Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Trinity woke up mid roll and blinked at the sleeping figure in bed next to her. Sunlight peeked through the flimsy curtains. The light bathed Yolanda, making her silky smooth skin glow. Even though they had only shared a bed a few times, Trinity already knew that Yolanda gets hot overnight. Pittsburgh has been stuck in a frigid cold front for two weeks and she has still kicked off the sheets. The gentle slope of her hip was so inviting that Trinity had to hold herself back from caressing it. Soft, gentle touches weren't something she and Yolanda shared. They weren't something that Trinity had ever shared.

A loud, obnoxious knocking broke Trinity out of her reverie. She grumbled as she untangled herself from the sheet that had twisted around her in the night. It was an embarrassing shade of pink and had followed Trinity since premed. Last night, Yolanda had smirked at it. Trinity had shut her up with an awkward, smacking kiss. Once untangled, she tugged on a pair of leggings and made her way up the hall. Whitaker had a habit of forgetting keys and if it was him out there, she would kill him. Whoever it was, they were still knocking when she got to the door. The door was always stiff on cold mornings and Trinity pulled it open with excessive force. It swung out of her grip and bounced back on its hinges. Trinity blinked in shock. Not only at the door, but at the person who stared back.

It wasn't Whitaker. It was her mother.

"Why are you being so rough, Trinity?" her mom tutted. "Things will break if you treat them like that."

Instead of speaking, Trinity stepped back and gestured towards the kitchen. Her mother pushed past, a pink bag on wheels gliding behind her. Trinity followed in a daze. Part of the reason that Pittsburgh has appealed was because it was so far from her childhood home in San Francisco. The other part was that no sensible person from California ever vacationed in Pennsylvania.

In the kitchen, her mother had already made herself at home and was investigating the contents of Trinity's fridge. Under her breath, but still loud enough for Trinity to hear, her mother bemoaned raising an adult daughter who couldn't even feed herself.

"What are you doing here, mama?" she asked. It was easier than trying to defend herself.

Her mother had moved on to exploring the cupboard and explained that Brian - Trinity's inoffensive but uninteresting stepfather - had a work conference and they had decided to make a trip out of it. She shook her head, said something too quick and quiet in Tagalog for Trinity to understand, and turned to look at the cluttered marble benches. She nodded at the rice cooker. At least Trinity could do that right.

Her mother then turned her critical eye to Trinity. She looked her up and down. Trinity wiggled her toes on the cold tiles and bit the inside of her cheek. Her mother had never liked Trinity's stocky build, had bemoaned her wide shoulders and squat thighs. Growing up, her mother had encouraged Trinity to hide her body under flared skirts and long sleeves. Standing before her in a tank top and skin tight leggings forced an avalanche of self-conscious thoughts that Trinity did her best to brush aside. As if she could see the internal battle, her mom shrugged wordlessly. A small act of mercy.

"The lounge is through there. Go sit, I'll make you a coffee," Trinity said, gesturing down the hall.

Her mother squeezed past her in the narrow doorway and stopped midway to pat Trinity on the cheek. She can't help but lean into it. Santos women aren't known for their affection; Trinity has learned to accept what she can get.

As the pod machine did its magic, Trinity snagged a can of Red Bull and downed half of it in one mouthful. She peeked down the hall, and once she was confident her mother was at the other end of the apartment, Trinity darted back to her own bedroom.

Yolanda was awake. She had arranged herself into an easy yoga pose with the blankets wrapped around her while she scrolled on her phone. The tacky bedsheets that Trinity had been lugging around for years looked even cheaper against Yolanda's luscious skin. When she noticed Trinity, Yolanda arched one perfect eyebrow. Trinity bit her bottom lip, letting it scrape along her teeth as it escaped from her hold. It was ridiculous how one simple look had her desperate for more. If this was any other morning, if her mother wasn't down the hall right now, Trinity would already be back in bed, crawling her way up Yolanda's body and taking everything on offer. Instead she has to deal with the elephant down the hall that only she knows about.

"My mom came to visit, as a surprise or whatever. She's in the lounge waiting for a coffee," Trinity said, words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. Relaxed as ever, Trinity simply raised her other eyebrow, question clear on her face.

"She's not great with casual sex," Trinity said. It was easier than trying to explain the religious and personal guilt her mother felt over not being able to protect Trinity from her high school softball coach.

"I don't plan on sleeping with her."

Trinity scrunched up her face like a disgruntled cat. She doesn't want to think about her mother having sex ever, let alone with the woman she's been hooking up with for the last few months.

"Gross."

Yolanda shrugged. Trinity tipped her head back against the door jamb and sighed. She had already wasted too much time. She needed to go back to her mother. The way she saw it, Yolanda could either stay in the room, hidden in the room like an ironic joke about lesbianism, or she could come out and meet Trinity's mother. Either way, Trinity would be judged by one of them. She ran her fingers across her scalp and gripped the roots. Fuck it, she thought. At least she was used to her mother's judgment.

"I need to get back out there. Either you can stay in here or come out and meet her. But," she said, holding up her finger, "I'm saying you're my girlfriend."

Yolanda smirked. Trinity wished it wasn't so hot. "Why can't I just leave?"

Trinity blinked. The idea had never even occurred to her. "Well, sure, you can do that. But do it quickly and quietly." Her mother called out from the other room. "Shit, I have to go," she hissed.

The coffee was long since ready so Trinity popped it into the microwave to heat it up. What her mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her. She crushed the rest of her Red Bull, watching the timer on the microwave. She yanked on the door with one second left and prayed that her mother didn't hear it or the front door snicking shut as Yolanda sneaked out.

"Sorry, mama, I couldn't find the pods," she lied as she finally handed her mother the (hopefully) hot coffee.

Her mother tipped her lips skeptically and Trinity immediately knew she hadn't gotten away with any of it. She sat in the chair opposite and waited for her mom to chew her out. She wished she could go back to last night and go back to Yolanda's instead. In that reality she would probably still be waking up. Maybe she would have woken up from Yolanda's lips on her skin. But no, Trinity had wanted to push. Had wanted to see Yolanda in her bed. Had wanted to spend a morning wrapped up in each other without having to think about the Pitt, shitty relationships or being lonely. As always, Trinity had wanted too much.

"Is the coffee alright? The machine belongs to my roommate," she said, hoping to divert the inevitable. Her mother stayed silent. Trinity filled it by explaining how Whitaker could barely function in the morning without one. When he first moved in, he coped by relying on the swill that was available in the break room and it was not nearly enough to stop him from being snarky to patients all morning. She doesn't outright say that she bought the machine for him. At the time, he had kicked up a fuss but then the lock started jamming and he got to use his farm skills to pay her back.

