Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“All I’m saying is that I think this will be good for you,” Molly says with a smile, standing on the bed below and perpendicular to Amy’s. Amy, laying on her back with her phone resting on her stomach, turns her head to the left to face Molly.

“Tinder is a fucking joke, Molly. It completely -”

“No, no, no,” Molly interrupts. “Don't knock it until you try it.”

"It’s completely ridiculous,” Amy gawks. “It’s fucking gross that people just make decisions based solely on a handful of pictures.” Molly tilts her head, “well, there’s a bio too, but…”

Amy tries to pretend that she isn’t actually interested in Tinder, like many who recognize themselves as having sound morals. The reality that Amy tries to remind herself of is that there is nothing wrong with people meeting people online, but that isn’t what Molly is suggesting.

“There is absolutely no shame in using Tinder to meet someone for a simple hookup. That way, you can know exactly what you’re doing for when the real deal comes along.”

Amy glances down at her phone. She flips it over in her hand where the app store is open to the Tinder page. “What happened to ‘whatever you do to yourself, but flipped upside down’?” Rolling her eyes, Molly grabs Amy’s phone and starts to download the app. “You,” Molly says as she holds the phone out of Amy’s reach, “are going to thank me later, okay?”

Amy watches on as Molly opens Tinder once it’s downloaded. She starts setting up Amy’s profile, setting the preferences for other girls and adding pictures. “What are you making my bio?” Amy asks as she tries to take her phone back. Molly pulls back again, smirking as she types away. All Amy can make out is “Ruth Bader Ginsburg” and a few other words. “Well don’t make me seem like a total nerd,” Amy begs.

“Well that, sweet Amy, would be an inauthentic representation of who you are and everything that makes you the spectacular specimen that glows before me.” Amy stifles a laugh as Molly continues to play around with Amy’s account. After a few minutes of Molly smiling at herself, she hand’s Amy’s phone back with a triumphant smile. “There you go. I made you seem very self-assured.”

“Ah yes, thank you, for that is so true to my character.”

Amy looks through the pictures her best friend selected for her. They’re cute ones that Molly has taken of her over the past few months (subconsciously, Amy recognizes that almost all pictures of her are either ones her parents have taken of her and Molly throughout the years, or solo shots that Molly has taken of her). The primary one for her profile is of Amy sitting at a picnic table in the park, smiling widely beyond the camera.

“Just think Amy, it is very possible that Ryan is waiting for you to begin your swiping process.”

“And if she’s not? On Tinder, I mean.”

“Then you swipe right on a cute girl, get your flirt on, and then you do her .”

“Oh God,” Amy grimaces with a laugh. Molly laughs too, saying “yeah that was insanely crass, I apologize for that.” Molly senses Amy’s hesitance, so she rests her head on her forearms as she leans on Amy’s bed. “Look Amy, you never have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I can tell you want some lady-loving experience, and this is the perfect way to do it. Total anonymity, pure raw passion. That way, you can have all the experience you want before you meet the right person. Plus, if Ryan's on there, it's a win-win.”

Amy nods along. “Yeah, you know maybe I will give it a try.” Molly smiles and falls back down onto what became her own bed early on in their friendship, distracting herself with her own phone.

Amy tries to present disinterest in the app, but as soon as Molly isn’t paying attention to her, she opens Tinder and begins to peruse. She doesn’t recognize any of the girls at first; they’re all scattered across different local areas in California and go to other schools. She feels too guilty not swiping right on every girl she sees. They’re all beautiful, but any of them that she doesn’t find herself attracted to, she tells herself they probably have a wonderful personality. Molly would tell her that she’s entirely missing the point, but Amy continues to observe the girls she swipes through in search of Ryan.

It’s not until a few swipes later that Amy comes across the one person she never expected to find on Tinder. “Holy fucking shit,” Amy mutters. “Hmm?” Molly is only half-paying attention, still looking at her own phone. Amy doesn’t respond at first, just staring at the girl who appeared on her screen. “Um, Molly? Look at this.”

Molly groans, “uh, come to me then.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Molly,” Amy sighs as she jumps down from her bed. “Look who just showed up.” She shoves her phone in Molly’s face, plopping to the floor as her best friend looks at who appeared on her screen. “See, I knew you were gonna want to use Tinder!” Molly exclaims triumphantly, not even paying attention to the phone. “Yes, you were right, Molly, congrats you little genius. Now can you please look at this?”

Molly’s eyes go wide as she stares at Amy’s phone. “Holy fucking shit,” Molly mirrors. “What the fuck is Hope doing on Tinder?” Molly almost screams. Amy makes a bizarre, exasperated noise as she throws her hands in the air. “With her preferences set to girls?” Molly adds. “I have no clue!” Amy answers, her mouth still agape from shock. Molly continues to stare at the screen. “Well it has to be a mistake, right? I mean, she isn’t gay,” Molly tries to explain. Amy shrugs, taking her phone back and lying next to Molly on the bed.

“I have no clue, she could be. We don’t really know her.”

“Well no one does, she hardly speaks to anyone.”

The two best friends scroll through the pictures Hope has on her account. They’re all artsy and she looks beautiful in each of them. Amy finds herself completely mesmerized by the girl on her phone. She thinks she can hear Molly mumble something about "a beautiful face with an evil, shriveled raisin of a heart," but she can’t be certain. Amy never really thought about how gorgeous Hope is. She can't really blame herself though. When Hope isn’t scowling, she has her head buried in a book. Amy wonders if she’s ever really seen Hope before.

“Well, that’s an easy swipe left,” Molly concludes, turning back to her own phone. “She’s a total fucking bitch. I accidentally bumped into her in the hallway yesterday and she said, ‘watch where you’re going, Danny DeVito.’”

Amy sits up, still looking through Hope’s pictures. “Yeah, she’s probably just doing it as a joke or something anyway.” Still, Amy hesitates to swipe left. Instead, she locks her phone and puts it in the pocket of her sweatpants. “Wanna make popcorn and watch that killer whale documentary?” Molly nods excitedly, offering to set up the movie while Amy makes the popcorn. This is exactly how the two like to spend their Friday nights, even now as seniors.

As the popcorn pops in the microwave, Amy continues to glance down at her phone as it sits on the countertop. She huffs a few times, pacing back and forth in front of the island of her kitchen. Why can’t she stop thinking about Hope? There’s no way she’s actually into girls, Amy tells herself. Still, she finds herself opening her phone and pulling up Hope’s Instagram account. They aren’t following each other, but Hope’s account isn’t private.

Her instagram is full of tasteful selfies and artistic photographs of nature. Amy had no idea that Hope was a photographer. “And apparently a musician, too” Amy mutters to herself as she clicks on a video of Hope playing guitar. She’s talented, there’s no questioning that. Her fingers move over the chords effortlessly and she looks so peaceful. Careful not to double tap accidentally, Amy continues to look at Hope’s Instagram long after the popcorn has finished. She hears Molly call her name from her room, so she quickly locks her phone out of fear. Molly asks what’s taking her so long, so Amy quickly takes the popcorn out of the microwave and pours it into a bowl. She heads back to her room but lingers outside the door. She unlocks her phone and opens Tinder again.

She swipes right on Hope’s profile before she can stop herself. It’s unlikely they would have matched already, Amy having only made an account in the last half hour. Regardless, Amy immediately regrets her decision. There’s no way Hope is going to swipe right on her, Amy tells herself. And if she does, it will definitely be as a joke. Then she’ll see that I swiped right on her and she’ll think I’m into her. “I’m such a fucking idiot,” she whispers to herself. She decides to turn her phone off, forgetting all about Tinder and Hope as she and Molly dive into the killer whale documentary.

Amy doesn’t open Tinder for the rest of the weekend. She pretty quickly forgets about it as she and Molly devote hours to school work and college applications. “It’s almost October, Amy, which means we need to have our early actions applications ready to go soon in order to stay on schedule,” Molly had said as they drove to the library. Amy feels pretty certain about wanting to go to Columbia, but she decides not to apply early decision to keep her options open. Besides, the thought of taking a gap year can’t really escape her mind. The benefits highly outweigh the negatives, which she found illustrated in the pro-con list she made. She doesn’t want to tell Molly until she makes any decisions. There’s no need to stress her out with a potential plan so different from what Molly had outlined for them. At least, this is what Amy tells herself to mask the crippling fear she has of dissenting from the plan Molly has had since their freshmen year.

It’s Sunday evening when Amy gets a peculiar notification on her phone. She’s sitting at her desk in her room, annotating class notes for AP Chemistry. She usually keeps her phone turned off when she’s doing work, but she keeps it on because Molly has started Downton Abbey and decided she needs to live-text the whole damn thing.

Amy looks at her phone and sees that the notification is from Instagram, which rarely occurs unless Molly is tagging her in a photo or one of Amy’s few hundred followers like something she’s posted. She furrows her brow, unlocking her phone to see what the notification could be. When she opens the app, the notification center shows she has a follow request.

“What the…” Anyone Amy knows already follows her on Instagram. She opens “Follow Requests,” her breath bated as she wonders if this request is from who she thinks it is. “No fucking way,” she breathes out. There it is, Hope’s Instagram handle lingering in her requests. Amy doesn’t breathe for what could be a few hours. She just stares at the name, still shocked. “Does that mean…” she whispers.

She immediately opens the Tinder app, waiting as it loads. “Come on, come on,” she says as her leg bounces nervously. She realizes she should have opened the app earlier, because she has several matches. At any other time, she would be overwhelmed. She can’t deny the joy that comes with being wanted, especially being a gay girl who has yet to experience that reciprocation. Still, she pays no attention to any of them as she filters through her matches. When she comes across what she was looking for, her heart stops.

It’s a match! You and Hope have liked each other.

This can’t be real, there’s no fucking way, Amy thinks to herself. She wants to take the time to analyze this, to wonder how the fuck this happened. She tells herself it has to be a joke, especially when she notices that Hope has messaged her first.

Amy is terrified to see what she wrote. No doubt it’s something cruel about how Amy could think she stood a chance with Hope. If Molly were here, she’d tell Amy that she’s the one out of Hope’s league. Amy has no time to consider any of this as she hastily opens the message from Hope.

cheating on ur wife?

Chapter Text

Amy spends altogether too much time freaking out over Hope’s message. She has no idea what do, no idea what the other girl’s intentions are. What if this is a joke to her? It wouldn’t be out of character, as far as Amy knows. Even so, she can’t help but give Hope the benefit of the doubt. That, or she wants to ride out the awesome feeling that comes with Hope making the first move.

There are a few ways Amy figures she can go about this. She could ignore it altogether, but that seems unlikely. If she had any intention of forgetting about seeing Hope on Tinder, she wouldn’t have swiped right in the first place. She could just wait to see how Hope acts when she sees her in class tomorrow, but that is far riskier; it mandates that Amy, like, speak to her - and that is likely to be far more disastrous than taking the time to craft a meticulous response here and now. Amy can’t ignore the feeling of safety that comes with communicating behind a screen.

“Fuck me,” she groans, running her hand through her hair with exasperation. She rolls off her desk chair onto the floor of her bedroom, starfishing on her back and staring at the ceiling. She’s overthinking, she knows she is. What’s most frustrating is that Hope probably didn’t think twice about what she sent. It’s mean but playful and probably took her all of .3 seconds to think of, type out, and press send. Thinking a little further, Amy realizes that actually isn’t what’s most frustrating. She’s most angry that, whatever Hope is trying to do, it’s working .

Trying to flirt? Success. Amy is flushed and interested and giddy off the possibility that Hope might be interested in her.

Trying to string her along or prank her? Success. Amy is curious and completely trapped in whatever Hope is trying to do.

Trying to experiment with a girl? Success. Amy is in, or at least she thinks she is, especially after Molly’s pep-talk on Friday about messing around with someone random before the real deal comes along.

(And all she did was send three and a half words on fucking Tinder)

But this isn’t someone random , Amy reminds herself. This is Hope. She knows this girl, or at least knows of her. This has the potential to go terribly wrong. It also has the potential to go absolutely nowhere. But it also has the potential to maybe go kind of right… right? Yeah, and that is what Amy decides to go with.

So Amy doesn’t think about anything else but formulating the perfect response. She doesn’t think about embarrassing herself, she doesn’t think about Hope laughing at her, she doesn’t even think about how Molly has no idea any of this is going on.

Amy scrambles back to her desk and opens her phone again, chemistry notes long forgotten. She ignores Molly’s 34 new messages regarding Downton Abbey , going back to the Tinder app. She opens Hope’s message again, completely oblivious to the flood of first messages from other girls she matched with.

cheating on ur wife?

“Cheating on your wife?” Amy reads aloud. She repeats it a few more times, then types out a few different responses.

I’m not married , she writes. No, that’s no good. It doesn’t have the umph she needs. I can’t be tamed, she types out. “That’s fucking stupid,” she murmurs as she deletes each letter. Her leg bounces nervously as she looks around her room, as if any inspiration might come. She sees the posters she’s accumulated over the years, encouraging persistence and bravery. Amy tells herself to be bold, to not be a coward - that’s what’s going to work.

What can I say, I’m a rebel . Amy thinks on it, says it aloud in different tones of voice and with different inflections. “This could work,” she says to herself. She hovers over send for a while, rereading her message a thousand times over. “Fuck, no, that’s dumb too,” she mutters. Unfortunately for Amy, she is a small gay idiot. She hits send accidentally instead of erasing the message. “No, no, no, no, oh my god,” she near bellows. She presses on the message, attempting to delete.

“Goddamnit, fuck the internet!”

Amy can hear Molly’s voice, saying something like that shit’s sent and there’s no way to get it back. As it turns out, communicating over screens is just as dangerous.

Amy gives herself time to panic and feel absolutely horrified, pacing around her room and occasionally smacking herself in the face. “She knows that that’s a fucking lie! I’m not a rebel for shit,” Amy scream-whispers, careful not to draw attention from her parents down the hall.

She reasons that this was never going to work out for her. I was bound to fuck this up , she thinks as she finally sits back at her desk. She then figures that, given the small window in which all of this occurred, it’s actually impressive even for her to have made a fool of herself this quickly. Hope hasn’t messaged her back, and Amy can’t blame her.

Amy also forgets all about Hope’s request to follow her on Instagram.

Amy tries to look on the bright side. If Hope was doing this as a joke, Amy thinks that this is a good response. It’s casual enough that she can play it off as disinterest or joking around. Then again, she is certainly overestimating her communication abilities, evident in the shit-show the evening has turned into.

As she lay in bed that night, Amy considers deleting Tinder. It’s a joke of an app, and it took hardly anything to send her into a complete spiral. She spends no time thinking about the other girls that she matched with, falling asleep after hours of restless tossing and turning, thinking all about the mysterious girl who swiped right.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Molly comments as they drive to school the next day.

“Yeah sorry, I actually didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Shit, that was my fault, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have sent all those texts about Downton Abbey. It’s just that this narrative is so…”

Amy isn’t surprised that Molly thinks it’s her fault. Things often always come back to Molly, even when they don’t. Amy spends the rest of the car ride pretending to pay attention, when she actually plans out a precise schedule for the day that makes it impossible to run into Hope. The only downside Ms. Fine’s class first thing in the morning. Hope sits behind Amy, directly diagonal to her. Amy figures that the key will be to simply not turn around at any point during the class. Then, she’ll make a swift exit when the bell rings. It’s a foolproof plan, obviously. All she has to do is avoid Hope for the rest of the day, which shouldn’t be too hard because they rarely see each other after first period anyway.

Amy wonders if maybe she should tell Molly about matching with Hope on Tinder. After all, this whole Tinder thing was Molly’s idea. She talks herself out of it, saying that there’s hardly anything to tell Molly so it wouldn’t even be worth it. Plus, it’ll be the first time in her life when Amy gets to make a choice for herself. And if she’s going to mess this up (which she’s certain she will), she wants it to be because of her own choices, not because of anything Molly says or does to be involved.

Amy zones back in to her “conversation” with Molly as she pulls her car in the Class President’s spot in the school’s senior parking lot. “And that’s why Downton Abbey is so spectacular, it’s the only show to date that’s responsible enough to develop a historically accurate drama.”

“I totally agree,” Amy concurs. She’s never seen Downton Abbey .

They make small talk as they walk through the schoolyard. Amy feels guilty for not listening to Molly in the car. She’s giving Hope and Tinder way to much of her attention this morning, so she lets herself laugh at something Molly says about the stoner kids who brought hula-hoops to school today.

Amy forgets about Hope for about 13 seconds, until she spots her among her other classmates waiting for school to start. She’s sitting on top of a picnic table, her feet resting on the bench, intently reading a book. She’s seemed to have tuned out the world entirely, completely engrossed in whatever novel she’s on this week as she casually chews a piece of gum with her headphones in. Amy thinks she looks so pretty, her hair in a loose braid hanging over the vintage jacket she wears so often.

“Ohh, there’s your lady-lover,” Molly coos. Amy’s head snaps over to her. “What? What are you talking about?” Molly squints her eyes, nodding past Hope to where Ryan is skateboarding around.

“Oh. Right. Yes. Um, yeah, there she is,” Amy stutters. Molly smiles, linking her arm with Amy’s. “Don’t worry, this is the year we make that happen. No matter what.” Amy mirrors her smile as they walk into school, still hyper aware of being in the same vicinity as Hope.

Molly offers her finals thoughts on season one of Downton Abbey as the two walk into Ms. Fine’s class. Amy is certainly not paying attention, as her eyes immediately find Hope. The tall brunette is already in her seat, headphones still in and head still buried in her book. Amy takes her seat rapidly, careful not to make eye contact with Hope. She wants to turn around to see if Hope is looking at her, but then Hope might notice Amy looking at her and that’s too dangerous. It goes directly against everything Amy planned for the day.

“Alright everyone, put all your dumb personal stuff away. Time to get started,” Ms. Fine commands with her friendly nature that so quickly made her the most loved teacher in school. As Ms. Fine dives into the day’s lesson, Amy thinks she can feel Hope’s eyes on her, but she can’t be certain. She suddenly gets rushed with a wave of anxieties, like am I a bad friend for not telling Molly about this? What if Hope tells Molly? What if Hope tells everyone? Am I a total fucking idiot? If Hope is into me, am I gonna screw it up? Am I gonna be okay if none of this works out? What the fu-

“Ms. Fine?” Amy interrupts. “Can I please be excused to go poop?”

Ms. Fine narrows her eyes but smiles. Molly whips her head to the left as people around the classroom snicker. “Um, Amy, you okay?” she whispers. Amy doesn’t answer, only jumps from her seat and rushes out of the classroom, careful to give Ms. Fine a smile to keep her from worrying.

She operates with a sprint-walk hybrid never seen before by the likes of human beings to the all-gender bathroom. The typical joy she feels when she walks by or uses this bathroom is lost on her in the moment, too busy panicking to feel proud of her inclusivity accomplishment. When she enters the bathroom, she checks to see that the stalls are empty before releasing a guttural groan and splashes cold water on her face.

Amy is overreacting again , she’s certain she is. This is just so not as much of a big deal as she thinks it is. Careful not to invalidate her own feelings, she splashes more water on her face and asks herself why girls make her so goddamn flustered? And why Hope?

She's drying her face off with paper towels when she hears the bathroom door open. She anticipates Molly coming in to check on her or a random student coming in to deface the walls. She doesn’t expect to see Hope, tall and beautiful, leaning back against the door.

“Hi,” is all she says.

“Hope. Uh, hey. Hi. What are you doing here?”

Hope looks around the bathroom, her eyes coming back to Amy. “Not sure, I just got this random urge to ask Ms. Fine if I could be excused to come take a dump.”

Amy can’t help but smile. “Shit, I forgot I said that.” Hope hums, saying, "yeah, I sometimes forget about things that happened 60 seconds ago too.”

