#In which Heather and V try to subtly tease some answers out of each other so they can figure out how to proceed

[quarterfromcanon]

No One’s Really Got It Figured Out Just Yet

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 13 - Tease [3,289 words]

The bridal shower was for everyone but the bachelorette party was just for the Gurl Group. Against her better judgment, Valencia made arrangements at a karaoke bar. Even though the bride-to-be was notoriously off-key, she knew that singing pop hits with her “#squad” was the activity the guest of honor would enjoy most. She, Heather, and Paula could grin and bear it for one night in order to give their girl the special memories she deserved. All good intentions aside, though, the elated screech that tore out of Rebecca when she learned where they were going was enough to leave them all wincing and rubbing their ears.

The four of them opted to share a car for the hour drive to their destination. Rebecca led Paula into the backseat to begin planning song choices. Heather rode in the passenger seat beside Valencia to read directions off the app.

Rebecca skimmed through Googled suggestions and mumbled to herself. She lifted her finger away from the scrollbar, turned sideways, and grabbed Paula’s wrist. “Oh my gosh, wait. ‘Mickey’ would be really cute, right? But it could be like my own little spin on it: ‘Hey, Joshy!’”

Paula’s face went slack with horror. “Good Lord.”

Valencia and Heather rushed to her aid.

“Dude, no.”

“Uh-uh. Unanimous veto.”

Rebecca held up her hands. “All right, I get it. Consider it scrapped. That would alienate the rest of the audience anyway. Plus, Josh won’t even be there to sing it to, so like, what would be the point?”

Everybody relaxed. Paula tilted Rebecca’s phone so they could both see the results. “Here, let Mama take a look at what else you’ve got.”

Rebecca eagerly scooted over and indicated a few additional options she thought might suit the purpose. Crisis averted, Valencia and Heather returned their focus to the road.

“It was really cool of you to put everything together for her,” Heather said in an undertone. “You totally saved her ass stepping up like that.” Her eyes fell on where Rebecca’s face was reflected in the rear-view mirror, wreathed in the pale white glow from her screen. “Also, you can already tell it lifted a big weight off her shoulders. This is, like, the happiest she’s looked in weeks.”

Valencia’s face flushed but she managed a casual shrug. “She’d have done the same for me.”

Heather smiled. “Yeah, but I feel like the result would’ve been some kind of huge, chaotic production.”

“She does love her grand gestures,” Valencia concurred. “There’d have been skywriting or a billboard or something.” 

“Right, and matching outfits.”

“Of course. Custom-made.”

They both chuckled and shook their heads. 

As they reached the next stoplight, Valencia stole a lingering glance at Heather. This was the longest they’d spent in each other’s company since their afternoon of day drinking, and she had yet to suss out her stance regarding the moment that passed between them. Valencia honestly remained uncertain if there had been such a moment at all. Maybe she still needed to get laid after the disastrous attempt at Home Base. Maybe it was the aftereffects of the dream during the Santa Ana winds. All Valencia knew was that what started out as fairly innocent fun ended with fingers and legs tangled together and Heather’s face mere inches from her own. Under the unique circumstances of the day, there was just enough plausible deniability that it could all be in her head, but that was the problem. The breathless pause was stuck in her mind, playing on loop until she could hardly stand it. Every time her thoughts were free to wander, all she could see were Heather’s lips -- parted, pink, perfect; all she could feel was the warmth of Heather’s torso locked between her thighs.

Valencia gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles paled from the pressure. She gulped and stared intently forward, determined not to turn to the side again. It had to stop now. Whatever confused muddle of feelings prompted this uninvited ardor, there had to be some way to drive it back into nonexistence. Yes, she had appreciated Heather’s kindness and care more than usual lately, and yes, her friend had shown her respect and consideration when others did not. Still, that was not reason enough to be thinking of her in any other context than the relationship they already shared.

“You get off here.”

Valencia jumped and blinked rapidly. “Hmm?”

“Our exit is straight ahead.” Heather held out her arm and pointed through the windshield. Her soft skin brushed the back of Valencia’s wrist, making her tremble involuntarily. 

“Oh. Right.” Valencia flicked on her signal. “Thanks.”

