i
It's around half seven when Alessia begins to feel hungry. Perched precariously on the edge of their cheap kitchen counter, she's shivering slightly, from a combination of being too close to the open window and not having enough layers on.
Still, she can't really be bothered to move, neither to make herself some food nor find something warmer to put on. Due to the fact that most of her flatmates are home, gathered either in the open-plan kitchen or cosy living room, and watching Beth Mead attempt to create what she's dramatically dubbed 'The Ultimate Pre-drinks Experience'. Alessia doesn't want to miss it.
"One shot of peach schnapps.." Beth narrates, loud enough for everyone to hear, but predominantly directed to the tall, slim brunette who's leaning against the wall just off Alessia's left. "a splash of that weird blue stuff Ben picked up for me in France, and-" She reaches for the vodka with a flourish.
"If you put that much vodka in, I'm calling an ambulance preemptively." Viv raises her eyebrow as Beth tips in the last of the bottle.
"Don't be silly, Viv. This is going to revolutionise our nights out!"
Alessia chuckles softly from her perch, but it’s Viv’s quiet smirk that draws Beth’s attention. She narrows her eyes playfully. "You’re just jealous you didn’t come up with it."
"Yes," Viv deadpans, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I’ve always dreamed of poisoning my friends with fluorescent blue liquid. How did you know?"
Beth sticks her tongue out, but Viv doesn’t miss the way the blonde's gaze lingers on her, like she’s waiting for another quip. It’s always like this - Beth seeking her out, prodding her with bubbly energy until she breaks.
"Fine," Beth eventually declares, pouring the concoction into mismatched shot glasses and sliding one toward Viv. "Since you’re so skeptical, you can be the first to try it."
"Absolutely not." Viv doesn’t even blink, her voice so dry it takes a second for Beth to register the joke.
"Aw, come on!" Beth leans in, grinning up at her. "Don’t be boring, Viv."
But, thankfully for Viv, the sound of the front door unlocking distracts Beth from the presumable next step of pouring said shot down the Dutch woman's throat.
Leah walks in the hall, gym bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, and is joined not long after by Lauren who's fresh from an evening lecture. Her presence shifts the energy immediately, her confident stride and easy grin as magnetic as ever. Alessia watches as she dumps her bag on the kitchen table with characteristic disregard for their house rules about gym gear, but before anyone can comment, Leah's already moving.
She crosses to where Alessia is, by the kitchen counter, draping her arms over her shoulders from behind with the easy confidence of someone who knows their touch is welcome. "Hey," she murmurs, close to Alessia's ear. The greeting is soft, intimate, and reserved just for her.
Alessia feels her cheeks warm slightly, even as she leans back into the familiar embrace and replies with a little smile. Leah's head tilts to the side as she takes in the scene in front of her, with a playful smirk already settled on her lips, but her fingers are gentle as they reach up to fix the strap of Alessia's tank top that's slipped down her shoulder.
"That's a concerning shade of green." She nods to the glass Beth's still holding, her tone dry, but slightly amused.
Alessia shifts slightly in Leah's arms, but doesn't move away. "I think it's better if we don't know the details."
It's strange, really – Leah is famously anti-touch with everyone else, and yet gravitates towards Alessia. It's something Beth frequently comments on, usually with waggling eyebrows that never fail to make Alessia blush.
"It's called having standards," Leah'd say whenever anyone pointed it out, usually with her lazy, signature smirk on her lips. She delivers the line now, right on cue, as Beth gives them her usual knowing look. "I don't let just anyone in my space."
The implication that Alessia is different - special - hangs in the air, unaddressed but unmistakable.
"Surely Viv's shown you some horrifying images of what happens to people with alcohol poisoning, Beth?" Lauren cuts in, without looking up from the papers she's shuffling.
Viv scoffs, though there's unmistakable fondness in it. "She refuses to look."
"Sounds like you just haven't tried hard enough, Vivi." Leah shares a grin with Viv.
Beth waves her hands dramatically. "Enough talk. Who's going to be my taste tester? Hempo?"
Lauren widens her eyes. "No way. I think I'd die!"
"Coward," Beth says, cheerfully. "Vivi?"
"I've seen what that stuff does to liver cells."
"Leah?"
"Not a chance in hell."
"Alessia?" Beth turns to her with pleading eyes. "My sweet, kind, adventurous friend?"