Amy isn’t sure if Hope is making fun of her or flirting, or if she’s doing both. She knows Hope tends to tease people, that much she’s picked up on in their limited interactions throughout the years. But now, there’s this mutual knowledge settled thick in the area between them that changes everything about the way Amy thinks.

“So, um, hi,” Amy finally says.

“Hi,” Hope repeats with a smile. Amy has no idea what she’s doing, and she’s fully prepared to continue to make a fool of herself before Hope speaks again.

“So, you’re a rebel, huh?”

Amy snorts. “Oh yeah, totally. I’ve just, uh, been keeping it a secret all my life. But yeah, I’m definitely, for sure, a… rebel.” She falters towards the end, entirely too insecure with how little game she has. Hope doesn’t seem deterred, though, as each word of Amy's makes her smile get a little bigger.

“Yeah?” she asks as she pushes herself off the bathroom door. She takes a folded piece of paper out of her pocket as she takes several steps into Amy’s personal space. She tilts her head down, their foreheads almost touching. She gently slides the piece of paper into the front pocket of Amy’s jeans, careful not to go too far. “Prove it,” she whispers.

Amy blinks and Hope is gone, the bathroom door closing behind her and the soft smell of her perfume lingering in the air. Amy doesn't even breath as she retrieves the piece of paper from her pocket, unfolding it to see Hope's phone number.

“Holy shit.”

Chapter Text

It’s lunchtime when Amy realizes she hasn’t stopped smiling all morning. Hope is interested in her. As far as Amy is concerned, that’s fucking crazy. And fucking awesome. Although, the issue now is that the ball is entirely in Amy’s court. Hope flirted and gave Amy her number, and now it’s Amy’s turn to make the next move. That should be… interesting, especially since, when it comes to the lady-folk, Amy self-identifies as a moron.

She finds Molly at lunch, who looks like she has a lot of questions to ask. The first is “uh, dude are you okay?” Amy has to laugh and plays the whole morning off as having an upset stomach. Molly doesn’t push the issue, offering her a pepto-bismol from her emergency bag and only slightly quirking her eyebrows as Amy scarfs down her lunch.

The thing is, Amy doesn’t want to keep this Tinder advancement a secret from Molly. She wants her best friend to know everything that’s going on in her life, especially something like this that has her more excited than she has been in a long time.  

Even so, Amy decides to keep everything going on with Hope to herself, for now. She has no idea how Molly would react or how she would inject herself into the situation. For the time being, Amy wants to be able to have something completely and entirely her own. Besides, Molly did say it was good for their friendship to have secrets, right? At least, that’s how Amy justifies keeping this one.

“Okay, boink, marry, punch in the throat: Theodore Roosevelt, Julius Caesar, and George Orwell,” Amy offers as they drive home. They use “boink” instead of “fuck” because when they found out that the term is a British colloquialism for having sex, they couldn’t stop laughing for half an hour. And neither of them have the constitution for murder, so they changed that too.

“Oh, good one!” Molly giggles and lingers a bit, thinking through her answer. “I’m gonna have to go with: boink Caesar, marry Roosevelt, and throat punch Orwell.”

“Me too!” Amy says and they both laugh. “Okay how about this one,” Molly quips, “Marilyn Monroe, Margaret Thatcher, and Cleopatra.”

“Nice, I like it. Okay, I’d boink Monroe, marry Cleopatra, and punch Thatcher in the throat.”

“Really?” Molly asks with her mouth agape. “You’d throat punch Thatcher over Monroe?”

“Mmhmm. I love me a lady in power, and I think she did relatively well given the circumstances, but I just think she could have done better. And here’s why, I think tha-”

“No, nope, I am not listening to this for the 30th time, Amy!” Molly laughs as she tries to cover Amy’s mouth with her hand. Amy sticks her tongue out and licks Molly’s hand.

“Alright, I have another one,” Molly says as she pulls her hand away. “Boink, marry, kill: Ryan, Triple A, and Gigi.”

Amy frowns, “Molly, no, you know I don’t like playing with people we know.”

“Ugh, I know but I just don’t get it!”

“Because, can you imagine how demoralizing it’d be if someone played with us? You know how often we’d get throat-punched?”

Molly sighs. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. I just don’t have the ethical brawn that you do.” Amy smiles, patting Molly on her thigh as she pulls in front of her modest townhome. “Of course you do, Sweetie, you just have to exercise it. And don’t call her Triple A.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Molly groans as she exits the car and grabs her backpack out of the backseat. “Oh, by the way,” she says through the passenger’s open window, “reminder that I’m not gonna be here this weekend. My dad wants me to visit him, so I’m leaving for San Francisco right after school on Friday.” Molly’s parents divorced when the girls were in 7th grade. It took quite the toll on Molly, and she spent the rest of middle school being angry at the world, especially once her dad accepted his new job in San Francisco and he moved across the state. It took experimenting with several different coping mechanisms, and unconditional support from Amy, for Molly to learn that her parents separated for her own well-being. She sees her dad more often now that he can afford to fly her up to visit.

“Oh, rats, I totally forgot,” Amy frowns, but then her mind immediately jumps to Hope. “Looks like you’re stuck with Doug and Charmaine this weekend,” Molly trills.

“Yuh-huh,” Amy laughs awkwardly, “I’m sure I’ll find some way to spend my time wisely without you,” she muses. Molly smiles wide, “yeah, I’m sure you will. You know that you still can come with me!” Molly calls as she backs away from the car. “Just think about!” Amy smiles after her, saying, “I will, I promise!”

Amy doesn’t usually break promises, but she breaks this one. Instead of thinking about maybe going to San Francisco with Molly, she spends the whole car ride back to her own house thinking about Hope.

After thanking her parents for dinner, Amy meanders outside to the picnic bench that overlooks the coldosac her family shares with a few others. She plops herself down, letting out a stressed huff as she opens her phone. She spends a while simply staring at Hope’s contact (if Amy were asked, she would vehemently deny the accusation that she immediately added Hope’s phone number into her contacts (even though she did)).

She takes her time contemplating her plan of action. Should she call? Should she text? What should she say in either of those instances? Amy has perceived all of Hope’s actions as presenting interest in her, but what if Amy was misunderstanding her or looking to far into it all?

She opens instagram and accepts the follow request from Hope, following her back. This is a good first step, she figures. She looks through Hope’s pictures again, absolutely lost in the girl’s beauty. She’s so pretty , Amy thinks. Amy never considered herself someone to have a “type,” but Hope certainly isn’t someone Amy would’ve expected herself to be attracted to. She’s courageous and adventurous and cold, all words Amy would not use to describe herself or anyone she’s liked in the past. Still, she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Hope since she first saw her on Tinder. Confusing emotional feelings aside, Amy is definitely physically attracted to Hope.

“Fuck it,” she mutters. She presses “send message” on Hope’s contact and starts typing.

Your Instagram is really cool

This is Amy by the way

She looks it over a few times, wondering if she should add a smiley face, but decides against it. Her thumb hovers over send for a few minutes. “Be a rebel, be a rebel, be a rebel,” she tells herself. She hits send.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she hisses as she throws her phone down on the picnic table. She stands up and starts to pace, which has proven to be the pattern when it comes to thinking about Hope. She feels so stupid. It certainly hasn’t been long since she’s made herself look dumb in front of a girl. In fact, it was about a week ago when she was saying goodbye to Ryan after a brief chat and said “bye Mom.”

Here’s a girl that swiped right on Amy on Tinder, and sent the first message, and followed her on Instagram, and made the first move by giving Amy her phone number, and is clearly waiting for Amy to be brave enough to make a move. Amy tries so hard to tell herself that all of these are very substantial clues to suggest that Hope is interested in her, but her insecurities are still telling her that she’s setting herself up for failure.

She goes back to her phone, retreading her message. “‘Your Instagram is really cool ?’ Who allows me to say things!” she screams at herself. She puts her phone back on the table, getting up to continue pacing. It’s a few more minutes of that before her phone dings. She trips over herself as she scrambles back to the picnic table, diving on top of it to grab her phone. She opens the messages app and grins when seeing that Hope texted her back.

wow, not gonna lie, i did not expect to hear from you

Amy narrows her eyes. What does that mean? Was she not anticipating it or disappointed that Amy did reach out?

Do you wish you hadn’t?

Amy hits send without thinking, but makes herself not care. She watches her phone until Hope’s three dots appear.

do i wish i hadn’t heard from you? of course not, im happy you texted

Amy heart soars, how it usually does when something so overwhelmingly exciting happens. She doesn’t think about how she hasn’t felt this way in a long time.

She sees that Hope’s still typing after what she sent. She watches the three dots intently without really breathing.

i wanted you to, that’s why i gave you my number

that’s what tinder is for, right?

Amy hates herself for even asking. Of course Hope wanted her to text her, of course that’s why she gave Amy her number. Amy feels so dumb and she just can’t seem to get out of her own head.

She must be taking too long to respond for Hope’s liking because the taller girl follows up again.

c’mon rebel, give me something

Amy shakes her head. If ever there were a time to be honest, she’s not sure if this is it. Still, it doesn’t stop her from sending, No you're right. I'm sorry, I just don’t know what I’m doing.

Hope replies immediately, i think you know more than you think you do.

Amy wonders if she’s right. She wonders if all of her overthinking and nervous self-doubt keeps her from opportunities she would have otherwise. She thinks of all the things that have gotten in the way of her own happiness before. How many times has it been herself that’s been getting in the way? More often than not, Amy figures.

Do you like ice cream? Amy sends.

of course, im not a fucking sociopath , Hope responds.

Amy grins and replies, To be determined

Hope doesn’t answer immediately and Any starts to think that maybe that was too risky, maybe she took it too far. She locks her phone and runs her hand through her hair. She so desperately wishes she knew what she was doing. If only there was homework or research that could be done for talking to girls, she’d probably be in much better shape.

this coming from the girl with a “hot flashes are power surges” sticker on her car

Amy laughs a little as heart does that thing again when she gets happy. Why would Hope know what stickers are on the back of her car? If Hope has really been paying that close attention to her, Amy figures that she can afford to be a little bold.

Wanna go get ice cream? Amy sends, ignoring Hope’s diss. Amy thinks that going to get ice cream is safe, a public place where they can have something to do but still talk about whatever it is each of them is looking for here.

fuck yeah i do, Hope replies. meet at Scoop in 15?

Perfect. See you then :). Amy regrets adding the smiley face, but figures it’d be a disservice to herself considering how much she loves that goddamn colon and close-parenthesis combo.

She sprints back to her house, ignoring the curious stares from her parents as she races through the front door to her room. She brushes through her hair, puts on a little bit of makeup (you know, enough to bring everything together but not so much that it’s obvious she’s wearing makeup), and sprays herself with a bit too much perfume. As she’s leaving, Amy tells her parents that she’s meeting Molly for ice cream. It’d be far too complicated to explain exactly who Hope is and exactly why Amy is hanging out with her.

Amy shuffles her “pump the f*ck up” playlist on Spotify and drives to Scoop, doing everything in her power to stop her leg’s nervous bouncing and the way her heart races too fast when she thinks of Hope.

When Amy pulls into the Scoop lot, Hope is sitting on the hood of her car, playing with the fringe on her jacket. Amy takes a huge breath and exits her car. “Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting,” she says and nervously puts her hands in her pocket.

“All good, I only got her a minute ago,” Hope says and offers Amy a confident a smile. Amy rolls on the balls of her feet and nods, “cool, cool stuff.”

Hope gestures to the outdoor walk-up counter for ice cream. “So, shall we?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Amy replies.

Hope orders a small cup of chocolate chip cookie dough. “You know, chocolate chip cookie dough is the chaotic good of ice cream flavors,” Amy informs Hope. Hope tips her head to the side and bites back a smile, humming “no kidding.”

“Yup, so… do with that information what you will,” Amy mutters. “Okay,” Hope chuckles. Whatever Amy seems to say or do, Hope finds it very cute and incredibly charming, but Amy doesn’t pick up on that. Rather, she mentally calls herself an idiot before ordering her own ice cream.

Hope directs them to a picnic table without saying a word, and Amy obliges, sitting across from the taller girl. She thinks that maybe it was a bad call to order two scoops on a sugar cone, because it’s already dripping down the cone and onto her hand.

“Shoot,” she whispers, licking around the base of the first scoop to try to keep it from continuing to drip. Hope doesn’t say a word, only watches with intense amusement before she offers Amy a napkin. “Thanks,” Amy splutters through a mouthful of mint chocolate chip. A few minutes after Amy has gotten her shit together, she decides to speak first. “So, how was your day?”

Starting small , she thinks to herself. This is good .

“It was alright,” Hope quips with a nod. “I finished the last Lord of the Rings book today, so I kind of have post-book blues,” she offers sheepishly. It’s the first time that Amy has seen Hope anything akin to embarrassed, which shocks her. “Reading is, like, super cool,” Amy says. It’s meant as an attempt to dissipate Hope’s regret for talking about a fantasy book with such dork-ish delight, and Hope recognizes that, but Amy immediately thinks she sounds like an idiot. “Yeah, it definitely is,” she remarks.

“You know, if you like science fiction stuff, you should check out Dune by Frank Herbert. It’s this crazy adventure book. It’s like, he knew exactly how to write about everything important in life without being overwhelming. It’s insane,” Amy rambles. Hope just looks at her with a look in her eye that Amy can’t quite place. Awe, maybe? Interest? Amy can’t dwell on it for too long because Hope responds, “wow, that’s awesome. I’ll definitely add it to my list.”

The conversation lulls but Amy doesn’t find it uncomfortable. In fact, she kind of likes just sitting in Hope’s presence, eating ice cream and thinking about nothing other than how beautiful the other girl is.

“Can I ask you a question?” Amy says.

“Sure.”

“Are you… like, have you… um, I didn’t know you liked girls,” Amy blubbers. Hope tries not to smile again, taking another bite of ice cream. “Sorry, was there a question?”

Amy rolls her eyes playfully, huffing out a laugh as she finishes her cone. “I guess I’m wondering, uh, when did you know?”

Hope looks around with her eyes squinted. It’s like she’s looking for the answer in the cool California air. “I don’t really know. I guess I’ve never really known what I like and I’m looking to figure that out. I’ve definitely been attracted to girls, so why not get to the bottom of that?” Hope explains. Her eyes linger on Amy’s for a while, trying to send her a message. I’m attracted to you, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, I want to do this with you . She can only dream that Amy can pick up on all of that, but naturally the shorter girl doesn’t have a clue.

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” Amy concludes.

“Does your wife know you’re breaking your vows?” Hope implores, finishing the last of her ice cream.  Amy chuckles. “No, she doesn’t. I mean, she knows I have Tinder. She actually downloaded it for me. But she, uh, doesn’t know that we, um, that you and me matched,” Amy says as she nervously wrings out her hands underneath the picnic table.

Hope narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side. “Isn’t it unhealthy for a marriage to have secrets?”

Amy mirrors her, tilting her head and squinting a bit. “More unhealthy than cheating?”

Hope rolls her eyes. “That was smooth. You might be getting good at this.”

“I’ve come to find that with enough practice, I can get really good at a lot of things.”

Holy shit, Amy, that was dope as fuck, she screams at herself in her head. Hope was right, that was smooth. Amy has no idea where it came from, but she is 100% down to be this version of Amy all the time, the one that knows exactly what to say and how to say it. When Amy tunes out of her own thoughts, she sees that Hope seems very impressed. Amy will later be able to look back on this moment and realize that that look as far little to do with being impressed and a lot more to do with being turned on.

“Nick is having a party on Friday, do you want to go with me?” Hope asks. “I know you’re not the partying type, but I think it could be fun. And maybe we could… I don’t know, get to know each other a little better?”

Hope’s question floors Amy. There are so many different moving parts to it. The party part, the “getting to know each other” part, the Molly still doesn’t know any of this part. But Amy doesn’t care about any of those.

“Yeah, I do.”

Chapter Text

A lot changes once Amy and Hope head back to their respective homes after meeting up for ice cream. Whether or not it was an official date, or a date by any definition of the word, neither of them are certain. Still, the energy between them changes. They didn’t have the conversation they needed to, the one where they both lay their cards on the table to instigate a dialogue about what the fuck they’re looking for from each other. Even so, it was the perfect way for Amy to start to feel comfortable around Hope (and vice versa).

Amy definitely drives home with a new-found confidence she couldn’t say she had earlier in the day. Though she’s certainly not prepared to perform any grand actions or entirely change her behavior, it’s a good start. As far as she’s concerned, Amy only has Hope to thank; the brooding girl (who, as it turns out, is a lot less broody in reality than how she presents herself) seems to really like the Amy that (pretends) to know what she’s doing. She also really likes the Amy that’s a stuttering, fumbling mess, so it really is a win-win for Amy.

Amy gets in bed that night after ice cream happier and more excited than she can remember feeling in a long time. Though waiting for the weekend might prove to be a pain, with school and extracurriculars and parents and figuring out what she wants to do with her future, Amy knows that right now she’s working for the weekend. This weekend. Where she’s going to spend more time with Hope. And she’s going to go to a party for the first time. She’s never been to a party, not a “real” one that wasn’t about special occasions or with anyone beyond her family and Molly.

Molly.

Molly, Amy’s best friend on God’s green earth, has absolutely no idea that any of this is going on.

What Amy doesn’t realize for a long time is that she owes herself just as much as she owes Hope for beginning the process of emerging from her comfort zone. Amy made the active choice to be entirely individual from Molly with this. She has never done that before, and frankly, she’s never wanted to. But there’s something about Hope that makes Amy feel extra concerned with controlling all possible variables. Molly, with her strong will and huge personality and intense love for Amy, is a very large variable that Amy hasn’t been able to keep track of for a very long time. For now, Amy finds it far safer to keep what’s going on with Hope entirely and 100% to herself, until she actually knows what it is that’s going on with Hope.

Amy and Hope fill the three days until Friday with stolen moments. They find each other’s eyes in the crowds of their classmates, offering flirtatious grins and waves, or shy smiles as they look away after holding eye contact for too long. Hope wiggles her eyebrows at Amy, and Amy attempts to reciprocate without making a fool of herself. Sometimes she’ll stick her tongue out a bit, other times she’ll try to mirror whatever facial expression Hope is giving her. Amy often throws subtle glances over her shoulder during class and they will scrunch their noses at each other. Amy does all of this in careful and intentional ways, all for the sake of not attracting Molly’s attention.

For Amy, the time after school days become a lot less about homework or extracurriculars and a lot more about texting Hope. They get to know each other in the small ways. It starts with awkward small talk and Amy fumbling over her words, which remains impressive considering that texting gives her ample opportunity to plan what she’s going to say.

Hope instigates a lot of the questions, like so what kind of movies does a nerd like you like to watch and okay, desert island: three books. go . The conversations flow so naturally that Amy feels like she’s known Hope for a long time (well, technically she has. They’ve been going to school together since kindergarten and were in a few of the same classes in middle school. All the same, Amy and Hope never really interacted).

She likes getting to know Hope; she really likes getting to know all of her hobbies, the things she enjoys, and all of her various favorites. She learns that Hope loves playing bass guitar. She learns that Hope’s favorite musicians are David Bowie and the Eagles, and that her guilty pleasure band is Fleetwood Mac. She learns that Hope has seen Remember the Titans “approximately forty-thousand times,” but Meet the Robinsons is secretly her favorite movie. Amy also learns the little things about Hope, like how she loves photography and could spend the rest of her life in art museums or libraries. Amy particularly enjoyed Hope’s series of texts explaining why she thinks It is the best piece of literature known to mankind. Her favorite tidbit of Hope trivia is how she once wrote an English paper on how television shows with laugh tracks are “emblematic of insecure comedy” and that The Office is the peak of television comedy.