"Was that who left?" her mom asked. Trinity sighed and shifted in her seat. She could lie about it, could say he had an early shift. But he's doing a night rotation in gyn and, knowing her luck, he'd come home and ruin it. "Trinity," her mother said, a clear warning that she wouldn't tolerate any bullshit.

"No, that was my," she paused and glanced around the room. Hoping for inspiration to strike. All she could think of was Whitaker saying "Keep my out of your weird situationship," when Trinity had tried to talk to him about it.

"That was my girlfriend."

Her mother let out a delighted shriek. The mug clunked against the hard wood of the coffee table as she put it down. She clapped her hands together and said a quick pray of thanks in Tagalog. She wasn't even this excited when Trinity walked across the stage. She was nowhere near this excited when Trinity matched with the Pitt. Trinity attempted a normal smile and patiently answered her mother's questions.

Her name is Yolanda. She had to leave for a work emergency. Yes, in the hospital but as a surgeon and sometimes they worked together. A resident but much closer to an attending. Not Filipino but not white either. She has her own apartment closer but a little bit closer to the hospital. Tall with curly hair. Skinny. Intelligent but kind. Her mother asked one last question.

Trinity paused. "Yes, mama, she treats me well."

Her mother made a pleased sound and tried to call Brian to tell him the good news. Trinity breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be free of the questions. Thinking on what she had said, Trinity only counted one outright lie. And another two by omission. Yolanda does treat her well but not the way her mother wants. And she is kind in a way but Trinity would pick intense, cocky, determined or hot before kind.

As her mother explained the situation on the phone, Trinity's stomach flipped. For the most part, Trinity tried to avoid lying to her mother. She had made that mistake once, kept too many secrets, and look how that had turned out. But this wasn't like that. Trinity puffed out her cheeks and let out a deep breath. One lie wouldn't hurt. Besides, once her mother was back in San Fran, Trinity would call and gently break the news. It would disappoint her but she'd get over it. She had to.

Her mother kept talking about how excited she was that Trinity had found someone. Trinity rolled her eyes, it wasn't like she was the Virgin Mary. Trinity tried to tune her out, her gut churned the longer the phone call went on. But then she said something that made Trinity freeze.

"Mama, mama!" she said, insistent until her mother stopped babbling to Brian. "What did you say?"

"Dinner, Trin!" she said, beaming. "The four of us must go out to dinner - you, me, Brian and your Yolanda! It will be perfect." She leaned across the coffee table and squeezed Trinity's hand. The warmth of her hand matched the warmth on her face.

Well, fuck.

---

Trinity's mom organised the whole thing while sitting opposite an increasingly more agitated Trinity. Within minutes, she'd booked a table for four at a nice restaurant in Lawrenceville. The reservation ended up being ridiculously early. "A shame but inevitable with such a late booking," her mother said. "I still don't understand why you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend until I got here."

"It's not like you told me you were coming," Trinity sulked.

Her mother tutted and moved on without otherwise acknowledging that Trinity even spoke. A tentative silence followed. Trinity felt no need to interrupt it. She had no idea how she was supposed to get through a whole dinner with her mother (who she has a contentious relationship with at the best of times), her stepfather (who her mother only married three years ago and is as interesting as dry toast) and her girlfriend (who isn't actually her girlfriend). And also happens to be one of the bitchiest residents Trinity has ever had the pleasure of meeting. Her head flopped back against the couch. She should stop this before it gets out of hand. More out of hand.

She opened her mouth to say, something, anything, but instead, the silence is broken by the shrill ringtone of her mother's phone. She had a quick conversation in English. Probably Brian again. If it was anyone else her mother would have spoken in Tagalog. Trinity ignored the conversation in favour of wishing she could fix this ridiculous problem. She also wished she had someone else to blame for it. But no, this one was all on her. There was no way she could actually ask Yolanda to go along with it. There was no way to lie about it either. Either she had to tell Yolanda or tell her mom. Neither option sounded enjoyable.

Her mom hung up the phone and then said her goodbyes to Trinity. At the door, her mother blew her a kiss and then sauntered towards the elevator. Trinity leaned against the door and slid to the floor. Such an idiot, she thought. There was no way for her to come out of this with her dignity intact.

What the fuck was she going to say to Yolanda?

---

The next day, Trinity cherry picked her cases in the ER. She was looking for very specific cases - interesting but non-surgical. It was relatively easy. Lots of suturing weird gashes. Which after about four months as an intern, she could basically do with her eyes closed.

At different points in the shift, Mohan and McKay checked on her. They asked questions, tested her knowledge, nudged her where they need to and gave appropriate compliments. Trinity knows it's their job but it still drove her up the fucking wall. She knew her stuff. She didn't need the kiddie gloves. But she tried damn hard to work through it. Mohan still rubbed her the wrong way - pretentious and presumptive - but she knew her shit. Things are easiest with McKay who is always level-headed and subtle in her reprimands. Out of all the residents and attendings on day shift, McKay is probably her favourite.

During the lulls, Trinity tried to catch a snack break with Whtiaker. When he was on his surgery rotation, they crossed paths all the time. Surgery was his least favourite but he enjoyed when he got to assist in the emergency department. Robby would always compliment him too. It would have Whitaker doe eyed and confused every time. But he would get a pleased little smile too and Trinity could tell he liked it. Him being in gyn has interrupted their hanging out schedule. Trinity hadn't been too fussed, her brother was 15 years older, and she was used to being alone. But Whitaker missed his family. Finding him on breaks was the least she could do.

Tonight she can't find him, so she headed back to chairs. About halfway through her day, Trinity ended up with a lady in premature labour and completely in denial about it. Trinity managed to get her into a bed in South 17 but the lady refused to change into a gown. Instead, she idly flicked through the pages of a glossy magazine. The wife was frantically pacing around the room, repeatedly calling their OBGYN in Philly. Trinity swallowed down the urge to ask the patient questions about anything other than the baby.

She paged Whitaker to come with his attending and stuck her head out to look for her own. Robby was off for the week - Gloria forced him to go to some conference - and Abbot is running day shift. He turned the corned and she waved him over. He brought his usual intensity and asked Trinity about premature births. He guided her to the right answer whens she discounted the infection risks of PROM. He nodded in approval once she got there. She's annoyed at herself for forgetting but she honestly hasn't assisted with that many labours since she got here. Besides his approval felt genuine. She let it sit warm in her belly. She enjoyed his teaching style more than Robby's. Least of all because she hadn't put his favourite student in the doghouse of rehab.

