Peridot had died in her sleep—at least, that's what she figured must have happened. Because there was no earthly explanation for the demonic screeching that assaulted her eardrums the next morning other than, of course, the devil itself.
As she was pushed further and further towards full wakefulness, however, Peridot recognized the sound of microphone feedback that preceded a familiarly clipped and cheery voice. Something behind Peridot's eyes pulsed painfully with every syllable that was spoken. "Good morning, campers! Here we are, Saturday again! You know what that means!"
The din that followed sounded to Peridot like a blown out amplifier that was turned up to its highest volume. "Beach Day!"
And as if Peridot wasn't pained enough, she was then greeted by a kick to the face.
Oh, yeah. She had definitely died and gone to hell.
She felt scrambling beside her on the mattress. "Oh, shit. Sorry, Peri!" That was Amethyst's voice.
Peridot willed her eyelids to peel open—and regretted the action instantly, as the sunlight that was streaming through the windows blinded her.
Amethyst then popped into her line of vision, which graciously blocked out the worst of the stabbing sensation that Peridot's eyes were feeling. But trying to focus on the other girl's face—which was blurred and whirling—made Peridot's stomach turn over.
With a groan, Peridot threw her arm over her face and—through the fog of her mind—managed to mumble, "Amethyst. What were you doing in my bed?"
"Oh, you don't remember? That's too bad, because I definitely remember," Amethyst said. Her voice was playful, nearly coy. "And I'd hate for our magical experience to just become another notch on your bedpost." Peridot then felt a whisper of the other girl's fingertips on the skin of her upper arm.
"What?" Peridot recoiled, shooting upward and away from Amethyst's touch. But then her head pulsed and her stomach flipped harder, and Peridot was kept from completing her escape by her own body's violent protests (that traitor).
Amethyst, meanwhile, had dissolved into a fit of laughter. "I'm just messing with you, Peri, dang! Nothing happened! I just crashed with you in case you started choking on your own puke. It would've been kind of hard to keep an eye out if I'd slept across the cabin from you, don't you think?"
Peridot didn't respond immediately. Instead, she remained still for an extra moment in order to allow the spinning room to slow. The other campers, racing excitedly from bunk to bunk and trading bottles of sunscreen and other supplies, did nothing to help this along.
She slowly laid back down before re-closing her eyes and groaning, "What happened last night?"
"Well, where does your memory get foggy?"
Peridot thought so hard about this that she felt a twinge in her temple. "Uh—" An image of Jasper, terrifying and tall, came to the forefront of her mind. "Jasper punched that kid, right? That was real?" At Amethyst's nod, Peridot continued. "After that, nothing."
Amethyst shrugged. "I can't help you much then. You ran off to follow Lapis. The rest of us didn't see you again until Lapis came running back inside, freaking out about how you'd fainted. Then we grabbed you and came back to camp."
As soon as Amethyst said Lapis's name, it rang a bell in the far back of Peridot's cloudy mind. But try as she might to wade through the muddled mess therein, Peridot couldn't remember what she was supposed to be remembering. It was infuriating, and it made her temples pound harder than they already were.
"Jasper carried me home, didn't she?" Peridot asked. "I think I kind of came to for a second when you guys were getting me back."
"Oh, yeah," Amethyst chuckled. "That must've been right before you hurled the second time. Jaz said she felt you shift around or something."
"Oh, god," Peridot moaned, opening her eyes a bit to look reproachfully at Amethyst. "I hurled?"
"Only the two times, though!" Amethyst pressed in a tone that suggested she was trying to be comforting. "Jasper and Lapis took it like champs, too."
"Lapis?" Fragmented images flashed in Peridot's head. She was outside, sitting on the ground. Then she was puking. She knew that Lapis must've been right next to her.
"Yeah, you were outside with Lapis the first time. But don't worry," Amethyst said, dropping her voice to a mere whisper and even adding a wink for good measure. "You didn't hit her. And based off how worried she was about you, I bet you've still got a chance!"
More images kept popping up—seemingly in reverse order—as Amethyst spoke. Peridot worked to piece them together, retracing her memory step by step.
Peridot did suddenly remember vomiting onto the dirt next to her feet.
Then she remembered the stunned look on Lapis's face (which was still painfully gorgeous, even when experienced secondhand).
Then she remembered pushing herself away from Lapis, removing her vicelike grip on the lapels of the other girl's jacket. But it wasn't Lapis's jacket, was it? It was Jasper's.
