#blythe does not. like formal clothing.

[thedolsideblog]

theres??.? 200 of you?????? HOW?.?.?.?

bonus :

[ehbunnehsblog]

So someone made this post I thought was really cool and I wanted to answer it the person who made the post goes by @buh-beep so please go give that post a like and follow them with all that said here are the questions

1. What is the oldest doll you own?

Probably my Beautiful Crissy doll from 1968 although that may not be the date for that exact doll she is pretty old. She was made by the company ideal.

2. What is the doll you got most recently?

My Bratz Collecters Yasmin from 2018 by MGA. When I lived with my mom she bought her for me I think she gave me a card and we got it. I don't have her or any of these dolls anymore since I don't live with my mother for personal reasons.

3. Favorite Type of Doll?

Hands down Bratz. They have been my absolute fave since I was a little girl and i still love them their fashion, makeup just everything really is iconic and I really believe that they might have the same impact as Barbie once I get older. Now if we talk about favorite lines? That will have to be for another time.

4. Least Favorite Type of Doll?

Pinkie Cooper. It's cute I had one but I was just not interested in the dolls sadly I definitely think it was an interesting idea though and its probably perfect for some people I just never knew where she would fit in with my other dolls. Also when I saw my cousin and his ex they had stuff for me and for some reason I could only take two things home and my mom sorta had me take her home when I could have had a Hannah Montana doll so rip :p

5. How many dolls do you own?

Zero now rip but honestly idk. I had mostly Bratz and sorta collected but now I might genuinely try to collect them.

6. What is a doll you had and wish you still did?

Tan Bratz Passion 4 Fashion Cloe. I still really wish I kept her but I was going through this dumb phase where I just stopped caring about my dolls and we had this science project in school and I did mine on hair dye and dyed her hair using some fruit or something and gave her away. If anyone knows where I can get her (hopefully for cheap) please tell me I really loved her she was also one of my friends absolute favorites.

7. What does your wish list look like?

A lotta Bratz mostly but that would be a very long list so to save you the details two of the series I want are the Tokyo a Gogo dolls, Formal Funk and Flashback Fever.

8. Prettiest Doll you Own?

Honestly have no clue all of them are gorgeous but I think one of my prettiest is definitely Rock Angelz Sasha I would love to own more Sasha dolls shes so gorgeous.

9. Ugliest Doll you own but love anyways?

I don't think I own any ugly ones really just ones that had messed up hair so I don't really have anything to add here. Actually hmm maybe my first edition Cameron and Dylan Bratz dolls they are still cool though.

10. Cutest Doll you own?

Either my Barbie Peek a Boos or my Mindy Mint Chocolate Chip Yummyland doll. I love Bratz but I really wish I saw more cutesy but fashionable dolls I believe they should bring back Yummyland dolls they smell so dang good and because kids love slim maybe they could add a small bottle (in a shape of a drink) that smells nice too? Idk lol.

11. Biggest Doll you own?

A Barbie doll that is I believe 28" in size after that I would say my Beautiful Crissy Doll and than my Yummyland doll.

12. Smallest doll you own?

All of my Barbie Peekaboos and Polly Pockets. Since Polly came back I think Mattel has the perfect chance to bring back Barbie Peek a Boos. They are pretty small so I kept them in a basket I am used to the size of Bratz I find them easier to hold over Barbie Peek a Boos or Polly's.

13. What doll in your collection is worth most?

Hmm probably Beautiful Crissy tbh I wanted her because when i was in grade 8 i watched these old vintage commercials on YouTube and i saw her and i just thought she was one of the most gorgeous dolls. I don't have her now because again shes at my moms but I don't think I could sell her shes just really cute and I think dolls from that time and older are special and tell a story and show a different time.

14. Doll you will never buy and why?

Lamilly and American Girls. I know these dolls especially American Girls are very popular for a lot of people but I am not really into dolls that are supposed to be like me I like fashion dolls mostly or really cutesy dolls. I think American Dolls are pretty iconic in their own way but I just can't see me owning one and for Lamilly same deal I feel like its trying to put down other dolls and make Lamilly seem superior and I just don't dig it. I don't like Barbie's a whole lot but I dislike like Lamilly I think it's a good message but it just feels meh? Idk other dolls I will never own are Blythe's I have this thing with dolls with eyes like that and I think it would probably spook me a bit.

15. Strangest doll you own?

Pinkie Cooper hands down. Again she just doesn't fit anywhere and shes so odd and really stands out from the others not that that's always a bad thing but as someone who is mostly into Bratz, Monster High and Ever After High she just doesn't go anywhere although she would probably fit in maybe with the EAH dolls. Another is probably the big Barbie like I didn't want her I just got her as a Christmas present one year and yeah that's that.

16. Biggest Doll Related Regret?

Giving away that Cloe doll I will always regret that also almost wanting to sell my Bratz and not bringing my dolls with me when I left my moms and went to my dads. Also I just wanna say my dad is the coolest and one day we had a nice convo about toys and stuff it was pretty rad.

17. What's the most important aspect of a doll in your opinion?

I just want to say I absolutely love this question this is the main reason why I wanted to make this post. I believe the most important aspect is if the owner finds joy in that doll because if you don't we wouldn't have so many people collecting dolls and dolls wouldn't be sold. I think dolls are very important and can build up good skills. Another important aspect is if you can pose the doll and depending on if it's a fashion dolls is if it has good clothes and good fabric all of these are so important but as long as people find joy that's the most important.

18. What's your doll related pet peeve

People are gonna hate this and I apologize but I find it difficult to watch or look at people changing the dolls like not in clothes changing but repaints it's cool and some of them are absolutely gorgeous but sometimes I have a bit of a pet peeve of them mostly because I am so worried that I will never find those dolls because people use them and repaint them. Their aren't many Bratz repaints though so I don't get bothered too much and when they do repaints they make the faces so pretty and I would love for MGA to use some of the screenings some of these people use because they look so good.

19. When did you start collecting dolls?

This might be an odd opinion but I think that anyone can be a doll collector even if they don't mean to be like for me I don't call myself a doll collector but I sorta am? Even though I never meant to be but now I do want to collect but it started with Bratz when I was young but now I want to take it a bit more seriously.

20. Have any doll related stories?

Well I never first fought anyone I was way too young lol but I do have two good stories number 1 is on Christmas a few years back my grandparents before they both passed bought me a Holiday Yasmin doll from 2007 don't know how they found it but they did and I loved that doll but again at my moms rip another one is one Christmas I got two of the same Bratz Cade dolls and for the longest time I thought it was Dylan because the doll looked exactly like Dylan does in the movies and shows lol! I might go into more stories on my dolls because there are a few that I really like.

With all of these questions answered I will once again ask people who see this to go like and follow @buh-beep who made the original post. This was intended for doll collectors I believe personally I don't call myself a collector but as someone who loves dolls I thought this would be fun and it really was if anyone wants to this I suggest it. Its really fun and I like sharing this stuff with you guys.

☆With all that said I hope you liked this post. Please give me a follow i post a lot of stuff like this☆

[crowniecalisa]

Between Dust and Books (1)

A/N:

Hello everyone. Since I am totally addicted to the Netflix series Anne With An E I am thinking about writing a fanfiction about it. And here it is. The whole story is fictitious, I only used the names of the characters and some of their character traits. So, the storyline is quite different from the one in the series e.g. it is taking place in the present time. I am not British or American (I am from Germany). So please forgive me if there are some spelling or grammatical mistakes in it. I tried my best. I hope that you’ll enjoy my story and I appreciate you reading it! Thank you ♥

Summary:

Prince Edward Island 2020

A good graduation, a successful college entrance exam and marrying a rich man are only three things that Anne’s mother wants for her daughter. But Anne has other things in mind. She lives in a world of books and tries to avoid reality with astuteness and courage. But the move to Avonlea changes everything. Anne starts to work at Mr. Blythe’s library after school and explores a dark secret about the hotel where Anne and her mum are staying at. Not only her mind is turned upside down, her heart is too. Blame it on Mr. Blythe.

Word count: 1,042

⇝ Masterlist ッ

The first or the one in which I met Gilbert Blythe for the first time

Avonlea is hardly the town to which you end up to voluntarily. Mum and me neither. Strange figures frolic on the streets as we slowly crawl past them in our Ford. Most of the houses are painted uniformly white and exude such cold that you get the feeling of not being welcome at all. The blue welcome sign that we passed about a kilometre ago didn't change that. The incessant rain drums on our car roof in an uneven rhythm and flushes out any spark of friendliness from this town. I would like to tap Mum and persuade her to get out of here immediately. I'm not comfortable with it. But I know we have no choice. Since Dad's death a few weeks ago, we've been left with nothing. We can't go back to our old home, because every single object, every strip of wallpaper and every scratch on the floor remind us of him. Mum submitted her notice to the hospital last week. And now we don't have any more money to pay the cost of our old home.

„Idiot! Watch where you're going.” Mum curses and pulls me out of my sad thoughts. I follow her angry look and recognize an elderly gentleman who is dragging himself across the street clawed at a cane. I ask if one of us should get out for help, but she waves it off. She hates this strange town with its eerie inhabitants as much as I do.

The man just arrives across the street when Mum hits the accelerator and we dash off at full speed. But we cannot keep up the pace for long. A loud rumble brings us to stop and reminds us that we didn't drove so slowly for nothing. A look in the side mirror reveals a few boxes, which content is distributed throughout the street.

„Damn it!” Mum hits the steering wheel as if it is a punching bag and grimaces as one of her fingers clicks uncomfortably.

“Mum!” I exclaim startled. Is she hurt? Or does she broke her finger?

„It's all good.” She mumbles as her left index finger disappears between her lips.

„Really?“

„Yes.“

I let her sit, I don't know what else to say, except that not everything is good. Mum has changed since Dad's death. Sometimes she is stunned, sometimes angry and then normal again. By normal I mean the normal that she showed before. Always a little stressed and tense. Working as a nurse required a lot from her. After work it was Dad who opened her narrowed face again with a loving kiss.

With a last worrying look at Mum I get out of the car. The rain is cold and drenches my hair before I can make it disappear under my big hood. I have to blink a few times and run behind the car. A piece of the large tarpaulin has detached itself from the trailer and released two soaked moving boxes into freedom. Soaked clothes are lying around everywhere. There were books in one of the boxes, the dried pages absorb the moisture gratefully. I realize that these are my schoolbooks. As I watch them suck themselves up and realize that I have to say goodbye to them, a young man comes running up to me.

„Can I help you?” He manages out of breath and puts both arms in his sides. I wonder where he came from so quickly but I find out that I don't really care. I would never have expected help in this town. I nod and start to collect my sweaters and put them back in the box. He does the same with the books. Together we put everything back on the trailer and the man ties the tarpaulin with a nifty knot.

„That should hold up to your goal.”

„Thank you.” I give him a quick smile and I just want to head back to the passenger door when he grabs me by the arm and holds me back.

“Don't you have a free place by chance?” He looks briefly at the sky and then looks at me imploringly.

“I ask my mom.” I say while running to her side instead of the passenger door and knock on the window. She lowers the window and looks at me questioningly.

"Does he want money or what?"

"No, a ride."

“Did he said where he wants to go?” He didn't, just like his name. Or would it have been my job to ask him about it? I run back, step into a large puddle that completely soaks my right sneaker.

„Um. I completely forgot to ask where you want to go?” I stutter and at the same time I feel totally stupid in front of this strange man. He is strikingly tall, his posture is straight, his figure is slightly lean. His dark hair is completely soaked and falls messily on his forehead. He has no beard and he cannot be older than twenty years. I estimate him a year or two older than me.

„Phew, I don't really know myself yet. I am looking for a hotel.“

 „A hhhotel?” I stammer on.

„Exactly. The place where tourists usually stay overnight.” He sounds slightly amused and starts to grin. I notice how I blush and feel even more stupid because of the unnecessary question. In fact, I know the only hotel in Avonlea. Actually, very well. Mum and I are on our way there. Grandma has been working her whole life there. We visited her a few times when I was a child. I never really liked the old masonry just like the city that surrounds it.

“My mom and me are on our way to the Avonlea Resort. We would appreciate to take the rest of the way with you.” I say formally, because I don't know whether I should do it or not.

„Thanks a lot. Miss…?” He still sounds slightly amused and starts to grin.

„Anne Shirley. Anne with an E at the end.“

„Gilbert Blythe.” The young man introduces himself and moves his hand as if he is pulling an imaginary hat. „Nice to meet you. Anne with an E at the end.” While he is speaking small dimples emerge on his cheeks.

[artificialqueens]

Just the Game We're In - Chapter 11 (Ortega)

a/n: sorry.

The rain was crashing against the pavement as Willam slammed the door of the taxi and ran across the shiny wet road into the pub. Immediately the heat of all the bodies packed into the bar made her face flush red, and she began to peel her coat off as she scanned the room looking for Sharon. She spotted her tucked away in the corner inconspicuously, drinking from a bottle of beer and gazing out of the window

She’d chosen a sort of nondescript pub for them both to meet in- in Chiswick, of all places. Willam had asked her why they couldn’t go somewhere more central, but then Sharon had moped that she didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Alaska. Willam had been about to dismiss her as ridiculous until she realised that she didn’t really want to take the chance of meeting Courtney with Andrew, so she shrugged and accepted the fact her taxi was going to cost more than it usually would to get to a night out.

Sharon caught her eye as Willam began to make her way over and her face brightened up in a way Willam hadn’t seen it do in a good couple of weeks. She felt a little guilty as to how happy she was, thinking that maybe if she’d been a better friend to Sharon then she’d be feeling a whole lot better by now. As she reached her table, Willam gave Sharon a quick hug and sat down in the seat opposite her.

“Well, you remembered makeup exists then,” she smiled by way of a compliment, Sharon laughing and raising her bottle in a toast.

“I’ll take that as a ‘you look nice’, so thank you,” the other woman said in reply, taking a drink from her bottle. She gave Willam a guilty look when she was done. “Sorry. I got you one but I drank it while I was waiting for you.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get one just now and then we can sit and chat.”

Sharon gave a happy sigh. “We can have a good old nostalgia trip!”

Willam froze a little and glared at Sharon through narrowed eyes. “We’re not here to just chat about uni.”

Sharon looked taken aback. “We don’t have to! Just thought it would be fun.”