By the time a gyno attending - sans Whitaker, who Trinity abruptly remembered was on night shift - arrived, the patient has finally admitted she's in labour. A gown was on her and Abbot and Mohan had her in stirrups. Her wife squeezed her hand and talked in a soothing tone. Trinity had somehow ended up with the wife's phone and narrated the birth to the OBGYN in Philly. She parroted back relevant information from her and while Abbot hadn't said anything, Trinity knew he appreciated it. She moved around the room, trying to get a good view. The last emergency labour she saw was on her rounds two years ago.

The birth got dicey before it got better. The patient and her wife tried to breathe in rhythm. The monitors were beeping asynchronously and Trinity wished she could do more to help. She wasn't a doctor just for glory. Instead, she stood idly by and relayed the birth. The noise in the room peaked with the crescendo of the baby's desperate and unashamed cries - craving her mother's touch. Trinity watched the happy family cuddle and wondered what her own birth was like. There was no photos or videos. She'd never asked her mother about it. She shrugged the idea away and backed out of the room. Abbot and Mohan had things under control.

In the hall, she snapped her gloves off. She turned in the direction of chairs - maybe there would be another good case out there - and instead bumped straight into Yolanda Garcia. Because she was just that lucky.

"Busy shift?" Yolanda asked, face plastered with a smirk. "We haven't crossed paths and you must be close to finished."

Yolanda rolled on her feet and loomed above Trinity for a moment before coming back down. Trinity bit at a hangnail. She gestured towards South 17 with her head and gave the gory details of the birth. Yolanda must have done a hundred c-sections but it wasn't the same thing. Not in Trinity's book. Yolanda asked prompting questions. It reminded her of Abbot - a gentle style of teaching that forced Trinity to think instead of encouraging her to be right. Their talk moved to c-sections and Garcia was knowledgeable but arrogant about it. Typical surgeon, Trinity thought. It was obnoxiously distracting. It was ridiculously sexy.

Abruptly, Trinity remembered that she had told her mother that Yolanda was her girlfriend. She swallowed and glanced around. They've ended up near the main desk. None of the nurses looked familiar but that didn't mean they were safe from gossip. The two of them already featured heavily in the rumour mill. It would be easy enough to escape it: Trinity would just have to stop talking to Yolanda at work. But that was too high a price to pay. The best she could do was avoid talking in front of Perlah and Princess. Fucking chismosas.

"How did things go with your mom this morning?" Yolanda asked.

Trinity blinked, surprised that Yolanda cared enough to ask. She glanced up at the board, pretended to care more about her work and hopefully delay the inevitable.

"She thinks you're my girlfriend," Trinity mumbled, hoping that no one would overhear. Yolanda laughed in response - a bright, light giggle that had surprised Trinity the first time she heard it. These days she is used to it. Rolling her eyes, Trinity body checked Yolanda, relishing in the touch as always.

"Shut up. It's embarrassing enough. She's fully planned a family dinner for us all," Trinity said, digging her grave even deeper.

"When?" Yolanda asked with a tilted head. Like she was actually considering coming along.

The board flashed with two new cases - persistent vomiting and crying toddler - and Trinity made a noise, debating between the cases or going back to chairs. Yolanda clicked her fingers just short of Trinity's nose. An offended noise slipped between her lips and Yolanda repeated her question.

"Oh," Trinity said. "Dinner is in two nights, at like 5pm. Her and my stepdad leave on Friday." She paused and looked at Yolanda who looked like she was flipping through her mental calendar. "You don't have to come," Trinity said in a rush. "I'll just tell her you got stuck in a surgery or something."

"What's one dinner, huh?" Garcia said, rearranging her stethoscope and reaching for the work phone, as if she had heard it ring. "Up to you but just let me know."

She walked away with what looked like a bounce in her step. Trinity watched, averting her eyes when Yolanda looked back and caught her. She hurriedly looked to the left of Yolanda, into one of the open rooms where Mel was clearly stuck with the persistent vomitter. Her gag reflex made itself known and Trinity beelined towards chairs. She needed to get the hell out of there.

---

At the end of her shift, Trinity crossed paths with Whitaker near the lockers. He gave her the keys to the car and apologised for drinking the last of the milk.

"Jeez Huckleberry, I might just kick you out for that."

He rolled his eyes and walked away without bothering to reply. The first week, a joke like that would have had him shaking like a leaf. These days he either ignored her or made a thinly veiled comment about who Trinity shared her bed with. She did her best to avoid Whitaker and Yolanda being in the apartment at the same time. But there was only so much so could keep hidden. Besides, it's not like it really matters. Whitaker is the last one to gossip and Yolanda is the last one to care if people knew she they were fucking around.

The drive home passed in a blur. Months in the city meant Trinity trusted her reflexes to get her home safe. In the apartment, Trinity put together a sandwich and munched on it, starting blankly into the fridge. Milk wasn't the only thing missing. She was starting to understand her mother's disappointed tutting from this morning. She sighed and closed the door. She can sort out her diet another night.

After a quick shower, Trinity pulled back the covers and tucked herself in. She didn't see the point of making the bed but it was nice to come home after Yolanda had done it. Made the apartment feel more like home. Her mind wandered back to the conversation they'd had at work. She couldn't believe that Yolanda had agreed to the dinner. There was no reason for her to do that. Trinity was under no illusions about what they have together: casual (and fantastic) sex. She's not entirely sure why Yolanda felt the need to help her pretend it was more, especially for someone she had never met before. Especially to help Trinity. It made no sense. It had been clear from the start that it was just casual.

The first time it had happened, it had been about two weeks after her first shift and Pittfest. That day she had finally done a chest tube and this time everything had gone just right. By then everyone knew about Langdon. It wasn't a hunch or dirty secret that only she and Robby knew. And it wasn't her fault anymore. She was starting to feel settled. Whitaker was moved in and he was starting to get comfortable too.

Whitaker had been invited to the park for a drink by one of the nurses. Trinity had tagged along, unsure at first, but more comfortable once she saw Crash and King there too. Everyone was talking about their plans for the next couple of days. Most of them had done six in a row and had a well deserved three day weekend. Trinity played with the tab of her can instead of contributing. Part of her wished it was a bottle so she could peel the label off. But then maybe everyone would psychoanalyse her and wonder when she had last had sex. Even she hadn't wanted to think about that. Sometimes once it had been a while, her thoughts would linger on her teenage years. Her finger slipped off the tab and made a jarring noise. Trinity glanced around. No one else seemed to have noticed.

