Inconveniently Yours

The Sunday, the group had gathered at their usual brunch spot, and Glinda was in the middle of dramatically recounting her horrific evening.

"I swear to you, I have never met a man more proud of doing absolutely nothing in my life," she declared, stabbing at her waffle with unnecessary force. "He genuinely thought bragging about not having a job was charming."

Crope was delighted, leaning in with a grin. "And you just left? That’s iconic."

"Oh, please tell me you at least let him pay for dinner first," Tibbett added.

Glinda waved a hand. "Of course. I’m not stupid."

Boq snorted. "So, let me get this straight. You suffered through how much of this date before faking an emergency?"

"At least an hour and a half," Glinda said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Brave," Boq said, nodding solemnly. "A true survivor."

Glinda smirked, but then her eyes flickered across the table—landing briefly on Elphaba.

She hadn’t said much, just drinking her coffee and listening while Crope and Tibbett provided all the necessary theatrics. But Glinda noticed the way she was holding her mug a little too tightly, the subtle clench of her jaw when Glinda mentioned Jerrid touching her hand. The way she kept her gaze fixed on her plate whenever Glinda so much as glanced in her direction.

Glinda’s smirk curled into something more amused. Interesting.

Meanwhile, Fiyero was being too quiet.

Glinda turned toward him, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Fiyero raised an eyebrow, his face entirely too innocent. "Nothing."

"No, see, that’s your I know something face. What?"

Fiyero grinned, taking a slow sip of his mimosa. "Nothing, darling. Just enjoying the show. And appreciating how well our mutual breakup story is holding up."

Glinda knew him too well. He was thinking something—something annoying, something about her. And she had a feeling she knew exactly what it was.

The breakup excuse had been an easy one—amicable differences, realizing they were better off as friends. It wasn’t untrue, and it saved her from needing to explain anything deeper. No one had questioned it, not even Pfannee and Shenshen, who had expected drama. But now, sitting across from Fiyero, she could tell he was just waiting for her to slip up.

Elphaba had definitely been a little tense. And now, finally, she spoke.

"Imagine that," Elphaba drawled, setting her mug down with a little more force than necessary. "A man being insufferable. Truly groundbreaking."

Glinda raised a brow, leaning in. "You sound invested."

Elphaba scoffed, fingers tightening around her mug. "Please. Watching you pretend to be interested in some walking trust fund’s terrible opinions is always worth discussing."

Glinda tilted her head, assessing. "You’re awfully chatty about this."

Elphaba exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at her. "I was just hoping for a more entertaining story, that’s all. At least tell me you insulted him before you left."

Glinda smirked, noting the edge in Elphaba’s voice now. "You’re awfully concerned about how I handled Jerrid."

Elphaba shrugged. "I’m concerned about the fact that you went at all. But I suppose someone had to suffer through his nonsense."

Glinda felt the corner of her lips twitch. Oh, this was interesting.

And she wasn’t sure what to do with that realization just yet.

-

That night, the dorm was quiet when Glinda pushed the door open. Too quiet.

Elphaba was there, sitting at the kitchen table, an untouched book open in front of her. But she wasn’t reading. She was staring, unblinking, at the page, her fingers tapping against the tabletop in an erratic rhythm.

Glinda hesitated for a moment before stepping fully inside, closing the door behind her. "Alright, what’s with the face?"

Elphaba scoffed, finally looking up at her. "Nothing. Just fascinated by the life choices of my dear roommate."

Glinda raised an eyebrow, setting her bag down. "I knew you were too interested in my date. What’s your problem?"

Elphaba leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I don’t have a problem. I’m just curious. You and Fiyero were perfectly fine just the other night, and now suddenly you’re letting some other idiot take you out?"

Glinda blinked. "Excuse me?"

Elphaba’s expression flickered for the briefest moment, but then she was scowling again. "You do remember that I live here, don’t you? Thin walls, Glinda. You two weren’t exactly quiet."

Glinda’s stomach twisted—not in embarrassment, but something else entirely. "So what? We broke up."

"Right. You broke up," Elphaba repeated, voice dripping with skepticism. "Funny how that works."

Glinda exhaled, rolling her eyes. "Why do you care?"

Elphaba opened her mouth, then promptly shut it. A muscle in her jaw twitched. "I don’t."

Glinda stepped closer, intrigued now. "You sound like you do."

"I just don’t get you!" Elphaba snapped, standing up abruptly. "You jump from one guy to another like it means something, and yet you sit here acting like none of it matters. What is it you’re even looking for?"

