knees before suddenly, straddling Elphaba’s lap.
Elphaba’s breath hitched, hands instinctively finding Glinda’s waist.
“Glinda—”
Glinda cut her off with a kiss, soft but insistent, playful but aching. Elphaba groaned softly against her lips, fingers pressing into Glinda’s hips.
“You like me,” Glinda whispered between kisses, teasing, tipsy and warm.
Elphaba exhaled shakily, her pulse hammering. “You’re ridiculous.”
Glinda smirked, dragging her nails lightly against the back of Elphaba’s neck. “And yet, here you are.”
Elphaba let out a sharp breath, tilting her head back against the bed. “I should have said no.”
Glinda hummed, pressing another slow kiss to Elphaba’s jaw. “But you didn’t.”
For a long, breathless moment, they just looked at each other, neither pulling away.
Then, suddenly, Glinda’s expression shifted—nervous, but sure.
“I think I want to tell someone,” she murmured.
Elphaba blinked, stunned. “Tell someone?”
Glinda nodded, her fingers playing lightly at the hem of Elphaba’s sleeve. “About me, about us, you. I think I want to tell my ama.”
Elphaba exhaled, searching her face. “You’re sure?”
Glinda nodded. “I don’t want to hide everything. Not from her.”
Elphaba studied her for a long moment—then squeezed her waist, something fond in her gaze.
“Okay,” she murmured.
Glinda smiled—soft, breathless.
And Elphaba was completely gone for her.