While Trinity had been lost in her thoughts, Walsh, Garcia and a few other surgeons had turned up. Trinity had never seen either of them with their hair down. Walsh's was surprisingly long, falling down her back in thick waves. Garcia's was similar to Mohan's; rough curls bouncing around her shoulders. Her leather jacket was well worn and matched the sleek jeans that hugged the curves of her hips and thighs. Trinity swallowed and played with the tab again. She was especially glad not to have been caught peeling at a label.

Her finger snapped again and Trinity looked around the circle. Whitaker and Javadi were talking about something. They had a cute little med student bond. It didn't matter that she was a child genius and he was a walking leaf. They got along well. Trinity watched, resentment and jealousy curdling her gut. Medically, she was beyond them. But she would have killed for an easy friendship. Being Whitaker's roommate only filled the gap so far.

"I heard you got to do a chest tube today," Garcia said. Trinity nodded and rubbed at her neck, thankful for the shadows hiding her blush. "Stab any residents over it?"

Trinity let out an exasperated noise and glared at her from the corner of her eye. She was surprised to see Garcia's lips tilted into a smile. She wasn't expecting her, of all people, to joke about it. Things had been frosty since their last conversation about Langdon, when Garcia had easily shoved Trinity into a box labelled 'trouble'. But here she was, laughing and teasing about it. Here she was flirting again.

And Trinity could do that too.

Here at the park, things felt different. It wasn't like being in the hospital. Trinity knew who she was here. They chatted, easy and light. Garcia wasn't subtle. It was like those first few hours where she had obviously made an impression, before everything got fucked up. And it felt good.

As they spoke, a few of the nurses started to leave. Whitaker yawned and glanced at his watch. Trinity shivered and pulled out her phone. She was in no rush for tomorrow but that didn't mean she wanted to spend her night off shivering in a cold park opposite the hospital.

"You want to get out of here?" she asked Garcia.

Garcia, obviously impressed, grinned like a shark and nodded. Out the corner of her mouth, Trinity let out a sigh of relief. She had faith but she could have been wrong. She had been wrong before.

"Alright, give me a moment," she muttered and palmed her keys off to Whitaker. At first, he was confused, looking at the keys and then back up at Trinity, eyes wide and bewildered. She rolled her own in return. "Come on, Huckleberry. I'm pretty sure you can read the room here. Take advantage of having the place to yourself, jerk off on the couch or something."

"Don't stab her again," he sniped back.

"You wound me," she said sarcastically, holding a hand over her heart. She liked when he bit back. "I'm ready now, Garcia, let's go."

"Call me Yolanda," she said. Her smirk was hot enough to send a zip of arousal up Trinity's spine.

"Lead the way, Yolanda."

And that had been it. They had gone back to Yolanda's - a large, tidy apartment that revealed more money than your average resident - and had spent the night learning each other's bodies. Yolanda had sensitive skin, every time Trinity touched her, she would shiver and moan. It was distracting. She kept getting distracted from what she was trying to do. It made Trinity feel powerful. That night, she spent as much time as she could learning what made Yolanda feel good. Yolanda returned the favour and it was the best night's sleep Trinity had had since moving to Pittsburgh.

Since then, they had hooked up whenever they both had time. Which was more than Trinity had expected. But there seemed to be enough overlap in their free time. And while Trinity was hesitant about bothering Yolanda, Yolanda never hesitated to message and ask her to come over. Whenever they hooked up, that was pretty much all that happened. A few times they would eat - before or after - and they usually slept together as well. But it was never anything more. They were definitely not dating. If Yolanda wanted to be dating, Trinity was sure she would have asked by now. It was fine. Her life was busy enough, it's not like she needed a girlfriend on top of it.

Trinity rolled over in her bed and idly thought about jerking off. With her vibrator and memories of Yolanda, it would take less than a minute. She sighed. Even then, it wasn't worth the effort. She rolled over again. She needed to sleep instead of thinking about things that weren't going to change.

Chapter Text

Trinity woke up to noises in the kitchen. Judging by the sunlight creeping in the room, it was still early. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Even when she had the day off she couldn't manage a sleep in. At least she had tonight and tomorrow off. Once she dressed, she made her way into the kitchen where Whitaker was dancing around to some throwback song and cooking eggs.

"How's the nursery treating you, Nebraska?"

"Fuck," he shrieked, turning around to glare at her. One hand was on the pan and the other held out a spatula like a weapon. Trinity grinned and sat at the counter. Fucking with him never got old. "Quit doing that or I won't give you any."

"Breakfast is how you pay rent, buddy."

Whitaker rolled his eyes and didn't bother to respond. When he first moved it, he would have spent 20 minutes in terrified silence before breaking it by wordlessly fixing something in the apartment. And then she'd had to apologise. It was a total pain in the ass. She was glad he no longer took her shit seriously. He still gave her the first serving of eggs before playing up his own. They ate in relative silence, Trinity still waking up and Whitaker tired after his shift but still tapping along to his song with his fork.

As she ate, Trinity thought about dinner tomorrow night. She had two options: bring Yolanda along or make an excuse for her. The first would be a shit show because Trinity would have to pretend Yolanda was her girlfriend and have a civilised dinner with her mother at the same time. The second would be a shit show because Trinity would have to have an uncivilised dinner with her mother who would take the excuse to berate her lifestyle and also have to deal with Yolanda knowing she lied to her mother. She mulled over her options and turned her fork in her hand. What she needed, was to talk to Yolanda. To see how serious she was about coming along.

"You home all day?" she asked, aiming for casual and probably missing by a country mile.

Whitaker shook his head. "I'm gonna nap after this and then dinner with Javadi. Think she wants to bitch about her mom."

Distracted from her original question, Trinity said, "But surgery was your last rotation."

"Yeah but Javadi is there now. I think they had a yelling match in the prep room a couple of days ago." Trinity snorted. She would have liked to have seen that. One day Javadi is going to crack and Trinity desperately wants to see it. "But why do you ask?"

Trinity scratched her chin. A delaying technique more than anything else. She could pretty easily spin a lie - talk about self-care, lighting a few candles, relaxing in the bat and doing nothing much of anything. Maybe tack on a line about rubbing one out to make Whitaker blush. Instead, she decided to be honest. It seemed easiest. "Yolanda's coming over."