“Well, it won’t be. So let’s not,” Willam said quickly, pulling her purse out of her bag and leaving Sharon to queue at the bar. As she stood amongst the waiting crowd however, she couldn’t help but think back to that point in her life. Uni was so long ago now, but it still felt somehow so recent, and things that had happened years previously only seemed like mere months ago. Just like the first day at uni- it was eight years ago, really almost nine, but to Willam, it seemed as if it was yesterday.

***

Willam arrived at her new halls with most (not all) of her worldly possessions in a suitcase as big as a small bungalow. She’d had to lug it onto the train then into a taxi herself but, looking around at the car park of her new accommodation, she would conclude that it was worth it. To others, the self-catered halls would seem far from idyllic- the car park was hemmed in by four concrete towers which held tiny flats, the only hint at sunlight being the huge gate that was currently unlocked and allowing cars to stream through. To Willam, however, it was as far away from home as she had applied, and she would take what she could get.  

Anything had to be better than back there.

Dragging her suitcase out of the back of the taxi and stuffing a few notes through the small gap in the pane of glass that separated driver and passenger, Willam looked around in the way someone does when they try to pretend they know what’s going on but in reality they’re as dazed and confused as they could possibly be. Looking at the other arriving freshers though, she smirked to see a similar expression on their faces- a self-confident girl in harem pants and a tan fresh from her gap year faltering as she realised she wasn’t sure how to enter her block, a boy in cuffed joggers and an Adidas hoodie chastising his parents for fussing over him but a look of fear in his eyes at being left on his own, another girl with glossy dark hair and bright makeup who seemed to be in Willam’s position in more ways than one- alone, clutching a huge holdall, and with absolutely no idea what to do. Well, thought Willam, I’m on my own, and so is she. Might as well attempt to say hi and if she’s a cunt then at least I know someone to avoid. Win win.

She made the decision and crossed the small expanse of courtyard to meet her.

“Hey. You look like you have no fucking clue what’s going on either, so I figured two heads are better than one,” she said blythely and shrugged as she reached the girl, who seemed a little taken aback that Willam was bothering to speak to her. She gave a reserved, if not relieved, smile.

“Oh shit, thank you. I don’t even know how to navigate this city, never mind the college! The letter said we need to go to the Smythe Centre for our keys but I’ve looked and looked and can’t find it at all. Maybe I’m just blind?” she joked nervously, waving the print-out map that the uni had emailed them.

Have to be to wear that outfit, Willam thought.

“Well, let’s see if Google Maps can help us out,” she shrugged instead, figuring that she should probably dial back the shade if she was to make any friends around here any time soon.

It turned out that the map the uni had given them failed to mention that the Smythe Centre was located outside of the blocks of flats, just beyond the black gate. As they walked, the girls made small talk that was a little awkward, but on the whole flowed easily. Willam found out that the girl was studying Law and that she’d moved to Uni from America. The girls also found out they were in the same block, but not the same flat. Eventually they picked up their keys and walked back to their building, Willam taking the lift up to her flat while the other girl was on the ground floor.

“Well, this is me, but I’m sure I’ll see you around. Thanks for helping a sister out,” the girl smiled warmly at Willam. Then her face contorted into one of surprise. “Oh shit I just realised- I never got your name?”

“Oh, it’s Willam. Like William but…without the extra “i”. It’s pretty stupid, but it’s my name, and I’m stuck with it.”

The other girl laughed and smiled, sticking out a laughably formal hand for her to shake. “Honey, I’m the queen of stupid names. Nice to meet you. I’m Mayhem.”

***

Willam sat down with a thud, surprising Sharon who had just been on her phone, scrolling.

“I’ve changed my mind. Uni chat might be fun. As long as we keep it lighthearted, though,” Willam said, trying to keep her voice free of emotion as she took a swig of her beer. Sharon snorted.

“I thought you were dead against it?”

“Like I said, it’ll be funny if we keep it light. Like I was just thinking about Mayhem.”

“Aw, Mayhem,” Sharon smiled and shook her head. “I wonder what she’s doing now. Christ, I haven’t spoken to her in ages. Haven’t really spoken to anyone from uni in years.”

“Yeah I can imagine your brief stint as a junkie interfered with any cosy reunions,” Willam deadpanned, earning her an unimpressed raised eyebrow from Sharon that indicated that she wanted to take offence but really couldn’t be bothered to. “To be fair, neither have I. Territory of the job, I guess.”

Sharon nodded and looked as if she was about to speak, but then Willam laughed as something occurred to her. “Alaska and Courtney were basically my friends, and now one’s gone off-grid and the other fucking hates me.”

“You’ve got me,” Sharon said, now taking slight offence. Willam tilted her head at her and frowned.

“Are we friends now?”

Sharon seemed taken-aback by the question. “I guess Alaska was all I really had too, and she was my girlfriend. I love Courtney, but I’m not really close with her, although I’d love to be. You and me, though, it’s different.”

Willam nodded. “Are we, then? Friends?”

Sharon blew into the air. “It’s your call, really. But I consider you a friend. I don’t really have anyone else.”

“Christ, what a pair of sad sacks,” Willam laughed, calming down as she looked at Sharon’s slightly expectant face. She paused, surprised she was in this position. “I mean, I guess we’re friends? Yeah. We’re friends.”

Sharon smiled easily, clinking her bottle against Willam’s own. “Cheers. To being friends.”

Willam couldn’t help but smile.

“Willam Belli, my only friend. God help me,” Sharon laughed jokingly, Willam instantly tapping the bottom of her bottle against the top of Sharon’s and causing beer to froth out the top and spill all over the table. As Sharon cried out and laughed, fumbling with some tissues in her bag to mop it up, Willam wondered how on earth she’d ended up here. It was at this point that she admitted that she couldn’t lie to herself any more. When Bianca had mentioned the name Sharon Needles to her, the picture in her mind hadn’t been a hazy remembering. It had been a thunderbolt, a complete and utter shock to the system, and there was a reason she’d been so against Sharon’s appointment.

***

Willam turned up on her first day to lectures with a hangover, a single scrap of paper that had her flat’s rules for some obscure drinking game she hadn’t quite got the hang of yet scrawled on the back, and a raging intolerance for anyone who was in the mood for making eye contact with her, never mind saying hello. She was lucky enough, however, to be blessed (or cursed) with the kind of hangover that naturally woke her up at around 6am and provided her with no ability to get back to sleep, and so she’d had enough time to shamble around the university buildings and figure out where her lectures were meant to take place. Even better, she was early enough that she could blag whatever seat she wanted, and so she was slumped over at the very back corner of a lecture theatre with raked seating, hoping that increased height and distance would stop the lecturer picking on her.

What the fuck did they think she was there to do, learn?

She watched as the other students began to arrive, all dressed in the same preppy designer clothing or working-class appropriating “chav chic” Reebok tracksuit. Looking down at the black playsuit that she’d woken up in, Willam felt out of place. She had thought she could style it out- she’d always been confident enough to before back home- but since arriving at uni her confidence wasn’t really what it used to be. The new confusing social circles of everybody trying to make friends or place themselves within the social hierarchy of being a certified “freshaaa” was almost suffocating, and Willam couldn’t really tell who out of her seven flatmates that she actually liked- she’d only ever spoken to them when they were all either drunk or hungover.

So Willam had done what Willam could do best and slept around. On the endless carousel of clubs that she and her flatmates had tried each evening, she always seemed to bring someone home, each boy more disappointing than the last but at least they filled some sort of void.

Willam looked up as people started to trickle into the lecture hall, averting her eyes from each one. She had Mayhem, the only person so far she felt she’d really connected with, and one was enough. She adopted the same sort of facial expression that kept people from approaching her when she was at school- dark, hostile, more an active bitch face than a resting one. Which is why she was confused when a girl- tall, with dyed hair that was more yellow than blonde- casually slid her way into Willam’s row. Noticing Willam’s eyes on her, she turned to face her and smiled. Willam gave a glare back, but the other girl only gave a laugh.

“Oh, okay. Not a morning person either, huh?” she offered, causing Willam to look down at the playsuit she was wearing and back at the other girl.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“No, definitely a night owl. Me too, babe, me too,” she nodded, as if Willam had even asked. Willam watched in disbelief as she lifted up a black backpack from the floor and took out an immaculate notepad and pencilcase. Looking in front of her, she instantly saw her problem.

She didn’t have a pen.

That was okay, though, Willam reasoned, as she felt an embarrassed blush hit her cheeks. She could just catch up with the lecture later in her flat and take notes then, even though she knew that was a pipe dream as she ached to sleep away her hangover as soon as the lecture was finished. Feeling watched, she looked to her side again and saw the girl looking at her.

“Can I help you?” Willam asked sarcastically, to which the other girl gave a snort of a laugh.

“Not at all. I was just wondering if I could help you, seeing as you don’t have a notebook or literally anything to write with,” she smirked, Willam cursing herself for her lack of organisation.

“I’m fine. I’ll just look over the slides at home and take notes then. I’m not going to be listening properly if I’m taking notes at the same time,” she replied, happy that she had the upper hand. The other girl frowned at her.

“As if you’re doing any more work when you get home, you’re clearly hungover to fuck!” she said, looking at Willam as if she had escaped from a psychiatric ward. “Look, just take a pen. Do you need paper?”

“No, I’ve got some,” Willam grumbled, gesturing at the crumpled mess that sat in front of her. The girl raised her eyebrows.

“Mm, I bet Ryman’s are shitting it,” she deadpanned sarcastically, Willam giving a colossal roll of her eyes as the lecture began.

***

“I fucking hated you,” Willam laughed, enjoying the trip down memory lane and remembering how incompetent she was all those years ago.

“I thought you were a fucking idiot!” Sharon exclaimed, then descended into snorts of laughter. “Who turns up to their first lecture of uni without anything to write with, and wearing a fucking playsuit?!”

Willam burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh and forget about things for a while, and not to be stressing about the future but remembering the past instead. “I don’t even think we introduced ourselves to each other that day.”

“No, it took a good three or four lectures before that happened,” Sharon smiled, her memory spot-on. “I think you dropped something with your name on it and I picked it up and handed it to you. So really I introduced you to myself.”

Willam nodded. “And then introduced yourself to me, which at the time I didn’t really give a fuck about.”

Sharon smiled. “Why did you hate me so much?”

Willam’s stomach dipped at the change in tone of the conversation. “You tried speaking to me when I was hungover, and you were that chirpy, upbeat kind of morning person that I fucking despised. I still hate people like that. Obnoxious,” Willam took a swig of her beer. “Anyway, from day one I had decided I hated you and I didn’t really go back on that ever. How come you hated me?”

Sharon blinked, confused. “I never hated you.”

“What? Yes you did!”

“I didn’t! I chose to sit beside you on that first day because I saw you and you looked like a laugh. Girl wearing a playsuit and last night’s makeup in the first lecture of uni, obviously going to be fun. How was I meant to know you were a complete bitch?” Sharon explained, laughing. “But I never hated you. I don’t know how you got that impression.”

Willam frowned, picking at the label on her bottle. She didn’t know either. Perhaps her own bad feeling towards Sharon in the early days clouded her own judgement of how Sharon had felt about her. Or maybe it was just the way she remembered it. It was weird, Willam thought, how your memories could be completely warped and changed over time. How they were affected just by thinking what you wanted to believe. It made her wonder just how differently Sharon remembered how they both met for the first time. Willam found herself hoping that she hadn’t been as massive a bitch to Sharon as she remembered.

“So when did we actually become friends?” Willam asked, frowning as she tried to work it out. Sharon screwed up her face.

“I don’t know if we ever really became friends, we just went straight into-”

“Was it not when one of your flatmates had a party? I think it was around Halloween.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes, then laughed. “That was my party!”

Willam shrugged. “Well it was at your flat at least. How come you even invited me to that anyway? I behaved like a total dick to you.”

Sharon looked awkward. “Well, because I…I did think you’d be a laugh.”

Willam eyed her suspiciously before taking another drink.

***

Willam threw her notebook and pen back into her handbag and began sliding her way across the benches of the lecture theatre, eager to get home and start getting ready. It was Tuesday, there was a great club night on at one of the new-ish bars, and she, Mayhem and both of their sets of flatmates were going to go. 5pm lectures were always the worst, exacerbated by the blonde canary that seemed to always sit beside her under the mistaken belief that they were friends. Willam couldn’t stand Sharon, always asking questions in lectures or whispering loudly to her if she didn’t understand something. Even the way she leaned forward and squinted at the powerpoint when she couldn’t quite read something instead of actually fucking wearing the glasses in her case annoyed Willam, and she hadn’t at any point concealed the fact. Which was why Willam was stunned when Sharon turned to her just as she was about to leave.

“So are you coming to my party or what?” she asked, Willam stunned at her forthright manner. The heavy eyeliner around her eyes framed a glare that appeared to be somewhat accusatory.

“Oh uh, yeah, I got your invite,” Willam shrugged, remembering the Facebook event that had popped up in her notifications which prompted her to reply if she was attending, a maybe, or couldn’t go. Willam recalls wondering if there was a “fuck off, not a single chance in hell am I going to your shit party” option, and she wondered if she should say that to Sharon to make her piss off for good, but she supposed that was a little too harsh even for her.  

“So?” Sharon smiled, upbeat and expectant and immediately draining Willam.

“Um, I don’t know. It depends where my flatmates are going, I’ll let you know,” Willam gave a reluctant smile as she made to leave. “See you later.”

She completely forgot about the party until she was getting ready with Mayhem later, the other girl having brought her makeup up to Willam’s flat so she didn’t have to get ready on her own.

“What are we doing for Halloween?” Mayhem asked out of nowhere, Willam looking up at her from her position on the floor where she was curling her hair.

“I don’t know. Probably Tornados? Maybe the union?”

Mayhem paused before replying as she swiped some clear lipgloss over her bottom lip. “Yeah, could do, or I was thinking maybe this flat party over at Tarvin’s Court? My whole flat are going and yours probably will be too.”

“Depends who’s hosting,” Willam said, hissing and scowling suddenly as she burned herself. “Although if everyone’s going I guess I’m going to have to come as well.”

“It’s a girl called Sharon Needles. She knows Mariah from my flat.”

Willam gave a groan and set her curlers down. “You’re joking, right? That’s that weird girl from my lectures.”

Mayhem raised her eyebrows. “Well, honey, that weird girl has got the most hyped Halloween party out of the rest of the flat parties that are going on, so we’re going. She could huff glue for all I care, if it’s a good party then I’m going and I’m getting wasted and you’re coming with me.”