Glinda stared at her, heart pounding. Elphaba was angry. Not just irritated. This wasn’t casual frustration—this was something deeper, something charged.

And then, with quiet intent, Glinda answered, "Maybe I don’t know yet."

Elphaba stilled. Just for a moment. Just long enough for Glinda to see the way her throat bobbed with a swallow.

Glinda tilted her head, watching the realization settle behind Elphaba’s eyes, and something wicked sparked inside her. This was a game now. She knew what Elphaba wanted, could see it in the way she tensed, in the way her gaze dropped to Glinda’s lips before flicking away.

Slowly, she stepped even closer, testing. "But maybe I’d like to find out."

Elphaba’s breath hitched—barely—but it was enough. Enough for Glinda to grin, turning on her heel and heading toward her room, leaving Elphaba standing there, seething.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

-

The next morning, Elphaba was gone before Glinda even woke up.

Not just gone—she had practically vanished, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her presence. Her bed was made with military precision, her books stacked neatly on her desk, and her usual half-drunk cup of tea had been washed and placed back in the cabinet.

It was avoidance. Glaring, blatant avoidance.

And Glinda?

She lived for it.

She had spent so much time avoiding things herself—her feelings, her doubts, her own truth—that it was a novelty to be on the other side of it. To see someone else wrestle with something they didn’t want to name.

And Elphaba? Oh, Elphaba was struggling.

Glinda took her time getting ready for the day, smirking as she imagined all the ways she could poke at this particular wound. It wasn’t mean, necessarily—Elphaba had been horrible to her first, after all. If anything, this was justice.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

-

Elphaba had managed to avoid her all morning, but she had no idea who she was dealing with.

By the time their afternoon class rolled around, Glinda had perfected her plan.

She sat too close at the library table, leaned too far into Elphaba’s space, let her fingers trail just a little too long when she passed her a pen.

"Glinda," Elphaba finally snapped, her entire body rigid with tension. "Do you mind?"

Glinda widened her eyes, feigning innocence. "Mind what?"

Elphaba’s scowl deepened, her eyes flickering to where Glinda’s hand still lingered against her arm.

"You’re doing this on purpose," she accused.

Glinda tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "Doing what on purpose, Elphie?"

The muscle in Elphaba’s jaw twitched. "Don’t call me that."

"Oh, but you let Fiyero call you that," Glinda pouted, tilting her chin up. "Why not me?"

Elphaba exhaled sharply, eyes flashing with frustration. "Because I like him."

Glinda’s smirk widened. "Do you?"

For a brief, delicious moment, Elphaba had no response. Just stared at her, something wild and unreadable in her expression.

Then she abruptly stood, grabbing her books with more force than necessary. "I have to go."

And just like that, she was gone.

Glinda sighed, utterly delighted.

This was going to be so much fun.

By the next day, Glinda upped the stakes.

She started brushing past Elphaba in narrow doorways, letting her fingers graze the bare skin of her arm just a secondlonger than necessary. She let her knee bump against Elphaba’s under the library table, let her voice drop just a little lower, her laughter a little softer when she whispered things close to her ear.

Elphaba was losing it.

She was stiff, avoiding Glinda’s gaze, but Glinda caught the way her fingers twitched whenever she got too close, the way her breath hitched just barely when Glinda leaned in too much.

Elphaba hadn’t said anything yet.

But Glinda could feel it.

She was waiting for something to snap.

-

It was late in the evening, and the common area was dim, both of them in their usual seats. Elphaba was pretending to read, and Glinda was pretending not to watch her.

Glinda stretched, the movement slow and exaggerated, her shirt riding up slightly as she let out a soft sigh. She caught the way Elphaba’s eyes flickered—just for a moment—before they snapped back to her book.

Glinda smirked.

"Elphie," she murmured, her voice laced with something teasing, something knowing.

Elphaba didn’t look up. "I told you not to call me that."

Glinda ignored her, leaning closer, tilting her head just enough that her breath ghosted against Elphaba’s ear. "Are you ever going to admit it?"

Elphaba went still.

For the first time in days, she didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat.

Instead, she turned her head just slightly, her lips barely a breath away from Glinda’s ear, and in the lowest, most maddeningly calm voice, she whispered

"Yes, the second you decide to do something about it."

Glinda froze.

Before she could react—before she could sputter or backtrack or do anything to regain control—Elphaba stood, gathering her things with an excruciating amount of leisure.

She paused just beside Glinda, her voice a low murmur.

"Until then, keep playing, princess."

Then she walked away, completely unfazed, leaving Glinda sitting there, utterly speechless, for the first time in her entire life.