You are always new.
The last of your kisses
was even the sweetest;
the last smile the brightest;
the last movement the gracefullest.
- John Keats
It wasn't what Paige said when she arrived in Emily's bedroom after her college recruiting trip to California that set Emily off; it was how she said it. No, not how she said it. That wasn't it at all. It was her whole Paige McCullers way. Slouched against the door, hands stuffed into her pockets, Pepperdine University swim team t-shirt, half-smirk. Did she have — was that a tan? She was supposed to be visiting college campuses, not lounging around by the pool getting sunkissed while Emily was stuck in Rosewood keeping the world from splitting apart.
"You look tired," is what Paige said.
And, well, Emily was tired. But she couldn't say it. Couldn't say why. Couldn't tell Paige, "Oh, that's because I was very nearly burned to a crisp in a lodge fire the other night." Or, "I haven't been sleeping much since I saw what was in the trunk of the police car Hanna and Aria tried to bury in the lake." She couldn't say that Shana was dating Jenna, even though it would bring her no small amount of satisfaction to knock that bitch down a few notches in Paige's esteem.
So, instead she said, "Did you go to the beach or something?"
Paige puffed a piece of fallen ponytail out of her face, said, "Yeah, you know how it is with these recruiting visits. They try to sell you on the sights even though you know you'll spend four years crammed into a cubby in the library — when you're not working your ass off in the weight room or the pool."
"No," Emily said, "I don't know how it is."
"Hey," Paige said, consolingly, "You'll get offers. You've already gotten offers. What about Danby?"
Emily shrugged. She picked up a pair of Hanna's discarded pants and folded them neatly, stacking them with a dozen other pairs in her window seat. She knew, without looking, that Paige was making the most sympathetic face in her direction. Knew Paige would help her clean up Hanna's mess without a word of complaint. Knew Paige would cuddle her up and let her spend the whole afternoon napping, even though they hadn't seen each other in so long. Knew all she had to do was ask, and Paige would hold Emily's head in her lap and play with her hair for the duration of an entire movie, only abandoning her hair when she switched to rubbing her back. It was a theory she'd tested already, through back-to-back Harry Potters and a Golden Girls marathon.
But instead of any of those things, Emily heard herself say, "Don't you think it's a little weird that you never told me Shana swims?"
She looked up in time to see Paige's posture stiffen. They'd been on opposite coasts for two weeks. She could tell this wasn't the reception Paige had expected. Finally, Paige said,"Uh, no. But I think it's weird Shana told you she swims."
"I can talk to whoever I want," Emily said, tossing a pair of Hanna's socks into the hamper and turning to face Paige fully. She crossed her arms.
"Look, are we in a fight I don't know about?" Paige asked, mirroring Emily's actions with her own arms.
No. "Yes. I ran into Shana a couple of times while you were away and she's a really good swimmer, Paige. Junior National Championships good. And I find it odd that you never mentioned it."
"Do you think it's odd you never told me how Samara liked to — I don't know, sacrifice babies or whatever witchcraft thing she did for fun?"
Emily felt herself smile, really smile, for the first time in weeks. "Samara didn't sacrifice babies."
"I don't believe you," Paige said.
Before Emily could figure out a way to keep their fight going, before she could bend down and pick up another one of Hanna's shirts off the floor, Paige kicked the bedroom door closed with her foot and strode across the room in three steps, pulling Emily into her with a practiced familiarity. Her right hand found Emily's cheek; her left hand flattened against the small of Emily's back and brought their bodies together; her lips answered all the questions Emily couldn't make herself ask out loud.
No, Paige hadn't been with anyone else while she was away. No, she wasn't still hung up on Shana. No, she didn't regret committing herself to someone who was constantly putting them both in danger. No, she didn't want to be anywhere else. No, she didn't want to be doing anything else.
Emily often wondered how Paige knew exactly how to touch her. Wondered if it was because she was an athlete too. Wondered if it was because they'd had to memorize the movements of each other's bodies when they'd started swimming relays together. Wondered, sometimes, if Paige was actually a mind reader. With everyone else, it had always been is this okay? and is that okay? and with Paige it was always Emily thinking oh, touch me there before Paige touched her right there. Like now, her hand slipping under Emily's t-shirt, caressing her back, working her fingers up, up, until her bra strap was unhooked with a single motion of Paige's fingers and both of her hands were on Emily's hips, her warm open mouth on Emily's neck.
Emily's knees buckled into it, physically swooned into Paige's embrace.
Paige pulled back then, moved to hold Emily's head in her hands, titled her own head to the side like a puppy.
"I guess," Paige said, "we could keep doing this. Or, if you want, we can go back to talking about Shana. She collects comic books, too, in addition to swimming."
Emily's laugh was throaty and loud. Paige always made her laugh like she was taking a vacation from the perpetual wreck of her life.
She wanted to keep doing what they were doing, wanted it more than she'd realized, wanted it more, even, than she wanted to admit. But there was something between them now that had never been there before. She knew it wasn't fair. She had her secrets. So many secrets. Shoudn't Paige be allowed some too?
But no. Not about this. They needed to be honest about this.
"Did you sleep with her?" Emily asked, forcing her eyes away from Paige's face. "Did you sleep with Shana? Is that — is that how you know how to touch me?"
Paige waited until Emily was looking at her again before she answered.
"I did sleep with her, yes." Emily tried to back away, but Paige held onto her. "But that's not why I know how to touch you."
She let Emily go, then, let her step backwards.
"Ems, I know how to touch you because I spent years touching myself thinking about how to touch you."
Emily felt the flush from her face, the flush from where Paige had been kissing her, flair out all over her body. "You mean…"
"I mean exactly what you think I mean. Alison may have kept me from saying the things I wanted to say to you, or doing the things I wanted to do with you, but she didn't keep me from wanting what I wanted. And she didn't keep me from imagining, constantly, a world where you wanted what I wanted too."
This was also Paige's way. Not just the way she looked at Emily, not just the way she touched her. But the way she was always honest and unashamed about how they were together. Together-together. Emily walked Paige to her bed, tilted herself backwards and pulled Paige down on top of her. The weight of Paige was just what she wanted. The heat of Paige was what she needed.
"I don't want to talk about Shana anymore," Paige breathed against Emily's lips.
"Good," Emily said. "I don't want to talk at all."