Whitaker nodded, taking it in stride. Despite occasionally snipes about it, he's never seemed concerned about the two of them hooking up. "I'll be out of here at like 5," he picked up the empty plates and moved back into the kitchen.

Trinity shooed him out. He deserved a sleep and she could do the tidying up. As she tidied, she made a proper shopping list. She felt the urge to cook. Her mother had been in town for half a day and she'd already pressured Trinity into making a good decision. She didn't have the time or energy to make a proper sisig like her mom's but she could make a simple rice and pork dice. Even she could do that without fucking up.

---

Yolanda had agreed to the dinner without questions and turned up just as the rice cooker was beeping. Trinity let her in and ushered her to sit at the counter. They've never eaten here before. They've certainly never shared a home cooked meal before. There is a small, round table that Trinity bought when she first moved in but it's covered in leafy green plants that make the place feel lived in. She put together two plates, sprinkling spring onion over the top, and placed one in front of Yolanda and the other next to it. She grabbed two beers and circled the bench to sit next to her.

"Seeing my mom made me want to cook," Trinity said, aware of but unable to stop the defensive edge in her voice.

"Looks good," was all Yolanda said. They dig in using wooden chopsticks that keep accumulating because the family that run the local take out shop kept giving her extra. It's not her fault she liked to order extra for lunch the next day. Yolanda hummed in pleasure. "This is good, Trin."

A warm flush bloomed on her cheeks. As much from the compliment as the nickname. She shrugged and pushed her food around until she could see the tacky floral pattern underneath. She hadn't cooked for anyone in a long time. She had no idea what to say.

"I grew up cooking," she said eventually. "I, uh, have an older brother, like a lot older. And I think she regretted not teaching him how to cook, anything, but especially Filipino stuff."

"I don't think I've ever seen either of my parents cook," Yolanda said before taking a long swallow from her beer. Trinity watched her throat bob and licked her lips. As always, she was desperate to get her mouth on Yolanda. "We always had an au pair to help out with that stuff."

Trinity can count on one hand the number of things she has learned about Yolanda outside of their jobs. But all of them indicate a wealthy upbringing: her wardrobe of impeccably tailored clothes, her debt-free existence and, now, her childhood au pairs. She has never outright said it but Trinity can read between the lines. She met plenty of rich kids during medical school. Some of them had a particular air - a way of going through life as wealthy without trying to show off. An existence that betrays generations of wealth. As they finished eating, Trinity idly wondered how much Yolanda, or Yolanda's family, was worth.

Once they've finished, she leads Yolanda to the couch by grabbing both beers and tilting her head towards it. She flicked a glance over her shoulder. Just to check. Yolanda was watching, appreciation clear on her face. Relief flowed through her. She had been carrying tension in her body all night. All day. Ever since her mother showed up. It was why she had felt the urger to cook. Yolanda's attraction was a gentle balm, soothing in its familiarity.

"Are you still okay to dinner tomorrow?" she asked once they had sat down. They're side by side, bodies angled towards one another with less than an inch between them. Yolanda nodded, looking directly into Trinity's eyes. Her gaze was intense and hot as lava and Trinity can feel herself sinking into it. She shook her head and rearranged herself on the couch, twisting her right leg up and under her left knee.

It was important that she focussed on the discussion.

"Awesome," Trinity breathed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's awesome. But, uh, my mom is kind of mental about this kind of shit, so we need to come up with some kind of game plan."

"It's a dinner, Trinity. We'll eat and talk and go home."

Trinity adamantly shook her head. "You don't understand. My mother is insane," she said through gritted teeth. "She will interrogate you about your entire life and our relationship. We need to be prepared."

Yolanda rolled her eyes. Trinity returned the gesture. Usually, she would find the blase attitude hot but right she is absolutely frustrated.

Some part of Yolanda must have sensed it. Or maybe Trinity wasn't as chill as she thought. "Boot camp it is," she sighed. "Let's start with what you told her the other morning."

Trinity sighed in relief and shared what she had told her mother. It didn't require much alteration of their history. Trinity had changed their original hook up after the part to a coffee date. Yolanda interjected - "Your mother knows you drink and have sex, right? - but Trinity ploughed on. The story she had sold her mother was a textbook romance where they went on a few dates (coffee shop, movies, coffee shop again and a candlelit dinner).

"And at dinner, you asked me to be your girlfriend," she finished, short of breath and annoyed at the flush glowing on her cheeks. She was grateful for the low lighting she thrived on.

"Aw, I'm such a romantic," Yolanda said sarcastically. Trinity socked her in the shoulder - firm but gentle. She knew her own strength. "But thanks for the lowdown. Anything else I should know?"

"Not about is," Trinity said, thoughtful. "But mom will expect you to know a bit about my life. So, uh," and Trinity stumbled for a moment, unsure what she needed to share to make this real. "MMm is Ruth and she's been married to Brian for like, three, no, four years now. She moved to the US with my dad in the 90s but they got divorced when I was in college. I have an older brother, like, way older, Zeke. He still lives in San Fran with his husband, James. mom thinks he's a dick but it's just because he's white." It had been funny at first but it had gotten old quick. And it had been over ten years now.

"Your brother is gay as well?" Yolanda sounded surprised. Trinity is surprised that that's the part she focused on out of everything Trinity said." She communicated this via eyebrows. "The only gay people I know are the ones I sleep with."

"Huh," Trinity said, unable to stop herself. Zeke is 15 years older than her and he came out before she could even walk. Yolanda shifted and took a desperate gulp of beer.

"I guess it made it easier to figure it out, but I played softball my whole life and have never had my hair past my shoulders. Even my parents would have understood those signs."

Yolanda huffed out a laugh, soft but comfortable in the quiet room. Trinity wondered what coming out was like for her. She wondered if Yolanda would ever share that with her. Instead -

"What position did you play?"

"Catcher," Trinity said and unconsciously rubbed her hands over her thighs. She hasn't played in years, not since she snapped her Achilles her sophomore year of college. It had screwed her scholarship but her repeated trips to the hospital had gotten her interested. She switched into premed at the end of that year and the rest is history.

Yolanda finished off her beer, tipping her head back and elongating her neck. "So, you're good at receiving, huh?" She said it with an easy smirk that had Trinity melting on the spot even though it's an easy joke she has heard a million times before.

She wanted to lean into Yolanda's space, wanted to follow the thread of her desire into the bedroom and see where it would take them tonight, wanted to compared it to their previous experiences. Instead, she stayed, rooted in pace on the couch and resisted the urge to lean in further, arching her back to draw Yolanda's eyes down.

