LOTS of feelings
The next night, the group met up at a lounge off-campus—low lights, jazz music humming in the background, and just enough alcohol to loosen inhibitions. Glinda walked in looking gorgeous—her golden curls swept into a perfectly styled updo, a few loose tendrils framing her face just right. She wore a deep red, form-fitting dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, the satin fabric catching the dim light of the lounge with every step. Her heels clicked against the floor with effortless confidence, her makeup soft yet striking—a flawless balance of charm and seduction. She was the perfect image of confidence.
And she made sure Elphaba saw every second of it.
When a girl from one of her classes—a pretty brunette with sharp eyes and a confident smirk—sidled up next to her, Glinda didn’t hesitate. She was seated at the lounge’s sleek marble bar, perched gracefully on the high stool, her legs crossed in a way that made the slit in her dress fall just right, revealing the smooth line of her thigh. The brunette leaned in close, her shoulder nearly brushing Glinda’s as she spoke, her voice low and warm over the hum of the jazz music. Glinda tilted her head, feigning interest, flashing a slow, practiced smile—one she knew could make hearts race. And across the room, she could feel Elphaba watching.
She laughed too easily at her jokes, even though she knew the girl was straight—had casually mentioned a boyfriend in passing during class. It didn't matter. This wasn’t about her. It was about the way Elphaba would see it. The way it would make her feel. And judging by the sharp, fleeting flicker of something in those green eyes, it was working. She touched her arm just enough. She let her lean in just close enough.
Across the room, Elphaba noticed.
She hadn't meant to—hadn't intended to watch Glinda with such sharp, unrelenting focus. But the moment Glinda had walked in, stunning, deliberate, and untouchable, something in Elphaba tightened.
She watched the way Glinda’s fingers ghosted along the brunette’s forearm, the way her lips curled just so at whatever meaningless conversation they were having. It was calculated, every movement designed to be seen, to be felt.
And Elphaba felt it.
Her grip on her glass tightened. It was stupid. She didn’t care. Of course, she didn’t care. Glinda could flirt with whoever she wanted, bat her lashes, toss her curls, play the part of a girl who didn’t spend last night nearly unraveling in front of her roommate.
But it didn’t stop the sharp twist in her stomach. It didn’t stop the way her pulse quickened.
And it sure as hell didn’t stop her from looking.
Her fingers curled into her drink, shoulders stiff, her jaw tight.
Crope, sitting next to her, let out a low whistle. “Whew. Someone’s out for blood tonight.”
Tibbett snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “And by ‘someone,’ I mean you, Elphaba. Your eye’s about to start twitching.”
Boq, on her other side, frowned slightly. “You okay?”
Elphaba scoffed, rolling her shoulders back like she could physically shake off the tension creeping through her body. “I don’t care what she does.”
Crope’s grin widened. “Sure you don’t. And I suppose that’s why you haven’t looked away for the last five minutes?”
Elphaba shot him a glare, but Tibbett leaned in conspiratorially, smirking. “Y’know, she’s not even into that girl. I heard her talking about some boyfriend in class.”
That made Elphaba’s stomach twist even more.
“Oh, that’s just evil,” Crope mused, watching the scene unfold with delight. “She’s not even serious about it—she’s just performing.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, sharp and slow. “I don’t care.”
“You keep saying that,” Tibbett said, smirking. “And yet—”
Glinda felt the moment Elphaba’s eyes locked on her, and for the first time all day—
She smiled.
But the moment was short-lived.
Because Elphaba stood up.
Glinda didn’t expect it—didn’t expect the way Elphaba moved with purpose, cutting through the lounge with slow, calculated steps. She didn’t expect the way the air shifted, how her own pulse stumbled as Elphaba came closer, expression unreadable.
Crope nudged Tibbett, eyes going wide. "Oh, she’s actually doing something—"
"Shut up!" Tibbett hissed, leaning forward like he was watching the most entertaining thing in existence.
Glinda sat taller, fingers tightening around her glass. "Elphie—"
Elphaba’s smirk was lazy, but her eyes? Sharp. Dangerous.
"Having fun?" Elphaba asked, voice smooth as silk, but Glinda caught the slight edge beneath it.
Glinda swallowed. "What are you doing?"
Elphaba leaned in, just close enough that the scent of her—warm, earthy, something like spices and ink—wrapped around Glinda, made it harder to think. Harder to breathe.