"Don't you dare," Leah says immediately, moving slightly as if to shield Alessia from Beth's creation. “Abuse her kindness, why don’t you?”
"Fine," Beth sighs dramatically, "I'll drink it myself. But when I'm a famous actress, this will be my signature cocktail, and you'll all be sorry you missed out."
"We'll manage somehow," Leah deadpans, then turns back to Alessia, completely ignoring Beth's coughing and spluttering, Lauren and Viv's teasing giggles. "You eaten yet?"
The casual question shouldn't make her stomach flip, but it does. "Not yet. I was waiting for you."
"I'm thinking pasta," Leah says softly, tilting her head round Alessia's shoulder, so that the younger girl can feel her breath against her shoulder. "You in?"
"Always," Alessia replies, ignoring Beth's exaggerated gagging noise in the background.
They move around the kitchen with practiced ease, a dance they've perfected over months of shared meals. Alessia automatically hands Leah the wooden spoon before she can even ask for it, and Leah catches it with a grin that makes Alessia's stomach flip.
"Remember the first time you tried to help me cook?" Alessia asks, hiding her smile as she adds garlic to the pan. She brings it up only because she love the expression that contorts Leah's face when she does.
"You mean when I almost set the kitchen on fire trying to boil water?" Leah leans against the counter, close enough that her arm brushes Alessia's. "In my defence, the stove was clearly defective."
"The stove was fine. You were just distracted by your phone."
"I was googling cooking terms!" Leah protests, but her hand finds its way to Alessia's waist, thumb absently stroking over her hip bone. It's so natural now that neither of them seems to notice. "Not my fault you use words like 'blanch' and expect me to actually know what they mean."
"Maybe you just can't admit you're actually kinda bad at something," Beth chimes in, now mixing what appears to be her third experimental cocktail of the evening. At least this one is a more natural shade of purple.
As Leah opens her mouth to retort, Alessia turns the heat down on the pasta sauce and leans against the nearest counter, trying to hide her smile as Beth and Leah begin bickering, Viv sighs exasperatedly, and Lauren slips on a pair of AirPods and gets on with her construction. Though it's all good-natured - Alessia can't think of a time any of them have had a proper falling-out.
Which is what she loves about living here. When she'd first moved in, she'd been terrified of living with strangers. Her anxiety had convinced her she'd be the odd one out, the quiet one no one really wanted around. Instead, she'd found this: a home, a family of sorts, and Leah.
Especially Leah.
"Earth to Lessi," Leah's voice cuts through her thoughts, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of her shoulders. "Your sauce's about to boil over."
"Shit!" Alessia darts forward to adjust the heat, grateful for the excuse to hide her flushed cheeks. The others all laugh.
"What would you do without me?" Leah lets out an endearingly low chuckle.
"Probably cook faster," Alessia retorts, but there's no heat in it.
After the sauce is bubbling gently again, and Viv's decided to relieve Beth of her misery, look up from her thick medical textbook and actually talk to the woman, Alessia feels Leah step up beside her again, close enough that their arms brush.
"You okay?" she asks quietly, just for Alessia to hear. This is Leah all over - she'll tease her forever, but not when she thinks something might be actually wrong. "You seemed far away for a minute there."
"I'm fine," Alessia assures her, managing a smile that felt only slightly wobbly. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit," Leah teases, but her eyes are soft with concern. It was that softness that always undid Alessia – the way Leah could go from confident swagger to gentle concern in the space of a heartbeat, and only ever for her.
"Some of us have to do the thinking around here," Alessia shoots back, falling into their familiar pattern of banter. "God knows you don't."
"Excuse you, I think plenty. Just yesterday I was thinking about how unfair it is that you're such a good cook when you're already good at everything else."
The compliment makes Alessia's chest tighten in a way she doesn't want to examine too closely. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she says instead, proud of how steady her voice was. "But you're still doing dishes."
"Worth it," Leah grins, and Alessia has to look away before she says something stupid in response to it.
The evening settles into its usual rhythm after that. They eat around their too-small kitchen table, elbows bumping and conversations overlapping. Beth and Viv bicker about their practical lessons, Viv deliberately recounting the most horrifying dissections she's ever done just to make Beth squeal, and Lauren tells anyone who'll listen about her upcoming essay on the Renaissance that she's supposed to have already finished.
"Can you read over my introduction again, Less?" She eventually asks, twirling round the spaghetti on her fork with a little frown. "You're so good at knowing what they want me to do."
Alessia smiles. "Of course."
