''Yeah, i've had enough… of your insolence!'' Amy spat, her words slurring slightly as she watched the waiter hop into the van and kept her blurred gaze locked onto it as it rolled off into the night. I've had enough, she thought. Enough of-
''Amy?''
Hearing a soft, familiar voice behind her, the blonde halted her thoughts and froze, every fine hair on her small frame instantly standing to attention.
''Amy, can we-'
There it was again. That voice- the way it carried her name through the crisp air. She tentatively turned around, her eyes instantly falling onto those of a slightly smaller girl; the girl in the emerald green dress, the girl with the killer smile; the girl with those eyes. Shit. Amy wasn't prepared for this, not yet. Maybe not ever. Her heart had been shattered into pieces… and, god, it was embarrassing. She had suddenly come to realise that she had been a fool to ever believe that this mess could have turned out any other way.
No girl with those eyes could ever be safe to fall for, she had told herself.
And absolutely not if her name was Karma.
''Karma,'' she whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. ''I can't see you right now… and, and, no, i don't mean- not just because i'm drunk and my vision is messed up and it's dark out here, i mean-''
She stopped there, her words broken, her mind submerged in a suffocating fog of alcohol and pain. She glanced up. She realised that she couldn't even pull off her trusty humour well in this state, and the pity etched throughout Karma's expression confirmed that she was fooling nobody.
Isn't that a kick in the teeth? Even Karma pities you now.
For a long, long, moment, neither girl spoke. There was no laughter, no music, no celebration any more; the guests and their festivities were long gone, and now, at 3am, all that remained were two broken girls and their silence, stood in a car park and surrounded by darkness. Inhaling deeply, Amy drew her eyes away from the confetti-littered concrete. She had counted every colourful piece at her feet at least twice: one hundred and six tiny flakes of paper between herself and Karma. Thirty-two blue. Twenty-six yellow. Forty pink, and weirdly, Amy thought- only two of the white. Had she been a little more coherent at the time, perhaps she would have pondered more over why there were so few of the classic white confetti shapes. Perhaps she would have considered it a humorous reflection of her mother's lack of chastity. Perhaps, in any other circumstance, she would have actually cared.
Prompted by the sadness in Amy's pale, lifeless eyes, Karma took a step forward. She took Amy's left hand in her own, and grasped it tight. For the past ten years, since the very first day they had met, Karma was firm in her belief that those sweet round eyes were the brightest she had ever known. Windows to the purest soul. They glimmered like the reflection of light from clear water, sparkled more than the clearest diamond; yet in that moment, she would swear they had never seen the sun.
''Amy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For everything.''
The words came laced with gentle tears, leaving the dark-haired girl's lips as the salty water grazed her cheeks and slowly fell. ''I used you for all the wrong reasons. I made you lie, i made you go along with everything and gave you nothing. And what kills me the most is that i made you hurt. And right now, i'm standing in front of you and i can't see the shine in your eyes. It's gone, Amy, for the first time, and i'm so, so sorry, because it's all my fault.'' Karma inhaled deeply and searched Amy's gentle features for any change in expression.
Shivering slightly, Amy closed her eyes, her own tears falling still. So badly had she wanted to brush away those from Karma's face, even now, that it was hard to refrain. She was frozen, though. Karma was holding onto her hand so tight that it should have hurt, but Amy was numb from heart to head, and frozen to the spot. She would have pulled away already, she thought. If she could have.
''Don't worry about it. Really. It's not your fault.'' Amy mumbled. Releasing these words seemed to be all she needed to gather her strength and move away from Karma; pulling her hand from the grasp of the manicured digits that held onto her, she raised her head, wiped her eyes, and strode off toward her home. Had she not had quite so much champagne that evening, she may have looked confident and strong, as was her intention; but the fifteen-year-old had single-handedlyemptied a bottle or two, and it showed; and so, if for no other reason, Karma followed- because to her it looked as though Amy could crash to the solid ground at any moment, and Karma daren't leave her alone right now, regardless of the badstuff.
Amy wove her way along the path leading to the large, imposing wooden door at the front of her house. Luckily for her, her mother's wedding reception had been held in a spectacular, no-expense-spared marquee, conveniently situated on a plot of land just at the end of the Raudenfeld's street. Walking straight into the house, directly to the kitchen, Amy rummages in around for the bottle of wine she knows she's seen somewhere. She mutters and swears, working up a frenzy and becoming obsessive. Wine, Amy imagines, will make this whole mess go away.
Karma is hot on her heels, though, and catches the inebriated blonde by the arm before she locates the illusive bottle.
''Stop.'' she says gently.
She pulls a little too hard and unbalances Amy on her heels, causing her to fall against Karma and almost send the pair flying to the hard tiles beneath them. Almost; but Karma catches Amy, holding her tight in her arms to steady them both and avoid a collision with the floor.
''L-let me go.'' Amy sighs.
Having stopped moving, being forced to stand still, Amy suddenly feels a wave of tiredness sweep over her entire body. It starts in her brain and travels down through her aching heart before seeping into her legs, and she feels her body becoming heavier by the second. The dancing, the laughter, the crying, the drinking, the hundred emotions; every part of this whirlwind day was catching up with her. She had held in her feelings for Karma for weeks, and today they had reached boiling point. They had exploded, exposed themselves, forced their way out of Amy's mouth and into the open air for the first time, and they overwhelmed the sweet girl. She had never felt so strongly before; she hadn't been sure how to handle it, so for weeks she had pushed these emotions further within herself, carrying on the fake lesbian charade, and it had all lead to this; a royal disaster. To this moment right now, where Amy's blood felt like pure alcohol and she was being held captive in Karma's arms and simply didn't have the energy to fight it.