But first, "My mom won't expect us to like, kiss or whatever, but we should," she trailed off, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. How to explain that the should hold hands and maybe Yolanda should even pull Trinity's chair out for her. She had no idea how to ask for something soft, romantic and meaningful. Even though it's make believe. Her eyes darted away. She knew she wouldn't be able to pull this whole charade off.

She opened her mouth to say something. But Yolanda stopped her by reaching out and gently tilting Trinity's face until they made eye contact. Yolanda's eyes were rich and warm like chestnut. Trinity stared into them, basking in their warmth and then -

Yolanda rolled her eyes, as obvious and as exaggerated as a teenager would.

"We've both been on dates before, we know how to act," Trinity opened her mouth to interrupt but Yolanda barrelled on, "We know each other's bodies and boundaries. We're going to be fine. Your mom is not going to suspect anything because no one would suspect that their child made up a fake girlfriend. It's pretty fucking odd."

"You don't have to do it," Trinity said with a petulant pout.

"That's not what I," Yolanda broke off with a huff and yanked her hand off Trinity's chin. Trinity missed it immediately. Yolanda took a deep breath that Trinity recognised from work, when Yolanda wanted to take a moment before making what she knew was the right call. "Dinner will be fine. It's one night and then they'll be gone. We're going to be perfect girlfriends for the night."

A zing of shock went through Trinity. It was one thing to say the word to her mother, it was another thing entirely to hear it from Yolanda's perfect lips. For the first time since this whole thing began, Trinity pictured what it would be like if Yolanda actually was her girlfriend. If they shared soft kisses and gentle touches and a quiet but all encompassing love. Trinity has never been a great girlfriend. But she bets that Yolanda would be the perfect one. She swallowed on nothing, throat parched but mouth dry. She realised that this wouldn't be pretend for her. She wanted Yolanda to be her girlfriend.

A strange silence settled over them. It wasn't tense but it wasn't comfortable either. Trinity ran her fingers through her hair, trying to push her thoughts back and away. She dug into the muscles at the base of her neck, and rolled her right shoulder before looking back at Yolanda. She was still leaning towards Trinity, but now had her head tilted back, looking up at the ceiling with pursed lips.

"Fine, whatever," Trinity said, breaking the awful silence. She swallowed again, "We'll be perfect girlfriends and dinner will go fine and we can stop talking about it now."

She tapped Yolanda's knee and watched as Yolanda rolled her neck so she could look into Trinity's eyes. They shared a searching gaze. The tension shimmered and shifted, moving from the cold silence a moment ago to something hot and smouldering that sat low in Trinity's belly.

"Finally," Yolanda muttered before gracefully rising from the couch. She grabbed at Trinity's hand and heaved her up. Trinity stumbled, just for a moment, but Yolanda caught her. She smirked and turned, pulling Trinity along as she lead the way to the bedroom.

---

The next night, they got ready for dinner together.

Yolanda took the first shower and is now settled on Trinity's bed, wrapped up in an expensive, fluffy, cream-coloured towel that Trinity splurged on as a present for matching with the Pitt. Her dress, that Trinity is yet to see, is in a garment bag in the bathroom. Her hair was in her usual updo with a few loose curls framing her face. As she waited, she scrolled through her phone with a serene look on her face.

She looked like heaven. Trinity felt like hell.

Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, thumping against her rib cage with a hollow echo. She frantically walked from her bedroom to the en suite, trying to think of a reason to call her mother and cancel dinner. When Yolanda asked what was wrong, Trinity blabbed about not knowing what to wear. It was true, she had no idea. But it was so low on her priorities tonight that she didn't even care. Except she did because no matter what, her mother would find something to judge about it. She pulled out three dresses at random and held them up against her body in full view of the mirror.

The first, was a boring black one that her mother would probably like but had an itchy zipper that bothered Trinity every time she wore it. The second was one of the only date dresses she owned - skin tight and emerald green and with a massive slit up one side. It had a deep v that always managed to make her tits look amazing. Trinity threw it on the bed, missing Yolanda's feet by inches, it was way too slutty for dinner with her mother. The final option was a silky blue slip dress that she has no memory of buying. She held it and the first one up, weighing up her mother's scorn and her own comfort.

"The blue one," Yolanda said from the bed, interrupting Trinity's looping thoughts. She looked over shoulder and held Yolanda's gaze. "The black one makes you look like a miserable office lady who never gets laid," she glanced back at her phone, "Now go shower before we're late. I don't want your mother judging me."

In the shower, she turned the water up so high that the contrast in temperature had her hissing. The hot water beat out the tension residing in her shoulders. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe. While Yolanda had been able to calm her down last night - several times over in fact - Trinity was still a nervous wreck about dinner. There was no question that it was going to go terribly. There's no way it will be anything but.

Either her mother would hate Yolanda for no reason and ruin the night or Trinity would betray herself, revealing that not only is Yolanda not actually her girlfriend but also that Trinity wouldn't mind if she was. Before Trinity had blurted out the word 'girlfriend' to her mother, Trinity had never seriously considered the idea. But since her realisation last night, she can't stop thinking about it. She wondered what it would be like. She wondered what their coffee date would have actually been like. She wondered what it would be like if Yolanda was picking her outfit for a fancy dinner - showing off her better taste and innate sense of fashion - because she wanted to show her hot girlfriend off, not just because Trinity had forced her hand. She wondered what it would be like to share stories about their families for real.

She lathered her hair and thought about how, even after last night, she still barely knew anything about Yolanda. She doesn't even know where she grew up or why she wanted to become a doctor. All she had were vague guesses and an intense knowledge of Yolanda's body and what she likes in bed. But that wasn't enough. That didn't make someone a girlfriend.

She sighed and rinsed out her hair, trying to wash away the thoughts as well. It was only one night. She can do this for one night. And if - when - it goes to shit, she could avoid her mother for a few years. And hopefully Yolanda will find the whole thing funny. The water sluiced down her back and Trinity scrunched conditioner into her root. There was only so long she could hide in the shower.

She wrapped herself and her hair in her crappier towels, less soft and certainly a lot older than the ones she gave to Yolanda. She stepped into the bedroom. Yolanda had barely moved. Her long legs were stretched out on the bed, contrasting with the ugly sheets. The sight filled Trinity with a soft feeling that had her feeling as relaxed as the shower had.

"How about we skip dinner?" Trinity asked, sauntering towards the bed. Yolanda glanced up at her, amusement clear on her usually stern features. Trinity propped one knee on the bed and then swung her other one up and over Yolanda's lap, settling on top of her. "We could have more fun here, I promise."