"You’re putting on quite the show, my sweet." Elphaba’s voice dropped, just for her. "Should I applaud?"
Glinda refused to let her confidence waver. She straightened her shoulders, eyes narrowing. "And what exactly do you think you’re doing right now?"
Elphaba tilted her head, gaze flicking down to Glinda’s parted lips before slowly—infuriatingly slowly—meeting her eyes again. "What? You wanted my attention, didn’t you?"
Glinda’s breath hitched.
She had been in control of this game. But now—now Elphaba had flipped the board again.
Elphaba leaned in further, her lips brushing the shell of Glinda’s ear, not touching, but close enough that it didn’t matter.
"Is this what you wanted?" she murmured.
Glinda’s entire body burned.
Before she could answer—before she could do anything—Elphaba pulled back, smirk still in place, but there was something satisfied in her expression now.
Then she turned and walked away, back to the table, back to the boys, like nothing had happened at all.
Glinda exhaled sharply, pulse pounding, her skin still tingling with the phantom heat of Elphaba’s breath.
Crope, watching from the sidelines, clutched his chest. "I just saw God."
Tibbett nodded solemnly. "We all did."
Boq, meanwhile, looked deeply confused.
But Glinda? She was furious.
Not because Elphaba had won this round.
But because she wanted her to do it again.
-
Glinda had half a mind to walk, but Crope and Tibbett were horrified at the idea of her ruining her heels, so she had no choice but to sit next to Elphaba in the backseat.
The silence was thick. Charged.
Glinda could still feel every second of what had happened back at the lounge. Could still hear that low, teasing voice in her ear.
She turned her head slightly, staring at Elphaba in the dim light of the car. Her jaw was tight, her hands resting stiffly in her lap like she was trying very hard to ignore Glinda’s presence.
Glinda, tipsy but sharp, suddenly needed to know—
“Would it have mattered?”
Elphaba’s shoulders tensed. "What?"
Glinda swallowed, pulse too fast. "If she wasn’t straight. If I had actually kissed her. Would it have mattered?"
Elphaba’s breath hitched—barely noticeable, but Glinda caught it.
The car rolled to a stop outside their dorm. Perfect timing.
Elphaba turned, eyes dark, jaw clenched. For a second—just a second—Glinda thought she might actually answer.
But then Elphaba pushed the door open, stepping out without a word.
And Glinda was left alone with the question still hanging between them.
-
The dorm was quiet.
For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no bickering, no passive-aggressive remarks, no loud interruptions from Crope or Tibbett. Just a peaceful, too fragile silence that neither girl was willing to break.
Glinda sat curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in an oversized blanket, her golden hair still a mess from sleep. She had barely spoken since waking up, but Elphaba hadn’t either. It was easier that way—for both of them.
Elphaba was at the kitchen counter, making tea. She hadn’t asked if Glinda wanted any. She hadn’t had to.
She placed the mug down on the coffee table, next to where Glinda sat, before settling on the opposite end of the couch with her own cup.
Glinda stared at the tea for a moment, then at Elphaba. "You didn’t have to do that."
Elphaba shrugged, taking a slow sip of her own drink. "You looked like you needed it."
Glinda’s fingers tightened around the blanket. It was too soft. Too uncharted.
Would it have mattered?
The question had haunted her all night, echoing in her mind long after Elphaba had walked away. But now, sitting across from her in the quiet of their dorm, Glinda wasn’t sure she wanted the answer anymore.
The steam from the tea curled into the space between them, thick and unspoken.
They sat there, drinking in silence, the air too still, too charged.
Glinda traced the rim of her mug absentmindedly. "You left me with a question last night."
Elphaba’s fingers twitched against her cup. "You left me with plenty."
Glinda let out a soft, almost humorless laugh, her gaze daring when she met Elphaba’s eyes. "Would it have mattered?"
Elphaba exhaled slowly, setting her mug down, leaning back like she wasn’t affected. "I think you already know."
A shiver ran down Glinda’s spine.
She knew.
She just wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
The space between them felt small, too warm for such a cool morning. They weren’t sitting close, but it didn’t matter. The tension was still there, shifting, changing, evolving into something neither of them had quite figured out yet.
Glinda’s headache was fading, but she had a feeling the weight in her chest wasn’t going anywhere.
For once, she wasn’t in control.
And she wasn’t sure she hated it.