"Don't overwhelm her," Leah says, a protective note in her voice. "I've already told her off for editing more essays than she has friends."
Alessia nudges her playfully in the side, but turns back to Lauren with a reassuring smile. "It's fine. I like helping you, Laur. And the Renaissance is actually interesting, unlike Leah's media assignments."
"Wow," Leah presses a hand to her chest in mock offense. "After I've spent months trying to explain Bandura and Gerbner to you? The betrayal."
...
They clear up their plates, Beth goes to her room to get ready to go out, and Alessia begins carefully loading the dishwasher.
The familiarity of it all makes her chest ache. This is what scares her most lately - not the way Leah touches her, or even the way her own heart races when she does, but how natural it's become. How easily they've fallen into these patterns, these moments where they move around each other like they've been doing it for years instead of months.
She places another plate in the dishwasher, trying to ignore the way her hands shake slightly. Behind her, she can hear Lauren humming as she opens another bag of Lego, and Viv's quiet voice as she reads something out loud, likely a complicated Latin term. Normal sounds. Comfortable sounds. And yet lately, they've started to feel like background noise to the constant buzz of her thoughts about Leah.
It's not just the physical closeness, though that's part of it. It's the way Leah seems to read her mind sometimes, anticipating her needs before she can voice them. The way she'll catch Leah watching her with an expression she can't quite decipher. The way everyone seems to expect them to be together, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
But what if it isn't? What if she's reading too much into it all? Leah's just naturally confident, after all. Maybe this is just how she is with close friends, and Alessia's the only one making it into something more. The thought makes her stomach twist uncomfortably.
Alessia's always been good at overthinking things - it's practically her superpower at this point - but lately, it's been getting worse. Every touch, every look, every casual comment seems loaded with meaning she's afraid to interpret. And the worst part is, she can't talk to anyone about it. Not Beth, who'd probably just tell her to "go for it" without understanding the complexities. Not Lauren, who means well but tends to analyze everything like it's one of her Renaissance paintings. And certainly not Viv, who seems to share knowing looks with Leah that Alessia can't decode.
But most, of all, definitely not Leah herself. Because what would she even say? "Hey, I know you're naturally flirty and confident, and you've made it clear you don't do physical affection with anyone else, but I can't tell if that means something or if I'm just special in a friend way"? The thought of it already makes her want to be sick.
Besides, she's seen what happens when feelings complicate friendships. Her friend group from first year had imploded spectacularly when two of them had tried dating. She can't risk that happening here, not when this flat feels more like home than anywhere else has in years.
She places the last plate in the dishwasher with perhaps more force than necessary, earning a concerned look from Lauren. But before anyone can comment, she feels a familiar presence behind her.
"You're thinking too loud again," Leah whispers, her breath warm against Alessia's ear as she appears beside her, seemingly out of nowhere, but Leah's usually not too far when Alessia's around, and vice-versa.
Alessia might have made a joke about how she's plotting to kill her best friend beside her for not following through with her promise to do the dishes, but she doesn't. She can't.
"Sorry," Alessia mumbles, closing the dishwasher.
"Don't apologise. Just..." Leah pauses, her cool, grey-blue eyes running over Alessia's for a couple of seconds, "let me in on whatever’s going on up there,” Leah finishes softly, her voice dropping into a tone Alessia recognises as reserved just for her.
Alessia hesitates, her fingers brushing against the edge of the counter. “I don't know." She hates how small her voice sounds.
"We need to go get ready, don't we?"
Something flickers across Leah's face – hurt, maybe, or disappointment – before her usual confident smile settles again. "Right," she says, turning on her heel. "Come get me when you know what you're wearing."
Alessia watches her go, feeling the familiar twist of anxiety in her stomach. She knows she'll hurt Leah by shutting her out, knows that beneath all that confidence and cool detachment, Leah hates being pushed away. But what else can she do?
She makes her way to her room, trying to focus on the practical task of getting ready rather than replaying every moment of their interaction in her head. But as she stands in front of her wardrobe, all she can think about is Leah's hurt.
And it's been happening more recently. Wobbles. Of course, their close friendship is still close. Comfortable. But Alessia can't help thinking that it's only like that because Leah is forcing herself not to interrogate Alessia.
A knock at her door makes her jump. "Lessi?" It's Beth. "Can I borrow your black top? The one with the..."
She trails off as she takes in Alessia's expression. "Oh, honey. What happened?"