And Hope learns about Amy, too. She learns that Amy loves documentaries and about the intricacies of the Amy's political activism. She learns that Amy loves Top 40 hits just as much as she loves indie rock and 90s throwbacks. Amy tells her about the people she’s met over the years through protests and internet forums. Amy explains all the things in the world she believes are worth fighting for. At one point, she apologizes for sounding so nerdy, scared she’s coming off pretentious or boring. Hope’s reply is prompt, don’t ever apologize for being passionate . She tells Amy to keep going, so Amy does. She talks about following in the footsteps of all the people who make the world a better place and all the small things that are able to distract her from how tough the world can be, like classic English literature and crossword puzzles.

They compare stories about how crazy their parents can be. Amy talks about how hard it can be to be an only child, and Hope offers to trade one of her five sisters for one moment of peace and quiet lmao .

By Friday morning, Amy and Hope know a lot about each other. Nonetheless, Amy is still a flight risk when it comes to talking face-to-face with Hope. It’s cute, the way that they both pretend to know what they’re doing. Hope certainly hides it better, thriving off of how competent Amy thinks she is. They still have so much to learn about each other, and they’re both excited to do it in person.

“So what are you gonna do this weekend?” Molly asks as Amy drives her to the airport. She’s shuffling through her backpack in the passenger’s seat, making sure she brought all her essentials. “Um, not sure yet. A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” Amy replies, pulling up to the terminal for Molly’s flight.

“Well send me updates, I want to know what you’re watching or reading.”

It’s not unfair that Molly assumes Amy would be doing a whole lot of nothing this weekend without her, Amy thinks, because that’s exactly the way it’s been in the past. When one of them isn’t around to hang out, they usually end up killing the time with hobbies until they’re back on their bullshit together. Amy isn’t entirely sure how she’s managing to… lie so well to Molly. She’s definitely not proud of herself for it, but she figures she can worry about that later.

Amy opens the trunk and delivers Molly’s suitcase to her on the sidewalk as the smaller girl pulls her boarding pass set from her backpack. “I will live-text everything I am doing this weekend,” Amy lies. Molly chuckles and pulls Amy into a hug. “If you watch that Ken Burns documentary without me, I will fly back just to slap you across your beautiful face,” Molly threatens. “Oh my God , Molly, I wouldn’t dream of it. And if you watch A Star is Born on the plane, I’ll flick you so hard in the forehead. You know I want to watch that together,” Amy quips as Molly starts to drag her suitcase into the terminal. “Yeah, yeah!”

“Text me when you land safely, I love you so much!” Amy blows her a kiss and Molly catches it, pretending to put it in her pocket. Amy smiles as she gets back into her car. She picks up her phone to shuffle her car ride playlist and sees a text from Hope.

annabelle is driving me to nick’s at 9, wanna meet me there?

Amy smiles at the screen, her heart racing. This is really happening, tonight. Amy isn’t sure what to expect for her first real high school party. She doesn’t know what Hope is looking for either. Are they just going to hang out? Does Hope want to hook up? What even is hooking up, because these days it means a lot of different things to a lot of different people?

The more she thinks about it, the more anxious Amy gets. This is a pretty massive shift from her normal lifestyle, and she’s doing it without Molly. She tries to think of all the positives for tonight, but continues to get to distracted by the possibility that maybe all of this is a mistake.

Sure, sounds good :(

Whoops, that was supposed to be a :$

I mean :)

“Jesus fucking Christ, Amy,” Amy mutters to herself as she lets her forehead fall to her steering wheel.

nicely done, Hope responds quickly.

Amy ignores her response, sending, I didn’t know you and Annabelle were friends .

yeah we’re friends, i guess she’s the closest thing i have to a best friend

though that isn’t saying much lol

Amy thinks it’s sad, the fact that not everyone in the world has someone the way she has Molly (it makes her feel guiltier for keeping all of this a secret). She wonders if it makes Hope sad, too.

Hope must be afraid that she said something embarrassing because she follows up with see you tonight .

Amy decides not to respond right away, letting herself think everything over as she drives home. She thinks about whether or not she’s making the right decision by going to this party. Her mind keeps wandering back to the beautiful, mysterious girl that maybe isn’t anything like how she lets on.

Amy looks herself up and down in the mirror. She wants to look good but not so good that it’s obvious she’s trying to look good. She puts on a bit of powder foundation, blush, and mascara. She avoids eyeliner altogether because it scares her, and she couldn’t tell you what any other makeup is (contouring still makes absolutely no sense to her).

She wishes Molly were here to help her decide what to wear. It takes a solid half an hour of mixing and matching tops with different pants and skirts. She lands on her favorite jumpsuit, the one that she and Molly both bought at the mall a few months earlier. They never did find an occasion to wear them, so Amy figures that this might as well be its inaugural showcasing.

I look… cute? Amy thinks. She’s never really tried to look good, just tried her best to express herself through her fashion sense. Looking herself in the mirror one more time, she feels confident. Amy has never really been scared of judgement or attentive to what people think about her, that much has always been a staple in her friendship with Molly. Still, she really wants Hope to think she looks good. Like, really badly. It’s similar to how she felt around Ryan; Amy always wanted Ryan to recognize her and like her. However, with Hope, it feels more important, like the stakes are higher. Amy has no clue why this girl from Tinder who she’s been talking to for less than a week suddenly occupies more of her attention than the girl she was crushing on for two years (but she’ll learn soon enough).

After making sure she has everything she needs for the night, Amy heads into her kitchen and leaves a note on counter for her parents. They’re at the local community theatre’s performance of Cats , so Amy is lucky that she doesn’t have to lie to her parents in person. She writes “hanging out with Molly, I’ll text you guys later” with a heart and makes her way to her car. It’s 9:15, she wanted to get to Nick’s right at 9:00 but her fourth anxiety attack and bout of self-doubt went longer than she thought. She shuffles her “pump the f*ck up” playlist again and drives to Nick's house, doing everything in her power to calm her racing heartbeat. 

Chapter Text

Amy pulls in front of Nick’s house right around 9:30. She parallel parks on the street among a few other cars, lingering there for a few minutes. She thinks of the different ways this night can turn out, the variety of scenarios that she hopes might happen and the others she begs the cosmic overlords to avoid. Truth be told, Amy has no idea what to expect for the evening.

Walking up the driveway, Amy feels like a piece of her is missing. She doesn’t normally do things without Molly, and frankly she’s never wanted to. The only reason she’s here, now, standing on Nick’s front stoop alone, is because of Hope. Just thinking of the mysterious brunette gets Amy excited, so she knocks on the front door of Nick’s house. Each passing moment as she waits for someone to answer the door makes her slightly more nervous that she might be having a panic attack. She’s never felt her heartbeat go as fast as it is right now. No one here knows her at all, and the safety blanket that is Molly is in San Francisco.

She’s about to turn around, to get back in her car and tell Hope that she can’t make it anymore, when the door whips open. There stands Tanner, wearing nothing but mid-calf khakis and a backwards snapback. “No fuckin’ way, dude! The feminist chick is here!” Tanner exclaims to no one but himself.

He’s definitely a bit drunk. Amy mumbles a hello as Tanner grabs her hand and pulls her into the house. She lets herself be dragged through the foyer and into the massive living room. Amy observes tons of people scattered throughout the house, all with drinks in hand and chatting with one another.

“Guys, look, it’s the protest lady!” Tanner screams and some of the room looks over. Amy can tell they’re shocked to see her, but she isn’t sure if it’s because she’s at a party or because she’s somewhere without Molly. A few people wave, but everyone pretty quickly returns to their previous conversations or activities.

Amy wasn’t expecting to turn any heads tonight, which was an error on her part. She should have known that most people would be shocked to see her. Though, once she realizes that, she’s actually impressed at how swiftly people become unfazed by her presence. No one here really knows her at all, so she figures that she shouldn’t be too shocked that people’s attentions didn’t linger on her for very long. That is, not including Tanner and a few others.

Theo comes running up to them, laughing like a maniac as he kneels down, takes Amy’s hand, and kisses it. “So to what do we owe the honor?” Tanner asks as Theo stands back up, looking around and pointing at Amy with utter joy. “Dudes, Abby is here!”

“It’s actually Amy, I -”

“Hey, where’s the Class Pres’? Is she behind you, or?” Theo asks.

“No, Molly is out of town for the weekend, I’m actually just stopping by because-” Amy stops in the middle of her sentence as her eyes land on Hope. She enters the room from outside, a drink in hand. She’s dressed the same as she was in school, with light-wash jeans and a white shirt. She’s wearing that vintage jacket she clearly loves so much. Her hair is down, and Amy thinks she’s never seen anyone look so pretty before.

Hope’s eyes find Amy’s and she immediately smiles, in that cute way where she’s clearly trying to suppress it to seem more cool or less excited than she is. Amy smiles back, not caring how obvious it is that she’s happy to see Hope. She starts to feel less stressed about being here. With the whole reason she’s here in the first place finally in view, Amy starts to breathe a little easier.

“Here, come on in! Let me get you a drink!” Tanner offers as he ushers Amy into the house. Amy follows, keeping her eyes on Hope. “Oh no thanks, I actually drove here,” Amy says graciously. It’s nice that Tanner is being so welcoming to her. “We got stuff besides alcohol,” he trumpets as he walks behind a makeshift bar. “I can get you Coca-Cola, milk, kombucha, you name it,” he offers and looks for an empty glass.

“I’m actually fine-”

“Hi.” Amy feels a hand on her lower back and looks to her side, absurdly grateful to see Hope standing there. “Hey, wow, okay, are these parties always so overwhelming?” Amy rambles before the taller girl can get another word in. Hope laughs a little, not removing her hand. Amy is intensely aware of its presence, feeling her cheeks get red.

“Well, they’re definitely usually like this, but they get less overwhelming,” Hope comforts. Amy nods, a smile still on her face. They take a few seconds to just look at each other. “I’m happy to see you,” Amy finally whispers. Hope raises her eyebrows teasingly. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not gonna lie to you, I was starting to freak the fuck out. There are a lot of people here and I’m realizing that I’ve never even had a real conversation with -” Amy subtly points to Tanner and Theo over the counter “- or anyone in the room for more than, like, two minutes-”

“Speaking of which, where’s your wife?” Hope looks around, expecting to see Molly.

“She’s in San Francisco for the weekend,” Amy answers.

Hope turns back to her immediately, shifting on her feet with a grin on her face. “Wait, you came here by yourself?”

Amy grimaces awkwardly. “Um, yes?”

Hope looks impressed and a little shocked. “I honestly didn’t expect you to come, let alone without your shadow,” Hope muses. Amy thinks maybe she should be insulted that Hope has so little faith in her.

“Well, ‘cause you said, um, that I should come, right? That’s why I - ... here,” Amy stammers, pointing to where she’s standing. “Plus, I’m, like, totally a rebel so obviously I’m here.”

Hope giggles and Amy thinks it could be the cutest sound in the world. “Amy.”

“Yeah?”

“Relax.”

Amy sighs, hoping that forcing herself to relax might actually make her relax. Hope moves her hand from Amy’s back to move a strand of hair out of the smaller girl’s face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Amy smiles and lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh, uh, ahh, good, that’s cool.” Amy snaps and makes finger guns, immediately looking at them. “Oh God, what am I doing,” she mutters to herself.

Hope hears her and laughs softly. She turns to the Tanner and Theo behind the bar. “Tanner, can I get another beer and a refill for Annabelle?”

Amy watches Hope chat with aimlessly with the boys. She doesn’t process anything they’re saying to each other, she’s too busy being mesmerized by the mere sight of Hope. She didn’t know that Hope was even friendly with these people, let alone genuine friends with Annabelle or Tanner or any of them. Amy wonders if Hope just prefers to stick to herself, so that’s why Amy hasn’t seen her with anyone else, or if Amy has been so in her own world for all of high school that she never even noticed.

The next thing Amy knows, Hope has a can of beer tucked under one arm, is holding Annabelle’s drink in one hand and is dragging Amy through the house with the other. Amy follows blindly as Hope takes her to the backyard. People are scattered all around, lying on the lawn, sitting on lawn chairs, or hanging by the pool. Everyone looks to be having a lot of fun, chatting and laughing with one another. It’s nice, Amy thinks, how everyone comes together like this.  

Hope takes Amy to the side of the pool and sits down. She rolls her jeans up to her knees and dips her feet in. She looks up expectantly at Amy. “Sit down, Nerd,” Hope smiles up at her. “Oh, duh,” Amy says as she sits down. Hope watches in amusement as Amy attempts to roll the pants of her jumpsuit up. They start to get stuck right around her calves, but she persists nevertheless until they’re right below her knees. She dips her feet in the pool as well, acutely aware of her legs hovering closely to Hope’s.

“It’s… nice,” Amy says about the pool. “Mmhmm.” They take a long look at each other as Hope takes a sip of her beer. Amy isn’t sure what to say or how exactly to act right now. Hope definitely senses her discomfort, and is about to say something when she’s suddenly hit with a small splash. “Sup Bitch, where’s my drink?” Annabelle comes swimming up to them. “Hey Amy, welcome to the warzone,” Annabelle jokes as she takes her drink from Hope. She stands in front of them, the water in the shallow end coming up to her stomach.

“Thanks, happy to be here,” Amy beams awkwardly.

“Oh, are you?” Annabelle teases.

Hope takes another sip, smiling over the can. Annabelle is the only one that Hope told about matching with Amy on Tinder (internally, Hope scoffs, as if there was anyone else she could or would tell). Annabelle and Hope have a weird friendship, one filled with little else than a mutual understanding that they’re both always pretending to be something they’re not.

Hope isn’t shocked that Annabelle is trying to badger Amy. This is the first area of vulnerability that Hope has presented to Annabelle in their short friendship ( I just can’t stop thinking about her , Hope had told her), so it isn’t surprising that Annabelle is taking that and running. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that Amy is absolutely adorable when she’s uncomfortable.

“Definitely, this party is rad,” Amy says with a smile.

“The raddest,” Hope corrects.

Annabelle smiles on, watching the two interact. Though she’s never really paid attention to Amy, what with Molly’s high energy being so constantly distracting, but Annabelle thinks that Amy really is a sweet person. Maybe she and Hope would be good together after all. She’s hit in the head with an inflatable ball, turning around to scream at whoever it was.

Amy looks back to Hope, entirely nonplussed by their teasing, mostly because she doesn’t recognize it. She’s mostly distracted because she’s never seen Hope smile so much. Amy isn’t sure if it’s because of her presence, or if Hope is just tipsy, or for some entirely different reason, but she likes it. “You have a pretty smile,” Amy whispers. Hope doesn’t get a chance to respond, verbally or otherwise, because Annabelle is chiming back in.

“Hey, where’s the ass to your kisser?” Annabelle seems impressed by her own joke.

“She’s not an ass,” Amy says quickly. She never skips a beat when it comes to defending Molly. “And she’s visiting her dad in San Francisco for the weekend.”

Annabelle raises her eyebrows and looks over at Hope. “No shit,” she quips, taking a sip from her drink. “Amy came here all by herself,” Hope boasts. She's proud, either of Amy for being independent for once or of the fact that she was enough to bring Amy out to a party alone. Annabelle and Hope communicate through eye movements and facial expressions, but Amy doesn’t pick up on it.

Amy nods awkwardly, putting up a peace sign for absolutely no reason. “Yup, so, I’m here…”

“Well, we’re happy to have you.” Annabelle holds up her cup to cheers Amy, and Hope matches. “Thanks, Annabelle.”

Annabelle’s face wavers. She always has a strong look on her face, flirty or tough or however it may be. But for a quick moment, she looks purely content in a way that shocks even herself. Amy doesn’t notice a lot, but she notices that. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, it’s just,” Annabelle clears her throat, “thanks for not calling me Triple A.”

Amy, already soft as a newborn puppy, softens further. She’d always been empathetic enough to assume that the nickname might hurt Annabelle’s feelings. Degrading nicknames like that can’t make anyone feel good, even someone with such a tough exterior as Annabelle. “It’s a stupid nickname,” Amy offers.

“Clever though,” Hope adds with a smirk.

“Oh, hardly. Anyone could’ve come up with that. Besides, whenever I hear it I always think it has something to do with batteries.” Amy thinks back to the first time she heard Molly use the nickname last year, saying, “ I don’t get it, is that a joke about the energizer bunny ?”

It makes Annabelle laugh, but all Hope can think of is how pure Amy is. For such a smart girl, things seem to really go over her head. It puts her years of fruitless pining into perspective.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Because here is Amy, glowing through discomfort and awkwardness, all because Hope asked her here.

“Alright losers, I’m gonna go fuck shit up elsewhere,” Annabelle muses as she downs her drink and swims away from them.

“Godspeed,” Amy calls after her. It makes Hope laugh a little, saying, “how nice of you to wish her safe travels on her quest.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with, like, any of these people,” Amy comments.

Hope shrugs. “That doesn’t shock me. I mean, I guess I am friends with them but,” Hope looks around her, purposefully dramatic, to make sure no one is listening, “they’re all kind of moronic,” she whispers. Amy laughs, the kind where she throws her head back. Hope thinks it’s a beautiful sight.

“Well, we can’t all be geniuses like you, writing English papers on the Office .”

Hope smirks, biting back a laugh. “I’ll have you know, I got an A on that paper, so you might wanna be careful.”

Amy thinks on it. “Yeah, you’re probably right, I should be careful.” They look at each other, neither looking away despite the creeping awkwardness.

“The thing is,” Amy continues, leaning a little closer, “I don’t really wanna be.”

Hope just stares. She’s got that look again, the one Amy mistakes as impressed rather than turned on (don’t worry, she’ll get there). Amy watches Hope bite her lip. For the first time since they’ve started talking, Amy thinks that Hope might be just as nervous as she is. “Do you wanna go inside, maybe somewhere quieter?” Hope asks.

Amy doesn’t take a pause before answering. “Definitely.”

Chapter Text

Amy says “definitely” and Hope doesn’t wait a second before standing abruptly, her beer can tipping over in the process. The remnants pour out on the side of the pool, but neither of them care. Hope offers Amy a hand and she takes it easily. Hope pulls Amy up and takes her through the backyard, heading back towards the house. She stops at the door to the house and turns around. She seems a little flustered and maybe overwhelmed. “I just thought maybe we could go somewhere quieter to talk,” Hope explains again. Amy nods quickly. She doesn’t have anything else to say, not right now at least. Hope is taking charge and Amy doesn’t mind at all, but it leaves her embarrassingly speechless.

When they get inside, things have definitely gotten crazier since Amy first arrived. There seem to be more people and most everyone have crossed the thin line between tipsy and drunk. Hope keeps a firm grasp on her hand as she pushes her way through the crowds. Amy watches the back of Hope’s head, allowing herself to be completely towed along.

She thinks about how much has changed in the past several days. After all, it was this time a week ago where Molly was downloading Tinder for Amy and Amy was secretly swiping right on Hope. She has no idea what Hope is taking her or what she’ll want to talk about once they get there. Amy sort of hopes they don’t talk at all.

They’re passing through the kitchen when a unique voice stops them. “No fucking way, Amy!”

Amy stops them and turns, immediately recognizing the sound. Her hand falls out of Hope’s.

The sight of Ryan, her adorable smile and beautiful energy, is still enough to stop Amy in her tracks. “Hey Ryan, what are you doing?”

Ryan seems confused by the question. Hope watches on with clear distaste for the whole situation, but Amy doesn’t notice right away.

“Just chillin’ really, but I think I should be asking you that question! How come this is the first party I’m seeing you at?”