So Saturday came, and in the days that preceded it Mayhem had managed to convince Willam that hey, maybe it would be fun after all to go to Sharon’s party. One of the cute-ish boys from her block that Willam had been eyeing up was meant to be going, and Willam wondered if she’d be able to corner him tonight. She’d bought a ridiculously revealing “Slutty Nun” outfit and new suspenders, all courtesy of Ann Summers in town- because in Willam’s view, what was the point of Halloween if you couldn’t dress like a massive whore?

Turning up to the party and walking through the already-open door, Willam was slightly thrown at how busy it was already. Grudgingly she admitted that it did seem like a good party, and she tottered through the door in her heels, the half-bottle of vodka she’d already downed at her flat’s predrinks making her a little unsteady on her feet. Weaving her way through the crowd, she quickly found the boy in question and struck up a conversation. In her drunken haze, Willam was happy. He seemed interested, and he definitely liked her outfit. She felt as if things were going to go somewhere. Suddenly needing to pee, she pushed her drink into his hand with an instruction to hold it and made her way to the toilet. Amazingly, there was no queue and she stumbled into the tiny cubicle-like room.

She was just about to sit down when someone else barged in through the door which she’d obviously forgotten to lock.

“What the fuck? Get out of here, bitch,” Willam slurred, pulling some hair out of her face which was tricky with the habit on. Leaning against the wall she was shocked to see Sharon in the cubicle with her, dressed as a devil with a red feather boa draped around her neck. She was looking at Willam with wide eyes.

“Hey. That’s, um. A costume,” Sharon stammered, Willam feeling a little funny under her gaze.

“Yeah, it is. Now can you piss off so I can pee?”

Sharon shook her head, her gaze switching into something that conveyed a sense of urgency. “That guy you were talking to spiked your drink.”

Willam blinked slowly, her mind processing everything at 0.5% speed. “What do you mean, spiked it?”

Sharon frowned. “How can I make that any clearer? He put something in your drink.”

Willam rolled her eyes, annoyed at Sharon’s mothering. “Well I hope it’s good shit, getting fucked up is the aim.”

Sharon gave an agitated sigh. “Willam, this is serious, he’s going to take advantage of you.”

“How do you even know what…how do you even know he’s doing?” Willam slurred out, acutely aware of the fact she wasn’t making sense.

“I saw him! When you were talking. You looked away and he put a pill in it. I tried to tell you sooner but I couldn’t get through the crowd, I’m sorry,” Sharon explained quickly, her expression concerned. “Are you feeling alright?”

Willam narrowed her eyes at Sharon. “Why were you watching me?”

“What?” Sharon asked, taken-aback.

“You’re at a party, why were you watching me?” Willam found herself asking, although she wasn’t really sure why. She continued on in a sort of ramble. “You don’t just watch people at a party, you don’t just stand and watch…it’s not a cinema, you don’t watch people…”

“Well, I don’t know, I guess I was staring into space and saw you both,” Sharon explained, her cheeks a little red. “Are you feeling okay? I told my flatmates to chuck him out.”

Willam suddenly felt as if she had to sit down. She sunk onto the toilet seat. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Christ, Willam, you had at least three drinks out of your cup after he put that pill in, I’m not leaving you,” Sharon hissed, exasperated. Willam watched as the other girl bent down and took her face in her hands, kneeling between Willam’s legs which were splayed open. “Are you seeing things clearly?”

Sharon’s face seemed a little blurry. It was probably nothing, though. Willam nodded. The seat she was sitting on suddenly seemed very unsteady. A gradual sense of dread began to creep over Willam that she couldn’t really explain, and all of a sudden the party seemed incredibly scary and full of the unknown. Sharon seemed to be the only thing that was safe.

“I want to go home,” Willam found herself slurring in a small voice.

“Are you sure? You can stay here if you want, my room is quiet,” Sharon offered, her face full of concern and making Willam feel as if maybe she didn’t have anything to be afraid of. Still, her own bed seemed safer than a bed in a flat with a party going on, where anyone could walk in. Willam shook her head, which felt as if it was full of cement. “Right. I’ll go get Mayhem, she lives with you, right?”

Willam tugged on Sharon’s arm as she made to leave. “Can you stay?”

Sharon nodded immediately. “Have you got your phone? I’ll call her.”

Willam reached into her bra and produced her phone, which Sharon started scrolling away at instantly. She began to phone Mayhem who somehow miraculously answered. As Willam felt suddenly tired, she heard snippets of the conversation as she slipped in and out of a doze.

“…so you can’t get in? Okay, but could she stay at yours?…Perfect, thanks. Sorry about this,” Sharon signed off, putting the phone down on the floor as she straightened Willam up on the seat and took her head in her hands again, tapping it gently. “Willam? Mayhem’s coming, okay? She’s just outside smoking, she’s coming up and she’ll take you home. I didn’t realise she wasn’t your flatmate, but she said you can stay with her, okay? Don’t worry, Willam, you’re safe.”

That was the last thing she heard and Sharon’s face was the last thing Willam saw before she passed out, and even though Willam was terrified and didn’t know what the fuck was happening to her, Sharon’s words were a comfort.

Maybe she would be alright.

***

Willam found herself shivering a little as she recalled the memory of that night, Sharon’s face taking on that concerned look again from across the table.

“Yeah…wasn’t the most amazing party I’d ever been to,” Willam said awkwardly, peeling at the label on her bottle.

“I remember seeing that guy at a party in like final year and punching him in the face,” Sharon smirked fondly at the memory. “I must have been jacked up on so much shit that night, I would never have had the balls to otherwise. But I’m glad I did it.”

There was a small silence as Willam remembered feeling so small and so scared.

“That was a bitch of a hangover the next day,” Willam laughed bitterly, attempting to make the mood lighter. Sharon frowned.

“You kept apologising to me in lectures on the Monday, as if any of it was your fault,” she shook her head, the memory clearly paining her.

“Well, it was the only time you’d ever get an apology from me. You should have savoured it,” Willam brushed off her concern and took another drink. “Anyway, that was definitely when I started tolerating you. Couldn’t have let you save me like that and kept being a cunt to you.”

Sharon smiled warmly, laughing a little. “I still remember-”

She stopped abruptly, her eyes darting about a bit in panic before she took a swig from her own bottle. Willam was amused.

“What?”

Sharon picked at the label on her bottle. “Nothing it’s just. It was a good costume.”

Willam snorted a little and bit her lip to keep from responding. She still remembered how blown Sharon’s pupils had become when she’d seen what Willam had looked like and the way her mouth had dropped open a little bit. Her pulse thudded beneath her skin. She took another drink and found that she’d reached the end of her second bottle. Sharon’s eyes darted to the empty bottle and she stood up.

“I’ll get them in. Same again?” she offered, Willam only nodding and not trusting herself to speak.

She remembered everything that came after the Halloween party. The lectures that followed where she and Sharon had got closer and Willam had warmed up to her a bit, how they both laughed together until Willam felt that her ribs would break at this one lecturer that came in wearing an obvious toupee. She remembers no longer feeling annoyed by anything Sharon did, and instead feeling glad that she would ask the questions she was too afraid to, or smile when Sharon would squint at the powerpoint and refuse to wear her glasses, or even feeling an inexplicable sense of joy when Sharon leaned in to whisper something to her. At the time, Willam remembers feeling confused about how her feelings had changed, explaining it all away by thinking she was just making a friend in Sharon at last. Willam swallowed roughly.

If fucking only. It would have made my life a whole lot easier.

***  

It was just before the Christmas break- exam season. Willam was nervous. They were the first exams of her degree and she was determined to do well in them, if only so she could prove to her Mum that her degree wasn’t too hard for her and that she was, in fact, suited to it. And it was true, she was doing well- she understood her lectures, she participated well in tutorials- but there was one module that really fucked with her, and she found it incredibly difficult. Luckily, Sharon seemed to get it with no problem.

“I can come over and help you with it, if you want?” she had offered earlier when they were in a tutorial. Willam had accepted, happy that she was getting to spend more time with Sharon, and so they had walked back from lectures together to Willam’s flat in the freezing cold, Willam shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her faux-fur coat and hoping her flatmates had switched the heating on. Miraculously they had, and as soon as they arrived at Willam’s flat Willam threw herself down onto her uncomfortable uni halls bed and moaned that she didn’t want to revise, that her and Sharon should just get drunk and watch It’s Always Sunny instead, and Sharon had laughed and pulled her up into a sitting position and told her that they’d be done before they knew it.

They had started to revise with good intentions, Willam concentrating and actually learning something from what Sharon was saying. But soon enough, Willam found herself beginning to lose focus as the heat of the room prompted Sharon to take off the huge jumper that she’d been wearing, leaving her in a strappy black top and her red leather skirt. Willam couldn’t tell why she was suddenly distracted by everything Sharon did. Every time she would push her long, thick hair out of her face, or push her glasses up her nose, or bite down on the pen she was using, Willam had to narrow her eyes and blink a couple of times to re-gain concentration. She didn’t know why Sharon was doing this, and it was beginning to piss her off.

It was only when Sharon leant forward slightly and crossed her legs that Willam couldn’t stop herself from blurting out.

“Okay, Sharon, what the fuck?!”

Sharon was startled and dropped the pen she was holding. “What?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Willam shook her head, her eyes tightly squeezed shut. When she opened them, Sharon was still there, only staring at her as if she was insane.

“I’m not doing anything! What are you talking about?” Sharon snapped, irritated. “You’re behaving like a total idiot, you’ve not been focussed for the past fifteen minutes at all!”

Why was this feeling not going away? Willam frowned deeply. “Sorry.”

“Right,” Sharon calmed down, looking at Willam in confusion again. “Okay, so see this diagram? This is showing circular- oh, hang on, you can’t see that from there.”

To Willam’s dismay, Sharon shuffled closer to her so that she was sitting right in front of her. If Willam leant forward, their faces would be only centimetres apart. As Sharon continued explaining, Willam finally realised what she was feeling. It was the same fluttery feeling she’d get when she was talking to a guy when she was out, knowing that she was going to go home with him when the night was over. Except she wasn’t out and this wasn’t a boy, it was Sharon, a girl from her lectures, and she was feeling this way about her. Why was Willam apprehensive? She was never this nervous with any of the guys she’d hooked up with before. So why was Sharon different because she was a girl? Fuck it, thought Willam. She might as well.

“So at the top is the, um, households,” Sharon said, her eyes darting to Willam who was looking at Sharon and trying to figure out if she had the balls to actually do what she was thinking about doing. “And, um, they spend money on goods, which go to firms. And the firms then provide the incomes, which provide, um. Which provide…”

Sharon trailed off as Willam leant forward, placing a hand on her thigh. “Willam, what are you-”

Without thinking any more about it, Willam closed the gap between them, placing her other hand on Sharon’s jaw and kissing her. She didn’t expect the kiss to be as heavy as it was, and before she knew it Willam had her tongue in Sharon’s mouth. Sharon tasted of cigarettes, and Willam absent-mindedly wondered why she’d never seen her smoking before, but it didn’t matter because her perfume was all Willam could smell, and it was fucking incredible. She realised that Sharon had rested one of her hands on her waist, with the other buried deep in her hair. The kiss was deep and Willam could feel her lips becoming swollen, and she found herself wishing that Sharon would trail one of her hands down underneath Willam’s top and take it off, so she pushed two of her own fingers under Sharon’s skirt, her heart feeling as if it was beating at an unhealthy rate as she willed everything to go further, and just as she felt that she was about to burst Sharon pulled away. Willam opened her eyes and saw her in front of her again, breathing heavily with her eyes wide. Sharon spoke first.

“Um. Okay. Where did that come from?” she asked, Willam a little nervous and wondering how she had felt about everything that had happened.

“I just…” Willam started, her heart still beating too fast and her eyes unable to look away from Sharon’s face. “Um. I don’t really know?”

To her relief, Sharon let out a laugh. For a second, Willam wondered if it was meant to be mocking. “Sorry, you probably didn’t-”

“Don’t be sorry. I liked it,” Sharon laughed breathlessly. She looked momentarily as if she was about to lean in and kiss Willam again until she looked up at the clock on Willam’s wall. “Shit. I have to be at my tutor meeting in ten minutes. I need to rush off.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Willam blinked, a little thrown. “I’ll, um. I’ll see you for the exam, yeah?”

“See you then,” Sharon smiled apologetically, pulling her jacket on and rushing out of the door.

She didn’t realise she’d left her jumper and, like an idiot, Willam picked it up from its position on the floor and held it close to her, her head spinning and leaving her dizzy.

***

Sharon returned from the bar with four beers as opposed to the promised two, but that was alright with Willam. Fuck knows she’d need it, the way things were turning out. As Sharon sat down, she smiled apologetically.

“I thought two each, save us having to queue at the bar again,” she shrugged, tipping her head back as she drank some of her third bottle. Willam smiled tightly, not speaking just yet. Sharon looked at her inquisitively.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re thinking about something, I know that much,” Sharon gave a look of disbelief, and Willam sighed deeply.

“I’m thinking that Andrew cunting Brady will probably be balls deep in Courtney right now and that I’ve completely fucked the one chance I got to be with her. Happy?” she reeled off, giving Sharon an irritated glare and swigging her beer back, slamming it down on the table with a thud. Sharon only widened her eyes in amusement, then her gaze softened.

“You haven’t fucked it. She still likes you, I can see it,” Sharon smiled, Willam letting out a tut of indignation.

“Your eyesight’s even more shit than I thought. She hates me.”

Sharon took another sip, a thoughtful look on her face. “Have you actually told her how she makes you feel? From my memory you’ve never really been too good at admitting things to people.”

Something snapped inside of Willam like a match to petrol. “Don’t you fucking dare. We both know what happened when I tried that the first time, and from what I remember I wasn’t the fucking problem.”

Sharon winced, a small silence descending for a moment. “I’m sorry, Willam.”

“Whatever. Let’s just keep drinking,” Willam rolled her eyes, too tired to argue or push the situation further

As she took another long drink, Willam remembered what Sharon had been referring to. It hadn’t been the moment Willam was thinking of- it was another, after Christmas, when they were both still in their first year, and Sharon was right. Willam hadn’t been really big on talking. Then again, neither of them had.

***

Willam fucking hated Christmas.

She wanted desperately to look forward to it like other people, normal people, to be excited by it and celebrate it like the families in Christmas movies. Willam remembers watching Elf as a child, wishing that she had a magical long-lost-elf brother who would come and bring her family together and there wouldn’t be any more fighting and tension and her parents would be happy together.