Yolanda cupped Trinity's face and let one thumb glide along her cheekbone. "I don't doubt it," she said, voice soft and smooth. "But we can do that after dinner." Trinity tipped her head back in exasperation. "Come on, Trin. It'll make your mom happy."

Trinity looked down at Yolanda, smiling softly at the gentleness on display in front of her. The expression was a stark contrast to the efficient surgeon who doesn't hesitate to bark orders and get exactly what she needs. This side of her kept surprising Trinity. Kept charming her too.

"Well, it'll make my mom happy."

---

The uber smelt of stale BO and cheap perfume. It was a heady mixture that went straight to Trinity's head. Her nerves were back in full force. Her gut churned, her heart thumped. What the hell was she doing here? Her finger tapped out an arrhythmic beat on the seat between her and Yolanda. Yolanda reached out to stop it. She was in a chic, silky dress that moulded effortlessly to her body and emphasised curves that were usually hidden under shapeless scrubs. Wide expanses of her skin were on display through artful cutouts. Trinity's never seen her look so good. She chewed on her lower lip.

Yolanda shifted her hand to glance at her phone. Trinity started tapping her finger again without thinking about it. Instead, she considered what her fingers could be doing right now. They never should have left her bed. The distraction only lasts so long before her thoughts swirled back to the inevitable disaster that was about to occur in an upscale restaurant in one of Pittsburgh's nicest areas.

Once they arrived, Yolanda followed Trinity out of the car with a guiding hand on her lower back. Trinity shivered. Her outfit isn't nearly warm enough for the chill wind that announced the impending winter.

Her mom and Brian stood outside the door, her mother making wide, expansive gestures to get Trinity's attention. The introductions went smoothly - Brian gave a warm handshake to both of them with his incongruously large hands and her mom followed with a brief kiss on their cheeks, even Yolanda.

Inside, the restaurant is dimly lit and almost empty, due to the early reservation, which Trinity's mom is apologising to Yolanda for. It should feel intimate and cosy, but Trinity feels trapped. There was nowhere to hide in here.

"How do you feel about Italian, Yolanda?" her mother asked as they say.

"Love it, you?"

"Hm, it's okay," her mother said as she glanced at the minimalist menu. "I picked it because my Trinity has always loved Italian, ever since she was a little girl."

Trinity resisted the urge to scoff and rolled her eyes. When she was fifteen, she had obsessively eaten pasta because she thought it would help her bulk up for the season. Other than that she barely ate pasta. But it obviously made an impression on her mother. Yolanda made a noncommittal hm and didn't question or challenge it. On the other side of the table, her mother made an approving nod. Score one for the fake girlfriend.

As they ordered drinks, Trinity asked Brian about his work trip to be polite. He chatted about it happily, bobbing his head as he explained the intricate details of a merger. He was a nice guy but he's horrifically boring and the two of them have never really bonded. It probably doesn't help that he's closer to Zeke's age than their mother's age. But mostly Trinity avoided thinking about that. While she half listened to him and picked at a bread stick, she eavesdropped on her mom and Yolanda. At the moment, her mom was quizzing Yolanda on her life like she had a test on it tomorrow.

Trinity overheard brief snippets of Yolanda's life: only child, lots of cousins though; both degrees were from Harvard; both parents were lawyers; she loves the beach but Pittsburgh is the most west she has ever been. She listened with great relish. It was small talk but it was infinitely more interesting than whatever Brian was talking about. And it was all new to her. After being deprived of details about Yolanda, she felt almost guilty for learning about her this way.

"So, mom, how are you enjoying Pittsburgh?" she interrupted, partly to save Yolanda, partly to shut Brian up and partly to make herself feel better.

It's a solid diversion and her mom spent a solid ten minutes abusing the city and its inhabitants. While she spoke, Yolanda reached out under the table and squeezed Trinity's knee. Trinity glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and the two of them shared a soft smile. A flush rose on her cheeks, it wasn't fair that something so small could make her feel so big. She snapped her neck to focus on her mother. The point of this was to fool her mother, not to make her feel good. Her mother finally stopped her diatribe when the waiter politely interjected to take their orders.

"Do you have your own place, Yolanda?" her mother asked once the waiter had receded into the background. Yolanda took a sip of her win and said she had an apartment not far from Trinity's. "Any how long have you two been together again?"

"A few months," Yolanda said, unintentionally stretching what Trinity had told her mom. But it doesn't matter, she knew exactly what her mother was about to say. It was a clear trap that detected far too late to do anything about.

"Have you thought about who will be moving in with who yet?" her mom said, glancing over the top of her glass. Yolanda, who clearly hadn't anticipated the question, blinks owlishly back. Scores were level. It doesn't deter her mother. "Trinity has her roommate so it would probably make sense for her to move in with you and let him have the apartment."

"Mom," Trinity protested weakly. Yolanda squeezed her knee in response.

"We're not ready for that yet, Ms. Santos. But the minute we are, we'll let you know," Yolanda said with no room for argument.

Trinity's mom raises her eyebrows, impressed in spit of herself Trinity would guess. It was another score for Yolanda but it had Trinity's heart jack rabbiting in her chest. She needed this dinner to be over. She needed her mother and Brian to go back to San Francisco where they belonged. She needed Yolanda to take her hand off Trinity's leg before she combusted from the pressure of it all. Thank God their food has arrived.

They ate in relative peace. Yolanda's firm rebuttal had steered her mom into safer territory. Her and Brian both asked about work. When Trinity had first started her rounds, she had told her mother her favourite stories from the hospital. Most of them involved Trinity making the right choice. But her mother never showed any interest and gradually Trinity had stopped sharing. Here, she listened to Yolanda's - sanitised - stories from the OR with rapt attention. Trinity slouched in her seat. Of course her own mother loved Yolanda's stories more, she thought.

The inevitable break up was going to suck.

Trinity excused herself to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and checked the time. She heaved in a deep breath, feeling it in her diaphragm, before she exhaled with an audible huff. This is more stressful than she could have possibly imagined. Her mother and Yolanda getting along is infinitely worse than them hating one another. She can't believe she didn't consider the possibility before dinner. Now her mother would be devastated after the break up and all future, real, girlfriends would be compared to an impossible yardstick. And as always, Trinity would get blamed for it. She breathed in another deep breath. For now, all she had to worry about was getting through the dinner. The breakup was next week's problem.