When they approached the bar, it appeared as though there may not be a lot of parking spaces left available. Fortunately, there was one near the back of the building, a few strides away from the sidewalk. Valencia pulled into the vacant spot and everyone exited into the night air. A quick push of a button opened the trunk, and Valencia reached inside to withdraw a pale pink sash and a veil attached to a plastic crown.

Rebecca squeaked. “Do I get to wear those?” She covered the bottom of her face with her hands and bounced on her heels. “Put ’em on me, put ’em on me, put ’em on!”

“Okay, okay, hold still.” Valencia’s arms rose and fell with Rebecca’s celebratory hopping until her friend finally contained all that energy. She divided the task of accessorizing by passing the crown off to Paula and then looped the sash over Rebecca’s shoulder.

While Paula secured the veil, Rebecca lovingly traced her fingers over the letters running down the material. “Aww, look, it says BRIDE TO BE with a little heart on it, and it’s so sparkly! I’m gonna cry. You guys are the best.”

Rebecca threw her arms wide and they all closed in for a group hug. 

Heather’s palm rested between Valencia’s shoulder blades. “All right,” Valencia declared as her back went rigid. “Let’s get inside and sign up before all the slots are taken.”

___

First, it was Paula’s turn. She downed half a beer and took the stage. The Gurl Group whooped their support, which turned into a shout of delighted surprise when the opening of It’s Raining Men began to play. What Paula may have lacked in vocal confidence, she more than compensated for with sheer attitude. Rebecca’s response was something akin to a proud relative and she believed it necessary to tell every passing patron that it was her best friend currently commanding the floor.

Paula returned to their table five minutes later to uproarious applause from her three biggest fans. If anything, Rebecca’s enthusiasm only heightened from that point, which worked out just right since she was next after someone from a booth on the other side of the room.

The girls all tensed. Paula had done her level best to steer Rebecca away from catastrophe, but none of them knew for certain what track was ultimately chosen. They found out soon enough.

“Natalie Cole,” Heather acknowledged with a slow nod. “This is gonna get real interesting real quick.”

“At least her claps are synchronized,” Valencia noted optimistically.

Rebecca leaned close to the microphone. “Hey, everyone. How’re you doing?” Her nose scrunched and she beamed. “This is dedicated to the man of my dreams, Joshua Felix Chan, my own everlasting love, without whom I wouldn’t have any of the amazing women in my life who are sitting right over there.” She gestured into the darkness. Paula, Valencia, and Heather gave the crowd uncomfortable waves and nods. “We’ve pried into each other’s secrets, tried to sabotage each other, slept with some of the same men, but come out the other side stronger than ever.” Even through the gloom, Rebecca detected the mortified reactions at her table. She checked the faces of the surrounding strangers. “Too much? Eh, it’s fine. It’s my bachelorette party; I’ll overshare if I want to.”

Mercifully, the long musical intro ended and Rebecca dove into the lyrics. Her performance was almost more like talking than singing, but it was comparatively tolerable to everyone’s ears, considering the options that were turned down on the ride there. 

Paula waited until Rebecca looked their way once more and gave an encouraging thumbs up and nod. “Yay, Cookie!”

Heather gamely swayed in her seat and tapped the heel of her boot against the chair leg. Her shoulder bumped Valencia’s and she smiled. Valencia felt herself mirroring both the expression and the movement. They let their arms make contact with a little more force each time, giggling when the collision nearly threw them both off balance. The crowd copied Rebecca’s clapping and seemed charmed by her sincerity, at the very least. 

“Get ready, ladies, here it comes,” Valencia mumbled as Rebecca approached the last minute of the song.

“Oof.” Paula adjusted her grimace into a cheerful mask. “That was an ambitious key change.”

“That’s a word for it.” Heather’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline.

Her hand found Valencia’s under the table and squeezed. Valencia’s stomach somersaulted, but she clasped just as hard in return, and they both tried very hard to keep their grins from faltering while Rebecca closed out the number.

Rebecca came back to her chair with visible joy shining from every pore. “That might have literally been one of the greatest experiences of my life.” She picked up a napkin and dabbed it across her glistening forehead. “What a rush! And I wasn’t nervous at all.”

“You really have a presence,” Paula complimented with careful word choice.

“They won’t forget you,” Valencia added.