But she didn’t, and her family was dysfunctional to a ridiculous degree, so Willam’s first uni Christmas contained terse conversation with her Mum about how no, there were actually lots of girls on her course and no, politics wasn’t just for guys, and yes, she was coping fine with the work and no, she was sure she didn’t want to drop out. Her Dad, disconnected from her as always, would continue his aggressive, tense comments to her and her Mum and, like a moth with anger management issues to a flame, her Mum constantly bickered and fought with him and broke down afterwards, Willam having to pick up the pieces.

So her Christmas holidays were dire, and they weren’t helped by her sitting and replaying the moment she’d shared with Sharon weeks before over and over again in her mind. She’d seen her once after that, at the exam, and afterwards she’d practically bolted out of the building, too afraid to face her. That was the last time she’d seen Sharon. She wondered how the other girl was doing and what she was feeling or thinking, but realised that she was probably enjoying herself too much celebrating Christmas with her family to even think about Willam.

New Year passed and she thought about sending Sharon a text, something, anything to let her know that she was thinking about her, but every time she stopped herself. If Sharon didn’t actually give a fuck about her, Willam was damn sure she wasn’t letting her know that she cared about her either. So time went on, and at last Willam finally went back to uni, away from the tension and tears and noise and unhappy silence of her family and back to the hilarity of her block. As Willam stepped through the door of her room she could feel herself instantly relax, her shoulders slumping in relief. She unpacked the gifts she’d been given at Christmas and said hello to her flatmates, then bolted downstairs to see if Mayhem was back.

As she wandered down to the other flat, though, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Now that she was back at uni she was back in the same place Sharon was, and so she could bump into her anywhere- fuck, lectures only started in a couple of days. She had to figure out what she was going to do before she saw Sharon again.

It turned out she had less time than she thought she would as, when Willam found Mayhem and they hugged and caught up with each other, she found that she was hosting a party that evening.

“I know that it won’t be huge since not everybody is back yet, but there’ll still be a good turnout- Rhea, Jackie, Mariah, Asia, Sharon-”

“Oh fuck,” Willam’s heart plummeted. “May, I can’t go.”

“The fuck are you talking about? What…” Mayhem then did a sort of double-take, narrowing her eyes at Willam. “Has something happened with you two?”

Willam tore her hand through her hair. “We got with each other in my flat before Christmas.”

“Willam! Holy fucking shit! How?!” Mayhem screeched, Willam frantically shushing her in case her other flatmates heard.

“I don’t know, we were just revising…we weren’t even drunk, fuck, and now I don’t even know how to react with her. We haven’t even spoken since.”

Mayhem hadn’t stopped smiling since Willam had told her. “I mean, do you like her?”

Willam made a face. “I don’t know? Like, she’s cute? I’d never thought about her like that until she was in my room, it was insane. I don’t know, though. I don’t know if I want to see her again yet.”

“Well,” Mayhem suggested, her face scheming, “Come tonight. See how she is with you. And then see what happens.”

So Willam spent the next five hours til the party exfoliating, fake-tanning, and wondering what the hell she would say to Sharon if she saw her. Maybe she wasn’t going to see her- maybe she wouldn’t come after all, but then Willam found herself hoping that she would be there for some unknown reason.

The party arrived and so did Willam, dressed in a deliberately short and strappy blue dress and towering gold heels. If Sharon was at the party, she wanted to look good. It had only been around five minutes before Willam saw her from across the room- skintight black jeans and a ripped band t shirt that seemed to be an accessory for a plain black bra. Her heart ricocheted off her ribcage as Sharon made eye contact with her. Panicking, Willam decided to pretend that she hadn’t noticed her and instead skulked off to the kitchen.

The night went by in a somewhat similar vein- Willam would somehow find herself looking Sharon’s way, then having to look back and pretend she hadn’t seen her. She didn’t know why she was avoiding Sharon like a child playing a game of peek-a-boo, but it seemed easier than going over to talk to her.

Except finally, as the night was reaching its peak, Willam had no choice but to speak to Sharon. Someone had told her that there were some spare cans of Red Bull in a box room down the hall, and Willam had wanted to make Jaegerbombs, so she’d gone in to get some. As she turned to leave, however, someone was standing in the doorframe. Sharon.

“Oh. Hey,” Willam slurred, awkwardly looking anywhere but at the face in front of her. “How are things?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” Sharon smirked, rolling her eyes. “Apart from the fact that the only way I’ve managed to speak to you tonight is basically cornering you in a fucking cupboard. Willam, what’s going on? You’ve just totally avoided me.”

Willam felt surprised at how eloquent Sharon was being, then drunkenly remembered that they were both quite drunk and to a sober person everything would have probably seemed like gobbledygook. Blinking, she shook her head. “I just didn’t, um. I didn’t think we had to talk? You know…what happened happened and…there’s no point in talking about it, I guess.”

Sharon blinked then smiled slowly, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. The darkness suddenly closed in around them, and the only light was three long strips of yellow from the hallway outside. Willam suddenly felt her heartbeat in her ears, her pulse hot under her skin as Sharon took a small strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, the tiny amount of contact making Willam’s breath hitch in her throat. She was pissed off- she, the girl who could manipulate any boy to do anything she wanted, the girl who didn’t call anyone back and slept with people without forming any attachment was completely and utterly under a spell, and she could feel herself melting as Sharon’s hands found her hips and pulled Willam in close.

“Well…we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”  

WIllam didn’t know who initiated it, but suddenly their lips crashed together, both pairs of hands touching and trying to rip off any clothing that stood in the way of bare skin. Teeth grazed at necks, fingers tore their way through two sets of blonde hair, and Willam had never felt more completely and utterly torn apart and yet so put together all at once.

It was only when Sharon’s fingers had found their way under Willam’s dress and were inching up her thigh that Willam stopped, pulled away, and looked with distaste at the carpet on the floor.

“I live upstairs,” was the only thing she said, looking at Sharon’s huge, blown pupils before the other girl grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the box room and out of the flat.

***

“Willam?”

Willam slowly turned her head from its position looking out of the window and staring into space, and forced herself to look at Sharon. All of a sudden her eyes seemed far too intense and familiar, and Willam swallowed roughly and crossed her legs.

“We should stop talking about uni.”

Sharon looked at her suspiciously. Her eyes had that sort of glazed look, and Willam knew instantly that she’d had one too many drinks- but then, perhaps, so had she. “What? Why?”

Willam shifted in her seat. Realisation suddenly dawned on Sharon, and she let out a cry followed by a yelp of laughter.

“Oh my God,” she screeched, before her voice dropped to a whisper as she leant across the table, her eyes lighting up excitedly. “You were thinking about me and you, weren’t you? The sex we had…oh my God, you were, weren’t you?!”

“Shut up, no I wasn’t,” Willam put her head in her hands, angry that she’d been called out.

“Yes you were. You always do that little wiggle in your seat when you’re thinking about dirty things. It was how I used to know we had to leave a party.”

“Let’s not do this,” Willam rolled her eyes and tipped her head back.

“It was kinda awkward having to watch you do it when Courtney came into work in that pink pencil skirt a few weeks back, though. No class.”

Willam narrowed her eyes and sat forward. “Well if we’re playing this game, I wasn’t the one who suggested fucking in your flat kitchen after St Patrick’s day that time, was I? Classless bitch.”

Sharon laughed unashamedly. “No, but I don’t remember you having any complaints at the time. Wait! That’s a lie. Your complaints went more like uh, harder, uh, faster, oh fuck!”

Willam launched herself across the table and walloped Sharon on the arm as the other woman laughed. She could feel her cheeks were bright red, but she supposed that the more they were speaking about the whole situation the less awkward it became. There was a small silence as Sharon’s laughter died down.

“Did you ever actually get a chance to sleep with Courtney?” Sharon asked, out of the blue. Willam snorted.

“A lady never kisses and tells.”

“Well, A, you’re not a lady and B, you do kiss and tell, so give me the chat,” Sharon said, sitting attentive and patient.

“No, we didn’t. Happy?”

Sharon blinked, taken aback. Willam took a drink from her bottle and scowled at her.

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s you, you know? I guess I thought that would have all happened after the first date,” Sharon shrugged, taking a drink herself. Willam felt a flame of anger flaring momentarily inside her.

“Well maybe if-” she shut herself up. Keeping herself calm, she reminded herself that she probably shouldn’t say anything she would regret. Sharon seemed to sense that wish too, and she didn’t push it any more.

She could think it, though. The thing she’d wanted to say, and on reflection it would have sounded a bit pathetic out loud. Instead, Willam dwelled on it from the privacy of her own head.

***

The sex she had with Sharon was unlike anything Willam had ever experienced before. Whenever they were together she felt as if fireworks were exploding in her heart, as if it was about to burst or break. Her breath came so fast she sometimes felt she might suffocate. Every moment of every time seemed unreal to Willam.

But it was real, and it kept happening. She didn’t quite know how. It started off with the parties they went to- eventually the lights would come on and they would wind down, and Sharon would simply look at Willam and they’d both know how the night was going to end. Then it progressed into something that happened when neither of them were drunk, when Willam would be about to get ready for bed and her phone would go off with a text, or she’d send one to Sharon. Eventually it would just happen unexpectedly- Sharon would be studying at Willam’s, or just having pizza at her flat, and one thing would lead to another.

Willam didn’t mind. She’d been amazed at how completely not awkward the two of them had been about it- they were sleeping with each other, they made each other feel good, they both found the other incredibly sexy, and that was that. She didn’t really know what they were, but that was okay, maybe she didn’t really need to. Summer came and uni finished for her first year and she’d wondered if everything would stop and if Sharon would forget about her but instead they would call each other, whispered phone calls late at night as Willam bit her lip and forced herself not to be too loud and have her parents hear as she came undone in her bed. When they came back after the summer, their routine fell back into place again, and before Willam knew it she’d been sleeping with Sharon for eight months without even noticing how quickly the time had passed.

She didn’t really know how she felt about Sharon. She’d never felt this way about anyone before, perhaps that was why she found it difficult. She was still friends with her, that was why they hung out together and did things just the two of them when they weren’t fucking each other. Was that what girlfriends did? Probably, but they weren’t that, Willam reassured herself. It wasn’t as if she was in love with Sharon. Or was she? She didn’t really know what that sort of thing felt like. All she knew was that when she spent time with Sharon she felt calm but also so constantly excited, and whenever Willam said something that made her smile and show the little gap between her teeth Willam would want to hold onto her and not let go.

They were together in bed one day, naked and curled up in each other’s arms, and they were watching something- Willam can’t remember what. She turned to Sharon, watching the images from the laptop flicker against her glasses, and noticing how intently her blue eyes gazed at everything.

“Have you ever slept with someone else?” she asked Sharon. Surprised, Sharon blinked then laughed.

“Do I really fuck like a virgin? That’s embarrassing. You’ve embarrassed me,” she shook her head, laughing into the duvet. Willam frowned.

“Shut up you dumb bitch, no, I meant like…since me. Since May’s party. Have you?”

Sharon blinked again, suddenly looking awkward. “I mean, no. Have you?”

“No,” Willam replied instantly, unable to tear her gaze away from Sharon’s eyes.

“I mean, we could if we wanted to, right?” Sharon asked, her voice holding something that Willam couldn’t quite decipher. A plea for reassurance?

“Oh, Christ, yeah,” Willam nodded curtly, giving the answer that part of her didn’t want to give. It was worth it though for Sharon to smile at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and turning her head to face the laptop again.

***

They had been sat in silence for a small while.

“How are things at home?” Sharon asked, her brow furrowing. Willam sighed heavily.

“Oh, fuck me. I’m going home,” she shook her head, despite not making any movement that indicated she was leaving.

“No, don’t. I’m sorry, that was shitty of me. I just wondered if things were still…how they were.”

“Yes, my parents still take every chance they get to mock and belittle my sexuality, thanks for asking, Sharon,” Willam stared coldly at Sharon, who for her part looked uncomfortable.

“So no better then.”

“No.”

Sharon heaved a sigh. “That fucking sucks, Will, I’m sorry. I just would have thought after eight years they might have been more accepting.”

Willam snorted a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, well. I guess if someone’s really set on the fact that bisexuality doesn’t exist then they’re not going to have their minds changed.”

Sharon shrugged. “Despite the fact you’re the evidence.”

“Despite the fact I’m the evidence. I should get Courtney to fuck both of them, then they’ll see,” she joked darkly, being bitterly reminded of the fact that Courtney was no longer her friend. Sharon laughed and Willam relaxed a little, glad that the ice was beginning to re-break.

“Do you ever think-” Sharon began, then cut herself off. Willam narrowed her eyes at her.

“What.”

“Nothing. I had a thought, and then I thought you’d yell at me if I told you it, so it’s nothing.”

Willam rolled her eyes. “We’ve already talked about the time we fucked on a dirty kitchen table, I think in the words of Yazz, the only way is up.”

Sharon picked at a bit of candle wax on the table with the lid of her beer bottle. “Do you ever think the reason you’re so eager to please Bianca and the reason you look for her approval all the time is because you’re trying to replace the mother figure in your life?”

Willam looked at Sharon in disbelief. “What the fuck. You’ve outdone yourself now, what the fuck is that pseudo-therapist bullshit?”

Sharon gave a calm smile. “Well I have been to many hours of therapy so some of it’s eventually going to rub off.”

Willam couldn’t tell if she was completely enraged or if Sharon was actually on to something. She shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous. Bianca’s my boss, of course I want to get her approval. It’s the only way I’m going to get anywhere in this job.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m your boss,” Sharon frowned, sipping her drink. Was this her fourth? Had to be. “Are you not happy with where you are now?”

“I want to be in Number 10. That’s the dream. That’s always been the dream.”

Sharon raised her eyebrows. “There’s more to life than politics, Willam.”

Willam sighed heavily and brushed some hair out of her face. She thought about what Sharon had said. “I’m at peace with the fact my parents are complete arseholes. I’m not trying to replace them, okay?”

Sharon nodded. “Okay.”

Willam looked down at the table, her head full of too many thoughts. Maybe Sharon was on to something. The very fact that Willam had wanted to distance herself from Courtney was to make sure that she didn’t go down in Bianca’s estimation. She couldn’t have handled it if Bianca had reacted to her and Courtney like her Mum had to her and Sharon. Shivering, Willam inwardly shrugged as she took another drink. It was probably for the best that Courtney wasn’t with her any more. The thought of having to introduce her to her parents made her want to jump in front of a car.

Sharon laughed. “Remember that time we gave Rhea a ProPlus and we pretended it was Mandy?”