Amy tosses a glance over to Hope, who’s looking around the room in an attempt to diffuse her frustration. Amy wants to say it, she wants to say well, the reason I’m at a party for the first time is actually standing right next to me or isn’t she pretty or I’m not sure why but I haven’t been able to think about anything else except for this girl for 7 days or how would you suggest that I don’t fuck this up.

Instead she says, “oh, you know, I thought it was time to see what all the hype was about.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy thinks she can see Hope smirk as she glares down at her shoes. Amy internally laughs at the entirety of this situation. The girl she was crushing on for two years sits comfortably on a countertop in front of her, and the girl she matched with on fucking Tinder shuffles her feet in angry anticipation next to her. Amy can’t deny the irony of the situation, the confusion of feelings that flood into her mind (which is already overflowing with thoughts and emotions and calculations and beliefs, so there isn’t room for much else).

Ryan doesn’t get a chance to respond and Amy doesn’t get a chance to sort any of her feelings into their rightful location in her mental filing cabinet, because Hope is reaching out, grabbing her by her sleeve and dragging her away without so much as a another look in Ryan’s direction. “Bye, Ryan,” Amy calls over her shoulder.

Hope says nothing as she continues to guide them through the house. She shoves open a random door, which ends up being a bathroom. They’re lucky that no one is in there, Amy thinks, because that might’ve been awkward.

Amy closes the door behind her and watches Hope intently. Hope moves around the bathroom, but doesn’t look at Amy. She’s thinking, Amy knows it, but doesn’t know what about. Amy leans awkwardly against the bathroom door, waiting for Hope to speak. Eventually she does.

Hope turns around and faces Amy, but still doesn’t meet her eye. She’s on the verge of saying something for a few moments, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes narrowed. Finally, her words break through the dam of silence: “are you still into Ryan?”

Amy recoils a bit in shock. “I never said I was into Ryan.”

“I know you didn’t, but the thing is Amy, I’m not stupid.” She’s cold.

Amy is taken aback immediately. She opens her mouth to reply but nothing comes out, because she doesn’t know what to say. Hope waits. She’s not tossing Amy any softballs anymore. It’s time for Amy to step up, to be the rebel she so confidently pretended to be not that long ago.

“I know you’re not, you’re super smart, I know that,” Amy falters.

Hope raises her eyebrows expectantly. Amy watches Hope watch her. It’s complicated, this thing they’re doing or not doing. Amy knew that from the start, but it was only ever difficult from the outside. But now, the one thing that makes the secrets and lies worth it is angry and waiting for Amy to be honest.

“Okay, so, I - yeah, okay, I did have a crush on Ryan for a little while b-”

“No shit, you’re not very subtle,” Hope interrupts.

Amy stops. This is the Hope that everyone knows her to be. Cold, tough, brutally honest. This isn’t the Hope that Amy has been getting to know. Sure, she keeps that exterior up more often than not, but Amy has definitely come to realize that Hope is a lot more complex than she lets on. But now Hope is back to the girl she was a few weeks ago. What is it about Ryan that makes Hope so- Wait a second. “Wait a second.” Amy closes her eyes. There’s no way that Hope is -

“You aren’t… are you, um, like… wait, you’re not jealous, are you?” Amy almost scoffs at the implication that Hope might actually be into Amy to the point of jealousy over someone else.

But then Hope’s demeanor changes immediately. She becomes more vulnerable, and it makes Amy think that maybe she was right. Hope isn’t being rude or cruel, she hasn’t reverted to any former state. She put her walls back up because she’s jealous of Ryan.

Hope is gorgeous and smart and funny when it isn’t at someone else’s expense. She’s more than Amy ever could’ve imagined someone showing interest in her could be, and now she’s jealous of someone else. It makes Amy laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?” Hope asks. Hope genuinely is shocked by everything, by the way things changed so quickly, by her own behavior, by how complicated it got.

Amy shakes her head, still smiling. She pushes herself off the door and takes a few big strides towards Hope until their standing face-to-face (well, more like chin-to-forehead because Hope is so very tall and Amy is not). Amy likes it, being in Hope’s space. She wants to be closer, but the only Amy that could get that close to Hope is the one that’s a rebel.

Hope is looking at her, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised. She’s begging Amy to be that rebel, begging her to realize that that is what she wants. It’s up to Amy now to prove that she wants this, too.

This whole time, Amy was so certain that she was playing into some sort of situation, one that would only end badly. She never really allowed herself to be open to this possibility, the one that maybe Hope actually likes her and actually wants her.

Amy doesn’t wait to ask more questions. She doesn’t wait for Hope to say anything else. Instead, Amy pushes herself up on the tips of her toes and kisses her.

It’s not a smooth first kiss by any means, especially since Hope isn’t expecting it. It lasts for a couple of seconds before Hope pulls back, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. At first, Amy thinks she looks shocked, probably because Amy pulled the first move. Amy watches Hope’s face as the reality of the situation settles. Then the taller girl is smiling and breathing out an impressed laugh before biting her lip and glancing down towards Amy’s lips, waiting for more.

Amy doesn’t make her wait at all, really, because she’s surging back up and they’re kissing again. Hope has to bend over slightly, especially when Amy pulls on the collar of her frayed leather jacket. Then Hope is opening her mouth and Amy is slipping her tongue between beautiful lips, which she doesn’t even realize until Hope moans a little. Amy chases the sound as she pushes the jacket off of Hope’s shoulders, dragging it off her arms with lips still connected. The jacket falls to the floor with a soft thud, but neither of them notice.

Hope grabs at Amy’s hips and pushes the smaller girl toward the bathroom counter. Amy stumbles backwards, one hand floating around Hope’s neck and the other reaching behind her to catch herself from hitting something.

When she bumps into the counter, Hope pulls away to ask if she’s alright. Amy doesn’t give her the chance though, softly pulling the brunette’s lips back to her own. They both grunt a little as Hope helps Amy settle on the countertop. Hope’s hands wander from Amy’s hips, up her sides and over her shoulders. They settle on her cheeks and it makes Amy feel warm. Feeling bold, Amy tugs at Hope’s hips, encouraging her to step closer. Hope does, settling herself between Amy’s legs. They’re closer to eye level now, but Amy still has to tilt her head back slightly to catch Hope’s lips.

God, it feels good. It feels good to be kissing Hope, who kisses with gentle passion and wicked intensity all at once. Amy only prays that she’s kissing Hope like that. However she is kissing, Hope seems into it. She pulls Amy closer while running her thumbs over Amy’s cheekbones, writing stories with the pads of her fingers.

Amy lets her head fall back as Hope trails kisses along her jaw and down the column of her throat, lingering around her pulse point and nipping softly. Amy moans loudly and Hope giggles into her neck. “You can feel free to ignore that,” Amy whispers and scrunches her eyes in embarrassment. “Nuh uh,” Hope sighs. She moves so she can run the tip of her nose along the length of Amy’s, sending goosebumps down her arms. It’s a cute and intimate gesture. It’s enough to make Amy want this to be more than just a hookup in the bathroom at a party.

Hope is kissing her again and all coherent thoughts leave Amy’s brain once more. Long, languid kisses with open mouths and exploring tongues. It’s not too much but it’s certainly more than Amy is used to, having never kissed a girl before. Still, Amy would say with confidence that Hope is the best kisser in the world. She takes the lead but lets Amy set the pace, she’s soft without being lackluster, intense without being overwhelming. It sets a fire in Amy’s gut and the next thing she knows, she’s pushing Hope back, hopping off the counter, and clumsily guiding the taller girl to the floor.

Amy kneels awkwardly in front of a seated Hope and Amy starts to think maybe it was a stupid idea, but then Hope is pulling her down by the collar of her jumpsuit to kiss her. It’s sweet, Amy thinks, that Hope likes kissing her. That said, Amy has a lot more than kissing on the brain right now. She’s not sure what’s come over her but she can’t seem to stop. Her hands hover around the bottom of Hope’s shirt. Amy wants to ask for permission, but Hope is already nodding and Amy doesn’t wait to tug the shirt over her head.

Amy is temporarily mesmerized by the way Hope’s hair falls so gracefully after, and she almost goes slack-jawed at the sight of a topless Hope because, dude, boobs. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Amy whispers, masking her embarrassment from the confession in another kiss. Hope smiles against her lips, because the only thing that comes close to being as wonderful as Amy is how Amy can’t seem to mask the effect that Hope has on her.

Hope doesn’t think there’s anything hotter in the world than Amy’s face when she’s looking at Hope. But then Hope unzips her jumpsuit and pushes the short sleeves off Amy’s arms, her fingers sweeping over pale, smooth skin, and Hope realizes that Amy is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen.

Amy leans in and presses a kiss to Hope’s cheek. “Um,” she starts.

“Are you okay?” Hope asks, immediately concerned.

“Yeah, totally, I just, um, wanna make sure we’re on the same page?” Hope raises an eyebrow. “The same page?”

“Yeah, like,” Amy stammers, “do you want to, uh... do this?”

Hope chuckles and brings her hand under Amy’s chin. “Yeah, I do want to do this. But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Hope replies earnestly.

“No, I want to, too. Er, I mean, not like tutu as in ballet, but like, ‘I want to too’ as in I also want to do this,” Amy trips over herself and Hope laughs against her cheek. “You’re cute.” And then they’re kissing again, hands moving to explore new fields of soft skin being disrupted by goosebumps.

“It’s just that, consent is very important,” Amy mutters against red lips. “And consent is more than just receiving a verbal ‘yes,’ it’s having a thorough discussion about-”

“Yeah, okay, I agree, please shut up.”

It’s counterintuitive than what Amy is advocating for, but she can’t bring herself to care as Hope leans back and starts to undo her jeans. It should scare her, Amy thinks. This is happening, her first time having sex is going to be with Hope in the bathroom at a party. She allows her nerves to fuel her into pulling Hope’s jeans to her knees before moving to untie her shoes.

“Movies never show how fucking hard this is,” Amy grunts as she pulls the converse off. Hope laughs and flails her legs to help send the shoe flying. The silliness and awkwardness of it all makes Amy smile and she breathes out a laugh before tugging Hope’s jeans off. The force of it sends her flying and Hope immediately shoots up. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Yup, yeah, totally good!” Amy exclaims as she crawls back over to Hope. She then pulls her underwear off, and a flash of insecurity crosses Hope’s face. Amy doesn’t notice it though. She just sees beautiful brown eyes looking as perfect as ever, and Amy leans in. She rests her forehead against Hope’s as she leads her back to laying down. They’re kissing again and Hope is tangling her fingers in Amy’s hair and palming at her shoulder.

And then things get… not good.

Because Amy just goes for it, slipping a finger in what she really thought was not a butthole but was, in fact, a butthole.

Hope intakes a sharp breath and her face contorts ever so slightly.

“H-how is that for you?”

Hope’s eyes flicker, like she’s looking for the right thing to say. “Um, it’s okay.”

“Um, is there, like, a different way you would prefer, or?”

“No, it’s just,” Hope pauses, her palm resting on Amy’s cheek, “I don’t think that’s the hole you think it is.”

The world must stop spinning because Amy loses all sense of connection to the planet. She’s not sure anyone in American history has ever experienced a fuck-up this monumental. There's no fucking way she went in the wrong hole. How in God's name did that happen? A million thoughts, angry and confused and horrified and upset ones, all fight for dominance in her brain. When she's zoning back in, she isn't sure how much time has passed. It can't have been a lot because Hope still has the same look on her face, endearing and honest and, as far as Amy is concerned, all too sweet for the situation.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Amy trembles.

“No, Amy, it’s okay!” Hope is trying to comfort her, to diffuse the situation any way she can because she really doesn’t want this to end and she certainly doesn’t want Amy to scare herself off.

Amy spews her best explanation possible, talking about the difficulty of approaching it from that angle for the first time and her geometric miscalculations. “Seriously, don’t worry about,” Hope offers with a giggle.

There’s a knock on the door to interrupt them, a boy’s voice screaming “hurry up in there, some of us actually have to take a shit!” Amy doesn’t hesitate, pulling her jumpsuit back over her shoulders and zipping it up.

“Amy, wait, don’t-”

But Amy is already out the door, closing it behind her and telling the boy to use the bathroom upstairs. She stumbles around the house, embarrassment and frustration clouding her vision. I’m so fucking stupid for thinking I wouldn’t fuck this up. She gets a bit lost trying to find her way out, charging through her classmates, the blurs of faces becoming less and less recognizable by the time she makes it outside.

Before she makes it to her car, she hears a voice calling after her.

“Amy, stop!” Hope is following her, in all her beauty, hair unkempt and shoes untied. Her belt isn’t even buckled as she clearly rushed after Amy.

“I’m sorry,” Amy tries.

“God, Amy, is this what you do? Run when things get a little tough?” Hope asks with hostility. Her words are laced with a venom Amy has never seen before. Still, she’s not sure what Hope means by it.

“Accidentally fingering your butthole is about a thousand miles past ‘tough,’ okay, that’s, like, a whole new fucking level,” Amy hisses.

Hope takes several steps forward. She knew Amy was embarrassed, but she didn't know she was that embarrassed. “I told you it was okay, why are you freaking out?”

“Why are you not?”

Hope squints at her. “What are you talking about, Amy? You’re asking me why I’m not also freaking out?”

Amy nods as if to say “duh.”

“Because it isn’t a big deal, I said it was fine.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say. Look Hope, I’m sorry, you can do way better than me.”

“Oh, spare me, Amy. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

It takes Amy back. She has no clue why Hope is pushing so hard, oblivious to what Hope is trying to say in so many words. Everything happened so fast, so much all at once, Amy can't connect point A to point B. Worst of all, Amy doesn't even have Molly to help her through it.

"What do you want from me?" Amy asks. Her voice shakes and her eyes threaten tears she refuses to release, and Hope softens. She does that a lot, they both come to find, when it comes to Amy. "Why do I have to want anything from you? Why can't I just... want you?" 

God, that throws her off. It's so shocking to her that Hope wants her that way, in any way. Amy has been projecting everything she thinks onto this situation instead of just looking at what is right in front of her. A girl, smart and gorgeous and fun, so genuinely desiring her in every way. 

Hope continues, "we can try again, if you want to. Or we can not try for a little while and just take it slow. Or you don't ever have to talk to me again, I just... I couldn't forgive myself if I let you go thinking that I didn't want this with you." 

It's the most Hope has said about their situation since the night they got ice cream. It's clear and cryptic all at once because Amy has no clue what "this" is, but its certainly enough to make her heart soar. She smiles, tentatively reaching out for Hope's hand. "I'm an idiot."

Hope laughs, relieved and breathless. "Yeah, you're the dumbest smart person I know." 

Amy ignores her and pulls her forward, and they mean in the middle for a kiss. It's softer and slower and shorter than all their earlier ones, but it's the most perfect one yet. 

Amy looks in Hope's eyes and smiles, wide and giddy. "Let's get out of here."

Chapter Text

When they get to Amy’s car, she opens the passenger’s side door for Hope, who mumbles, “ah, chivalry is alive and well.” Amy chuckles awkwardly before sprinting around to the driver’s side. When they both buckle their seatbelts, they look at each other. 

“So,” Amy thinks aloud.

“So,” Hope mirrors, “let’s drive.”

Amy smiles and starts the car, taking off before she can convince herself not to.

They both lose track of time, cruising around in Amy’s ‘92 station wagon. It makes sense to Hope that this is Amy’s car, cute and classy and frustratingly endearing. Little pieces of who Amy is are scattered around, like a CD of Oasis’ (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? and a cheap pair of heart-shaped sunglasses. A massive book of crossword puzzles that Amy picked up from an airport now lives on the floor of the passenger’s seat, worn out and nearly completed from years of use. There’s a copy of Jane Eyre in the glove compartment (which Hope describes as shabby but Amy claims is just well-loved), as well as a daunting multitool and an original video iPod. 

A dream catcher hangs from the rearview mirror. “Where’d you get this?” Hope asks as she reaches out for it. Amy glances over to see what she’s talking about before turning back to the road. “Arizona. My parents grew up in Tucson, and they moved here right before I was born. We go there all the time because my grandparents still live there, and my grandma gave that to me the first time I had seen her since I got my driver’s permit. She said she had it hanging on the mirror in her first car, but I’m not sure I believe that because it’s in great condition.”

Hope listens as Amy talks about Arizona and her family, the things she had seen there and her favorite experiences from trips prior, and Hope realizes that Amy could talk about paint drying and she could probably find a way to make it sound fascinating. Hope has genuinely never imagined the existence of someone as passionate as Amy is. 

There are some miscellaneous stickers in the center console, ones that didn’t make it to the rear bumper. Hope picks up one that says “ Cowboy Butts Drive Me Nuts ” with a raised eyebrow. “Ah, yes, Molly got that for me. As a joke. Like, totally as a joke. I am in no way passionate about cowboy butts.” It makes Hope giggle, the kind where she’s trying to seem less amused than she actually is. “I guess that makes one of us,” Hope teases. Amy gawks slightly, suppressing a smile. 

“Oh, would you say you’re a big fan of cowboy butts?”

“Definitely,” Hope pretends to be earnest, “they’re my favorite genre of butt.” 

They haven’t spent too much time talking in person, but Amy thoroughly enjoys joking around with Hope. It makes her feel comfortable, reminds her that Hope feels comfortable too. 

With each interaction, Hope proves to be funnier and smarter than Amy knew her to be. It makes Amy want to get to know her even more. It also makes Amy want her even more.  

They continue to drive to nowhere or anywhere. Amy lets herself not care where they’re headed and Hope lets herself be taken wherever it is that they end up. Amy gives Hope the aux cord to connect her phone to the cassette adapter, which Hope finds to be a mighty compliment. The taller girl takes the opportunity to introduce Amy to her favorite Bob Dylan songs, like “Like a Rolling Stone,” “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” and “Blowin’ in the Wind.” Hope grins triumphantly as Amy bops her head along contently.

It’s a few songs later when Amy realizes they should probably have a destination. “Hey,” she says over the music, “do you want me to take you home?” 

Hope shrugs. “I guess it depends.” 

Amy narrows her eyes in confusion. “On what?” 

“If you’d spend the night.” 

Amy’s heart leaps. After the bathroom fiasco that happened not 20 minutes ago, Hope still wants to hook up with Amy. It will take Amy a while to realize how much that means, how much Hope actually liked her from the start. For now, Amy can recognize that Hope is being pretty deliberate about what she wants. Amy, who has such a hard time communicating thoroughly and succinctly with anyone other than Molly, appreciates it. 

“We don’t have to do anything, you know, if you don’t want to. We could just… hang out,” Hope offers. She’s back to being the secure, invulnerable version that Amy has been used to seeing. Hope is giving Amy an out, she knows it. Amy could say she’s too tired or has to get home before her parents worry, and Hope wouldn’t press the issue. 

Aside from the swelling nerves and pride Amy feels from Hope genuinely wanting her, it feels even better to think that Hope might just enjoy her company. She wants to take that and run. 

“I could hang,” is all she says in response. She doesn’t trust herself to say any more. Without the rush of adrenaline and energy from the bathroom, Amy feels nervous and awkward. Even so, she isn’t going to deny that she doesn’t want this night with Hope to end. 

“Okay,” Hope says with a soft smile. 

Hope puts her address into her phone and Amy follows its directions mindlessly. They’re both quiet for the rest of the drive, lost in their respective thoughts. 

Whenever Amy is with Molly, they’re almost always constantly talking. Even if they’re doing their own things on their phones or with homework, bits and pieces of conversations arise. Amy doesn’t think they have ever gone a full minute without one of them at least saying something. 

With Hope, that’s different. Amy also really enjoys talking with her (granted, that time has been limited outside of texting), but Amy also really appreciates how comfortable she feels in the quiet they share. 