Rebecca’s lower lip protruded. “That is so sweet.” She took a drink and then tapped her palms against her kneecaps. “Who’s next? Heather? What’re you gonna do? No, wai-wai-wait. Don’t tell them. Just tell me. It’ll be fun. Our little secret.”

She leaned to the left with one ear angled expectantly. Heather hesitated but obeyed the nonverbal command. She cupped her hands against the side of Rebecca’s face and spoke quietly. Rebecca’s eyes lit up and she clapped. “Do you need someone to do air harmonica?”

“I don’t really think that’s a thing...”

“Watch this. I’ve got it.” Rebecca plucked up one of their appetizer mozzarella sticks and feigned playing the instrument in question. “It’s good, right?”

“Super convincing.” Heather’s features were neutral but her eyes were amused. “Is this maybe because you wanna get back in front of an audience as soon as possible?”

Rebecca’s shoulders touched her earlobes. She tried to accentuate her freckles with the lifting of her cheekbones. “Maybeee?”

“Uh-huh. Okay, you can come with me, goofball.”

So she did. Heather stopped below the rise and coaxed the microphone down to her. She smoothed the back of her skirt and and sat on the edge of the stage. Rebecca followed suit, breaded snack in hand, and waited through the initial notes with closed eyes and a soulful expression. Heather observed the theatricality with arched eyebrows but did nothing to curb it. Rebecca peeked out, caught hold of Heather’s fingers, and tucked them under the fringe of the skirt in lieu of a pocket. Heather laughed but played along just as the words appeared on the screen behind them.

“Alanis Morissette,” Paula identified in a nostalgic voice. “The early years, still aimless and grungy. My sister’s oldest was really into the album this came from. It was back when cassettes were a thing. God, that feels like forever ago. You were old enough to remember that era, weren’t you?”

Valencia nodded vaguely. Her attention was attuned to one person only. By the time Heather reached the first “baby,” Valencia’s heart throbbed with such intensity in her chest that it left a physical pang in its wake. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she leaned forward until the table pushed into her abdomen.

Heather completed the first chorus and accepted Rebecca’s offered high five. A genuine smile stretched across her face and stayed there. Valencia’s lips curved up to match, albeit in a distracted way while the thudding behind her ribs began to feel like it might somehow choke her.

Rebecca’s promised harmonica solo arrived, and she played the faux mouth organ with spectacular gusto. Heather guffawed and applauded. Her gaze drifted across the room and locked on Valencia. She winked. Valencia coughed as her own saliva hit the back of her throat. She snatched up her cocktail and drank. 

“...maybe later you two could do it.”

Valencia spat the alcohol back into the glass. “What?”

Paula’s brow furrowed. “I said I saw the sign-ups and there are still a couple of openings near the end of the night. If we’re all still going strong, maybe we could divvy them up. Rebecca and I could take one and you and Heather could duet.” She reached over and patted Valencia’s spine. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” Valencia rasped and forced the muscles in her face to relax. “Just went down the wrong way.” Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. Of all the times to use that phrase...

Heather gestured for Rebecca to take it away one last time on the cheese stick harmonica and then they both rose to their feet. They were met with approving exclamations and claps from more tables than just their own, and Rebecca skipped back to where the others sat waiting. 

It was a difficult act to follow, and Valencia’s palms were damp. She polished off the last of her drink while a few public hamming enthusiasts walked onstage. When at last it was her scheduled time, the remaining three women tapped their empty glasses against the table and called out bolstering comments. 

Valencia’s knees knocked as she ascended the stairs. She fixed her ponytail and cleared her throat before approaching the microphone. Her fingers curled around the stand while the music began to play.

“Three little birds sat on my window, and they told me I don’t need to worry...”

She looked at her table of friends with obvious affection. Rebecca’s hand flew to her heart. Paula jokingly murmured, “Tweet, tweet.”

Valencia ducked her head and continued. Heather was nearly motionless. The only sign of agitation was the idle fiddling of her fingertips along the stylized edges of her skirt. She gave away no particular emotions, and yet Valencia found it nearly impossible to stop searching her eyes. On impulse, she opted to decrease the distance between them.