As Willam worked up a fake laugh, she couldn’t help but replay another memory, one that she really didn’t want to relive.

***

“So, darling. Any boyfriends on the horizon? Any lovely handsome uni boys?”

Willam gave a swallow. Here it was- the question she knew she’d be asked, the question she’d vowed to be honest in answering. Christmas was a time for being truthful and admitting things and potentially tearing her family apart. If she’d learnt anything from Eastenders, she’d learnt that.

“Well actually I’ve been, um. I’ve been seeing someone,” she said tentatively, her heart breaking as she saw her Mum’s face light up.

“Oh, darling! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you. What’s his name?”

Willam picked hard at a bit of skin on her thumb. “It’s Sharon.”

She watched, almost as if she was watching a movie, frozen to the sofa as she saw the cogs turning in her Mum’s head, then the penny finally dropping as her words caught in her throat and her eyes grew slightly wider. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Her Mum took a deep breath. “So you’re a lesbian.”

Willam’s stomach had never been so tense. “No, I…I still like boys, just I like girls as well. I’m bi.”

Her Mum screwed up her face, then barked a laugh. Willam’s stomach spasmed. “No that’s not…Willam. That’s not a real thing.”

Willam took a deep breath. “No, Mum, it is. Honestly it’s just…how I feel. Well, it’s more than that, it’s who I am.”

Willam watched in despair as her Mum tensed up, drinking a gulp from the glass of wine she’d been re-filling for hours that day. “No, Willam. I’m sorry. That doesn’t exist. You’re either one or the other. You can’t be both.”

“You can’t-” Willam started, frustration suddenly bubbling up inside her before she caught herself. She knew how things would escalate if she rose to her Mum’s bait, and she’d rather spend the evening having to comfort herself than mopping up the tears of an alcoholic’s nervous breakdown. “Look I know that it’s hard for you to accept-”

“Don’t call me unaccepting, Willam, because I’m not. You’re trying to make out that I’m homophobic and it’s not true,” her Mum bristled, the knot in Willam’s stomach worsening. Oh Christ, please don’t kick off, please don’t kick off…

“Sorry, I’m not trying to say that. I mis-spoke. I’m sorry,” Willam said, forcing herself to make her voice soft, quiet, comforting. “Obviously we don’t agree, but I’m bi. And I’m seeing Sharon.”

“See, you’re seeing her. That’s not a commitment. You’re just pretending, it’s just a phase. You can’t seriously be telling me I’m never going to have any grandchildren?” Willam’s Mum twisted the knife, her cold, matter-of-fact tone making Willam want to burst her lungs just screaming at her, begging her to listen just for once, to just once not make everything about her.

“Well she’s my girlfriend. I’m not pretending, Mum, I-” Willam stopped. She’d embellished the truth a little- Sharon wasn’t her girlfriend, they’d never breached the topic, but they were together in all but the title. And she was about to say the other thing, the thing she’d long been considering and thinking but never had the courage to say to Sharon herself. “I love her, Mum.”

Willam’s Mum snorted, swirling her wine around in her glass. “Well I’m glad you love her, because you certainly don’t love me.”

With that, she got up from the sofa and flounced out of the room, Willam sighing deeply. The knot in her stomach was sore and painful, and she tucked her legs up and hugged them close to her chest, looking at the Christmas tree lights in her living room through blurry eyes.

***

Willam suddenly stood up, cutting Sharon off halfway through her story. She didn’t really know what she had been talking about, too lost in thought. All she knew was that she had to get outside for some fresh air and, primarily, a smoke. Everything was too much, and in that moment she needed a break.

“I’m going for a cigarette,” she explained, before grabbing her twelve pack from her coat pocket and heading outside. The air was balmy in the way it sometimes was in the transitional period between Spring and Summer, and Willam knew she’d be safe without a coat- although she couldn’t help wishing for some cold, some sharp air to hit her face and sober her up a bit.

As soon as she was out the door she was lighting up with shaky hands, and of course, of fucking course, Sharon had followed her.

“Willam.”

Willam blinked once, twice, three times, four times, until the unexpected tears that had appeared in her eyes had gone. She sniffed and watched as a blonde girl and a dark-haired man with a beard shambled drunkenly across the street. She’d thought it could have been Courtney, but the more she looked the less it looked like her.

“Willam, what’s wrong.”

Sharon’s voice was soft and all too familiar, and Willam hated herself for agreeing to go on this night out. There were so many memories she’d not properly confronted, so much she’d blocked out for years and years, and talking about it all was only bringing those memories to the fore, forcing her to acknowledge them. Willam took a deep breath.

“I’m fine.”

Sharon frowned and shook her head. “You’re not. You can tell me. What’s the matter?”

Willam looked to the sky. If she kept staring at Sharon any longer then she’d cry, and she didn’t want to cry. She kept her voice level as she spoke. “You never said sorry.”

Willam felt a change in the energy of the woman standing next to her. She watched as Sharon pushed some hair away from her face and frowned. “I guess I didn’t…feel like I had anything to apologise for.”

Willam gave her a scathing look. “It was a year, Sharon. A year of us fucking about and spending time together and getting to know each other- fuck, you knew the complete shitstorm that was my family, I hadn’t even told Courtney that. Of course I was going to fall in…of course I was going to develop feelings for you.”

Sharon scuffed at the ground with her foot. “I just didn’t know what I was doing, okay? We were both young and I felt like I was going to live forever…all the drugs and drink and parties. I didn’t realise that what we had was so special to you and…well, for what it’s worth I’m sorry, Willam.”

Willam took a long, hard drag from her cigarette, her lungs burning as she sucked in a deep breath. Seeing sense, she shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You were my first real relationship.”

Sharon had the good grace to look ashamed as Willam took another drag. She didn’t seem as if she was about to say anything, so Willam went on.

“All this shit with Courtney,” she sighed. “Maybe if it hadn’t been for all that had happened between us I’d feel more open to admitting things to her, you know? About how I feel and about just going for it with her. It just ended so fucking badly with us, Sharon. I wish it hadn’t.”

Sharon sighed. “Fuck, I feel like everything that happened between you two is all my fault.”

“No, no, don’t feel that way,” Willam frowned, finishing her cigarette off and stubbing it against the wall. “Maybe I should’ve checked out therapy too. Maybe everyone needs a bit of therapy.”

“I’m a firm believer in that,” Sharon smiled a little and shrugged, her face suddenly taking on a look of gentle concern. “I’d have thought you would have gone to see someone at least once though, you know. After my whole…”

“After you overdosed? No. It was scary but it happened. I just happened to be there.”

Sharon shook her head and laughed. “You’re downplaying it so much, Willam. You saved my life.”

Willam sighed and shook her head. “Let’s go back inside. I think we’ll just be in time for last orders if we’re quick.”

Closure. It was weird for Willam after all these years. It was even weirder that she’d managed to go from hating Sharon, to being in love with Sharon, back to hating her, then to only mildly disliking her and now being friends with her again.

As Sharon held the door to the pub back open for her, the memories in her head seemed to sting a little bit less than usual.

***

It was New Years’ Eve, and Willam couldn’t quite believe it had almost been a year since her and Sharon began whatever they were calling this weird relationship-that-wasn’t-quite-a-relationship. There was no label on it, but tonight that was all going to change. Christmas at home had lit a fire underneath Willam, and if her parents weren’t going to accept her how she was, then fuck it. She might as well admit everything to Sharon. She certainly wouldn’t let her down as badly as her Mum had.

They were all walking up the big hill that looked over the city, stumbling in their heels and trainers in the pitch black which wasn’t helped by all the drink and pills they’d consumed. Luckily their stomachs were all lined with chips that they’d stopped off for on the way through town, Jackie handing over her card for the whole thing and Sharon laughing and adding on a kebab and falafels to her order. She certainly didn’t seem affected by all the food she’d eaten standing at the top of the hill, barely out of breath as she twirled around and took in the city below her. Willam watched her as she got her breath back, laughing at the sight of her. She was fucking beautiful, and it only made Willam more determined than ever to tell Sharon exactly how she felt.

“We made it with five minutes to go! Take that, hill!” Mayhem cheered, picking up a rock from the ground and launching it down the steep incline they’d just walked up. Willam giggled. It was so stupid and so dangerous, this whole situation, but nothing bad had happened yet so for now, it was perfect. Realising that she didn’t have long to tell Sharon everything, she strode over and pulled the other girl close to her, leaning in and kissing her deeply. She could feel Sharon’s dumb smile against her lips.

Fuck, she loved her so much.

“Hey,” Sharon grinned, pulling away and hugging Willam close. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know,” Willam sighed, anxiety fluttering away at her stomach. Was she going to do this? She pulled slightly away from Sharon so that she could see her face. “I just love you.”

Sharon tipped her head back and laughed, squeezing Willam’s waist. For a moment Willam thought she hadn’t heard her. “Yeah, and I love you too, you big idiot. You say the funniest fucking shit, Willam, it’s too much.”

Panicked, WIllam forced a smile on her face. This couldn’t be happening. She could have backed out there, pretended the whole thing was just a big joke, but for some reason she forced herself to commit to the confession. “No Sharon, it’s not a joke. We’ve been sort of…doing girlfriend-y things for a while now, you know, and fuck it, why don’t we just give ourselves a label and fuck what everyone else thinks? I love you, Sharon. I want to be your girlfriend.”

That was the moment that everything came crumbling down.

“Willam I didn’t…” Sharon’s face had dropped, her grip on Willam’s waist loosening. “I didn’t know you…oh, fuck. Willam, I don’t want a girlfriend.”

Willam’s chest physically hurt, as if someone had stomped on her heart. All the air seemed to have been removed from her lungs.

“Oh.”

She’d never seen Sharon look so awkward. “Yeah, I just…I don’t like committing myself and I want to keep my options open. I mean obviously I love spending time with you, I just…you’re a friend, and you’re a good fuck, but I can’t see myself seeing you as anything more than that. You know what I mean?”

Willam blinked and nodded slowly. Was she fucking serious? Looking Sharon in the eyes, she tried to search for something, anything that gave her a clue that Sharon was just fucking about and not actually being serious. She gave a short exhale. “I mean, I should have done this when we were both sober, right? Because you know..you’re high and you’re drunk and you probably don’t even know what I’m saying or what you’re saying.”

Willam found herself giving a short, hopeful laugh. Fuck, she was desperate. Sharon looked at the ground and shook her head. “Willam, no babe. I know what you’re saying. And I might be fucked but I’m telling you how I feel, I promise. I don’t feel anything…deep for you like that.”

There was a silence in which Willam looked at all the stars in the sky, balls of burning gas. She focused on them until her eyes hurt.

“Is that…alright?” Sharon asked, the awkwardness in her voice drawing everything out. Composing herself, Willam tipped her head back down and nodded briskly.

“Mhm. Yeah, of course.”

Sharon smiled and hugged her quickly. “You’re a good friend, Willam.”

As Sharon bounded her way over to the other girls, Willam trudged behind her until she found Mayhem.

“Listen, I’m going to go,” she said, Mayhem’s happy face dropping instantly at Willam’s words.

“What?! But bitch it’s almost time for the countdown! You can’t go yet!” she squealed, tugging on Willam’s arm. Willam shook her head.

“No, really. I really need to go.”

Mayhem looked concerned. “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

“No, no, honestly it’s fine. I just need to go home, I’m not feeling well. Probably going to spew. But listen, I’ll be fine,” Willam said, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat which she hurriedly swallowed down. She suddenly needed a hug and found herself wrapping her arms around Mayhem. “I’ll be fine. You have fun, okay? I’ll see you when you get in.”

And then Willam made her way back down the hill, the freezing cold air hitting her face as shouts from her friends heralded the start of the New Year.

From then on, it was about healing. Willam still saw Sharon in lectures, but they didn’t sit near each other anymore. Sharon often cast her glances from across the lecture theatre which Willam forced her eyes not to meet. Of course they still shared all the same friends, which made the social aspect of things difficult, and Willam found herself going to less and less parties. Given that she shared a flat with Mayhem, she still got all the gossip and stories, so she had all the excitement of being there without seeing Sharon and without the inevitable downer and hangover the next day. As they entered their final year together, Willam began to hurt less and less but resented Sharon more and more, and suddenly their relationship had come full circle. Knowing that the year she graduated was the year that counted most, Willam spent most of her time in the library whilst Sharon, enabled by Mayhem, seemed to spiral further and further down a drug-fuelled rabbit hole. Willam hardly saw her in lectures. She still thought about her sometimes, a pang at her heart when she considered what could have been, but Willam knew her future was going to be good if she got the degree classification she needed.

It was January of her final year, around two years since everything began with Sharon, when Willam awoke startled and scrambling for her bedside lamp as somebody screamed and crashed through her bedroom door. In her sleepy mind, she only half-recognised the voice as Mayhem’s, but it was so full of terror she wasn’t sure at first. Finally reaching the switch for her lamp, she turned it on to find that there were in fact two people in the room- Mayhem, as she’d thought, and the other, Sharon.

Willam wasn’t in the mood. She wasn’t in the mood for drunk, drug-fuelled let’s-wake-up-my-flatmate fun at 4am, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood for properly seeing her ex for the first time in so long here in her flat of all places. On second glance, though, Willam saw that something was wrong. Something was badly wrong. Sharon’s eyes weren’t open, and Mayhem was holding her in her arms. Her body wasn’t lifeless- it was shaking violently, and blood was pouring from her mouth. Suddenly feeling as if she’d been shocked with a thousand volts, Willam leapt out of the bed and ran onto the floor.

“What’s happened?”

Mayhem’s face was covered in black tear tracks, and her breath came in harsh judders as she explained to Willam. “We just came home…we took a few lines, but it must have been stronger than usual, or cut with something…I only had two but she had five…”

“Five?! Jesus fuck,” Willam cried out, holding Sharon’s shaking head with both her hands and fleetingly being reminded of all those years ago at the Halloween party, when Sharon had done the same for her. Willam looked at Mayhem. “Did you phone an ambulance?”

Mayhem looked guilty. “Willam I can’t, they’d send us to prison…I can’t have my parents know…there must be something we can do-”

“Oh my God Mayhem, phone the fucking ambulance now!” Willam yelled at her, full of rage at how careless her friend had been. “You’re expecting us to treat a cocaine overdose with what, a packet of fucking Beechams? Get on the fucking phone!”