So they just drive, enjoying each other’s presence and occasionally sharing soft smiles and nervous giggles. When they get closer to the house, Hope occasionally points out different things along the way, like all the places she loved to bike to as a kid. She points out the giant rock she carved her name into and the stream she used to spend hours trying to catch fish in before realizing there weren’t any. It seems like Hope preferred to spend time exploring the world on her own, even when she was young. 

“And, my house is this next one on the right,” Hope directs once they make it towards the end of a cul-de-sac. 

As soon as Amy pulls into the driveway, she whispers “holy shit” because, dude, Hope’s house is huge. It’s contemporary and beautiful and elegant and honestly looks like it could be from the Big Little Lies filming set. The exterior has an amazing black finish but many of the walls are made entirely of massive glass. 

Hope seems to sense Amy’s awe, because she says, “yeah, I know. My dad started his own law practice and my mom is a pediatric surgeon, plus she had a crazy trust fund.”

“No, yeah, that’s amazing,” Amy falters. She’s still a little shocked. Amy isn’t sure what she expected Hope’s home life to be, but she certainly didn’t expect her parents to be geniuses or her house to be ginormous. She knows that Hope has a job working as a barista at a local coffee shop. It’s cool, Amy thinks, that Hope wants to earn her own money. 

Amy parks to the side of the driveway in front of their basketball hoop. “Is this okay? I won’t be blocking anyone, will I?” 

“No, this is perfect.” 

They both linger after Amy turns off the ignition. She awkwardly rubs her hands on her legs and Hope watches on in amusement. “Wanna go in?” Hope asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, totally.” Amy takes a deep breath as she steps out of her car. She takes another even deeper breath as she locks her car. There’s nothing to be nervous about , she thinks, we’re just hanging out . 

They both hide smiles as Hope leads Amy to the front door (she wanted to take Amy’s hand, but convinced herself out of it). 

When Hope brings her inside, Amy is just as baffled. The interior is gorgeous. There’s a massive, oddly shaped chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the foyer and the stairs leading to the second floor are the kind that look like they’re floating. Hope takes Amy on a silent tour to get upstairs, through the kitchen and the living room and past a few miscellaneous rooms. It has to be the fanciest home Amy has ever stepped foot in, and she has to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth from falling open. 

There’s a second staircase that leads upstairs, and Amy follows blindly as Hope leads her up the stairs and down the massive hallway towards her room. It’s the type of hallway that has a wall on one side and a banister on the other that overlooks one of the living rooms. The wall is lined with art work, but Amy stops in front of one in particular. It’s a painting of the beach, and it’s clear that it was done by a child. It’s entirely out of place with the rest of the amazing artwork, but it’s arguably Amy’s favorite of them all. 

“Oh, yeah, I did that in 3rd grade.” 

“Really? Not too shabby for an 8-year-old.”

“Mm, why thank you.” 

“I mean, it really fits in with all these insanely professional ones,” Amy quips.

“Yeah, I brought it home from school but I told my parents that I hated it, and that night I saw it hanging here. I think my parents wanted me to be proud of it. I guess they didn’t want me to think I couldn’t be a good artist or to give up or whatever. I’ve been ‘arting’ ever since,” she finishes with a laugh.

When Hope looks back over at Amy, she sees that Amy has lost all interest in the painting and is instead just staring at Hope. 

“That’s amazing,” Amy whispers.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments, and Hope wants to kiss her so badly. She doesn’t get the chance, though, because Amy is looking back at the painting, saying, “how come I didn’t know you were an artist?” 

Hope shrugs and starts back down the hallway. “I don’t really tell anybody, it’s kind of my little secret,” Hope smirks in front of her door. 

Amy gives a slow nod before pausing in front of Hope. “Well, I won’t tell a soul.” 

“I trust you,” Hope says as she pushes her door open. There are two small steps that lead down into Hope’s room. “I’m just going to go tell my parents I’m back and that you’re here,” Hope says before turning around. “Make yourself at home,” she calls over her shoulder. 

Amy awkwardly waves after her before taking in the surroundings of the room. There’s a queen canopy bed against the far wall with a big white comforter and a few cute decorative pillows. 

There’s a desk facing the far wall with her laptop, small speakers, and some random knick knacks. There are some sketchbooks stacked on top of each other, and a basket with art supplies next to the desk. Some of her work is taped above the desk, drawings of people and places, cute little cartoon-like sketches and beautiful watercolor paintings. 

In one corner, there’s an elegant stand with an old record player and some classic records framed above it. On either side are Hope’s acoustic and bass guitars on stands. 

From there, Amy moves over to Hope’s bookshelf. It’s six shelves of color-coded books, no space for another one. Hope’s copy of It sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s ragged and damaged and absolutely beautiful. Amy takes it off the shelf, flipping through the pages mindlessly. Hope has put little post-it notes at certain parts, highlighted certain words, and written smudged comments in the corner. It has the be one of the most wonderful thing’s Amy has ever seen, a book so well loved. 

“My parents say ‘hi’ and that they hope you stay for breakfast in the morning,” Hope says as she reenters the room. Amy turns around quickly, startled, and holds the books as if it were a clue from a crime scene. To Hope, it looks like Amy thinks she was doing something wrong. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Sorry, I was just looking at your books.” 

Hope walks over and Amy becomes acutely aware of how close she is. She runs her fingers over the cracks of the cover. “This is my first copy,” Hope says softly. 

“It’s… awesome.” 

Hope hums. “I first read it when I was fifteen. I might’ve been a little too young, but I don’t know, once I opened it I couldn’t put it down.” 

Amy doesn’t know what to say. Everything Hope does or says impresses her in some new way. She won’t learn for a while that Hope had been feeling the same way the whole time. The way she speaks about the things she loves, like she’s trying to seem less passionate than she actually is, fascinates Amy. She wants to listen to Hope talk all day.

Amy just stares at Hope as the taller girl takes the book out of her hands and puts it back on the shelf. Hope moves her hand to Amy’s neck, her thumb rubbing gently underneath her chin. 

Hope looks down at Amy’s jumpsuit. “Do you want to borrow a change of clothes?” Amy’s heart sinks a little bit. She was hoping Hope would kiss her, partly because she wanted her to but mostly because she doesn’t have the nerve to do it herself right now. 

“Uh, yeah actually, that’d be awesome.” 

Hope grabs Amy a t-shirt and shorts out of her drawers and hands them to Amy. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Hope confirms. Before Amy can say another word, Hope is taking her jacket off and pulling her own shirt over her head. 

“Hey, whoa, okay,” Amy rapidly turns around. 

Hope chuckles. “This isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”

Amy shifts on her feet but smiles widely. “That is true,” Amy says towards the wall. When she starts to turn back around, Hope has already changed and is putting her clothes away.

“So,” Amy starts to break the awkward tension, “where do you fall in the line of your sisteres?” 

“I have two younger and three older.” 

“What are they… up to?” 

Hope can’t help but smile. “My oldest sister is at grad school in New York, two of them are in college, and then my younger sisters are in middle school.” 

“Awesome, cool, that’s great. I always wanted siblings.”

“Ten minutes with one of mine and you might change your mind,” Hope jokes.

“So," Hope continues, "there’s a bathroom down the hall.” She wants to tell Amy to change right here, she wants her to feel comfortable. Still, Hope figures it was a big step for Amy to want to spend the night in the first place, so she decides to give her the out. 

“That’d be great, I really have to pee.” 

Hope laughs a little. “Okay, it’s the second door on the left. Feel free to use anything in there.” 

“Thanks,” Amy says. She starts to walk away but pauses next to Hope. "Um." Amy doesn't say another word. She tugs at Hope's t-shirt and kisses her, quickly and softly and awkwardly, before starting towards the bedroom door. She glances over her shoulder to find Hope smiling, and Amy lets herself smile back before heading to the bathroom.

When Amy gets to the bathroom, she takes her time changing and getting her shit together. She looks over the clothes Hope gave her, a tie-dye shirt from Niagara Falls and a pair of gym shorts. Once she’s changed, she fixes her hair and her makeup. She likes wearing Hope’s clothes, but doesn’t think about what that means. She folds up her jumpsuit before giving herself a few pep talks in the mirror.

We don’t have to do anything.

Nothing has to happen. 

But something can happen if we want it to. 

Things at the party were different. There was an excitement that Amy could ride out until the adrenaline rush from the bathroom took over. Now, she’s in Hope’s house. In her room. And there’s no one else around. 

And that’s totally great, because Amy has been waiting to be alone with Hope all week. However, things are slower now and Amy has too much time to think and overthink and doubt. 

Amy wants to, she really wants to. She wants to prove that the bathroom incident was a fluke, that she and Hope could hook up and have fun and make each other feel good and that could be that. Amy doesn't know what is going to happen the rest of the night, but she's ready to go for it. 

“Okay,” she breathes out, “here we go.”

Chapter Text

Amy lingers outside Hope’s door for a while. She considers leaving, like she wanted to at the party. If she avoids the situation altogether, then she won’t have to deal with it (not that this is a “situation” by any means, because that has a negative connotation which Amy doesn’t think applies here). She thinks it to be a pretty valid option until she realizes her car keys are in Hope’s room. It’s a sign, Amy thinks, that Amy needs to stop being a weenie and just go for it. 

Whatever it is that ends up happening (or not happening), she knows that Hope is gonna be fine with it. She has made it clear that she doesn’t want Amy to feel uncomfortable for any reason. She’s clearly down to… you know, but she’s made it seem like she’d be just has content just hanging out with Amy. Amy knows she doesn’t have to worry, but she still does. Because she really does want to do something with Hope, and the last time that happened (approximately 45 minutes ago), she made a pretty massive mistake in the form of fingering Hope’s butthole.

Amy is entirely unsure why Hope was so cool with everything, despite the taller girl making her intentions and feelings relatively clear. Still, Amy definitely can’t pinpoint whatever reason it is that Hope is interested in her. The more Amy stays in her head, the worse it gets for her. She continues to talk herself out of every reason to go for it, so she decides to stop thinking about it altogether. 

After a few deep breaths, Amy heads back into Hope’s room. 

Hope is sitting on the edge of her bed doing something with her phone, but she looks up when Amy enters. 

“Hey,” Amy begins.

“Hi there.”

Amy shifts on her feet, not sure where to go from here. She wants so badly to be the bold Amy from the party, the one that isn’t scared to make the first move. So she makes her way over to the edge of the bed and sits next to Hope.

“Whatcha up to?” 

“Instagram. Look at this.” Hope pulls up Annabelle’s story, a video of Gigi and Tanner jumping off the roof into the pool. 

"God, that’s insane! Why would they do that?” Amy says with a giggle, because it is funny. Amy never would’ve admitted it before (because she simply didn’t realize), but these other people in her grade are fun and funny. Amy wonders why she never realized that before, and she doesn’t want to admit that Molly might have anything to do with it. 

“They’re ridiculous,” Hope sighs with a smile. She locks her phone and tosses it towards her pillow. She leans back on her arms, smirking. “You look cute in my clothes.” Amy looks down at the t-shirt and shorts she borrowed from Hope. “Yeah?” 

Hope hums her response. Amy fiddles with the hem of the shirt. “Can I ask you something, and you have to promise to be totally honest?”

Hope nods, suddenly serious. “Yeah, of course.”

Amy shifts to face Hope, tucking a leg beneath her and leaning forward. “Do you, um… do you think the jumpsuit I was wearing looked stupid?” 

Hope throws her head back and laughs. When she looks back at Amy, who’s smiling proudly for making Hope laugh, she shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Hope continues to shake her head with a smile. “No, you looked amazing.” 

Amy squints. “Again, not answering my question. Is the jumpsuit stupid?”

Hope presses her lips together, attempting to stifle a smile. “No, it’s not stupid.”

Amy pauses, narrowing her eyes further. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. Besides, you want me to say it looked stupid because your projecting your own distaste for the jumpsuit. You’re looking for validation and I am not falling into that trap.” 

Amy giggles. She’s not sure how or why she’s always all smiles whenever she’s with Hope, but she tries not to think too much into it. There’s another time for that, when she’s by herself rather than being alone with Hope and a whole evening together.

“Molly wanted to have matching ones. I thought it was super cute and cool at the time, but - I don’t know, maybe my tastes are changing?” It comes out like a question, like she’s looking for Hope to explain how she’s managing to get Amy to break out of her shell. 

“Maybe they are,” Hope replies matter-of-factly. Amy hesitates, biting her lip and waiting for Hope to say more, which she does. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” 

Amy nods slightly, looking down at her hands. “So you do think the jumpsuit is stupid then.”

“Oh my god, enough with the jumpsuit,” Hope exclaims. She pushes herself off her arms and leans forward. She’s about to say something more but Amy doesn’t let her, leaning in and kissing her. 

Amy senses a brief moment of shock in Hope before she responds kindly. She moves her hand to the back of Amy’s neck, pulling her closer and playing with the hairs she finds there. Amy’s hand find her hip. They stay like that for a little while, kissing softly but intensely. It’s an awkward position, neither of them feeling particularly comfortable. Nonetheless, it feels too good to finally be kissing again for either of them to move. In fact, Hope is almost scared to move for fear that once they stop kissing, they won’t start again. 

Hope doesn’t want to push Amy, and she desperately wants to talk herself out of taking the lead here. Amy took control in the bathroom because she needed to, for Hope and for herself. Now, Amy needs to take control because this has to be Amy’s decision. Still, it doesn’t stop Hope from mumbling a turned-on “fuck” against Amy’s lips before pushing her back. 

Amy allows herself to get pushed back, dazed from being thoroughly kissed. She’s entirely too far gone to care about anything other than being in the moment with Hope. 

“Get on the bed,” Hope commands. Amy wants to comment on how they already are on the bed, but doesn’t trust herself to speak. Besides, she knows what Hope means and is entirely too enamored to not do anything she says. So she obliges instantly, clumsily crawling up towards Hope’s pillows. 

When she turns over to lay on her back, Hope is already there and they’re kissing again. It’s rougher and hotter this time but not any less smooth, with open mouths and tongues teasing one another’s. 

Hope wastes no time moving herself on top of Amy, straddling her hips. Hope may be taller, by quite a bit, but Amy likes being beneath her. Having Hope on top of her makes Amy feel strong, and right now she needs all the strength she can get. 

Hope moves her hands from Amy’s shoulders, up her neck to hold her face. Amy keeps hers at her side awkwardly before grabbing Hope’s hips, sliding her hands up the brunette’s ribs and gripping her sides. Amy can’t find a way to steady herself, physically or otherwise. Still, she can’t bring herself to care. She pushes all other thoughts away, thoughts about doing things ‘right’ and avoiding embarrassment and guilt over feeling like a bad friend, and lets herself focus on feeling good. 

“Are you okay?” Hope asks.

“Yeah, you’re just like… insanely hot.” Hope laughs against Amy’s hair and leaves a kiss behind her ear. “I’m sorry, was that objectifying?” Amy asks with a mimicked laugh. "Because I’m actually not sorry at all, you’re fucking hot.” Hope holds Amy’s chin with one hand, brushing a strand of hair out of her face with the other. She thanks her by kissing her extensively with painstaking perfection.

When Hope sits up, her hands briefly travel over Amy’s breasts before stopping at her stomach. Someone’s breath hitches, maybe it’s both of theirs. Hope didn’t do it on purpose, Amy knows that. It almost makes the fire that it starts in her gut worse , because Hope is being delicate and sweet and likely hasn’t even scratched the surface of driving Amy crazy. It frustrates Amy to no end. 

Hope wants to do everything she can to calm the smaller girl’s nerves. But when Hope sits up and leans back on her calves, ready to say something, Amy follows her. She keeps on hand on Hope’s hip but brings her other to hold her neck, still looking for ways to ground herself. Amy holds Hope still and close, licking into her mouth and swallowing Hope’s uninhibited moan. 

Amy has no idea what the fuck she’s doing, she knows that much. Hope is the first girl she’s kissed, and Amy certainly doesn’t trust the tactics she used during her first kiss in 6th grade with a sloppy boy. Instead, she chases Hope’s kisses that she likes and remember the ones that she gives Hope that make her moan or groan or breathe a little harder. 

Hope starts to squirm above her, and they both become all too aware of the confines of clothes. 

Finally, Hope comes to and realizes the reason she sat up in the first place. “Hey,” she whispers against swollen lips, pushing Amy back slightly with one hand and letting the other slide under her shirt. Amy tries, she tries so hard to not think about how good it feels to have the skin of Hope’s hand on her own again. 

“I meant what I said at the party,” Hope continues. 

Amy narrows her eyes a bit as she tries to remember, because there were a lot of things said at the party and she definitely cannot pinpoint what it is the Hope is talking about right now. Hope senses it and smiles. 

“Before we got in your car, when I said we didn’t have to do anything right away. We could wait if you want to.”

Amy falters. Of course she doesn’t want to try again . It’s easy for Amy to find signs of Hope’s disinterest, even when it doesn’t exist. If Hope senses her disappointment, she doesn’t say anything. “And in the car, when I said we didn’t have to do anything, I meant it. I don’t want you thinking I invited you over just to try to get in your pants again.” 

Amy smiles. Hope is being chivalrous and kind and the only thing she isn’t doing to express her interest in Amy as a person, beyond her body, is saying the words exactly. 

“I thought maybe you didn’t want to do anything anymore,” Amy mumbles and her head falls with embarrassment. Hope instantly moves to tilt her chin up, smiling. 

“If you aren’t gonna read between the lines, then I’ll just say it, okay? I like you.”

Amy’s cheeks flush and she buries her face in Hope’s neck, hiding her embarrassment as she wraps her arms around waist and squeezes. “I like you, too,” Amy whispers. It’s soft and mumbled against skin but Hope can hear it well. 

“Let’s just go… slower ,” Hope adds reasonably. 

“I guess the whole ‘Tinder’ of it all made me feel like we needed to do things fast,” Amy attempts to explain. When Hope falters slightly, Amy thinks she might’ve messed up. “Not that I tried to have sex with you because I thought I had to. That’s not- I didn’t, like - I mean, I wanted to, you know? I was just also nervous that if we got here and didn’t have sex, maybe I would’ve been disappointing you?” 

Hope shakes her head, but her smile sends a wave of relief crashing over Amy. “There’s no pressure, not from me. Let’s just feel things out and see where it goes?”

“Okay,” she breathes out. 

Hope twirls Amy’s hair around her finger. “And when you’re ready, like really certain you’re ready to try again, we will. Somewhere that isn’t a bathroom or a house full of people in it.” 

“That sounds perfect.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Amy finishes with a kiss to Hope’s lower lip, smiling as she leans back onto the bed. Hope rolls off her. 

“Hey, can I ask you something now?”

“Oh, is it your turn for a stupid question about what you were wearing tonight?”

“Not quite,” Hope laughs. “Why… why didn’t you tell Molly that you matched with me?” 

Amy turns to her side and leans on her elbow. “Well, she knows that you popped up on my Tinder but she doesn’t know I swiped right.” She isn’t sure what Hope is really asking, what answer she’s really looking for. 

Hope nods but decides to be more specific. “Were you, um-  were you like ashamed or something?” Hope finishes her question with a laugh and covers her eyes with her forearms, immediate signs that she’s embarrassed. She’s embarrassed to have asked the question and she’s embarrassed to even care. 

“No! God, of course not,” Amy answers quickly. “It’s the opposite, you’re like the only thing I’m feeling proud of right now.”

It’s sweet and it warms Hope’s heart but it doesn’t answer her question, so she bites her lip and waits for more of an explanation. 

“Molly is just, like, complicated. She’s my best friend in the whole world but that doesn’t mean it’s a perfect friendship.” Hope could have told her that, just from what she has observed throughout the years (because yes, she has been observing in the least creepy and most endearing way a person can). 