She walked back down the steps and passed through the crowd. Rebecca was thrilled and shouted something about their queen knowing how to work the room. Valencia perched on her recently vacated chair and leaned an elbow against the table’s edge. She hooked a finger around the elastic tie at the back of her head and slid it free, allowing her hair to tumble loose. Rebecca and Paula, more-than-willing to stand in as avid groupies, imitated fangirls and reached to touch Valencia. Her growing confidence was evident in a brief smirk. She brushed their outstretched palms with her own and suppressed a laugh when they both pretended to swoon. 

Heather was still watching with crossed legs and an unreadable stare. Valencia longed to push a little more, anything to unearth some clarity of intention, but there was a fine line between playful sexiness and blatant flirting -- a delicate boundary she was resolute not to cross. For the time being, she settled for grazing her nails across Heather’s shoulder in passing and sashaying back to the stage.

“She’s really good!” Rebecca projected her voice over the audio.

Heather rubbed her tingling shoulder. “Yeah, she is.”

___

More than an hour passed before their next number, a group opportunity they tipped the D.J. extra to provide. Rebecca was practically buzzing with anticipation. She’d spent the majority of the past sixty minutes talking them into and through a Spice Girls chart-topper. Despite Paula’s protestations that the English stars didn’t hold the same sentimental value for her as the other three, she found herself their designated Ginger. Rebecca had laid claim to Scary, namely because she wanted the chance to sing the nonsense syllables Mel B. used to express her relationship desires. Heather was appointed Sporty Spice, for reasons Rebecca asserted were obvious, aesthetically speaking. Since Posh was vocally present mainly in the chorus, Valencia was named Baby for the purpose of the act, although she adamantly refused to let Rebecca put her hair in pigtails. 

Only two microphones were available for use, so they had to employ a buddy system. Paula and Rebecca shared one while Heather and Valencia were handed the other. Valencia’s lungs tightened at the prospect of singing eye-to-eye with the woman who had been distracting her all night. Then Heather moved to stand behind her instead and Valencia instantly broke into a cold sweat. The speakers came to life before she could say anything, and suddenly it was too late to change it. When Heather needed to perform her part of the first verse, she urged Valencia closer by the waist and leaned over Valencia’s shoulder to access the mic. Valencia’s line immediately followed, and she could feel Heather’s breath ghosting across her neck while she sang.

When the vocals went back to Rebecca and Paula, Heather began to move her hips in time with the beat, a dance of which Valencia was painfully aware given their nearness and the firm press of fingers over her hemline. She tried to mimic the motion with a shimmy of her own. They achieved synchronicity and Valencia’s pulse rumbled deep in her eardrums. Their second shared verse crackled with tension. Heather’s other hand was now fanned against the bottom of Valencia’s rib cage. It would have been so easy to make eye contact over the microphone, but Valencia merely angled her gaze in Heather’s direction. Such risky vulnerability required more courage than she could muster, and her nerves were already on edge.  

The song came to an end. Heather relinquished her grip on Valencia’s body as they took their bows and went back to their seats. 

“I think that was officially our showstopper of the evening.” Rebecca reached for her refilled glass. “To the power of friendship!”

They all participated in the toast and downed several mouthfuls of their respective drinks. 

“Great job on the choreography too, by the way.” Rebecca patted the space between Heather and Valencia. “You leaned into the subtle homoeroticism from their music videos, but made it feel authentic rather than performative. Bravo.”

Valencia became very interested in a circle of condensation on the table. Heather was studying her in profile, she could feel it, and yet she could not open herself up to that scrutiny. 

Paula looked back and forth between them. “You two really committed up there, huh?”

Heather nodded and twirled a martini pick around her fingers. “Sometimes, when you’re singing a song, it just really grabs hold of you. It also helps if you and the music go way back. Right, V?”

Valencia’s cheeks burned with another blush and she shifted forward so her hair would cover them. “Yeah, it makes a difference when there’s a personal connection.”

“Exactly.”

Valencia was not certain that her interpretation of Heather’s replies existed free from bias. It strained the confines of coincidence to think none of the recent sparks were apparent to the other half of the equation; however, the possibility that they were perceived and reciprocated was a notion too fateful and frightening to confront.

She turned and lifted her eyes to meet Heather’s. So much of what lived behind those watchful irises remained a mystery, but the unspoken words in them now were as clear as if Heather had whispered in Valencia’s ear:

Your move.