Mayhem looked embarrassed as she fumbled about in her clutch bag for her phone, dialling 999 as quickly as she could with her fake nails on. As she spoke to the operator, Willam continued to hold Sharon close as her body began to still from the seizure. She was unsure if this was a good or a bad sign. Struck with a bolt of common sense, she tipped Sharon on to her side, allowing the blood to pour out of her mouth and onto the wooden floor. She had obviously bitten her tongue, but Willam didn’t know how badly. She didn’t want to look and see.

“You’ll be okay, you dumb fucking bitch,” Willam whispered to her, feeling the panic continue to rise in her chest. “I’m here, and the ambulance will be here soon. It’ll be okay.”

***

Sharon blinked and drank the last of the beer in her bottle. They were back inside, and had somehow got back onto the topic of that evening.

“If you hadn’t got Mayhem to phone the ambulance,” she said quietly, only slurring her words a tiny bit. “I would be dead.”

Willam scrunched up her nose, not accepting the flattery. “Mayhem would have done it eventually, I had nothing to do with anything.”

“You saved my life even though you didn’t have to,” Sharon looked at her with an intense gaze. Willam exhaled loudly.

“This isn’t a superhero movie. I got my flatmate to phone 999 because your dumb ass took a drug overdose,” she snapped, wanting so much to reject the affection that Sharon was attempting to give to her. Softening, she looked at the table top. “That was the last time we really spoke, wasn’t it? Until you joined at work. Well, I suppose you didn’t really speak, you just…gargled out blood.”

Willam gave an awkward laugh, and Sharon laughed with her. Willam looked at her, curiosity suddenly filling her.

“Why did you never say anything? You know, when you joined Dosac. You could have spoken to me about everything. Why didn’t you?” she asked, Sharon taking on a thoughtful look.

“Why didn’t you?” Sharon asked, shrugging and knowing she had Willam well and truly in her place. Willam frowned, trying to articulate her thoughts which was difficult after five beers.  

“I feel like neither of us have ever been really big on communication,” she laughed, Sharon agreeing with a giggle. “I guess I just defaulted to dislike. There was nothing to say. Everything to say had been said years ago. There was no point dredging everything up.”

Sharon nodded. “I’d agree with that.”

Willam considered something. “Did you tell Alaska about us? I know she knows we went to Uni together, but-”

“Yeah, I did.”

Willam didn’t know what to do with that information. “What did she say?”

Sharon snorted a laugh. “She says I behaved like a first class cunt.”

“That sounds about right,” Willam laughed. “And she doesn’t mind us working together?”

Sharon frowned. “No. She’s not a weirdo, she knows I’m obsessed with her and you’re obsessed with Courtney and there’s not going to be anything going on between the two of us.”

“I’m not obsessed with her, I just…” Willam trailed off, jumping as the barmaid rang a huge bell. She looked at Sharon with disappointment. “Well, I guess we need to drink up.”

Sharon nodded. “Do you want to head somewhere different?”

“Nah. I don’t feel like talking about our bloody breakup and your overdose gave me many going-out vibes, do you?” Willam deadpanned, Sharon looking at the table and laughing.

“I guess not,” she smiled guiltily, taking Willam’s hand and squeezing it. “I am sorry, Willam. For everything that happened between us.”

Willam found herself rubbing Sharon’s knuckles with her thumb the way she used to do. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad we did this tonight. It was good.”

They began to make their way out of the pub, grabbing their jackets and bags but somehow keeping their hands intertwined, and they still didn’t let go once they were outside, alone on the quiet street. Willam felt odd and her stomach felt bubbly with feelings that were strange and yet so well-known.

“How are you getting home? We could share a taxi?” Sharon offered, squeezing Willam’s hand.

She shook her head. “Nah. I’m Clapham. It’s out of your way. I think I can get a night bus somewhere down the road so I’m just going to walk down.”

“Fair enough. I’ll head across the road, there’s a taxi rank down there,” Sharon smiled, looking at Willam wistfully. She hadn’t yet let go of her hand, and now she was taking the other one. “Hey. For old times’ sake?”

Willam considered it. They’d both been dumped, they were both pining after someone else, they both needed affection, and they were both friends.

Shrugging, Willam leaned in to meet Sharon who instantly let go of her hands and brought them around her waist, holding her close as their lips met gently. They were both tentative, as if neither of them were really sure what to expect. Sharon tasted exactly as she did eight years ago, of cigarettes and something that Willam couldn’t articulate then and still couldn’t articulate now. It was as if she was smelling a perfume she’d used so often and then stopped, forgetting its scent and then suddenly remembering- haunting, carrying so many memories, and taking her right back to a specific place and time. Willam brought her hand up to cup Sharon’s jaw, kissing hard and feeling the other woman’s tongue against her own. The whole situation was insane, but it was strangely comforting.

Willam pulled away first, just so that she could have the satisfaction of knowing she’d pulled away first. Sharon smiled at her and she smiled back, and soon the two of them were laughing at nothing.

“Yeah. I’m definitely still in love with Alaska,” Sharon shrugged, walking slowly out onto the road and making to cross it.

“You’re a rotted whore,” Willam yelled at her, still laughing. Sharon paused in the middle of the road, swaying a little in her heeled boots and tipping her head to the sky.

“I’m not a rotted whore,” she cried, making Willam laugh even more. “I’m Sharon Needles, Cabinet Minister! Sharon Needles, Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship!”

“Sharon Needles, the UK’s political heavyweight!” Willam laughed as Sharon doubled over in the road.

“Sharon Needles- making history! A legend! An immortal!” she drunkenly shouted. Neither of them had stopped laughing, and Willam felt as if Sharon seemed to be bathed in a glow of white light, as if she really was some sort of celestial being. Sharon’s laughter died down and she smiled affectionately at Willam, and the light seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. Willam frowned. It seemed really real, and Sharon seemed to notice it too as she turned around in the road.

It was only then than Sharon’s face dropped into one of complete shock, and Willam all at once realised where the light was coming from. The car could have been going at any speed, Willam didn’t know, but everything happened so fast as Sharon’s feet were swept off the ground from underneath her, her body rolling over the car’s bonnet, then windshield, then finally over the roof before smacking with a crack against the concrete of the road.

The car was gone and the white light was gone, and all that was left was the darkness that enveloped the street, the blood ringing in Willam’s ears, and Sharon’s lifeless body on the tarmac.

[royalcordelia]

If the Sea Should Part (2/5)

Summary: Anne finds herself caught up in whirl of romance and adventure after rescuing Dr. Gilbert Blythe from the sea during a storm. She should let him go, but when she finds out Billy Andrews is plotting to take Gilbert’s life and estate, she realizes there’s nothing that can keep her from protecting him.

• Rated G • 4.5k words •  Read on ao3 • Read on ff.net •

The telegram arrived at the estate two days after the storm. Sebastian LaCroix, whose whole expression had been weighed down by a grief no one spoke to him about, had been sitting at the dinner table with his wife at opposite heads of the table. Neither of them had touched their food, appetites washed away with the storm. Around them, the boys bustled and chatted, unaware that anything was wrong.

So when the servant came in to say that an urgent telegram had been delivered, addressed to Mr. Lacroix, Bash shot up from the table and hoped for the impossible.

INJURED STOP STAYING GREEN GABLES AVONLEA STOP NEED TRANSPORT HOME STOP

Perhaps there was value in being an optimist, after all.

* # * # *

Gilbert had grown to have a new appreciation for bedrest in the time he spent in Matthew Cuthbert’s old room. There wasn’t much to do when Anne wasn’t around, which filled a large portion of his day with silence as she often had to complete housework for Marilla. When she was gone, he’d stare at the pictures on the wall and count the days until he could make it home. Anne also lent Gilbert some of her book collection to read, and he’d made it through her prized copy of Jane Eyre in a single day. His heart ached for the outcasted orphan, who’d known only loneliness from birth. For some reason, reading the novel here in Green Gables made him feel it even stronger, but he couldn’t know why.

He was lost in his thoughts when a knock came from the door.

“Hello, Gil? I brought you some stew and some of Marilla’s currant wine for the pain.” Anne swept into the room like a breeze and placed the tray on his lap.

“Thank you, Anne. I’d wither away without you,” he replied with a kind smile. There was something else there as he gazed upon her that made her flush and turn to pour him a small glass of wine.

“Has your leg been hurting very terribly?” she questioned, examining with satisfaction his other wounds.  

“No, not with the doctor’s daily prescriptions. And of course, your cooking does wonders to soothe the soul.”

She sat at the edge of his bed, wondering for a split second what it would be like to lean against his chest - a traitorous thought indeed! She thought about the small envelope she had sneakily placed on the table as she entered the room, and the title of its return sender. No doubt, the letter’s purpose was inform Gilbert that his family would be arriving for him presently and he could return back to his physician’s life and leave this poor country village behind him.

Anne couldn’t imagine what life would look like once he was gone. In the week he’d been condemned to bedrest, everyone at Green Gables had gotten used to his presence. Even Mrs. Rachel Lynde had entered his room and listened to some tales of his youth, laughing so hard that Anne could hear her from the barn.

“The Lord only chooses fine men as his physicians, I say! And Dr. Blythe is a fine physician, indeed!” Mrs. Lynde said, storming out of the room in a pleased tizzy. Anne looked up from her baking and offered a small smile.

It was the first time, she’d heard Gilbert’s last name. He hadn’t offered it to her before, but she couldn’t think as to why he’d keep a secret from her all this time. It did sound awful familiar, though.

“Dr. Blythe,” Anne said carefully, feeling that she might address him properly now that she had all the missing parts of the name equation. Gilbert’s eyes snapped up to meet hers as he ate his stew. “You received a letter today from a Mr. Lacroix. That’s the man we sent the telegram to, is it not?”

When Gilbert’s jaw dropped, she handed him the letter. Setting down his spoon, he held the letter up to his face to examine the handwriting. He turned himself away from Anne’s nervous eyes and hid his emotion behind a hand.

“My brother,” he said, voice heavy. “He’s my brother. He must’ve survived that storm, thank Providence.”

Anne waited in silence as he read over the full three pages of letter at least twice, pretending not to notice when a tear had formed in the corner of his lashes. He brushed them away carefully, beginning to eat his stew on the second readthrough. Finally, when he was finished, he folded the letter back up along its crease lines and placed it in the envelope. He looked at the beautiful redhead beside him, eyes bittersweet.

“He’ll be here to collect me tomorrow,” he said gently. Anne processed this for a second.

“And then you’ll go back home to the Glen?”

Gilbert nodded. Some strange, untouched part of Anne cracked just then, like a glass that can’t handle boiling water. She rose to her feet with an abruptness that jolted the doctor, and ran her hands down the front of her skirt to flatten the fabric.

“I suppose there are preparations to be made if we’re to have more company. I look forward to meeting this brother of yours,” she said, unable to meet his eye. “Rest well, Dr. Blythe.”

“Anne-”

“You’ll need to get some sleep if you’re to be traveling. I’ll check on you in the morning.” She headed as fast a steam engine toward the door, but paused before she could touch the handle. “Do you suppose Mr. Lacroix might like to stay for a meal before you head off?”

She snuck a glance over her shoulder at Gilbert, who stared at her with what could only be seen as unadulterated admiration.

“If there’s anything I know about Bash, it’s that he loves to eat.”

“Alright then, that sounds just fine.”

Anne slipped through the door, letting it give a little slam as it clicked shut behind her. She found herself frozen for a brief second, the entire wooden door keeping her standing. A hand came to rest over the ache in her chest, and she closed her eyes before her own trail of tears could escape. After taking a silent, fortifying breath, she opened her eyes and found Marilla sitting at the dining room table watching her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Anne said quietly, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and picked up the scrubbing brush. Marilla stood her ground as evenly as ever Anne knew she could.

“Anne, he doesn’t belong here in Avonlea.”

“I don’t suppose that’s for any of us to decide.”

“That’s because it already has been decided. Don’t you know who he is?” Anne paused, fully cognizant of Marilla’s eyes on her back as tangible as humid air. She forced herself to release some of the pent up tension in her shoulders.

“Of course I know who he is,” Anne replied adamantly, but she’d hadn’t been able to convince herself. Did she really know him? It felt like she did, like his soul and hers had been acquainted since their specks in the universe were first formed. He certainly wasn’t a stranger anymore, not with how much they spoke.

“The Glen needs their doctor. I am only glad that I could play a part in helping him,” Anne stated in admission. “Mr. Sebastian LaCroix will be here tomorrow to collect him. I’ll be inviting him for an early supper. After that, things will return to their normalcy.”

Marilla said nothing more. Anne dried her hands on her apron and left the older woman sitting under the shadows of the candlelight, remembering her own days of first love and regret.

* # * # *

She wanted it to feel like home when he left, so she left daisies around the house in thin vases and opened the windows to let in the fresh, warm air. Jerry had come by the day earlier to drop off the crutch he had fashioned saying, “It’ll be good enough until he gets home and finds a real one.” Anne accomplished much in the time that they waited for Mr. Lacroix, busying her hands by any means necessary to distract her mind. But when she looked out over the Green Gables dining room, with its dustless surfaces, freshly baked bread, and perfectly set table, she wondered if maybe she should have spent that time with Gilbert.

“Anne?” a voice called from the inside Matthews room. Clutching her hands at her sides, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Yes, Gil?”

Her heart caught in her throat as she looked at him, a cleaner version of the man she had fished up from the hurricane. To her astonishment, he was even standing without her help. He was dressed back in his sailor’s clothes, freshly cleaned and pressed. Mrs. Lynde had mended the gash on the leg of his trousers with such expertise that they looked practically new. He’d managed to comb his hair and wash his face, even with the bindings of his injured leg making it inconvenient, and Anne couldn’t help but feel as if he was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“You...you’re looking rather well,” she said formally.

“I could say the same of you. You’re radiant,” he replied, matching her tone. He latched onto the rosy pink that ascended her cheeks, wishing he could make her blush all day long.

“You called?” she said after a moment of rather intimate silence.

“Oh! Well, I wondered if I might wait for Bash out in the dining room for a change of scenery. It’d be wise for me to stretch my legs a little bit before traveling home.”

“Far be it from me to tell you where you can and cannot roam when you’re my guest. Did you need some assistance?”

“No, thank you, but I would care for some company.”

He moved in slow jilted steps, hobbling on the mahogany colored crutch with as much precision as he might were he performing surgery. An ocean breeze swept through the home, carrying with it the faint scent of daisies and freshly baked bread. Gilbert swayed as it grazed across his face, grinning in the victory of standing upright.

“May I be forthright with you for a moment,” he said quietly to Anne, who stood only a few breaths behind him.