She didn't want Karma to hold her now. She didn't want to feel electricity firing through her veins as they stood together like that, the tear-stained beauty that was Karma Ashcroft holding her so close she could smell the faint remainder of the intoxicating perfume that she had applied to her green dress and silky skin at the very beginning of the day. Amy didn't want to reach her hand up towards Karma's face and touch her cheek the way she felt compelled to, and she certainly didn't want to close the gap between her bitten-up lips and her best friend's like she did.
No, she really didn't want to feel Karma relax her hold on her body and return the soft kiss, because damn it, she was angry at her, and having Karma return this kiss made no sense. Amy was angry at Karma for thinking up this stupid plan in the first place, and angry at her for letting her agree to it. Angry that Karma had rejected her when she finally built up the courage to express herself; to tell her that she had fallen so hard for her best friend, she thought she may never get up again- tell her of how this beautiful girl took her breath away with every kiss, and how she was petrified of losing her because of it. That took guts, Amy thought, and she threw it back in my face. She laughed at me. Karma had told her that she was just confused, had got carried away, and that although she would never lose her- she could never lose her- she didn't love her like ...that. And Amy was angry at Karma for being angry with her when she realised she had been lying since their first kiss. Karma didn't intend for Amy to fall in love with her- that was never the plan. That was never supposed to happen… but it did, and it caused her closest friend to keep secrets and lie to her.
In reality, Karma was more angry with herself than with Amy, because, she thought, let's face it. It was all her fault. Popularity. It really didn't seem worth it now.
So Karma blamed force of habit when Amy pushed her away and swore at her for returning the kiss this time. She blamed force of habit when she ignored Amy's anger, stepped forward, dragged one shaky hand through golden waves and used the other to push a fragile, lavender-clad body against the wall. Force of habit, the teenager presumes, was what compelled her to crash her needy mouth into the soft lips before her and demand more, more, more.
But, Amy wonders later, was it really force of habit that caused Karma to venture into unchartered territory? Could the bites and kisses scattered over Amy's neck and chest be blamed on habit when they had never happened before?
At this point, Amy's mind is spinning at what surely feels like three hundred miles per hour, and she can't keep up. She gives in to what she wants, even though she knows this is all kinds of messed up and she has no idea what is going on in Karma's mind right now. The girl gave mixed signals if anyone ever did. But Amy can't help it, she's selfish this time, and takes whatever she can get. She doesn't care that, at any moment, someone could turn on a light and stumble across the two of them pressed against a wall in the kitchen, or witness them collapse on top of one another on the grey carpet of the staircase, or hear their desperate, stifled moans as they scratch and pull at each other on the way through Amy's bedroom door.
But as they hit the bed and Amy falls backwards with a muffled thump, she feels talon-like nails cutting through her pale skin; upon opening her eyes, she sees a look on Karma's face that she doesn't think quite fits the way this situation is going.
''K-karma?'' She stutters, starting to panic. That's Karma's angry face, she realises. Those nails, having previously been dragged along her spine with desperate wanting, were now being used to cause her pain through anger instead. Shit. Abort, abort. As she attempts to wriggle out from underneath, Karma tightens her grip on Amy's slender arms.
''Jesus christ, Amy! I didn't want this!'' She shrieks, shoving Amy hard into the mattress as she jumps up and backs away, raising a hand to her mouth. Amy thinks that Karma looks as though she's about to throw up, her usually radiant face suddenly stricken with palor. She was beginning to sober up, slowly, but Karma's sudden 360 left her baffled. Slowly rising to her feet, Amy moves forward and reaches to take Karma's hand. Karma moves a step backwards.
''Please don't touch me,'' she whispers. Karma feels her skin burning, her stomach turning. She's panicking now, she feels like she's just killed a man. Nothing makes sense. This doesn't make sense. They were faking it, she repeats over and over in her mind. And then she told me she loves me. And i hurt her, and now i've kissed her. Again. Like i meant it.
Her head spins.
And i meant it.
But she isn't gay, she tells herself. She isn't, she couldn't be. She doesn't want to touch girls boobs.
But, if she's honest, she thinks, she wouldn't mind touching Amy's. She wanted to touch Amy. She'd already grown to realise that holding her hand was comforting some time ago, but she assumed that was because she was her best friend. She loves her more than anyone on earth, doesn't she? Of course she does; she's her best friend. Friends hold hands, right? Right. Friends don't usually fake gay, but their friendship could handle it. Or so she thought.
While Karma runs through these things in her head, Amy just looks at her. She just sits, stares, watches her. She looks concerned. Upset. And, well, at knocking on for sunrise, more than a little bit tired. Jesus, Karma growls to herself. She's royally fucked everything up this time. Amy clears her throat, knocking Karma out of her thoughts and back into the room.
''We… should, uh, get some sleep.'' She announces, keeping her eyes fixated on anything other than the girl before her.
The blonde looks up at her incredulously, blinks hard, and lets out a short laugh of disbelief. She should have expected this. Of course. It's Karma. Complete denial. Complete-fucking-denial. She wants to swear at this girl until her voice breaks, tell her everything she's thinking, but she doesn't.
''Right,'' Amy says, walking toward the door. ''I'll take the spare room.''
Karma opens her mouth to speak; to tell her to stay, to tell her anything that would make it better, but she can't get any words out and is cut off by verbal ice and a frosty glare before she can emit a single sound.
''Goodnight, Karma.''