Then she remembered a feeling of panic and dread unlike anything she'd felt before. The feeling was being recreated now, clutching at her chest and squeezing her lungs so hard that she was unable to breathe properly.
And then—finally—utmost horror struck Peridot as she remembered the sensation of her lips peeling away from Lapis's.
She kissed her. Peridot kissed Lapis. Peridot kissed Lapis, her best friend's girlfriend.
And just as this realization had caused a bodily response the night before, it caused one again. Peridot was about to puke.
Luckily, Amethyst was ready. The other girl had evidently been watching Peridot in silence, and must have noticed how Peridot suddenly paled. So when Peridot pitched forward, Amethyst had already retrieved a small wastebasket by the bed. The latter held it up as the former vomited into it.
Once she was finished, it was all Peridot could do to collapse back onto her mattress. The cabin had gone abruptly silent as the other campers stood frozen in place.
"Well. Only three times, then," Amethyst grumbled, plastering a wide grin onto her face as she replaced the wastebasket on the ground.
Amethyst soon took charge and ushered the fourteen other campers out of the cabin to go to breakfast. "Not that anybody is going to feel like having breakfast, huh?" she added in a chuckle thrown over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.
Peridot struggled to remove her legs from her position lying down. The prosthetics had apparently been left on the night before and were becoming excruciatingly uncomfortable. But, as desperate as Peridot was to tear them off, she moved slowly—partially because she was afraid that any large movement would set her stomach off again, and partially because she simply didn't have the energy to move any faster.
Once the legs were propped against the bunk, Peridot barely had time to tuck the lower half of her body under the covers before the door swung open again. Pearl entered, juggling her clipboard, her megaphone, and a clean wastebasket under her arms.
"Peridot," she said, moving swiftly to sit at the edge of Peridot's mattress and placing her items down at her feet. "I've been informed you're feeling unwell?"
"What would give you that idea," Peridot groaned, tipping her chin at the used wastebasket at the head of the bunk.
"Yes, well, your campers are buzzing about that, aren't they?"
Peridot mumbled out a, "Sure," before allowing her eyes to drift closed. They reopened sharply as Peridot felt Pearl's hand—frigidly cold, yet somehow comforting—on her forehead. She was about to open her mouth to complain when Pearl shushed her.
"Don't flinch, I'm just trying to determine your temperature." After a moment, Pearl tutted and pulled her hand away. She picked her clipboard off the ground and began to write on it. "Well, you don't seem irregularly warm. But still, you obviously have a bug of some kind. You should remain here today. We wouldn't want to cause your body undue stress or risk infecting others."
Oh, don't worry, Peridot wanted to say. Hangovers aren't contagious—although, humiliation might be. Instead, she prepared for Pearl to scold her about how much of an inconvenience this was to her and to the camp at large.
"Here," Pearl continued as she stood upright. She pushed the clean wastebasket closer to Peridot's head, and picked up the used one. "I'll get this out of your way. Feel better."
"Wait," Peridot said, unable to keep herself from doing so. "You're not annoyed?"
Pearl stopped in her tracks. "Of course not. You had no control over this. Beach Day should be able to proceed as planned without you—just this once."
Guilt prodded Peridot's chest. Not knowing what else to say, Peridot grumbled, "Uh. Thanks, Pearl."
Pearl smiled a little, her hand hesitating slightly before reaching forward to briefly pat Peridot on her shoulder. "Well, you're welcome. If you're feeling up to it later, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. We'll see you tonight." And then she scooped up her megaphone with her free hand and left the cabin.
And then Peridot was alone—which she didn't appreciate at all, because being alone with her thoughts forced her to face the gravity of what she'd done the night before.
Suddenly, the cabin seemed swelteringly hot. Peridot struggled to push off the comforter and remove her clothes from the night before, dropping them on the floor beside her bed and reducing herself to only a tank top and boxers.
Left with no other task to keep her busy, Peridot let her hand fall limply off the side of her mattress. Unwilling and unable to move her body so that she could observe what she was doing, she fumbled blindly for a bit before she felt her backpack. She then reached into its open pouch and brought up her tablet to rest on her stomach. Peridot managed to prop a pillow up so that her head could rest semi-comfortably at an angle and then, once settled, she opened a word document. Taking a deep breath and squinting her eyes to bring the screen into focus, she began to type.
"Log date 062015. I'm the biggest fucking idiot on the face of this miserable planet."