“I just wanted - want - whatever we’re doing to be just about us. I didn’t, like, want any outside factors at play.” Hope nods. It makes sense, she thinks. Everything Amy does, she does with Molly. Hope almost feels proud that she’s the first thing in Amy’s life that’s worth keeping separate. 

“I’m perfectly capable of screwing this up on my own, I don’t need any help,” Amy mumbles. It’s her turn to fall on her back and covers her eyes in embarrassment. 

“Hey,” Hope says and pushes herself of her stomach. She covers Amy’s stomach with one arm and leans up on the other. “You’re not gonna screw anything up,” Hope almost laughs, “you couldn’t.” 

Amy nods but isn’t convinced. “I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t want to tell her because of you. It’s not that I didn’t think she’d approve or that I thought she would judge.” 

Hope doesn’t believe that for a second. Well, she believes that Amy thinks that to be true. But Hope would bet millions of dollars that Molly would neither approve of nor avoid passing judgement towards Hope, especially in the context of her relationship with Amy. 

“I just want to figure things out with you before she can add any input,” Amy concludes. 

“Smart,” Hope replies with a kiss to her cheek. 

Amy likes this, she likes just lying in bed with Hope and exchanging lazy, comfortable kisses. It’s intimate and satisfying and enough to make Amy believes that they have a real shot at being something. 

“How come you swiped right on me?” Amy asks awkwardly. It’s not the right way to phrase the question, Hope thinks, but ignores the politics of Tinder in favor of figuring out how to answer that question. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You can, and I’d give you my honest answer. But I wanna know yours.”

“Tell me yours first.” 

“Okay,” Amy laughs. “Well, I saw your profile and I thought you looked gorgeous in your pictures. So I looked up your instagram and legit got lost.” 

“Stop it,” Hope giggles self-consciously with a pinch to Amy’s side. “I’m serious! You’re photography and style and music, I just…” Amy pauses when she gets distracted in Hope’s eyes. “I was just very interested. So I swiped right.”

It’s a good answer, Hope thinks. It’s deep and thorough and honest, and maybe just a little bit perfect. “Your turn.”

“Sexuality has confused me for, like, ever. So I decided enough was enough and it was time to figure it out. When I saw you on Tinder, I dunno, it was like everything was falling into place. I swiped right before I could even think about it.”

“Wow,” is all Amy can say. Hope wants to talk about how she’s been thinking about Amy ever since Amy came out sophomore year, how she’s been thinking about her non-stop and how she has wanted her for a long time. But there’s another time for that. 

It’s in that moment when Amy decides there are far worse things in the world than matching with Hope on Tinder.

Chapter Text

They spend the rest of the night lounging in Hope’s bed, losing themselves in conversations about art and childhood stories and plans of action for zombie apocalypses (“It’s inevitable,” Amy says. “It’s possible,” Hope concedes). 

Sometimes they kiss. Hope kisses Amy when she says something too cute or smart to be true, and Amy kisses Hope when she manages to shock her yet again with how wonderful she actually is. 

The thing about Hope, that Amy comes to find as she gets to know her, is that she isn’t at all the girl everyone thinks she is. She presents a badass, edgy persona of disinterest and bitchiness. In reality, Hope is sweet and silly and incredibly caring.

“I just want to do something that means something, you know?” Hope sighs, exasperated. “Like, why is school all about preparing us for the real world? The real world is here, we’re all in it. I don’t want to prepare for shit ,” she laughs at herself, “I want to learn to change it all. Teach me how to make a difference.” 

Amy smiles and nods. “You’re awesome.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“No, I’m serious,” Amy giggles, “you’re too smart for your own good.” 

Hope laughs, loud and boisterous to the point where she fears she might wake her sisters up, because she never really thought of herself as too smart.

“How can I be smart if I don’t even know what I’m doing?” She asks it like it’s a joke, but Amy can see that she genuinely struggles with the idea that she can’t contribute to the world. 

“Have you ever read The Apology? ” Amy asks. Hope shakes her head no, but smiles in anticipation for Amy to explain. “Plato wrote it. Basically, Socrates was on trial for a bunch of stuff, like corrupting the youth and being impius, which means that-”

“He was denying the existence of the gods,” Hope interrupts. 

“Right,” Amy says with a smile. “Plato wrote down what was happening in court and everything Socrates was saying to defend himself. So, Socrates is answering their questions and refuting their arguments, but he’s being super casual about it, and everyone in the court is all like, ‘take this seriously, you could be sentenced to death!’ But Socrates didn’t understand what they meant because he’s only ever known to be honest and real with people.

“And he attributes that to this prophecy from the oracle at Delphi which said that Socrates is the wisest man in the whole entire world. But Socrates is like, “wait that doesn’t make any sense because I legit know nothing and I have no idea what anything means.” 

Hope listens intently, completely engrossed in Amy recounting this story. 

“What Socrates realizes,” Amy continues, “is that the reason he is the wisest must be because he’s the only person who recognizes that he doesn’t claim to know things. He says ‘I neither know nor think that I know.’”

“Wait,” Hope stops her with a furrowed brow, “so Socrates is smart because he understands his own ignorance?” 

“Exactly,” Amy answers. “I mean, it’s a really convoluted way of saying that we never really know anything, everything in the world is just too complicated to really get it all. All we can do is our best to learn and understand things as they come.”

(Hope falls a little bit in love with Amy right then and there.)

“So you’re saying that I actually am smart because I don’t know what I’m doing?” Hope teases, but she’s completely blown away by how Amy seems to get more and more perfect with each passing moment. 

“I’m saying… admitting that you don’t know what you’re doing means that you’re probably on the right track to getting where you’re supposed to be.”

Hope just stares and Amy just stares back until she breaks into a smile. “At least, that’s what I tell myself when I feel like I’m just floating.”

Hope kisses her, long and languid and a little dirtier than they had since they decided to cool off from making out on her bed. “Thank you,” she whispers. Amy grins against her lips and leans in for another kiss, but Hope pulls away. 

“I think you’re the one who’s too smart,” Hope decides. 

The thing about Amy, that Hope comes to find as she gets to know her, is that when Amy gets really happy, in a way she isn’t expecting, her eyes sparkle. It’s obvious that she’s trying to tame her smile. It’s especially clear when Amy talks about her parents. 

“They’re as Catholic as they come, you know?” Amy says, leaning her cheek against her hand as she lays on her side facing Hope. “But, I dunno, I came out and they were just so… supportive. They were clearly trying so hard to get it, and next thing I know they’re, like, mad at people in the Catholic community for making me think I ever had a reason to hate myself for being gay.” 

Hope sees it then, the sparkle in her eyes as she tries so hard to seem cool about it. She’s clearly overjoyed about her parents accepting her and loving her for who she is, so Hope smiles while Amy tries not to. 

“It’s not like they ever gave me any reason to think they were homophobic, you know? I guess religion is so commonly associated with hatred, I just assumed. I mean, they did need to readjust some mindsets, but they came around so quickly. It was like nothing was more powerful than how much they love me.”

Amy then apologizes for sounding cheesy as she buries her face in Hope’s comforter. Hope tugs on her sleeve and pulls her up and Amy’s embarrassed smile is kissed away. 

“Tell me more,” Hope whispers. 

Amy complies happily, telling the story of how her parents would pack her lunch every day, and each day she opened her lunch bag to find a different bible verse scribbled affectionately on a post-it note. “But each verse was one about love and about, like, how loved all human beings are.”

Amy pauses, and Hope thinks she looks like she’s getting choked up, but she jumps off the bed quickly. Before Hope can ask her what’s wrong, Amy is ruffling through her jumpsuit to grab her wallet out of the pocket and leaps back on the bed. 

“I kept them all,” Amy explains, “and I keep some in my wallet.” She pulls out a few of the post-it notes, slightly crumpled and clearly well-loved. 

“Can I read them?” Hope asks softly. 

“Of course,” Amy hums, handing them over. 

Hope runs her fingers over each one, reading the words carefully. 

“This is my favorite,” Amy points out one in particular. Written on it is: what God has made clean, you must not call profane . Underneath it, in what Hope assumes is Amy’s mom’s handwriting, is you are pure gold with a small heart. Hope almost cries. 

“Although, this is a close second,” Amy chuckles as she points to a different one. It says, do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Underneath that is Amy’s dad’s handwriting, which reads don’t ever let the world change the love in your heart . 

“Amy, these are amazing. Seriously, these are so beautiful.” 

“It changed everything for me,” Amy sighs. “I’m not sure how I feel about God or spirituality, I figure I have time to sort those feelings out.” 

“Yeah I feel that way too,” Hope says, her eyes still trained on the post-it notes. “So many bible verses are so beautiful, and so many people who identify as religious are such wonderful people. Sometimes I don’t think religion is the problem, it’s the institutional problems that human beings have attached to it along the way.”  

“Exactly!” Amy exclaims, relieved that Hope gets it just in the same way she does. 

The conversation on religion leads to a conversation on the universe which leads to a whole lot of other topics, and by the time Amy can hardly keep her eyes open, the clock reads 4:36 am. 

“Holy shit, it’s so late,” she whispers, tucked underneath Hope’s covers as they face each other. Hope hums with closed eyes, sleep clearly about to overtake. 

Amy has a hard time falling asleep, though. The more she and Hope talk, the more Amy falls for Hope, and the harder she falls for Hope, the worse Amy feels for keeping it a secret from Molly. She comes back from San Francisco Sunday afternoon, and Amy is set on telling her as soon as they’re together again. 

So she lets herself drift asleep, her hand intertwined loosely with Hope’s in between their bodies.

Amy wakes up for no reason other than her body telling her that it’s time to pee. The sun is blinding through the window, and the clock next to Hope’s bed reads 9:14. 

Hope is nowhere to be found, in the bed or otherwise in the room, but Amy has a hard time registering everything as she gives herself a few moments to wake up. 

When she rolls out of bed, she texts her parents to let them know that she’ll be home soon. She wanders through the hallway mindlessly as she goes into the bathroom, using the toilet and brushing her teeth with the toothbrush Hope had given her the night before. She splashes some water on her face and throws her hair into a messy bun. 

As soon as she leaves the bathroom, Hope is making her way up the stairs. 

“Hey, good morning,” she says with a nervous smile. It’s like the whole night before hadn’t happened as Hope recedes back into her shell. 

“‘Mornin’,” Amy replies and rubs the sleep from her eyes. 

“Sleep well?” Hope asks, leaning against the hallway wall across from Amy and biting her lip. 

“Like a baby,” Amy says with a smile. “You?” 

“Mhm. Aside from the jackhammer that is your nostrils, it was a pretty seamless night of sleep.” 

Amy gasps. “Rude! I know for a fact that I don’t snore because Molly would’ve told me so ha.” 

Hope giggles, moving closer to Amy. “I’m teasing you. You do snore, though, but it’s less jackhammer and more like a mouse.” 

“Wow, you aren’t making this any better.” 

“How ‘bout I make it up to you with breakfast?” 

“I could definitely be convinced.” 

Hope smiles, nodding her head towards the stairs. Amy follows her, appreciating the beauty of the house even more now that sunlight floods through the windows. 

“Be forewarned,” Hope announces as they walk down a wide staircase, “my family is awake and will likely be very embarrassing, so you’re not allowed to hold anything they say against me.”

Amy chuckles, sidling up to Hope as the taller girl leads her through the house and towards the kitchen. “I won’t, I promise. They can’t say anything worse than my parents.” 

When they round a corner, Amy sees Hope’s parents sitting at a long granite countertop. Her mom is sipping coffee and reading the paper while her dad works on his laptop. 

“Guys, this is Amy. Amy, these are my parents.” 

Hope’s mom stands immediately and offers Amy a handshake. “Amy, it’s so nice to meet you. You can call me Marie. Hope doesn’t usually have friends stay over, so this is a nice surprise.”

“And, there it is,” Hope mumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“It’s really nice to meet you too. And thank you so much for having me.”

Hope’s dad waves from his spot at the counter, eyes still trained on his laptop screen. “Hi Amy, I’m David. I promise I will introduce myself as soon as I finish this thought,” he promises as he clicks away on his laptop. 

“You don’t need to introduce yourself, Dad, I already did that for you,” Hope quips with an affectionate eye-roll. 

“Chivalry is not dead, Hope, I will be introducing myself to your friend.”

Amy giggles but swallows a nervous lump in her throat, because how is she supposed to look Hope’s father in the eyes without saying, “hi, I’m Amy, it’s nice to meet you, I accidentally fingered your daughter’s butthole last night.” 

The thought doesn’t last though, because Hope is offering to make her french toast or pancakes or eggs or whatever she’s hungry for. 

“We also have bagels,” Marie chimes in before turning back to her newspaper. 

“Oh, and we have bagels,” Hope repeats. 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Amy decides.

“And I’m having whatever I’m making for you, which is any of the previously stated options.” 

“Then you pick.”

“Amy,” Hope groans, stomping her foot playfully. “Come on, what’s your favorite breakfast food?” 

“If I tell you, you’re gonna make fun of me,” Amy complains. 

This catches David’s attention and he looks up from his laptop. “Well now you have to say it,” he demands with a smirk. 

“Dad, butt out,” Hope murmurs. 

“Honey, your father would like to hear the girl’s favorite breakfast food, and I don’t think that’s too unreasonable,” Marie teases.

They’re messing her, Amy knows it. It’s cute how on edge Hope seems to be for fear of embarrassment, but Amy doesn’t want her to be stressed or feel like her parents could do or say anything that would drive Amy away.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” Amy huffs, pretending it’s a bigger deal than it is, though she is secretly scared they’ll judge her. “My parents and I make breakfast burritos, but we use pancakes instead of tortillas. So we put scrambled eggs and cheese and veggies and all that stuff… on a pancake. And then we eat it like a burrito.”

Hope and her parents are silent before breaking out into smiles.

“No way.” 

“That sounds epic.” 

“We have to make those.” 

And then Hope’s parents are up from their seats, grabbing ingredients from cabinets and pancake mix from cupboards and eggs from the fridge. 

“Wow,” Hope mumbles after David asks Amy if they can use hot sauce, “usually it takes them a little longer to get this comfortable, but you’re fitting right in, huh?” 

“They’re really cool. You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Amy promises, and she means it. Hope’s parents are everything Hope pretends not to be (but actually is). Her mom is soft and warm, charming and kind. Her dad is strong and intimidating, but it only takes a few moments to learn that he’s a harmless goofball. 

“They’re usually distracted with work, even on the weekends,” Hope hums. She looks down at Amy, suddenly aware of the weight of her presence. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Amy smiles and tries to subtly hold Hope’s hand. She misses though and only gets a pinky, and it makes Hope smile more. “I’m happy I’m here, too.” 

They pull away quickly when one of Hope’s sisters stomps into the kitchen.

“You guys are being so loud, ” she grunts, tossing dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder. She’s beautiful like Hope, but still young. Amy guesses she’s around thirteen or fourteen. 

“Oh what, did we interrupt your binge-watching tok toks for the 24th straight hour?” Hope asks with an eye-roll.

“It’s Tik Tok, you idiot,” she spits.

“Sydney, language!” their mom shouts from the other side of the kitchen, and then it’s Sydney’s turn to roll her eyes. 

“Syd, this is my friend Amy. Amy, this is the ever-charming Sydney.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sydney mumbles, eyes already trained back on her phone. 

“You too,” Amy answers sweetly. “I’m a big Tik Tok fan too.” 

Sydney pauses and looks up from her phone. 

Hope gives her an incredulous look. “Actually?” 

“Yeah,” Amy blushes. “It’s honestly really funny.”

“Exactly!” Sydney exclaims. “I’ve been trying to tell that to them but they just won’t listen.” She finishes with a pointed look at Hope, and it’s clear the older girl had given her sister flack for liking the app. 

“They’re just so stupid,” Hope explains. 

“I mean, yeah, a lot of them are, but that’s part of what makes them so funny,” Amy says with a shrug.

“Preach it,” Sydney says with her hands raised like she’s praising Amy. 

“Sydney, can you go tell your sister that breakfast is almost ready?” Hope’s mom asks.

“My sister is already here.”

“Not that one, the smaller one,” Hope’s dad teases, referring to their youngest sister. “She’s in the playroom.”

Sydney scowls and gestures towards Hope. “Why can’t Hope do it?”

Hope narrows her eyes, and she looks like she might say something nasty before Amy jumps in.

“I can go tell her,” Amy offers quickly. “I’d like to see this playroom anyway.”

Hope’s eyes are still locked angrily on her younger sister’s, so Amy doesn’t wait for permission. She gestures around the house, silently asking for directions through the massive home. 

Marie smiles, pointing to her left. “Straight ahead, at the end of the hallway on the left.” She looks like she appreciates what Amy is doing, not just for getting Hope’s sister but also for giving the family a little space to ease the tension without a guest present. 

Amy leaves with a comforting smile to Hope before making her way down the hallway. She takes a few moments to admire the pictures on the walls. They’re all beautiful, Amy isn’t sure she’s ever seen a family so gorgeous.

Hope sticks out a bit though, with her hair being much darker than her sisters’ and her features much softer. Hope’s sisters are stunning, all sharp jawlines and stormy blue eyes. Hope’s brown eyes and supple cheeks are warmer. The pictures of her as a kid feature her smiling so widely at the camera that her eyes squint shut.

Amy wants to meet the older sisters, she wants to see what they’re like and what the whole family is like when they’re together. She wonders how much of who Hope pretends to be is because of her relationships with her siblings. 

When she gets to the end of the hallway, Amy takes the three small steps down into the playroom. It’s a huge room, with couches and chairs and bean bags. There are games and toys spread out everywhere. 

Hope’s youngest sister sits on the floor though, looking up at the massive TV mounted on the wall. It looks like she’s playing a video game. 

Amy wraps around the couch and gets into her peripheral, waving hesitantly. “Hey, I’m Amy. Hope’s friend.”

“Cool. I’m Holly.” 

Holly looks to be around ten or eleven, Amy guesses. She’s completely adorable, with strawberry blonde hair and bright eyes. 

“I’m playing Mario Kart,” she says. Her tongue sticks out between her lips in concentration, and Amy is certain she’s never seen anything cuter.

Amy nods. “Cool, that’s very cool.” 

“Have you played before?”

“Once or twice.”  

“Wanna play with me?” 

Amy glances behind herself nervously. 

“Well, I was supposed to come get you for breakfast, but I think we have time for one game.” 

“Nice,” Holly says with a cheesy smile. Holly hands Amy a controller as she takes a seat on the floor next to the younger girl. 

Holly quits to the main menu and starts a two-player round.

“Is this the Nintendo Switch?” Amy asks as she peruses through her character options. 

“Uh huh. I always play as Yoshi. Except sometimes I play as Toad because he’s funny.” 

“For sure.” 

When Amy settles on Princess Peach, Holly gives her a funny look. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Amy teases. 

“Why did you pick Princess Peach?” Holly giggles. 

“Girl power, that’s why,” Amy says it like it’s obvious. 

Holly blinks. “Girl power,” she repeats, “right.” She explains customizing your cart, how they vary in size and weight and type, and how different factors affect the way they operate. It sounds like absolute gibberish coming from the ten-year-old’s mouth, but Amy follows along and can’t get enough of it. 

Amy settles on the glider that looks like a squirrel and it makes Holly laugh. “Okay, I’m gonna pick an easy map at first until you remember how to play.”

“Thank you,” Amy chuckles. 

Holly demands that they don’t use tilt-controls, which Amy then learns is when you can move the controller like a wheel, because the professionals don’t play that way. She didn’t even know there were people playing Mario Kart professionally, but ignores the idea as the game starts. 