“Of course,” her voice came quietly. He turned to her and interlocked their hands at the fingertips.

“If I could have all of my wishes fulfilled, I’d stay here in this beautiful country house forever with you.”

Anne felt a shock of electricity run through her that made her practically melt into the floor. Gilbert’s hand slid up so that their palms laid flat against each other’s - soft skin against a doctor’s touch, reverence meeting bravery. Taking a step out of his own world and entering hers, he closed their fingers together so that he was holding her hand. Each small risk he took, he wanted to take more. He gave a small tug forward and pulled her closer so that her oxygen was his. The natural gravitation between them took its place and Anne wondered if he might kiss her.

A knock came at the door, causing them both to look up. Anne tore her hand away from Gilbert’s, shuffling toward the door. She took a deep breath, acutely aware of Gilbert’s eyes on her back, then pulled open the door.

You would not have thought at first sight that Sebastian LaCroix was Gilbert’s brother. He was everything Gilbert was not - strong frame, facial hair, dark dusky skin. But then as Anne looked closer, she could see parts of Bash’s soul that were made of the same stuff as Gilbert’s, the things that made them the same.

“Hello sir, I presume you are Mr. LaCroix?”

The man did not know what to think about the thin red headed woman before him, with the eyes that were wild and mourning, gray and human. He removed his hat and pulled it to his chest, smiling in a practiced way that reminded Anne of Diana’s wealthy family. All practiced propriety fell aside when he caught eyes with the injured man behind her, and his cheeks widened into a grin.

“Gilbert Blythe, I ought to strangle you,” he said with an accent that Anne had never heard before. He breezed right past her and caught Gilbert in a fond embrace.

“If it’s just the same to you, I think I’ve had enough near death experiences for a lifetime,” Gilbert replied with a laugh.

“You’re telling me. I don’t think I ever want to go on a boat anywhere again.”

Gilbert started, remembering something.

“How’s the boat? The crew?” he asked, grabbing Bash’s shoulder with a frantic grasp.

“Relax, Blythe, everyone is fine. They were worried sick about you until we got your message.” Bash looked like he might say more, but turned his face down to the floor and swallowed hard. “We thought we lost you, Gilbert.”

“I know,” the good doctor replied. A tender expression came over his face. “But Anne saved me. She’s been taking care of me all this time.”

Bash swung around and caught eyes with the wild-wallflower standing across the room. Her hands were clenched at her sides, face forcefully neutral.  

“I apologize, Miss Anne, it seems manners flew right out of my head. I am Sebastian LaCroix and I am indebted to you for saving my brother.”

“Not at all,” Anne said in a quiet, polite tone. “His presence in this house has been very welcomed. It makes me wish that the Avonlea doctor was such good company.”

Bash laughed at this, but took a few steps forward so that he might hold Anne’s hands in his.

“Truly ma’am, on behalf of our family and forty-three boys, thank you. I hope you will think of a way that we can compensate-”

“Wait, forty-three boys?” Anne asked, forgetting her manners to send a confused look to Gilbert. How could there possibly be forty-three boys in a single house, plus all of Gilbert’s family?

“Uh oh,” Bash murmured. “You didn’t tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Anne hissed sharply. Gilbert gaped for a second, searching for words. “Tell me what, Dr. Blythe?”

“It’s not bad, Anne!” Gilbert defended. “It’s just that everyone knows it at the Glen and for once it was nice to be just Gilbert for a while. Not…” He sighed.

Anne watched the turmoil raging inside him, so she softened her accusatory glare and bit the inside of her cheek.

“Why don’t we sit down for supper and you can tell me? Mr. LaCroix, are you hungry?”

“Always, Miss Anne,” Bash replied with a chuckle.

Neither Anne nor Gilbert seemed hungry enough to eat the chicken and vegetables that sat on their plates. Bash, however, was completely unaffected by the awkward atmosphere. The nervous glances cast across the table were no more than dinner entertainment to him, of which he was very much amused.

Finally, Anne said, “A man is allowed his secrets, especially from a stranger. If you lied to me, I can hardly fault you.”

“You’re not a stranger,” Gilbert insisted, choking back some of his growing affection to keep from overwhelming her. “And I didn’t lie to you. I merely omitted what you’ll likely consider important truths.”

“Is that all?” she murmured to herself, taking a bite of salted potatoes. Gilbert sighed and set down his fork.

“What do you know of the North Blythe Harbor?” he asked steadily.

“It’s the main port of the island,” Anne answered easily. “Even Avonlea uses the North Harbor for exports.”

“I own that harbor,” Gilbert stated.

Anne’s face went ashen. The connection hadn’t even occurred to her, but even if it had, how was she to suspect that this sailor of a doctor owned an entire harbor. Suddenly, she scrambled through her brain for any information about the Blythes she could think of, but she’d never cared before now.

“It was my father’s, passed down to him by a gentleman he once saved while they were on a voyage to England,” he continued. “He passed away a few years ago, leaving me with his business even after I became the Glen’s doctor. I didn’t want to quit my position, but suddenly found myself with more money and responsibility than I knew what to do with.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I had no idea,” said Anne, feeling like a fool. “You’ve likely thought me rather asinine.”

“Not at all! I’m not…” His jaw tightened. “I’m not your average wealthy man. I have fully appreciated being simple, country Dr. Blythe these past weeks. Your companionship has been invaluable to me. And no more of this sir and Dr. Blythe nonsense, please.”

At this, Bash cocked an eyebrow, noticing the matching blushes on their faces.

“And the forty boys?” Anne asked.

“Forty-three,” Gilbert corrected cautiously. “After my father passed away, I really did find myself with more wealth than I thought was possible and I didn’t need most of it. At first, I began making regular donations to the Boy’s Orphan Asylum in Charlottetown, but it didn’t seem like enough. I made some renovations to my...estate and took in forty of the boys who have been there the longest. They live on my property and are well taken care of. My family is rather close with them now.”

Anne hadn’t noticed her eyes beginning to water, but when one of her tears fell onto her plate, Bash leaned over.

“Anne, you’re crying on the potatoes.”

With a sniveling gasp, she quickly wiped her eyes and gave a shy chuckle.

���I think you’re quite forgiven, Gilbert. I wish you would’ve just told me, though. Perhaps I would’ve been nicer to you.”

“Nicer than saving my life and nursing me back to health?” Gilbert grinned. “I didn’t take on the boys for the praise, though. People I do business with tend to hold strong judgments, so I don’t often play the orphan card.”

Anne gave him a small, watery smile.

“Neither do I.”

It was then that Gilbert understood the meaning behind Anne’s tears. He reached across the table, grabbed her hand, and gave it a small squeeze. Anne herself began to wonder if maybe that was why she’d been made to save his life on that stormy day - so that he might save more orphan lives, love them and care for them the way that the Cuthberts had done for her.

“Funny how Providence works, huh?” he murmured. Anne shook their hands a little bit, then pulled back to grab her fork.

“Well, with that out of the way, I want to hear all about how this lily of a woman managed to pull your sorry behind out of a storm like that,” Bash laughed.

Anne looked at Gilbert expectantly, but he shook his head.

“You’re a far better storyteller than I, Anne. I’d hate to butcher a heroic tale.”

They sat there together, three kindred souls opening up and retelling miraculous tales until the mid afternoon sun had seeped in through the window to warm Bash’s neck. He placed his napkin on the table and gave Gilbert a look that spoke volumes. Anne caught it and felt her heart twinge with a queer, little ache.

“If you’re to make it back to the Glen at a reasonable hour, you should probably head off,” she sighed. “It’s been a rare pleasure to have you in my company. I know Marilla will be sad that she missed you.”

“Please extend my sincere and deepest gratitude that she opened her home to this injured doctor,” Gilbert said, rising from his seat. Anne handed him his crutch before he could ask for it, their fingers grazing in the exchange.

“I’ll go bring around the wagon,” Bash said, eyes shifting from Gilbert to Anne with a sly smile. Then he turned to the blushing Anne and offered her a warm smile. “Truly, thank you for everything, Queen Anne. Come to the estate sometime, we’d love to have you as our guest. Wouldn’t we, Blythe?”

“Absolutely!” Gilbert replied with no hesitation. “In fact, I’d be honored if you did come sometime. Bring Miss Cuthbert and Mrs. Lynde.”

“I’ll extend the invitation,” Anne said with a nod. “Safe travels, Bash.”

Once the man had left the kitchen, Anne was suddenly aware that she was breathing in all of Gilbert - his air, his aura, his soul. It had somehow drawn her nearer to him and she found herself close enough to see the two midnight freckles on his cheek and the small healing scratches on his forehead from the storm.

Neither knew what to say, so they just stood there in the afternoon light wishing that they didn’t come from such different worlds. Maybe in another life, Gilbert was an island boy here in Avonlea, tormenting her life out until eventually he could woo her into noticing how truly, adamantly he-

“ Hurry along Blythe!” Bash called from outside. “Haven’t got all day.”

Anne started, hurriedly handing Gilbert one of Matthew’s old hats and jackets. She had just opened her mouth to say goodbye when he took a daring step forward, fixed his eyes on hers, and said, “You are amazing, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. I hope you know.”

Her reply was caught in her throat and instead she just offered him a tight, teary smile.

He leaned down, pressed a kiss on her cheek, and was gone, leaving Anne standing in the kitchen wondering just why she couldn’t stop crying.

* # * # *

If Anne knew Gilbert to be the very best of men, then William Andrews - or Billy, as he was known in his school days - was positively the worst. Ever since she had arrived in Avonlea at the tender age of eleven, Billy Andrews had done everything in his power to make her miserable. He’d treated her like a dog under his shoe, torn down her childhood playhouse board by board, and spread rumors that she had been a filthy strumpet on a verge of being married out of wedlock. Every bone in her body despised him, and when they would eventually lay in the ground after she was gone, that hatred would still be there, grown up in poison ivy.

But Billy had sealed his fate that humid day in Avonlea as she walked behind Billy and Charlie Sloane on their way to the store.

“How do you even know the Blythes?” Charlie had asked. Anne’s ears perked up and she quicked her pace so that she might listen a little better.

“Gil’s father and mine were friends when the Blythes lived in Avonlea. Wasn’t long, but long enough that John put me next in line for the harbor.”

“It’s a shame that Dr. Blythe decided to work the harbor and keep up his practice, otherwise that could’ve been you in that big house.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy spat bitterly. “Look, I’m not worried about it. Blythe can try all he wants to keep up the harbor with those ugly orphan kids and that colored family, but by the end of the year, it’ll be mine. My plan is all set.”

Plan? A sickening feeling settled in her gut, but she kept her face neutral in case one of the boys turned back.

“What’re you going to do?”

“Let’s just say rifles and new doctors are easy to come by,” Billy sneered.

Anne’s feet came to a halt. She stared at them as they walked away, consumed with their laughter and malicious plans. Was Billy really planning to..? She couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t just all bark and no bite this time, but he’d been so unpredictable in the past. It was hard to know which of his many threats he’d make good on.

She couldn’t take the chance. She had to find Gilbert and tell him. Even if he didn’t believe her, she had to warn him and try her best.

  That night at Green Gables, Anne found herself in another face off with Mrs. Lynde, this time with Marilla on the opposing side.

“Now listen, Anne, you’ve been reading a lot of books on heroic people and I admire your tendency toward saving people but this is something you ought not meddle in,” Marilla warned.

“Billy is planning on killing Gilbert! Someone has to tell him!” Anne retaliated.

“You likely just misinterpreted what you heard! Billy Andrews was a troubled child but that doesn’t mean he’s grown to be a murderer,” Rachel chimed in.

“I’m not sitting by and letting him get away with this. If something happens to Gilbert, it’ll be on my hands. I’m packing my things and leaving for the Glen tonight.”

“You will not, ” Marilla warned, but the days of Miss Cuthbert rearing Anne Shirley were long over.

“I am a grown woman!” Anne exploded. “I will not be treated like a child in my own home.”

“You’re living under my roof, you will abide by my rules, and no mistake!” Marilla said, raising her voice to meet Anne’s.

“Then I won’t live here anymore! Not until I know Gilbert will be okay.”

Marilla’s face turned as gray as the wall behind her, the betrayal evident in the hardening lines of her jaw. Rachel Lynde had gone silent, staring at the Green Gables women as if they were pipes bombs seconds away from detonating.

“You’d leave Green Gables for a man you knew two weeks? Anne, I’ve never known you to be imprudent. If you think you love him, then you’re only-”

"Stop, ” Anne cried out on a sob. “I’m leaving because it’s the right thing to do. I’m packing my carpet bag, and I’m leaving.”

Marilla straightened her back and looked at Anne with tired, aged eyes.

“I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you. But when you’ve gotten your heart broken, your room will be waiting for you collecting dust.”

Anne covered her mouth to shield against a sob, then spun off to her gable room. She swore when she began living at this house that she’d never hurt Marilla knowingly, but she didn’t expect for this to happen. How could she?

Angrily shoving clothes and toiletries into her old carpet bag, she remembered Matthew. He would’ve let her go. He would’ve known she had to do this.  

Sparing a glance at her pocket watch, Anne heaved a sigh of relief. If she left now, she’d make the last train of the night to Glen St. Mary. It’d be a long trip to make with no feasible plan. She didn’t even know where the Blythe Estate was. Surely there would be people who could help her.

It was settled. Anne marched down the stairs, determined resolve and carpet bag steady in her grasp. She looked at the two Avonlea women, matron and spinster as dark as if they were in mourning, and placed one of the marigolds from her room on the dining room table.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can. I love you both dearly and I’m sorry.”

Neither said anything, so Anne turned and crossed into the starry, humid night.

[livinginlandmarketing]

Nothing moves on Ragsdale Road. Cars whiz past on the 10 Freeway about 100 yards away.

At an abandoned gas station, the pumps are stripped of their outer shells and wiring. The convenience store is covered in graffiti, its door kicked in, contents looted. Nearby restrooms are smashed and unworkable, but the stench suggests that hasn’t stopped everyone from using them. The sign over the station announces 24-hour service, a claim that hasn’t been true in years.

Desert Center doesn’t look like it’s worth $6.25 million.

That’s what Riverside resident Balwinder Singh Wraich paid at auction July 13 for the 1,034.78 acres of property in and around Desert Center. What he does with the land could radically transform a region that’s home to people who’ve spent generations in desert solitude.

Here’s what else $6 million can get you in today’s Southern California real estate market:

A 3,200-square foot Palm Springs house, designed by architect Ray Kappe, with spectacular views of the city and surrounding mountains.