That's as far as she got before the cabin door swung open yet again. Peridot glanced lazily at it, expecting either Amethyst's or Pearl's return. She almost swallowed her own tongue when she realized that it was Jasper coming through the doorway, and clambered to flip the tablet face down onto her chest.
When she saw that the other girl was holding a tray from the Temple, Peridot was certain that she was about to be bludgeoned to death with it. Even Jasper's grin and grunt of, "Hey, you're up," did nothing to settle her nerves. With every approaching step her friend took, Peridot felt her heart lurch violently in response.
Jasper knew. She had to know. Lapis had obviously told her by now what Peridot—Jasper's supposed most trusted ally—had done. And, whatever was about to happen to her and however terrified she felt, Peridot knew deep down that she deserved it.
When Jasper reached the bunk and stretched her arm out, Peridot couldn't keep herself from flinching. Once she'd recovered, however, and realized that she was unharmed, Peridot remained frozen. She watched Jasper overturn the empty wastebasket and balance the tray on top of it. What Peridot hadn't originally noticed was that the tray carried food. A plate of toast, an apple, and a cup of juice. Next to the juice was a packet of aspirin.
"I know you probably don't feel like it right now," Jasper chuckled as she sat at the foot of Peridot's mattress. "But you really better eat something before you hork down the aspirin. You don't want to puke it back up, yeah?"
At Jasper's expectant (not accusatory, not betrayed, but merely expectant) expression, Peridot blanked. All she could do was stutter, "Uh—Thank—Thank you."
Huh. Did she know? Had Lapis told her?
"Still feeling pretty shitty, huh?" Jasper asked with a frown.
Peridot gulped. Okay, she thought to herself. Play it cool, then. "Yeah. That's—uh. That's an understatement."
"You missing out on Beach Day today?"
Peridot could only nod.
She didn't know. There was no way Jasper could know that Peridot had basically assaulted her girlfriend and still act like this. Relief flooded Peridot's muscles—but then guilt took over anew. Peridot's stomach squirmed as she responded, "Yeah. I—I don't suspect I'll be able to leave this bed for a while."
Jasper laughed. "Living the dream, Per. Oh, and before I forget—" She dug into the back pocket of her shorts. Peridot, still a little hesitant about this interaction, half-expected Jasper to pull out a switchblade. She was surprised when, instead, Jasper held out Peridot's glasses to her. "Lapis took these off you last night and forgot to leave them behind. Here."
Peridot hadn't even realized her glasses were missing from the windowsill. With some trepidation, she accepted them and slid them onto her face. She was relieved to find that being able to see more clearly immediately settled Peridot's stomach a bit.
If only a bit.
Just then, the door swung open yet again. With a pitter-patter of light footsteps, one of Jasper's Yellow campers—Peridot recognized the boy as Sour Cream's little brother—approached the bed. He glanced briefly at Peridot with the ghost of a smile before he leaned himself on Jasper's knee, looking up at her eagerly.
"What?" Jasper asked, an edge of slight annoyance present in her voice. "Is it time to go?"
The boy nodded, and then reached up to tug on her hand.
Jasper stood, groaning as she did so. Before she turned to leave, she looked down at Peridot with a kind smile. "Okay, Per. Feel better, huh? Doing camp stuff feels weird without you."
"Thanks," was all Peridot could think to say.
Then, with a curt nod, Jasper allowed the small boy to lead her across the cabin and out the door. "Let's go, weirdo," Peridot could hear Jasper mutter to him before the door slammed close once more.
Peridot heaved a great sigh, which did nothing to relieve the knot that was creeping up her throat. She waited until she heard the commotion of children and the crunching of gravel die away—until she was certain that the buses had left, taking everyone else away with them—before she dared to flip her tablet back over and begin to type again.
"I am the definition of a clod. A dirt bomb. A shit stain. You know, just for starters."
A while passed before Peridot could even look at the food Jasper left for her, and even more time went by before she tried to eat it. She got through a single piece of toast and half of her juice before she gave up and took the aspirin. Her stomach was squirming too fiercely to do much else. (Whether this was out of embarrassment, guilt, or simple nausea, Peridot didn't know. She imagined that it was probably a combination thereof.)
But, however little she succeeded in ingesting, it did help. Peridot had enough energy to throw her knees over the side of her mattress, reattach her legs, and clumsily stand up. She worked painfully slowly to grab a towel, her shower caddy, and an extra change of clothes—but soon enough she was able to stumble down the cabin steps and across the campground to the bathroom.