Amy does her best, but Holly has clearly put in a lot of practice. Amy isn’t a quitter though, and playing Mario Kart becomes less about getting to know Hope’s little sister and more about getting good at the game. 

They’re on their third game, the one where Amy finally gets the hang of drifting after Holly’s impressive teaching, when Hope comes in. 

Amy doesn’t notice, so Hope takes a moment to appreciate what she’s seeing. Her kid sister next to her… whatever Amy is, playing Mario Kart and giggling and teasingly nudging their shoulders together to mess the other up. 

It might be the best sight Hope has ever seen. 

She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her shorts and takes a picture. She looks at it fondly before walking up to the girls and kneeling behind them. 

Neither of them pay her much mind, not even Amy, who would have been hyper aware of Hope’s proximity in any other circumstances. But right now, she’s in second. And Holly is in first. It’s the closest Amy has come to beating her since they started and she cannot afford any distractions right now. 

Hope puts her arms around both their shoulders. “Hey goofballs, breakfast is ready.”

“Not now,” Holly all but screams. 

“It’s gonna get cold if -”

“Babe, please, I’m trying to win,” Amy almost screams. 

Amy doesn’t even notice. Doesn’t notice the word she used, doesn’t notice the way it sends a rush through Hope’s body, doesn’t notice the way Hope’s smile grows tenfold. 

If Amy had noticed, she would have froze. And then she would have ran so fast she could qualify for the Olympics. 

They aren’t there yet. They don’t even know what they are. It’s barely been a week. Granted, a lot has happened in that week, and in this world, a lot more has happened in a lot less time. Still, they haven’t talked about whether or not their still just friends, or if they’re dating, or if they’re girlfriends, or whatever. 

Calling each other “babe” is not something Hope would’ve expected until a long time into their relationship (and she’s thought a lot about that potential relationship). 

Hope’s thoughts are interrupted when Amy groans and Holly screams with joy, jumping up from her spot on the ground. “I won!” 

“Good job, Holly. You’re a worthy opponent.” 

Amy sticks her hand out and Holly shakes it, though it’s possible she doesn’t even understand that Amy is trying to be sportsmanlike. 

“You were really good, Amy. You almost beat me!”

“Dude, I’m gonna keep practicing. You better watch out, I’m coming for ya.” 

Holly clearly loves the teasing, giggling like crazy. “Breakfast is ready?” she asks Hope, like she hadn’t completely ignored her 2 minutes ago. “Good, I’m starved.” 

The girl runs out of the room and towards the kitchen, and Amy watches after her with a fond smile. When she looks over to Hope, there’s a look on the taller girl’s face that she’s never seen before.

“Are you okay?” Amy asks, curious and only a little concerned. 

“I’m perfect,” Hope answers without a beat. “Let’s go eat.”

Chapter Text

Amy is surprised at how well she gets on with Hope’s family. With the energy that Hope gives off, Amy anticipated her family to be colder, less welcoming and joyful than they actually are. 

Instead, Hope’s family mimics the exact energy of who Hope truly is - intellectual but playful, silly but a bit sarcastic, and, more than anything else, kind.

It’s no surprise that the intensity of her parents’ work schedules has caused Hope to be a bit resentful, but her parents are clearly loving and engaged. Their goofiness reminds Amy a lot of her own parents, without the lack of boundaries and occasionally overwhelming displays of affection. 

Amy watches fondly as Hope’s mom flips pancakes and her dad swings Holly around, dancing to imaginary music. Hope’s laugh reverberates through the kitchen while she’s scrambling eggs, and Sydney hides a content smile behind her phone. 

Even without her older sisters there, Hope’s world is huge and busy with her family members. It makes Amy yearn for a big family like this. She’ll always appreciate quality over quantity - it’s how she was always able to float above a sea of wishing for more friends. But, at least as far as family is concerned, Hope seems to have quantity and quality. 

It makes Amy wonder if she’s been sacrificing something. 

Later, after Hope’s family has made it clear that they love Amy’s breakfast creation by almost licking their plates clean, Amy’s mom texts her and asks her if she’s coming home for their traditional Saturday “puzzle party.”

After profuse thank you’s, a plan for a rematch in Mario Kart, and a promise to send along her favorite Tik Toks, Amy lets Hope lead her out to her car. 

“It’s not really a party,” Amy explains, as if it’s necessary. “We just started doing jigsaw puzzles every weekend and it turned into a big thing.”

“No, it sounds cool,” Hope says earnestly. Secretly she’s hoping for an invitation, because she doesn’t want her time with Amy to come to an end (luckily, Amy had something in mind for that). 

“Oh, and I’ll be sure to give you your clothes back,” Amy babbles. She realizes that her jumpsuit is still up in Hope’s room, but she can’t bring herself to care. She figures it can stay there for a while.

 Hope shakes her head, saying, “no worries.”

Amy nods, feeling a little shy all over again. “Last night was really fun,” she says timidly, kicking awkwardly at the concrete beneath her feet. It almost feels like she’s back to square one. Even though Hope made it pretty clear she’s into her (she said ‘I like you,’ for God’s sake), Amy still feels nervous to ask what she wants to ask.

“It was. Thanks for coming to the party,” Hope says. “I know they’re not usually your favorite thing.”

There’s a teasing smile on her lips that has Amy rolling her eyes. “Well, I had a good reason to go.”

Hope bites her lip shyly. Amy loves that, loves seeing the little cracks in an otherwise bold demeanor. If Amy can get someone like Hope to blush or feel bashful, she figures she could cash in on it for life. 

“And I’m sorry, again, by the way,” Amy adds quickly, “about… you know…”

Hope tilts her head and raises her eyebrows, like she doesn’t know exactly what Amy is talking about. 

“Sorry about what?” 

Amy doesn’t want to say it again, but she feels the need to clarify under Hope’s curious gaze. 

“About, um… your butt.”

Hope can’t help but smile, shaking her head and laughing breathily. It’s then that Amy realizes Hope is poking fun at her, because of course she is. 

“Okay, alright, no need to be mean, ” Amy says. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just too easy,” Hope appeases, reaching blindly for Amy’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “But I told you, you don’t have to apologize.” 

Amy looks down fondly at their joined hands before looking back at Hope. “Um, question for you.” 

“Answer for you.”

“Do you have plans tonight?”

Hope doesn’t have any plans tonight. “I might be able to fit you into my schedule.”

“Oh, well I don’t want you to change your plans for me. We could always do something another time, or not even do -”

“Amy,” Hope starts with a squeeze to her hand, “I’m kidding. I don’t have any plans.” 

“Okay,” Amy breathes. “Well, I had an idea. Of something we could do. If you wanted to.” Amy tries not to think about how motivated she is by the possibility of this being her only chance to take Hope out. Molly comes home tomorrow and Amy still has no idea what she’s going to do about that .

For the first time in her life, Amy doesn’t want to worry about what happens next. She’s gonna let future-Amy deal with it. 

“Like a date?” Hope asks. It’s supposed to come out confident and maybe a bit teasing, but instead it sounds cute, and a little bit desperate. 

“Yeah, like a date.” Amy pauses. “Well, not like a date. Actually a date. If you wanted it to be.”

“Yes,” Hope nods emphatically, “definitely.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up around six-thirty?” Amy opens her car door, sliding into her front seat. 

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” Hope asks in lieu of an answer. 

“Nope!” 

“At least tell me what to wear!” 

“And spoil the surprise for myself?”

Hope kicks gently at Amy’s foot dangling out of her car. “Whatever, you’re an ass.”

Amy can’t even hide her smile as she starts her car. She rolls her window down and leans out on her forearms, squinting up at the beautiful brunette through the sunlight. Amy can see the shadow of a smile in Hope’s silhouette. 

“Six-thirty?”

Shrouded in gold, Hope nods. “Six-thirty.”

When Amy gets home, she takes a long shower and spends most of it trying to wash away the guilt of lying to Molly. She tries to tell herself that withholding the truth isn’t technically a lie, but she knows that’s bullshit. 

She thinks about how she could have been honest with Molly from the start, how she could have asked Molly to give her space while she explores things with Hope, and how sad she would feel if the roles were reversed. 

But then she thinks about the chances she didn’t take because Molly, likely unknowingly, talked her out of it.

The plays she didn’t audition for (“Can you imagine spending that much time with George and Alan?”) 

The pottery class at the rec. center she didn’t take (“It’s just gonna be creepy old guys and 12-year-olds. Plus, I mean, no resume value.")

The songs she’s written but won’t sing aloud because Molly never thought Amy actually took it seriously (“Of all the instruments, I’ll always wonder why you’ve chosen the autoharp.”) 

Even so, those are a few instances of a lifetime of friendship. The instances of Molly being a great friend have vastly outweighed the bad. Molly isn’t the perfect friend but she’s gotta be darn close. Amy doesn’t think she can say the same about herself.

After her shower that was not the least bit relaxing, after she’s processed the past 24 hours through journaling and meditation (it works, okay), she sits with her mom in the living room doing an intense puzzle while a Jeopardy rerun drones on in the background. 

“How was the musical last night?” Amy asks once she and her mom have finished organizing the puzzle pieces by color. 

Charmaine looks into the distance as she decides her answer. “Emotionally provocative,” she claims.

Amy grimaces. She’s not entirely sure how a local production of Cats can cause someone to be so contemplative, but who is she to deny another person’s emotional response to art?

“Sounds fun.”

“Although your father was hogging all of the Raisinets, and when -”

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” 

Charmaine jumps a bit at Amy’s sudden interruption, but she smiles quickly. “Of course, sweetie.”

“How, uh,” Amy is quick to ask, though she isn’t sure how to phrase her question, “how did you know that Dad was, like, the one ?” 

If Amy’s mom thinks the question is awkward, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she pauses and smiles. She taps her chin with a puzzle piece. “I knew when I knew,” she states matter-of-factly. 

“That doesn’t really make sense,” Amy chuckles with narrowed eyes. 

Charmaine leans against the back of the couch, puzzle long forgotten. “You know, you’ve never been very good at math,” she says, and it feels random. 

Amy’s eyebrows furrow with discontent. “That seems unrelated? And also mean.” 

“Remember how long it took you to get fractions?” Charmaine reminisces, ignoring Amy’s indignant “hey!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Amy asks, but she can’t help but laugh a bit. 

Her mom sighs happily. “There was one day, I’ll never forget it, when your dad was sitting with you at the counter. He had been explaining how to add fractions over and over again, about needing the least common denominator. It was taking you so long to understand, but in just one single moment, it all clicked. You just got it.”

It dawns on Amy quickly, just like it did with fractions all those years ago, what her mom is saying.

“You don’t know what you didn’t know until you know it,” Charmaine says simply. “But then you’ll realize and it’s just like a puzzle,” she leans forward and puts a piece in place. 

“You know when you know,” Amy repeats. She looks down at the puzzle, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly grateful for her mom, and thinks that the pieces of her own puzzle might just be starting to come together. 

Amy might’ve teased Hope about it, but standing in front of her mirror, she realizes that she has no idea what to wear. 

Her phone pings on her bed and she expects it to be another text from Molly about the funky Asian-fusion restaurant her dad is taking her for dinner. She’s surprised to see an unknown number on her phone, so she unlocks it quickly to see the message. 

Yo this is Annabelle 

Hope has kept me hostage on facetime for half an hour trying to figure out what to wear tonight

Please give me a hint about your date so I can help her! Or else I’m gonna sue her thirsty ass for harassment!

Amy can almost see the reflection of her own smile on her phone screen. She knows that Hope would kill Annabelle for divulging this information, but Amy couldn’t be more grateful. Hope is nervous too, and it gives Amy the confidence boost she desperately needs (and deserves).

Hahaha hi Annabelle! 

It’s very casual, I promise. She can wear whatever she wants :) 

Annabelle’s response is instant.

Casual but cute, got it. 

THANK YOU 

Annabelle proceeds to send a gif from Mission Impossible with the caption, “this tape will self-destruct in five seconds.”

Yeah yeah, Amy replies, I never heard from you. Got it. ;)

It’s a strange world, Amy thinks, that has her receiving texts from Annabelle about her upcoming date with Hope. Strange, of course, but it’s also real and it’s theirs; it’s a world that Amy has made for herself, thanks to herself. She swiped right, she talked to Hope, she went to the party - she was brave.

So now, Amy finds herself again to be in a position to be comfortable in her own skin and happy with who she is. That much, though, is thanks to Hope.

After a few pit-stops to prepare for the date, Amy pulls back into Hope’s driveway to pick her up. It feels like it’s been a lot longer since she’d been there last, but it was only that morning. 

She gives herself a brief pep-talk in her car’s rear view mirror before making her way up the long pathway to the steps of Hope’s front door. It only takes one knock before Hope is swinging the door open and stepping out, closing it softly behind her. 

“Sorry, I don’t want my family to make it a big thing,” Hope explains her urgency. 

Amy doesn’t even hear her. All she does is stare. 

Hope is wearing a cropped tank top with a pretty floral pattern and light wash jean shorts. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and adorable little wisps frame her face. She’s wearing makeup, enough to make her features sharper but not enough to distract Amy from the fact that she’s one of the most naturally gorgeous girls in the world. 

“You look beautiful,” Amy finally says. Hope shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and takes a step forward, pretending the compliment hasn’t made her feel warm all over.

“Thanks. You too. I like this look on you.”

Amy looks down at herself. She’s wearing a pair of forest-green overalls over a bohemian style, soft white blouse. She’s got a flannel tied around her waist because it might get cold, and because why not.

All together it honestly looks a bit messy, like a child had picked out her three favorite pieces of clothing individually and thrown them together. 

If you were to ask Hope, it’s an outfit that’s utterly perfect on a girl who’s proving to be the same. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

A few moments pass where Amy doesn’t say a word. Sure, she doesn’t really know what to say, but more than anything, she wants to take it all in. Here she stands, on Hope’s doorstep, picking her up for their official first date - hopefully the first date of many. 

“Shall we?” Hope asks with a nervous chuckle. 

“Yeah,” Amy exhales. She leads Hope down to her car, opening the passenger door for her. 

Hope doesn’t get in, instead staring at what’s on the seat. She gestures softly for the flowers lying there. “Are those for me?” 

“Oh. Right. Yes, they are,” Amy exclaims, reaching around to grab the bouquet and give it to Hope. “Sorry, I meant to bring those with me to the door,” Amy says. 

Hope accepts them graciously. “Lilies,” she notices. 

“Your favorite, right?” Amy asks nervously. She remembers Hope mentioning it, but now she’s afraid she made a mistake.

Hope nods. “Yeah, they are.” It’s so sweet that she remembered, Hope thinks, that she can’t help but lean forward and kiss Amy’s cheek. “Thank you,” she says, climbing into the car to spare Amy the embarrassed pink flush to her cheeks. 

As Amy drives them to their destination, it becomes increasingly clear that the official ‘date’ status has made them both more nervous than they might have anticipated. She can feel the awkwardness in the air of her Volvo. She figures it would be unreasonable to expect them not to have some first-date jitters. Still, Amy doesn’t want that to get in the way of their night together. 

“So,” she starts and her voice cracks, “you’re not even gonna ask me how the puzzle party was?” 

Hope’s laugh drowns out the Top 40s Hit on the radio, which is okay because Amy thinks it sounds more like music anyway. 

“I thought you said it wasn’t a party?” 

The corners of Amy’s eyes crinkle behind her sunglasses. “Busted,” she murmurs. 

They rediscover the comfort they found with one another, the ease of honesty coming back to the forefront. The few moments of silence on the rest of the drive aren’t awkward at all. Amy sees Hope try to hide a smile as she gazes out the window, and she thinks her mission was successful. 

About 15 minutes later, Amy pulls into a small parking lot right on the beach. It’s a semi-abandoned beach, as many are along the coastline. Hope watches with curious eyes as Amy backs into a parking space where concrete meets sand. 

“We’re here!”

“Are we?” Hope raises her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, come on.” Amy leaps out of the car and bounds towards the trunk. Hope follows cautiously, taking a look at the beach beyond them. The tide is rather high, but there’s a solid amount of sand between them and the water. The sun is starting to set and it casts a beautiful light on Amy, who looks all too excited to be standing behind her car. 

But then she opens the trunk and it all makes sense.

“Oh my god,” Hope breathes out when she sees it. In the trunk of her car, Amy had laid out a bunch of blankets over a few sleeping bags to create a comfortable base, adding pillows against the back of the backseats to sit against. There’s a pizza box in the middle, clearly meant for dinner, and Amy moves around to turn on battery operated string-lights that she’s hung around the headrests and inside the vehicle. 

It’s adorable and it looks so cozy and Hope is at a complete loss for words. 

(Hope falls a little bit more in love with Amy right then and there.)

“I thought, I don’t know,” Amy stutters, because Hope hasn’t said anything and now she’s scared she’s done something stupid, “we could hang out and watch the sunset.” 

Hope looks over at her and Amy almost gulps. 

“Amy, this is amazing.” 

“Yeah?” Amy breathes. 

“Yeah, I mean, I…” Hope trails off and laughs, covering her eyes with the palms of her hands. She wants to say that this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her, how Amy makes her feel so special, but all that comes out is a strained laugh. It’s rare that she’s the one at a loss for words rather than Amy. 

Amy just grabs Hope’s wrists and pulls her hands away from her face. It’s Amy’s turn to lean forward and kiss the taller girl’s cheek before diving into the trunk. Amy gestures for her to follow and Hope climbs in with a giggle.

“I do feel the need to tell you,” Amy admits once they’re settled in her trunk, “that I did have to ask Annabelle what your favorite kind of pizza is.” 

“Oh yeah? And what’d she tell you?” 

Amy laughs and hands her a bottle of diet coke (because she learned very early on that nothing is more of a guilty pleasure for Hope than diet coke). 

“Well, at first she said vegan pizza with anchovies and olives.” 

“Oh Jesus,” Hope laughs.

“Yeah, which didn’t sound right because you hate olives -”

Hope’s cheeks flush because that had been one of the first things she had told Amy, and Amy had (of course) remembered.

“So I asked if she was sure and she said the only other type she could think of was pepperoni with ranch dressing to dip it in, which is absolutely putrid, but,” Amy opens the pizza box to exactly that, a plain cheese pizza with a side of ranch. 

“Yes,” Hope trumpets. 

It might be gross to her, but Amy can’t tame her smile as she watches Hope dip a slice into the ranch and take a huge bite. Hope smiles through it. “At least try it,” she implores. “No way,” Amy says.

(Amy ends up trying it. She loves it.)

“What’s your dream? Like, your real dream?” Hope asks as they eat pizza right out of the box.

“My real dream? As opposed to my fake one?” 

“Not fake, necessarily,” she appeases. “Okay, so let’s assume that world peace has been achieved and there are no injustices in the world and everything is perfect - what would you want to do then?” 

“So, what’s my self-indulgent dream?” Amy clarifies.

Hope rolls her eyes. “I love that you think anything you do to make yourself happy is self-indulgent.” Amy raises a finger to argue that point, because helping others and making the world a better place does make her happy, but Hope effectively shushes her by grabbing that finger and pulling it towards her. 

“I know exactly what you’re gonna say, so yes, for argument’s sake, let’s say it’s your self-indulgent dream.”

With narrowed eyes, Amy hums and looks out at the ocean as she contemplates the question. Honestly, she’d never really thought about something like that. Nothing she ever wanted for her own self ever mattered more than what she wanted for others. 

“I’d want to live abroad somewhere for a little while, like Sweden or Thailand -”

Hope laughs because those are very different places.

“- and then I’d come back to California and live in one of those old school buses-turned mini-homes.” 

“Oh, that sounds cool.”

“Yeah,” Amy starts to get more animated, “and I’d own a little shop right on the water that’s part bakery, part flower store, and part bookstore.” 