A 6,000-square foot, six-bedroom, seven-bathroom “retreat” in Malibu Canyon, on an 8-acre property.

A 3,750-square foot, five-bedroom, four-bathroom house literally on the beach in Dana Point.

But Desert Center is a largely empty desert outpost in the Chuckwalla Valley, about 50 miles from either Blythe or Indio, almost exactly halfway between Los Angeles and Phoenix. The land Wraich bought includes two gas stations, a cafe, a hotel, store, school and the gravesite of a former cafe cook — all abandoned.

Desert Center has no city council or other government. But the U.S. Census Bureau lists it as a spot where people have come together, even though it’s not a formal town or city. The bureau estimates 216 people lived there in 2019, with a median age of 70.6 years old.

The Desert Center Unified School District teaches 29 students, according to the California Department of Education, ranging from kindergarten through 8th grade. The district operates just one of its former five schools. The others shut down after Kaiser Steel’s nearby Eagle Mountain mine closed in 1983. High school students travel about 50 miles each way to attend classes in Blythe. The shell of a former school, caked in graffiti, with broken glass and ceramic tile covering the floor, is visible to freeway motorists zipping past Desert Center.

Broken windows are seen at an abandoned Desert Center school Friday, July 30, 2021. The mostly deserted area in eastern Riverside County has been sold. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

An abandoned home in Desert Center is seen Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Drivers use an abandoned gas station in Desert Center as a rest stop Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Residents cool off in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

As the thermometer topped 100 degrees, residents take a dip in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

A resident closes her eyes while floating in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Mystik Souza, 9, runs back to shore while playing in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

A view of homes by Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center is seen Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Homes by Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center are seen Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

The Desert Center Cafe sits abandoned Friday, July 30, 2021. The outpost in eastern Riverside County has been sold for $6.25 million. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

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The road behind

According to legend, in 1915, Kansas-born Stephen Ragsdale and his wife Lydia were driving to Los Angeles, before breaking down on the dirt wagon road between Blythe and Indio. Rescued by a prospector, Ragsdale saw opportunity in the other motorists crossing the Colorado Desert.

“He’d seen numerous people who had been unprepared crossing the desert, so he conceived of the idea of having a rest stop at the halfway point,” said Steve Lech, a historian and author who co-writes The Press-Enterprise’s Back in the Day local history column. “That’s why he called it Desert Center: It was kind of a marketing ploy.”

Opened in September 1921, Desert Center was a family affair.

“He would run the tow truck and pump gas. His wife would run the cafe and do the cooking,” Lech said. “He had two sons and a daughter and they would do auto repairs and work at the center.”

Ragsdale, rebranding himself “Desert Steve,” had dreams of expanding Desert Center, according to Lech. But Ragsdale believed in temperance: Even after Prohibition ended in 1933, he didn’t want tenants to serve or sell alcohol. His lawyer said Ragsdale couldn’t legally prohibit alcohol. So Desert Center stayed small.

Margit Chiriaco Rusche’s parents started the competing community and rest stop of Chiriaco Summit, 19 miles to the west, on the western rim of the Chuckwalla Valley. They spent decades as frenemies of the Ragsdales.  According to Rusche, Steve Ragsdale vowed to “run that upstart Italian out of town” when Joe and Ruth Chiriaco moved there in 1933.

“It was very remote,” Rusche said. “As little kids, we pumped gas, we made hamburgers.”

Today, she’s CEO of Chiriaco Summit. It offers food, gas and the General Patton Memorial Museum for road-weary travelers. A motel and a mobile home and RV park are planned.

After his death in 1971, Ragsdale’s son Stanley ran Desert Center until he died in 1999. He kept it small, turning down offers from fast-food chains and others who wanted to “improve” the outpost.

Stanley’s six kids couldn’t agree on how to manage the businesses, so Desert Center gradually shut down. Their battle spent two decades in probate court. It might be the longest probate case in county history, according to Paula Turner, the real estate agent whose Coachella Valley firm handled the sale.

“I haven’t sold a town before,” she said. “This is my first town!”

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Even before the auction, Rusche had tried to buy a piece of Desert Center more than once.

“When they were closing down, we were going through a contract to lease the (Desert Center) coffee shop to update it. Thousands and thousands of dollars later, one of the brothers said ‘No, not with a Chiriaco,’” she said.

Rusche then tried to buy part of the property, but the family member selling it didn’t have the clear legal right to do so.

Finally, Riverside County had enough.

“The judge said ‘It’s been 20 years, we’re putting it up for auction,’” Rusche said.

Wraich did not respond to repeated requests for comment. His family runs the Fontana-based trucking company Wraich Transport, which includes the Wraich Travel Plaza truck stop in Fontana.

The property was put up for auction for $5 million, before Wraich outbid Rusche, winning Desert Center with a $6.25 million bid. That brought an end to the Ragsdales’ ownership of the community founded by their patriarch. Members of the Ragsdale family declined to comment.

“That’s how it goes,” Rusche said. “We decided that dirt wasn’t worth that much money.”

In the end, the Chiriacos did get a bit of Desert Center, purchasing a totem pole that once stood outside the cafe. It will be going up at Chiriaco Summit soon, Rusche said.

The here and now

Trucks idle in vacant lots, curtains drawn as drivers presumably get some sleep.

The roof of the Desert Center Market is caved in, roof beams crashed down around empty ice cream and soda refrigerators. A sign in the window reads “Sorry, we’re closed.”

Someone appears to have walked away from the boarded-up cafe mid-cleaning. A bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels on a table caked in a thick layer of dust are visible through the windows.

Only the U.S. Post Office is still open. The other three shops in the tiny strip mall are long since closed. They seem to have shut down mid-renovation, with paint cans and drop clothes covered in dust visible inside.

“They let it go really bad,” said Harold Copeland, whose first job was working at Desert Center in 1977. “They should have sold something a long time ago and made something of it.”

Few live in Desert Center today. The biggest nearby population center is at Lake Tamarisk, 2 1/2 miles away. A few dozen homes cluster around a county-run nine-hole golf course. The residents are mostly “hermits,” according to one.

Copeland grew up in Eagle Mountain, moving there in 1967. He now lives in Indio, but his mother still lives at Lake Tamarisk.

“They love it out there because it’s just so quiet,” Copeland said. “The streets rolled up at 6 o’clock, but we learned to live with it.”

The lack of things to do in the Chuckwalla Valley is part of the attraction for some.

Residents cool off in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

“There’s no temptations,” said Adrianna Ornales, taking a midday dip in Lake Tamarisk with other members of the Set Free church congregation. The pool at the nearby community center is dry and the center itself locked up. It was 104 degrees at midafternoon on July 30.

Ornales moved to Desert Center in 2018, along with about four dozen other members of her church, to escape the seductions of the big city.

“It’s our little safety bubble out here,” she said.

Ornales works at Lake Tamarisk’s one-room library, open three days a week, that shares a building with the small county firehouse.

She hopes Wraich can bring Desert Center back to life.

“I hope he does something with it,” Ornales said. “More job opportunities, so people can get on their feet.”

The other big population center is Lake Tamarisk Resort, a mobile home and RV park for those 55 years old and up. Many of the 150 trailers and RV spots are empty now, the snowbirds flown away to cooler climes. Once upon a time, it was a park for high-end Airstream trailers. Before that, it served the World War II era Desert Training Center first run by Major Gen. George S. Patton.

Brenda Cervantes, who with her husband has managed the resort about a year, also wants to see Desert Center revitalized.

“They need some business brought back here,” she said. “People call and say ‘Where’s your gas station?’”

The nearest one is 19 miles away, in Chiriaco Summit. Groceries mean a 50-mile trip to Blythe or Indio.

“We’re self-sufficient,” Rusche said. “That’s part of being desert people.”

Cervantes believes Desert Center can be restored without losing the quiet isolation residents enjoy.

“We’re hoping something good comes in,” Cervantes said.

But no one ends up staying in Desert Center by accident.

“We’re our own little oasis out here,” Cervantes said. “Most everyone comes here because it’s out of the way.”

The road ahead

More on the Chuckwalla Valley

Inland plants boost state to No. 1

Plan aims to turn desert water to electricity

Chiriaco Summit became popular desert outpost

Riverside County objects to desert conservation plan

30 unusual Southern California museums to visit

‘Desert Steve’ Ragsdale had the coolest view in Riverside County

These Inland Empire elementary schools have waivers to reopen

Copeland has high hopes for Wraich’s Desert Center.

“I think they’ll build a big truck stop right there and maybe houses or condos for the people who work there,” Copeland said.

Rusche is skeptical. Desert Center doesn’t have its own source of potable water, she said. And the historic buildings will need to be completely torn down.

Wraich has “got a lot of hoops to jump through,” Rusche said. “He’s got to get through the county process, which is hard.”

She thinks the land is best suited for something modest.

“Why build a truck stop in California so close to the border where they can get their gas so much cheaper than they can here?” Rusche said. “To me, it doesn’t make that much sense.”

Change has come to the desert, of course. North of Lake Tamarisk, a huge solar farm has gone in. And in cooler weather, visitors race at the Chuckwalla Valley Raceway. But most days are quiet, especially during the hottest days of summer.

Whatever else might change, Chuckwalla Valley residents say the desert’s appeal is eternal.

“It’s a really tight community still,” Copeland said.

When skeptics ask him about growing up in the Chuckwalla Valley, “I say ‘how many friends do you hang out with from your high school?’ And they say none, because there were 500 people in their graduating class. I still see everyone, because there were 35 in my graduation class.”

His graduating class still gets together annually, he said.

“It would be hard for me to live anywhere else,” Rusche said. “We have freedom and we have the mountains that are a different color every time you look at them.”

But for now, the traffic on the 10 keeps racing past.

-on August 13, 2021 at 01:23AM by Beau Yarbrough

[queersunflowers]

smh cant believe you made me send an ask,, i dont even remember the questions so do all of them, that's 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 and idk if there are numbers after but if there are then also do 94 95 96 97 98 and 99 if they're available yeah get rekt nerd

 You could of just said “all of them” but no, be extra. A lot of these are Yes or No questions so don’t get upset if I didn’t give my whole life story.  

The Questions I’ll Be Answering: 

1. Definitely not.

2. No, haven’t talked to that fucker in a year lmao

3. Yeah, oops.

4. Kinda. In terms of friendship, once you loose it, its gone. Relationship wise, same but I’m so fucking loyal ah.

5. Don’t “like” anyone atm but I did do a Lab Report with a really cute girl

6.My future (past High school bc shit sucks)

7. (The Cheeto president aside) Nothing much.

8. I think its cute/fine as long as their safe, properly taken care of, and no frat boy is within a 50 mile radius of her.

9. YES.

10. If you’ve been around me for more than 10 seconds you would know: its fucking Cranberry Juice

11. Three, maybe four.

12. All my jeans are skinny jeans.

13. Get fUCKED UP (I’ll be blogging that night)

14. Clothes or food most likely.

15. Lol no

16. Three months? Maybe, I mean everyone changes and I can’t predict the future. But maybe.

17. Honestly? All of my best friends (irl and internet) and my grandma. I can count this on my hands.

18. When did TFP air?

19. Nope

20. I’m realizing that life’s fucking short. Go do what you really want to do.

21. Meh.

22. Sure, don’t see why not.

23. Nope, kinda glad.

24. To pee. Also the LGBT page on the White House’s website would be great.

25. Eh, nothing really.

26. Blonde and purple baby

27. No, but it doesn’t take a lot to make me laugh

28. The cute girl that I did my Lab Report with kept joking that she couldn’t read the equations and idk it’d sound weird if I explained it.

29. If you asked me this like a month ago, I’d say yes. Now? Not really.

30. Not everyone.

31. No, he’s my best friend and also my other best friend’s boyfriend (my otp btw)

32. Funny story, I actually did like someone before and I told them and they were so happy because apparently I was the first and they got excited it was cute.

33. Yeah lmao

34. Ed Sheeran’s new songs and the Waitress soundtrack again

35. Mechanical only

36. No idea

37. No, I believe you have to truly meet someone before loving them.

38. The last person I texted, my best friend Izzy.

39. Formally, I’ve never actually danced. Casually, probably someone during a build day for tech

40. Pregunta numero tres

41. During Dear Ruth, Props Master brought chocolate cupcakes.

42. Nope.

43. Many, many, many times. Old crush tho

44. I don’t tan at all, I burn like a vampire.

45. Nah

46. No

47. Izzy from #38

48. Excuse you, I perform.

49. YES.

50. Once

51. Does your school ID picture count? If not, my picture for yearbook

52. I live for Musicals whatdoyoumean

53. Y E S especially with my dumbass family lmao

54. I don’t even know what that is

55. Cherry or Apple pie

56. Actor and Painter (was close)

57. Eh

58. All the time

59. No, I should

60. Sometimes in the winter when the floor is cold

61. yes

62. Nothing ;)

63. Hannah Montana FT. The Jonus Brothers

64. Target ftw

65. Neither

66. Neither.

67. Peanuts

68. Don’t have one; I don’t really like her.

69. Yes, I quit innnnn 6th grade I believe. Won lots of competitions n such

70. Probably something theater related

71. yes

72. no

73. YES, we just finished setting the light plot for UYL and wow

74. Les Miserables is pretty coolio but otherwise Blythe Bairds “Give Me A God I Can Relate To” is great

75. With

76. No, I want to tho

77. Yes

78. I missed The Color Morale when they were here but otherwise Dodie Clark (aka love of my life)

79. The Pretty Reckless 

80. I drink both but it depends on my condition and the weather. I drink hot tea when i feel like SHIT or need to calm down. I drink cold tea if its hot outside.

81. Both, although I drink a lot more coffee because I fall asleep in class

82. Thin Mint girl scout cookies (bought 3 boxes from my friend)

83. Eh

84. Haven’t tried that

85. Depends on what it is. If I’m taking a test, no just fucking give me the thing to fail. If it’s like a face-mask or something, I forget its on.

86. Never been to a wedding so idk

87. Yeah, in elementary school we had to guess how many jelly beans were in a jar and my best friend at the time had a mom is the PTA who did it and he told me and I won.

88. Nope

89. I don’t like olives in general so

90. Dude, like I’ve already had sex so obviously I don’t care. Virginity isn’t really real and life doesn’t wait so go do whatever you want to.

91. Bedroom, sexy aS FUCK

92. Eventually but I’m not the diamond ring kinda gal. A simple band will do just fine, as long as I’m with the one I love, it’s cool.