As Peridot brushed her teeth, she couldn't bring herself to meet her own stare, reflected back at her through the mirror. She was grateful to enter the shower, turn the water temperature as high as it would go, and sit beneath its stream. The way the water burned her skin to the point of causing discomfort seemed just to her. But it also worked to clear her mind and, as she slowly washed herself, Peridot set about making a plan.
At this point, it was obvious that Lapis hadn't told Jasper anything. And Peridot—for some inexplicable reason—had a feeling that Lapis wouldn't be telling Jasper anything. She thought back to when camp had first started, when Peridot was either ignoring Lapis completely or being actively cruel to her. Lapis had never told Jasper about any of that, had she? Setting aside the burning question of why Lapis would constantly shield Peridot from her friend's particular brand of rage, Peridot couldn't ignore that it simplified her situation (if only a little).
Tonight, the campers and Jasper and—most pressingly—Lapis would return. So Peridot attempted to figure out her options from there.
Option One: Peridot could ignore that anything had taken place at all. She could simply never bring it up, act as normal as possible, and portray the situation as a mere drunken mistake that she didn't even remember. Of course, Lapis would still remember that the kiss had, in fact, occurred. But maybe if Peridot was able to pass off some semblance of normalcy around her, then Lapis would assume that the kiss had meant nothing and that it wouldn't be worth ever mentioning again.
This first option was easy and, if Peridot wasn't mistaken, could conceivably work. But it relied on too big of an assumption—that is, that Peridot could pull off a semblance of normalcy in the first place. Statistically speaking, this was improbable. The fact that she couldn't even keep Amethyst from discovering her attraction to Lapis proved as much. And that was before Peridot had erred so much as to actually kiss the other girl.
So, Option Two: she could still try to portray the situation as a mere drunken mistake, but acknowledge it. Peridot could approach Lapis directly (away from the others and especially Jasper, of course) and explain. She hadn't been thinking clearly, the alcohol had made her stupid, she cared about Lapis so much as a friend that she feared alienating her and sincerely regretted her actions—all of which was true. Peridot wouldn't tell the whole truth, though, and would instead act as if her perfectly platonic affection for the other girl had gotten warped in her clouded, drunken mind. Because what else could she do?
Option Three: tell the whole truth? That Peridot, in a short amount of time, had become so enamored with Lapis that she was half-willing to risk everything just for the chance to kiss her? That kissing her had made her feel complete in a way that she was not confident she'd ever felt before?
Peridot couldn't deny that the kiss had left an impact on her beyond the twisting guilt and humiliation in her gut. But that wasn't worth even entertaining the idea of Option Three. Option Three was laughable.
Shaking the memory of Lapis's lips from her mind, Peridot decided that the best course of action would be to wait until everyone returned tonight. Then she could gauge Lapis's reaction to seeing her, and she could proceed from there.
By that point—after the considerable amount of time Peridot had spent lazily washing her body, face, and hair—the water was beginning to run cold. So she turned off the tap and edged her way onto the bench in the changing portion of the shower stall.
She'd managed to towel dry her legs enough to reattach her prostheses, and was midway through polishing her glasses—meanwhile trying to ignore visions of blue hair and tattoos that were passing through her mind—when a sound interrupted her thought process.
When Peridot realized that it had been the sound of a door opening and closing again, she froze. And it dawned on her that she was alone at camp in the middle of a forest—or, at least, she was supposed to be alone. It dawned on her at the same time that there were no escape routes besides the single exit out the door.
Her previous visions were replaced by ones detailing the grisly scene that the rest of camp would surely stumble upon once they returned that evening. Peridot hoped that it was a staff member who would discover her remains, rather than a camper; it was certain to be a scene straight out of those slasher flicks that Jasper used to make her watch and, as such, would really not be appropriate for children.
But then there was the sound of a sink turning on, and of splashing. Even in her panicked state, it seemed unlikely to Peridot that any psychotic killer (at least, any decent one) would stop to wash their face before making their move. So—breathing deeply once to slow the erratic pounding of her pulse—she made to stand and to wrap her towel around herself before slowly pulling back the curtain to peek out.
Immediately, her heartbeat resumed its frantic beating. Not because it was some deranged maniac examining herself in front of the mirror.
But because it was Lapis.