"Nothing," Alessia says quickly, rummaging through her drawer for the top Beth wants, and then chucking it toward her. "Here you go."
Beth opens her mouth to say something more, but Alessia shuts the door before she can. And because she's not feeling it, at all, she pulls on a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt, before making her way towards Leah's room.
The door is opened a second after she knocks.
"You're not seriously wearing that." Leah looks her up and down for a couple of seconds. The older blonde is already dressed for their night out, in ripped black jeans and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to show her forearms.
"What's wrong with it?" Alessia replies, trying to keep the defensive note out of her voice.
"Nothing's wrong with it," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "It's just very... you."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Never," Leah's expression softens. "But we're going to Vinyl tonight, not the library. Come on." She grabs Alessia's hand, ignoring her protests as she pulls her into her bedroom. "Let me dress you."
Alessia's stomach does a familiar flip at the contact, at the way Leah's fingers interlace with hers so naturally. "I can dress myself," she mutters, but allows herself to be led anyway. She won't deny her best friend, obsessed with fashion, another chance at making her over.
"Clearly not," Leah teases, releasing her hand to dive into her wardrobe. "You're gorgeous, Lessi. You should show it off sometimes."
The casual compliment makes Alessia's cheeks warm. She sits on Leah's bed, surrounded by the familiar scent of her perfume, and tries not to think about how many times she'd ended up here after late-night conversations that stretched until dawn. "Not all of us can pull off your level of confidence."
"Fake it 'til you make it, baby." Leah emerges with a silky black top that Alessia's admired on her before. "Here. Keep the jeans, they make your legs look amazing, but wear this instead."
From downstairs comes the sound of music starting up, followed by Lauren's voice shouting, "Pre-drinks in fifteen minutes! If you're not ready, you're doing shots!"
"God save us," Alessia mutters, taking the top from Leah. "Last time Hempo made the drinks, Viv nearly called herself an ambulance."
"At least we don't have to drink Beth's." Leah grins. "And Viv's a lightweight. Remember when she tried to diagnose herself with alcohol poisoning after three cocktails?"
"I remember you carrying her up the stairs while she listed every bone in the human body."
"In alphabetical order," Leah adds, turning to give Alessia privacy to change. It's a courtesy that somehow feels more intimate than if she'd watched. "Though she got stuck on the metacarpals and started crying."
Alessia quickly changes tops, trying not to focus on the fact that she's wearing something that usually sits against Leah's skin. "Okay," she says, quietly. "How do I look?"
Leah turns back, and for a moment something flashes across her face that Alessia can't quite read. Then her signature smile returns. "Perfect. Come on, let's go make sure Lauren isn't trying to poison anyone."
She holds out her hand, and Alessia takes it.
...
Lauren is indeed mixing cocktails, Beth having been banned by Viv, and has practically a good and evil angel on each shoulder as she does it.
"That's way too much vodka," Viv raises her eyebrow.
"No, not nearly enough!" Beth exclaims.
“Beth,” Leah calls out, shaking her head, “stop trying to corrupt her.”
“Corrupt? Me?” Beth gasps, putting a hand to her chest in mock offence. “I’m simply encouraging creativity.”
“You’re going to make her kill us,” Viv mutters, snatching the vodka bottle away from Lauren before she can add another splash. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
“Nice things are overrated,” Beth declares, but she steps back, allowing Viv to take over. “Speaking of, Leah, where’s your drink? Don’t tell me you’re skipping out.”
“I’m pacing myself,” Leah replies smoothly, giving Alessia’s hand a subtle squeeze before letting go. “Someone has to make sure you don’t end up passed out on the bathroom floor again.”
“That was one time!” Beth protests, but her flushed cheeks betray her embarrassment.
“And yet, it’s a memory that haunts us all,” Lauren quips, her focus still on carefully layering grenadine and orange juice in a glass. She steps back, admiring her work like an artist unveiling a masterpiece. “See? This is how you make a cocktail.”
Beth eyes the drink skeptically. “It’s missing flair.”
“It’s missing vodka,” Viv says dryly, earning a laugh from Lauren.
Alessia's handed a glass of something fruity and non-threatening Viv's made for her, and she drinks it quickly, keeping one eye on the clock. If they don't leave soon, they probably won't end up going out at all.
"Group photo before we go!" Beth announces, already pulling out her phone. "Everybody squish!"