“Wow,” Hope chuckles, “all three?”

“Hell yeah all three,” Amy grins. "And I'd have two dogs, a big one and a small one that I rescued."  

“I think that that is a beautiful self-indulgent dream,” Hope says. 

Amy turns on her side, leaning on her forearm against some of the pillows. “Can I guess what yours would be?” 

“Oh absolutely, I’d love to hear this.”

“Well, you’d want to travel. Not just one place, but everywhere.”

“Everywhere in the world?” Hope snorts. 

“Every single place in the world. I think you’d be too scared of what you might miss otherwise.” Hope looks at her in a way Amy has never seen, maybe something between admiration and affection. 

“You’re absolutely right,” Hope says breathily. 

“Maybe you’d play bass in a band that’s on a world tour. Oh! Or you’d bike around the globe and play guitar at pubs to pay your way. And then you’d write some amazing book on how you discovered the meaning of life, and it becomes a best-seller because obviously it’s all true.” 

Hope’s eyebrows raise skeptically. “You think I’m gonna find out what the meaning of life is?” 

“Of course, there’s no one I’d trust more,” Amy says. It’s cheesy, and it certainly isn’t meant to be a line, but Amy believes it wholeheartedly. Hope ducks her head, leaning against Amy’s shoulder. 

“Was I close?” Amy asks. 

“Very close, except I’m more of a ‘play guitar on the streets outside of museums’ kind of girl.” 

“Well duh, how could I have gotten that wrong?”  

They make more idle conversation as they finish eating, Hope lazily wiping pizza grease of Amy's chin with a napkin and teasing her for how she always manages to make a mess with food.  

“My family really likes you, by the way,” Hope says after her last mouthful of pizza, “you might not be able to escape them.”

“They’re not gonna be able to escape me either, at least not until my rematch with Holly.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I need to get one of those Mario Kart machines,” Amy thinks aloud. 

After they clean up, which only really consists of Amy throwing the pizza box into the trunk, they can’t help but lean into each other as the sun makes its final descent into the horizon. 

Even with the beautiful colors painted in the sky, Amy’s eyes linger on Hope. She looks completely stunning, bathed in sunlight, and her eyes are shining (Amy thinks it’s the reflection of the sun, but Hope knows it’s because of how happy she is). 

Hope feels Amy’s gaze and looks at her curiously.  

“You have very pretty eyes,” Amy says sweetly. 

“They’re just brown,” Hope says in an attempt to brush it off. 

It almost makes Amy scoff. “Brown eyes are pretty too.” 

Hope gives her an incredulous look, one that says, I don’t believe you . 

“They are,” Amy demands. “Your eyes are beautiful, they’re like little pools of maple syrup.”

“‘Pools of maple syrup?’” Hope repeats through an amused smile. 

“Yes, pools of maple syrup. And right now, in the sun, they’re all shimmery and they look golden like honey and…” Amy trails off because she gets lost in the exact eyes she’s describing. She has maybe a second to appreciate them before Hope is leaning forward and kissing her. 

Hope honestly couldn’t help herself help and Amy, bless her heart, isn’t ready in the slightest. But they’ve done this enough now that it only takes Amy a moment before she’s kissing back, tilting her head and rolling onto her back. Hope follows eagerly, beautiful legs framing tiny pale hips, and then they’re full-on making out in the trunk of Amy’s shitty little Volvo. 

The sun sets beyond them and neither of them care. In the few moments when Amy's brain isn't completely fuzzy from kissing the gorgeous girl on top of her, all she can think is, 

Best first date ever.

Chapter Text

“Amy, this is ridiculous.” 

“No it isn’t, stop saying that,” Amy huffs as the automatic doors to Best Buy open.  

An employee greets them with a smile and a wave, but Amy beelines for the video game section. Molly forces a smile at the employee before following Amy reluctantly.

“You don’t even like video games. You’re about to spend $300 on a video game… thingy , meanwhile I’ve never heard you mention a video game before, let alone play one.”

Amy turns on her heels and looks at Molly with a knowing smile. “You’re trying to tell me that if I bought a Switch right now, brought it home, and set it up, you wouldn’t want to play Mario Kart with me?”

Molly hesitates, shifting on her feet before throwing her hands in the air. “Alright, fine. Yes, playing Mario Kart sounds insanely fun right now.”

“Yup. I knew it.”

“I just don’t understand where this is coming from, is all.”

“I don’t know either,” Amy lies. Amy knows exactly where this is coming from. A few days after playing Mario Kart with Hope’s little sister and Amy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about learning how to drift around corners. Plus, Holly kicked her ass and Amy wants a rematch. 

And if a certain tall, pretty brunette happened to be impressed by Amy’s newfound skills - well, that’s just a bonus. 

About 45 minutes later, Amy is walking out of Best Buy, the proud new owner of a Nintendo Switch and Mario Kart. She’s got a skip in her step as she navigates the parking lot to her car. Molly watches with a confused grin, because even if the whole situation is entirely unprecedented, an excited Amy is always a fun one to see. 

“You’re the only person I know,” Molly giggles as she buckles her seatbelt, finally allowing herself to be amused by the situation, “that can wake up on a random Wednesday with the sudden urge to play Mario Kart, and then spend $350 to do just that .” 

Amy laughs along and desperately fights the urge to throw up. This purchase was anything but sudden, triggered by the younger sister of the girl she’s been secretly… dating? Hooking up with? “Talking to,” as it’s so vaguely called these days? 

Amy doesn’t know if what they’re doing counts as dating. One date doesn’t seem like enough for that. 

Amy doesn’t know if what they’re doing counts as hooking up. One bathroom mishap doesn’t seem like enough for that. 

Amy doesn’t know if what they’re doing counts as talking because she doesn’t even know what that fucking means. They do talk, they talk a lot, about everything except what they are to each other. 

All Amy knows is that she likes Hope and Hope likes her back. Logically, Amy thinks she knows the word for when two people like each other and spend time alone together and kiss (a lot).

Molly had come home on Sunday and didn’t even need to ask Amy to pick her up. There are certain unspoken rules in their friendship, and Amy giving Molly a ride is one of them. In return, Molly often pays for Amy’s food when they eat out.

Other unspoken rules include always sing along to “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction , defend the other in arguments with their respective parents, and don’t have secret crushes, relationships, or anything of the sort - Amy is coming to learn that some of these rules are far too easily broken. 

With each passing day, it becomes harder and harder to keep Hope a secret. The guilt grows increasingly more volatile in Amy’s mind. It starts when she makes up elaborate stories about how she spent the entire weekend and ends with going about the past few days at school pretending like Hope is just another classmate. 

If Hope is bothered by it, she doesn’t really show it - that, or Amy doesn’t notice. But the problem is, Amy is bothered by it. She’s bothered by her own cowardice and fear of Molly’s reaction, of Hope losing interest, and of making the wrong choices. 

There’s a battle in her mind, though. Amy has to resist asking Hope if she’s unhappy with the state of things, if she’s upset with the situation or perceives Amy’s reluctance as anything other than fear. Amy recalls their conversation on Hope’s bed all too well - the last thing she wants is for Hope to feel like a source of shame or embarrassment for Amy. 

One thing Amy is certain of, though, is that she needs to tell Molly before her best friend finds out some other way. 

“Guess what I did yesterday?” Amy sidles up to Hope where she stands at her locker. She leans her back against the cool metal of the neighboring locker.

Hope puts a notebook away and glances around the hallway. Molly is nowhere in sight, which means that Amy must feel comfortable enough to talk to her in school. She wants to ask where Molly is, but she doesn’t want to waste the time that they have to talk in person for the first time since Amy dropped her off after their date. 

“Miss me terribly?” Hope asks. It’s teasing, but it’s enough to make Amy flush from the base of her neck up to her cheeks. 

“Well that goes without saying,” Amy replies effortlessly. 

“Obviously,” Hope laughs. She closes her locker and leans her shoulder against it. “Okay, can you give me a hint?” 

“Mm, think ‘desperate need to crush your innocent little sister in a video game.’” 

Hope’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but proceed to raise up to her hairline when she realizes. “Amy, tell me you did not go -”

“Buy a Nintendo Switch to fulfill my ‘desperate need to crush your innocent little sister in a video game?’ Yes, that is exactly what I did.”

“You’re a moron.” 

(Translation: I’m falling in love with you.)

Amy smiles, the dorky kind with cute dimples and the corners of eyes crinkling. “Alright, laugh it up. You won’t be laughing when I -” 

“If you say ‘crush my innocent little sister in a video game,’ I’ll make you regret it.”

“Ooh, you promise? Because I like the sound of that.”

Hope can only shake her head in disbelief at the small girl before her, once so awkward and ineloquent. Now she’s unabashedly her goofy self. Hope likes to think she might have had a role to play in that. Amy knows that she did. 

Amy is starting to like this version of herself. She likes that she’s becoming more comfortable with herself when she’s around Hope. It doesn’t hurt that Hope genuinely likes who Amy actually is. 

“So what’s the plan?” Hope asks. “Practice until you can challenge her to a rematch?”

“That’s exactly the plan.”

“Well good luck with that. All I’ll say is that if you make my sister cry, I’m gonna have to -” Hope pauses because she’s about to say break up with you , but she realizes those semantics wouldn’t be right. “ - that would be a deal breaker,” she concludes. 

“Don’t let Holly hear you sullying her name. She’d be offended to know that you think she’s a sore loser.” 

“My family is nothing if not competitive, so I think she might just embrace that.” 

“You’re teaching them young.” 

“Me? She spent half of dinner the other day babbling about Princess Peach and ‘girl power.’ That wouldn’t happen to be your doing, would it?” 

Amy puffs her chest out proudly. “ Maybe ,” she drawls. 

“Hey,” Hope laughs, “you’re not in trouble for instilling feminist tendencies in my sister at a young age. Only for making her like Princess Peach more than Daisy.”

“Wow,” Amy whispers, “are you serious?” 

Hope closes her locker. “Deadly.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you give me your best three to five arguments in favor of Princess Daisy so I can dissect them all critically and prove you wrong?”  

The bell rings to give them the two minute warning before their next class starts, and Hope sighs, “saved by the bell.” 

“Except you’re not because we are having this discussion later.” 

Hope waves her off playfully, making her way to her next class. 

“Red shell incoming!” Amy calls after her.

She sees Hope toss her head back slightly with a laugh, shaking her head before she’s around the corner and out of sight. 

“So, this is a pretty good start,” Amy says from her spot across Theo in the library. He needed a tutor for English and Ms. Fine had asked her, which Amy had accepted quickly. She considers it an honor to be Miss Fine’s first choice. 

She and Theo had met up in the library after school, which meant that Molly had begrudgingly accepted a ride home from Jared. Thirty minutes later, Amy had gone through her review of his essay and accumulated the advice she can give him. 

“Shit, a start?” Theo chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “I was kinda hoping it was done.” 

“Well,” Amy says slowly, “I mean, it’s only a page and a half. Which, normally I would say quality over quantity, but… um… ‘quality’ assumes that there’s something of substance.” 

“Damn,” Theo breathes. He’s always been a care-free spirit, Amy had been able to pick up that much, but he seems genuinely unbothered by Amy’s critique. “I’m more of a math and science guy, I guess,” he blushes. 

If Amy didn’t know any better, she might think that Theo cares about what she thinks of him. 

“No, it really is a good start. Your thesis is solid and creative - now you just need the evidence to back it up.”

“Evidence…” Theo drawls.

“Yeah, you know, quotes and examples and stuff.”

“Right.”

“You can’t, uh, write something and expect people to just believe you - let alone understand it.” 

Theo nods slowly. Amy wonders if he’s even processing what she’s saying. “So,” she continues, “I put some page numbers down of excerpts you can check out that I think align with what you’re trying to say.” 

“Cool. Can we meet up again before I hand it in?” 

“Yeah, of course!”

“Thanks, Amy,” he says as he gathers his stuff. “You’re super smart.” 

Amy can’t help but blush. “Thanks, Theo.” 

“And nice. I can see why Hope likes you.” 

Amy nods along but stops quickly when she processes what he said. “Wait, what?” 

“What?” Theo asks, standing from his seat. 

“You said Hope likes me?” 

“Yeah, aren’t you guys friends?” 

“Oh. Oh, right. Yeah we are.” 

He nods and smiles and makes his way out of the library. Amy isn’t sure how much longer she sits there. 

She isn’t surprised that people might have picked up on something. Everyone saw them at the party together. Amy knows as much, but she also knows that people can only suspect. The only person who knows with certainty is Annabelle, and Amy is learning that Annabelle is actually an incredibly trustworthy friend. Besides, no one cares enough about Amy’s business to investigate a potential “thing” between her and Hope.

What shocks her the most is the rush of pride she got when Theo mentioned her “friendship” with Hope. If other people can sense that Hope likes Amy, in whatever way they’re perceiving that, then that’s enough to make Amy feel special. She really does want the world to know how much they like each other. 

She’s scared of the implication, though - that the world knowing would mean that Molly would know, too. 

As the weeks go by, Amy’s promise to herself that she would tell Molly soon loses more and more of its meaning. The thoughts of school and college and best friend slowly but surely lose the battle against Hope and pretty brunette and falling for her . 

Molly shows little recognition of Amy’s attention being divided. She occasionally narrows her eyes when Amy feigns being busy with college applications or stuff with her parents to narrowly escape their usual “so what are we doing after school” plans. 

They aren’t entirely lies, because those things are true. Amy does need to spend time figuring out her post-high school plans, and she does find herself spending more time with her parents. But whenever Amy bails on a loose plan with Molly, it’s to do something with Hope. 

The secrecy of it all bears no meaning when Amy and Hope are together, they’re just too distracted with the time they get to be alone. It’s all making out in Amy’s car or pretending to do homework in Hope’s big treehouse, stolen moments in the bathroom where Hope slipped Amy her phone number. It’s dates to the local fair and kisses on top of ferris wheels. It’s learning more about each other in the most natural ways, within a comfort neither of them have really felt before. 

It’s all a steady build up to bigger moments - moments that are both monumental in actions and in emotional weight. 

One of those moments happens after a lazy Sunday lounging at the beach on a big shared blanket. Hope drives for once, since Amy’s sweet Volvo is in the shop for more engine issues. After what Amy expects is a goodbye kiss, Hope tugs her back by the sleeve of her beach cover up. 

“Hey, wait a second. I wanna give you something.” 

Amy gasps. “A present?” 

Hope rolls her eyes but chuckles. “Actually, kind of.” She reaches down for her bag at Amy’s feet, shuffling through it before pulling out a CD and handing it to Amy. “It’s whatever, I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Now wait just a second, what is this?” Amy asks softly. It’s a CD, that much is evident from the case, but it isn’t store bought. The cover is hand-painted. Amy looks over at Hope, who is doing a good job of covering up her nerves. “Did you paint this?” 

Hope nods. “Yeah, it’s like, supposed to be the sunset from our first date, or whatever.” 

Amy’s smile couldn’t get any bigger if she tried to make it so. “It’s not whatever, it’s amazing.” When she opens it, the CD itself is blank.

Hope spares Amy any more confusion when she explains, “it’s a mixtape. A playlist. Of songs that make me think of you.” She says it almost stoically, and it becomes clear to Amy in that moment that she’s attempting to overcompensate for the vulnerability of it all. 

Of course Hope would burn her a mix CD. She’s old-fashioned enough to not want to just make a Spotify playlist, but reasonable enough to know that Amy will probably struggle to find a way to listen to a cassette tape.  

Amy knows she shouldn’t cry, but she feels like she just might. She denies herself the possibility by leaning over and kissing Hope fervently.

"I love it," Amy says, even though what she wants to be saying is, I love you.

A few days later, after Amy meets with Theo again to work on his paper, Amy makes her way to her locker. When she’s all packed and rounds the corner to leave school, she sees Hope at her locker. 

Her heart jumps. 

“Hey.” 

Hope turns quickly, smiling instantly at the sight of Amy. “Sup, nerd.” 

“What are you still doing here?” 

Hope grumbles. “Fucking Tanner messed up our lab in chem today so we had to stay after to redo it.” 

“Bummer,” Amy appeases. 

“I wouldn’t be pissed if he didn’t put three of the solutions into the distilled water ‘for the memes,’” Hope says with a chiding tone. “How is that a meme?” She goes on to talk about the properties of something or other, Amy can’t really follow it, but is thoroughly enjoying the explanation. 

“You’re cute when you talk science.” 

Hope blushes and takes a step closer. Her hands find the hem of Amy’s t-shirt, playing with it idly. “You’re cute when you’re brave enough to tell me that you think I’m cute.”

Amy can’t help but laugh and shove at the taller girl’s shoulder playfully. “Fuck you,” she says with not the slightest bit of sincerity. 

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” Hope says after a few moments of locked gazes and fond smiles, “because I want to ask you something.” 

“Okay.” 

If Amy didn’t know any better, she’d say that Hope seems sort of nervous. She’s shifting a bit from one foot to the other and suddenly avoids eye contact. It’s all Amy can do to grab her wandering hand and clasp their fingers together. 

Hope smiles and leans up against her locker. “So, my sister has this family-weekend event thingy at UCSB.”

“That sounds fun,” Amy thinks aloud.

“Yeah, well, my parents are taking Syd and Holly, but I’m gonna stay here. You know, ‘cause I have a lot to do for the first issue of the paper coming out next week.” 

Sometimes Amy forgets that Hope is the editor-in-chief of their school’s newspaper. She organizes everything, makes all the design choices, and so much more. It’s a massive responsibility, one that she’s clearly very passionate about, so it makes sense that she’d need to stay home for the weekend. 

“I’m sorry you can’t go with them though, and see your sister,” Amy offers sadly. Hope just rolls her eyes. 

She’s completely missing my point , Hope thinks. 

“Yeah, big bummer, but… I’m going to be home alone this weekend,” Hope almost whispers. 

And a moment later, it clicks for Amy. 

Hope will be home. Alone . 

“I mean,” Hope continues, “I told my parents that I was going to Annabelle’s so they wouldn’t worry. But, you know, if you wanted to hang out, you could… come over?” 

She knows she shouldn’t, but Amy truly relishes in Hope’s nervousness. Instances like this are so far and few between that she has to take the time to appreciate them. It still only dulls the weight of Hope’s question for a moment. 

“Did you,” Amy swallows, “have something in mind?” 

Hope smiles a little but shakes her head. “Nothing in particular.” 

When Amy raises an eyebrow, Hope laughs softly. “Okay, I mean, I do tend to have a certain something in mind when it comes to you, but -” 

(The idea that Hope thinks of her that way is enough to make Amy hot all over.)

“- my original claim remains. I know the implications of home alone without parents, but I really just want to spend time with you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

It was never a matter of not wanting to. Amy has always wanted to, it was just a matter of whether or not she was ready for it - of whether or not she thought she was in a place to be what Hope deserved. 

“I would love to come over,” Amy says. She tries to be brave, the brave that Hope seems to like so much, so she says, “and whatever you have in mind… it sounds good.” 

“Yeah?” Hope asks. 

“Definitely. I… you’re all I think about, all the time. So, uninterrupted alone time sounds very good to me.” 

“Okay.” Hope’s cheeks blush and she’s bashful as she reaches out for Amy’s hand. 

Amy pulls away immediately, and there’s a flash of hurt on Hope’s face, but then Amy says, “oh, by the way, I have something for you.” She drops her backpack to the ground, shuffling through one of the pockets before pulling out her own CD of mixed songs for Hope. Amy is by no means an artist, but the cover has a tasteful drawing of two stick-figure girls holding hands. 

"This is awesome," Hope says, "thank you." She hardly looks up from the CD case in her hands, and Amy watches as the taller girl's thumb traces over the hearts that had been sporadically drawn across the case.