Before she could stop herself (she would blame the shock for impairing her judgment), Peridot ripped back the curtain all the way, its rings clattering against one another loudly. She watched Lapis startle and wheel around to face Peridot head-on, while Peridot asked, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Beach Day?"
Lapis's surprise hadn't worn off yet, which was evident in her opening and closing her mouth a few times before she was able to mutter, "I stayed back."
"Why?" Peridot pressed instantly.
That's when Lapis visibly recovered, crossing her arms over her chest and staring pointedly back at Peridot. "I just didn't feel like going. Why are you so mad?"
"I'm not mad." Peridot took another deep breath before she crossed her arms over her own chest. "You scared me."
"Uh huh." It came out as a chuckle. There was beat of silence, during which time Lapis's eyes quickly roamed over Peridot before flicking just as quickly to the ground. "So—uh. Feeling better?"
Peridot nodded. "A little, yeah."
"I see Jasper got your glasses back to you."
"Oh." Peridot raised a hand to push her glasses back up her nose. "Yeah. Thanks—uh—for that."
Lapis nodded. "Anytime." At that point, Lapis looked back up, and the two girls' gazes met.
Oh, stars, what was Peridot's plan for when this moment arrived? Hadn't she just plotted out her options mere minutes ago? As she searched her mind for answers, she held Lapis's eyes with her own on willpower alone. Ignore that they're pretty, she urged herself internally. That's what got you into this mess in the first place! And think!
Right, Option One. Option One was to ignore that anything had happened at all.
Judging on how long the two girls had been staring at one another in the tensest of silences, however, Peridot doubted that this option was viable any longer.
All right then. Commence Option Two, now.
"Um—" Peridot cleared her throat. "Do you think—uh. Can we talk?"
Lapis nodded again, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she smiled sheepishly. Peridot took that as a good sign even before Lapis said, "Yeah. Talk. That's probably a good idea, huh?"
Peridot forced a chuckle. It sounded as unnatural to her as it had felt. "Yeah."
Lapis was looking at her expectantly, which somehow terrified Peridot while simultaneously giving her courage. As she struggled to find something to say—anything with which to begin—Peridot's eyes wandered from Lapis's to appraise herself in the mirror. Only then was she reminded that she was clad in nothing but a towel.
At any other moment, Peridot might've commented on how reminiscent this scene felt.
But this was not the time.
Peridot watched her reflection flush red across the skin of her cheeks and upper chest, just as she felt the corresponding places on her own body flood with heat. She forced her gaze back to Lapis. "Maybe I should—uh."
Realization seemed to strike Lapis as soon as it struck Peridot. Lapis's own cheeks flushed pink before she turned on her heel to collect her effects from the sink top—a toothbrush, toothpaste, a bar of soap. "Yes! You—um. You get—You get dressed. Come and—uh. Come find me when you're done. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay," Lapis repeated. She glanced up from the ground once to look at Peridot as she whispered, "Okay. Bye." And then she was out the door.
Peridot stood alone in the bathroom then. She was suddenly aware of and grateful for the line of toilet stalls nearby as she felt a new wave of nausea hit her—though she recognized that this queasiness was no longer a symptom of her hangover.
When Peridot finally exited the bathroom—fully dressed and still blushing—she noticed that the sky had become overcast. She felt that this reflected the dread that was building up in her chest quite nicely.
It was only once she'd dropped her stuff off at Pink Cabin and descended its steps again that she realized Lapis hadn't told her where to meet. But, given the limited options, Peridot felt that she had a good guess. So she turned the corner of Pink Cabin and headed down the trail that led to the lake and the non-counselors' cabin.
With every step she took, her heartbeat seemed to quicken. She rehearsed her lines in her head on repeat. I was drunk, and I was stupid. You're my friend, and I got confused. I was drunk, and I was stupid. You're my friend, and I got confused. Tack on an "I'm sorry" sometime during her speech and Peridot was almost certain that everything would be fixed.
Of course, at the back of her mind, she wished that this wasn't a situation that needed to be fixed. Peridot envied an alternate universe version of herself, where she could share a first kiss with Lapis that would indicate the start of something.
Alas, Peridot lived in this universe. So, fix it she must.
The trail passed beneath her quickly, and all too soon her internal mantra—I was drunk, and I was stupid—was interrupted when she spotted Lapis sitting at the end of the dock. Peridot stopped walking. Lapis hadn't seemed to notice her approaching, based on how she was still facing outward towards the lake. She was wearing her camp T-shirt, which served to cover up her tattoo. Peridot felt grateful for this; after all, the fewer distractions, the better. So with a deep breath meant to calm herself (but which only served to make her feel more lightheaded), Peridot took a step and continued making her way forward.