They arrange themselves against the kitchen counter, Viv rolling her eyes but complying. Alessia finds herself pressed between Leah and Lauren, trying not to focus on the way Leah's arm settles around her waist.
"Say 'Beth's drinks should be illegal!'" Lauren calls.
The resulting photo captures them mid-laugh: Beth pulling a face, Viv looking fondly exasperated, Lauren grinning widely, and Alessia... Alessia looking up at Leah, who's looking right back at her.
But before they can spend any time looking properly at it, they're bundled into the taxi for the short journey to Vinyl, the nearest student club to their flat.
...
It's already packed by the time they arrive, as it usually is on a Friday night. Alessia feels her anxiety spike at the sight of the packed dance floor, but then Leah's there almost immediately, one of her hands settling on the small of Alessia's back. It's almost as if she had read Alessia's mind. And knowing Leah, she probably had.
"I've got you," the blonde murmurs, close to Alessia's ear, her breath warm against her skin. "Just stay close."
As if Alessia could do anything else.
She lets Leah guide her through the press of bodies, noting how people seem to naturally part for the tall blonde. They find a relatively quiet corner, and Leah positions herself between Alessia and the crowd without making it obvious that's what she's doing. It's so characteristic of her - this casual protectiveness that she'd probably deny if anyone pointed it out.
Alessia watches as Beth immediately bounces off to the bar, Viv trailing after her with the long-suffering expression of someone who knows they'll end up carrying their friend home later. Lauren's already scanning the crowd, probably looking for her coursemates she'd mentioned might be here.
"What do you want to drink?" Leah asks, her voice cutting through the noise with practiced ease. She's still close, one hand resting protectively on Alessia's waist, and Alessia tries not to lean into the touch too obviously.
"Just a vodka lemonade," she says, already reaching for her purse, but Leah waves her off.
"I've got it. Don't move, yeah?"
As if Alessia would want to go anywhere else. She watches as Leah makes her way to the bar, admiring how effortlessly she parts the crowd. It's not just her height – though that helps – but something in the way she carries herself, like she knows exactly who she is and what she wants. Alessia's always envied that about her.
The bartender serves Leah almost immediately, despite the crowd of people waiting. Alessia's seen it happen countless times before; something about Leah just draws people in, makes them want to please her. She's watching a girl with perfect makeup try to catch Leah's attention when Beth appears at her side, making her jump.
"You're staring again," Beth says, taking a sip of something that's definitely too strong to be just vodka and coke.
"I'm not staring," Alessia protests weakly. "I'm just... making sure she doesn't need help carrying the drinks."
Beth snorts. "Right. Because Leah 'I can carry all the shopping bags in one trip' Williamson needs help carrying two drinks."
"Shut up," Alessia mutters, but there's no heat in it. She knows Beth means well, even if her methods of showing it sometimes involve pointed comments and knowing looks.
"All I'm saying is–" Beth starts, but she's cut off by Leah's return.
"What are you saying?" Leah asks, handing Alessia her drink.
"Just that Lauren's already found her tutorial group," Beth covers smoothly, gesturing to where their friend is indeed surrounded by a small group of art history students. "Ten quid says she ends up giving an impromptu lecture on Michelangelo before the night's over."
"No bet," Leah laughs. "Remember last time? She cornered that poor guy at the smoking area and wouldn't let him leave until she'd explained the entire history of the Sistine Chapel."
The memory makes Alessia smile. "He seemed genuinely interested, though."
"He seemed genuinely terrified," Beth corrects. "Though that might have been because Viv kept glaring at him. Speaking of..." She trails off, looking over Alessia's shoulder with raised eyebrows.
Alessia turns to see Viv approaching with a determined expression. She slides into the booth beside them, her eyes downcast on her drink.
"Anyone willing to try and find the toilets with me?"
Beth scoffs. "We've been here millions of times, Viv, how do you not.. " she trails off, narrowing her eyes. "Hang on, are you drunk?"
Viv shakes her head, but Beth's already begun squealing in delight. She pulls Viv to her feet, and leads her away from their booth and directly onto the dance floor.
Which leaves Alessia alone with Leah. Again. Not that she's complaining – being alone with Leah is simultaneously her favourite and most dreaded situation these days. It's also what seems to happen most often.
But despite them being alone, Alessia can barely hear the sound of her own breathing. There are a lot of people around, and the music is already loud enough. She begins to pick, uncontrollably, at the wooden table with her nails, peeling off little wood chips.