Back at the table, Trinity focused on eating. Somehow sensing her mood, Yolanda took control of the conversation, deftly moving between topics that appealed to her mother. She was so grateful for her. A guilty seed unfurled in Trinity's chest. It was her fault the two of them were here and she's acting like a recalcitrant teenager who can't stand leaving the house. She really wished she had grown out of it but her mother brought it out in her.

"This was nice," Trinity said, apropos and abrupt, cutting off Brian in the middle of explaining how his grandparents or whoever came to California during the Gold Rush. "Thanks for organising it, mama."

Her mom's eyes welled, instilling an abject sense of horror in Trinity. She didn't mean to make her cry. Trinity had only ever seen her mother cry twice - once and Zeke's wedding and once when Trinity had explained what had been happening. Reaching across the table, Trinity squeezed her mom's hand and stammered over some comforting words.

Her mom rubbed a thumb under one eye and released a suspiciously wet sounding sniffle. "I miss out on a lot of things since you went off to school. It's so nice to see you so happy, and with such a beautiful girlfriend," her mother said. Trinity hiccuped and blinked away the tears she felt gathering in her eyes. Her mother reached out and squeezed Trinity's hand while patting Yolanda's hand that was resting on the table. Her other hand was still under the table, rubbing gently circles into Trinity's knee.

Together, they made a circle, wonky but complete.

---

In the uber home, Trinity closed her eyes, feigning sleep. Yolanda reached across the gap and wrapped her fingers around Trinity's. Instead of opening her eyes and being a grown up about it, Trinity simply twitched her fingers and screwed her eyes shut against the intermittent lights. She had dreaded the dinner all day. But now that it was basically over, Trinity didn't want it to end.

The ride passed in silence and before Trinity even realised they were close to her apartment, Yolanda was squeezing her hand and murmuring her name, urging Trinity to wake up so they could let the poor driver go to get another fare. In the elevator, Trinity leaned back against the mirror. Her mind was full of endless thoughts but Trinity let them slide by, uninterested in anything except the woman leaning alongside her.

Trinity unlocked the door to a dark, quiet apartment. If Whitaker was around, he had already tucked himself into bed like a good, little farm boy. She tried to usher Yolanda down the hall towards her bedroom. Instead, Yolanda held Trinity's upper arms in a gentle grip. She murmured something, quite enough that Trinity couldn't hear it, and then leaned in to press a firm kiss on Trinity's lips.

It started out chaste but as Trinity leaned into it, Yolanda deepened it into something utterly filthy. All Trinity could hear was her breath hitching in her chest and their spit mingling, wet and filthy. Yolanda's tongue was in her mouth, a welcome intrusion that had Trinity's legs shaking. The air around them warmed and Trinity pressed in tighter, getting Yolanda's back up against the wall with a soft thud. Trinity raised a hand to career Yolanda's cheek. Trinity pulled back and sighed into the space between them.

"Breaking up with you is really gonna suck," she said, voice breaking like it was a confession. And it was. Trinity had no idea what to do with these feelings. This wasn't what Yolanda wanted from her.

Yolanda made an enquiring noise but didn't stop her motions, mouthing her way down Trinity's neck before biting down, hard, on Trinity's clavicle - teeth digging in on either side of the bone. Trinity hissed and sunk further into Yolanda's space. It felt so good. How could it not? Their chests were pressed together and Trinity could feel Yolanda's nipples through her dress. Her hand skittered down Yolanda's bare arm, both of them tacky with sweat. Yolanda continued to maul Trinity's neck. And it felt good. But all Trinity could think about was having to tell her mother they broke up. It would mean that Trinity would never actually be able to date Yolanda in the future. It would be impossible to explain. But that was all she wanted. More than she wanted Yolanda's mouth on her neck right now - she wanted Yolanda to be her girlfriend for real.

She pulled away. She couldn't keep doing this unless it was real. She'd had a taste and now it was all she wanted.

"Seriously, breaking up with you would be awful," she whispered. She didn't know how to say what she felt. She barely even knew how she felt. "I don't think I can do this if we have to," she trailed off, unsure how to ask for what she wanted.

Yolanda furrowed her brow. Her skin was flushed and her nipples were pebbled hard against her dress. Trinity watched as Yolanda shifted her brain from making out to having a conversation. Trinity stepped back and hunched her shoulders slightly. She started this conversation but she had no idea where it would go. She had no idea what to do if she didn't get what she wanted.

Yolanda, apparently finished thinking, shrugged her shoulders. "Then don't."

Trinity's heart sang in her chest but it made no sense. "It's not that simple," Trinity protested, unsure why she felt the need to. She was getting what she wanted but it didn't feel right. It was too easy.

"Sure it is," Yolanda said. "We have good sex, we had a nice date. We already know your mother likes me." Yolanda paused and tilted her head. "And I like you, I like spending time with you. Dating you would be great."

Trinity gaped, mouth wide open and probably looking like an idiot in her own hallway. She had no idea that Yolanda felt like that. "I thought you liked having sex with me."

"I do," Yolanda said. "But I also just like you."

A small smile grew on Trinity's face, she couldn't stop it if she tried. "You do?" Yolanda rolled her eyes but it wasn't cruel. She was teasing, nothing more.

"This, dating," Yolanda paused before continuing on, "It doesn't have to be hard. I like you, you like me. That's all that matters."

"I never said I liked you."

Yolanda laughed. "You told your mom I was your girlfriend. Who the fuck does that if they don't like someone?" Trinity reached out and pulled Yolanda up against her. They shared a bruising kiss. The kiss was rushed and heated. Trinity shuddered into it, letting Yolanda push her up against the wall and shove a leg between her thighs. She groaned and rearranged herself so she could roll her hips on Yolanda's hip. Pleasure zipped through her body. Usually, Trinity would put a stop to this and urge Yolanda into her room. But today, after the conversation they had, Trinity saw no reason to stop. They both knew what they wanted. She kept grinding on Yolanda, moaning and shuddering as she went. Yolanda murmured words of encouragement into Trinity's ear and dug her fingers into Trinity's hips, urging her to keep moving and not letting her stop until Trinity gasped and came with a rush.

Her body felt boneless. One foot was wrapped around Yolanda's back - she had no memory of putting it there - and the other was resting on the ball of her foot as she arched onto Yolanda's thigh. She relaxed back down against the wall until both feet were flat on the floor. Chest heaving, she looked up into Yolanda's eyes. As always, they were warm and all encompassing. Trinity wanted to live in their gaze forever.

Yolanda smiled and reached out to push a loose strand of Trinity's hair back behind her ear. "Hey, Trinity, want to be my girlfriend?"