Once she'd stepped onto the dock, Peridot cleared her throat. Lapis turned towards the sound immediately, the corners of her mouth twitching in what Peridot supposed was a hesitant smile.
"Hey," said Lapis.
"Hey." Peridot moved to sit at the edge of the dock as well, being particularly mindful of not sitting too close. She stared out at the water to keep herself from looking at Lapis. Now was not the time to get lost in the wave of Lapis's hair or the freckles that were spattered over her nose. Now was the time for business.
After an extra minute of silence, Peridot could hear Lapis sigh. "So."
Now or never. Peridot wheeled around to look at Lapis directly. "I'm sorry."
If Lapis was startled, she didn't show it. She looked down at her hands, crossed in her lap, as she started to say, "You don't have to. It's all—"
"No," Peridot interrupted. Lapis looked up again to meet her stare. Peridot felt warm and uncomfortable under the intense gaze, but she pressed on. Now or never. "No, it's not all right. I was drunk, and I was stupid—"
"Peridot—"
Peridot held up her hands to keep Lapis from continuing. "Please, let me finish. I really regret my actions last night. That—That one action in particular."
"The kiss?"
Peridot nearly flinched. "Yes. That. I—" She had to stop to take a breath. Lapis's eyes hadn't yet left her own, and Peridot felt so much as if she were under a microscope that she forced her stare down. "I apologize for doing something to make you feel uncomfortable. Believe me, that was not at all my intention."
"What was your intention?"
Peridot couldn't keep her eyes from jumping back up to meet Lapis's. There was that soft expression that Peridot had come to recognize as something that was so distinctly Lapis—but there was something else, too. There was a pointedness.
What was Peridot's intention last night? Was it some ploy to get Lapis to fall for her, or was it just for a taste of what Peridot was missing?
Peridot said neither of those things. What she said was, "I can't say I truly had an intention. I just—" Her heart needed to stop beating so hard if she was to have a prayer of finishing this conversation. "You're my friend. I just got confused. Like I said. Drunk and stupid." After an extra pause, she added, "And I'm sorry."
Lapis seemed to mull this over for a minute, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. It was the ultimate test of Peridot's resolve not to stare at the other girl's mouth as she did so. Meanwhile, as she waited for a response, pressure mounted on Peridot's chest—like the now-familiar bag of bricks had multiplied and were suffocating her.
After what felt like a lifetime, Lapis dropped her gaze. Instead, she looked out over the lake. Quietly, she said, "Yeah, I figured it was something like that."
Relief flooded Peridot's entire body. "Oh!" she breathed out, trying her hardest not to smile too hard. It worked! "Good. Right. Um—" She swallowed. "So?"
Lapis looked back at her. Her eyes narrowed as a smirk crept across her face. "We're cool."
"Cool," Peridot repeated.
Lapis chuckled. She added, "Honestly, I'm sort of surprised you remembered anything anyway. I assumed you wouldn't. You weren't—shall we say—in such good form, were you?"
Peridot's face and neck warmed. "Well, that wasn't an ill-informed guess. I don't remember anything past—well. Past that."
"Nothing after you puked and passed out? Oh, well, then allow me to enlighten you!"
Lapis filled Peridot in on how the night ended—complete with elaborate hand gestures. After running back inside the warehouse to get the rest of their group's attention, Lapis had led Jasper outside to where Peridot was sprawled out on the dirt. Jasper had scooped her up bridal style—at which point Lapis had removed Peridot's glasses, afraid that they'd somehow get crushed—and walked her around the side of the building. Buck had stayed behind so that he could find Sour Cream once his set was done, while Jenny, Amethyst, and Lapis went with Jasper as she carried Peridot back to camp. At some point, Peridot threw up a second time; Jasper apparently thought that was funny, if Lapis's description of how hard she had laughed was accurate at all. Once they'd reentered the campgrounds, Jenny ran ahead to let Sadie know they'd gotten back early, and the rest of them went to Pink Cabin.
"Oh, I think I actually woke up a little then," Peridot cut in, laughing a little herself. She was semi-embarrassed to hear the eagerness in her own voice, but her sense of relief was enough to make her feel drunk all over again. Listening to Lapis's retell last night's events felt natural and not awkward at all—for which Peridot was extraordinarily thankful.