"Want to find somewhere else to sit?" Leah cuts in, nodding towards a recently vacated booth. Without waiting for an answer, she takes Alessia's hand and leads her over, their fingers fitting together perfectly.
The booth is sticky with spilled drinks, but it's quieter than their previous spot, tucked away from the worst of the crowd. Leah slides in first, and Alessia follows, trying to ignore how close they have to sit to fit comfortably.
"Better?" Leah asks, and Alessia knows she's not just talking about the seating arrangement. Leah's always been good at reading her moods, at knowing when the noise and the crowd get too much.
"Yeah," Alessia nods, taking a sip of her drink. "Thanks."
"Always," Leah says simply, and something in her tone makes Alessia look up at her. The club's lighting catches in her hair, turning it almost silver, and her eyes are soft in that way they only ever are when she's looking at Alessia.
The moment stretches between them, heavy with something Alessia's afraid to name. Then someone bumps their table, making their drinks slosh, and the spell breaks.
"So," Leah says, clearing her throat. "Want to tell me what's been bothering you all evening?"
"Just tired," she says. "And worried about Lauren's essay. I don't think she's going to finish it in time."
Leah gives her a look that says she knows that's not the whole truth, but she doesn't push. She never does, and somehow that makes it worse.
"Lauren will be fine," she says instead. "She always is. And if she's not, she knows she can count on you to help her through it."
"Like you all apparently count on me to proofread everything," Alessia jokes weakly.
"Hey, some of us are just blessed with other talents." Leah grins, that cocky smile that usually precedes her saying something outrageous. "I mean, I can't cook to save my life, but I make up for it in other ways."
"Oh yeah?" Alessia raises an eyebrow, falling into their familiar pattern of banter. "Like what?"
Leah sticks out her tongue. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
...
It's nearing 2am by the time they finally stumble out of the club. Beth's singing drunkenly at the top of her lungs, Viv's shepherding them all towards the taxi rank, and Lauren is rattling on 'the proper interpretation of Botticelli's Primavera' as an allegory for neo-Platonic love and the revival of ancient philosophy under the Medici family, as if any of them know what that means.
The night air is cool on Alessia's flushed skin, and she shivers slightly.
Without a word, Leah shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over Alessia's shoulders. It's such a simple gesture, but it makes Alessia's heart ache with want.
"You'll be cold," she protests weakly.
"I run hot," Leah shrugs, but Alessia notices the goosebumps on her arms.
Their taxi home is quieter than the journey out, everyone worn out from dancing. Beth has her head on Viv's shoulder, mumbling something about starting a theatre company.
Alessia finds herself drifting off against Leah's shoulder, comfortable despite the cramped backseat. Just before sleep takes her completely, she feels Leah press a soft kiss to the top of her head.
"Sweet dreams, Lessi," she thinks she hears Leah whisper, but she's too far gone to be sure.
She wakes briefly when they reach home, Leah gently guiding her up the stairs while Viv deals with a very philosophical drunk Beth ("But what if we're all just characters in someone else's story?"). The last thing she remembers is Leah helping her into bed, carefully removing her shoes.
"Stay?" Alessia murmurs, caught in that honest space between drunk and sleeping.
There's a pause, long enough that Alessia's anxiety starts to bubble up. Which is weird, as it's not like they don't do this. Sharing a bed, she means. There have been countless nights spent in each others' beds - usually Leah's, she has a tv in her room - after having binged a tv show for longer than either of them can stay awake.
Then the bed dips beside her, and Leah's arm wraps around her waist with such natural ease that Alessia's heart aches. She feels Leah shift behind her, arranging herself so they fit together perfectly, like they've done this a thousand times.
"Always," Leah whispers, and there's something in her voice that makes Alessia's breath catch. She feels Leah's heart racing against her back, matching the rhythm of her own, and wonders if Leah can feel it too - this thing between them that's becoming harder to ignore.
Leah's thumb traces absent patterns on her hip, the same way she does when they're cooking or watching TV or just existing in the same space. It's these moments that confuse Alessia the most - how something can feel so natural and so terrifying at the same time.
In the morning, she'd blame the alcohol for her boldness, for the way she'd melted into Leah's embrace. She'd pretend not to notice Beth's knowing looks at breakfast, or Viv's careful observation, or Lauren's gentle smile. She'd go back to pretending she wasn't falling for her best friend, and Leah would go back to pretending she hadn't noticed.