Lapis nodded, smiling. "I thought you had, right as Jasper and I were leaving. I'm just relieved that no one else did, because that would've been hard to explain. Well, I mean, Steven woke up for a second. But I think I convinced him that he was dreaming, because he dropped back off in a second. I'm pretty sure that he doesn't remember a thing."
"Lucky him," Peridot added.
Just then, a roll of thunder echoed around the surrounding woods. The sky had darkened considerably and—if the approaching black clouds were any indication—it appeared as if a summer storm was hurdling their way.
"We should get inside," Lapis sighed, standing from her place on the edge of the dock and brushing herself off. She then offered her hand to Peridot. "You hungry?"
Peridot accepted her hand, tried not to concern herself too much with how soft Lapis's skin was, and allowed Lapis to pull her up to a standing position. She dropped Lapis's hand immediately, and then cleared her throat. "Not at all."
Lapis tipped back her head and laughed. "Right, I should've known. Come with me to the Temple anyway?"
Peridot nodded, and followed suit. Without really thinking of what she was saying—focused only on her desire for this conversation to continue—Peridot said, "So, did you and Jasper get a chance to talk after?"
What Peridot had meant was whether Lapis and Jasper had reconciled post-Kevin, the prick from the night before. When Peridot realized what it sounded like she'd meant, however, she was overwhelmed by the sudden desire to kick herself.
Before they'd even stepped off the wood of the dock, Lapis stopped in her tracks and whirled around to face Peridot. Her face was stern. "About?"
"About the fight? When she punched that kid?"
"Oh." Lapis shook her head. "No. Not really. We kind of forgot about it."
"Oh, okay."
Nice going, Peridot, she inwardly scolded herself. Way to make it weird.
But after an extra moment (and figuring that she had nothing left to lose) Peridot added, "Not about—you know—either?"
Lapis stepped forward again, Peridot following. "No," Lapis said simply.
"Oh, okay," Peridot repeated. They took a few steps in silence before the question eating away at the back of her mind forced Peridot to stop walking again. "Lapis."
Lapis stopped too. "What?"
"Why didn't you tell her?"
Lapis rolled her eyes. "Because she would kill us. And, you know. I didn't think it was worth bringing up."
Peridot couldn't pretend that that last comment didn't sting a little. But, seeing as how that sentiment was what she wanted Lapis to think anyway, she couldn't really complain. All Peridot could say was, "You mean she'd kill me."
Lapis shrugged, and started to turn back around to continue up the path. "It takes two to tango, Per. I mean, I'm just as guilty for kissing you back. So—"
"Wait."
It felt as if the earth had abruptly disappeared from beneath Peridot's feet. Another rumble of thunder sounded off close by, but she was numb to it. She was too busy trying to work out what Lapis had just said to hear anything else.
"You—" Peridot swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry. "You kissed me back?"
Lapis had once again stopped in her tracks. She turned around to appraise Peridot, and Peridot couldn't help noticing how pink her cheeks had become. Lapis licked her upper lip. "You didn't—"
"No," Peridot interrupted.
The silence that enveloped them then was heavy. It did nothing to help sort out the jumbled mess in Peridot's brain. The only thing on which she could focus was this single thought on repeat: She kissed me back. She kissed me back. She kissed me back.
Her mind was so sluggish, in fact, that it took her too long to realize that Lapis had taken a step towards her, leaving her with no time to back away. Instead, Peridot stood frozen as Lapis placed one hand on the back of her head and the other hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in to press their lips together.
This kiss only lasted a second, but that was just long enough for Peridot's to completely let go of whatever control she had left. Those lips, that smell. She was unconsciously raising her arms to grab at Lapis's hips before there was a third, astonishingly loud clap of thunder. Rain started to pour all at once, the trees above the two girls offering little in the way of shelter.
It was as if a switch was turned off—like how it must feel to wake up from a hypnosis-induced trance. Lapis dropped her hands to push against Peridot's shoulders, and no sooner had she pulled away than her hand clamped over her mouth.
She looked horrified.
Lapis didn't say anything. She merely shook her head once before she took off in a run, bounding down the path and turning to head towards the non-counselors' cabin.
It took an extra second for the rain to soak Peridot thoroughly to the bone, as she stared dumbstruck at Lapis's retreating form. Only a second after that did she take off too, barreling forward to try to catch up.
