Cady slammed the door of the uber behind her, watching her breath create fog in the air. She had no idea what time of night it was, and despite the condensation of her breath, she couldn't feel the cold. She numbly walked around the side of Janis' parent's house, blindly aiming for Janis's cozy studio.
Her fingers fumbled with the metal latch on the wooden gate in the dark walkway beside the main house for minutes. Every time she tried to lift the little metal bar, it slipped, her fingers too clumsy to maintain their grasp. Her feet had stopped hurting from the heels long ago—whether from loss of circulation or drunkenness, she didn't know.
Eventually she used both hands—why hadn't she thought of that sooner?—and crossed through the backyard. The grass didn't wet her feet, even though they were in open-toed shoes. Why? Frozen. It had frozen. Frozen grass. Cady bent over and ran her hand over it, marveling at the tiny little blades breaking beneath her gently roving fingers, melting, freezing her hand.
A sob rose in her chest and Cady swallowed violently, keeping it down. Why was she crying? An image of Regina crossed her mind, with blood red lips—dripping blood? No, just kissable red, kissable Aaron. . .
Cady knocked twice on the sliding glass door. It was dark inside, even the tv screen. Janis didn't answer. Cady hoped and prayed as she waited that Damian wasn't there. She didn't remember why, but she knew he was mad at her. Maybe Janis would tell her. Brr!
Janis didn't answer the door. Cady tried the handle and it slid open, unlocked. She slipped inside, sliding it shut behind her. It was hot inside—her fingers tingled with the heat, tingled so hard they burned. Silence.
"Go away." She couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, but it was Janis.
"Janis?"
"Go away."
"Janis," Cady whispered, her anguish escaping with the name. She had held it together for the agonizing hour at the party, waiting for the uber, and then for the thirty-minute ride with an overly chatty Indian gentleman in the front seat. She needed Janis. She needed her Janis.
"Caddy? What's wrong?" Janis rose in front of her and Cady realized that she had been on the couch. Janis stumbled as she stood, trying to catch her balance and failing twice before making it to her feet successfully.
"Janis," Cady's voice wobbled and the tears escaped. Shit —they were probably ruining her make-up.
"Caddy, I can't—I'm not—I'm like, majorly not sober right now. If you're hurt or like, raped or anything, we gotta call Damian," Janis wobbled on her feet, walking away from Cady.
"No," Cady whispered, reaching out for her friend. She needed Janis.
"Then you gotta tell me what the fuck is going on." Janis stopped again, appraising Cady from across the room. The only light shining in was from the moon outside, lighting Cady up in silhouette. "Jesus, aren't you cold?"
"You're drunk," Cady mumbled, piecing it together late.
"Yes. Not as much as you though, I don't think."
"I need to be drunker," Cady wailed, a sob rising in her throat.
"Blanket. You need a blanket." Janis felt along the couch until her hand arrived on what she was looking for—her favorite fleece blanket. She tossed it to Cady. It fell several feet short, but not before Cady had reached for it, losing her already perilous balance and toppling to her knees.
"Owww!" she wailed, unable to stop herself.
"Caddy, grow up. You fell like, two feet."
"Why are you being so mean?" Cady wailed again, trying to stand up and failing.
"Caddy," Janis warned.
"I need to drink more," Cady whispered, having gotten herself under control. She scanned the room until her gaze arrived on a bottle of Malibu on the coffee table in front of the tv. Janis saw where her eyes landed.
"No," she warned, holding a finger up, scolding Cady. They lunged for it at the same time, crash-landing on the floor between the coffee table and tv stand. Janis got the bottle.
"Why do you need it?" Cady whined.
"I don't, I just need to make sure you don't drink it. You're ten times more fucked up than me right now," Janis held the bottle against her body.
They stared at each other like that for a moment, the fleece blanket caught around Cady's ankles, Janis warily hugging the bottle. The flames in Cady's fingers spread to her stomach. But Janis. . .
"You do need it," Cady whispered accusingly.
"And why is that?" Janis asked.
"Because you're sad. Sad, sad Janis. Always so secret, always so sad. Drink it away. Puff, puff, pass!"
Janis looked at Cady for a moment—the moonlight hit her features and revealed that she had already taken her make-up off. "Can't argue with that logic," she finally whispered, lifting the bottle to her lips and taking a swig. She handed the bottle to Cady, who gulped down a mouthful of it, wrinkling her nose at the taste.
"Not a fan of Malibu?" Janis asked.
"Gross," Cady whispered. She tried to hand the bottle back to Janis, but she held her hand up, refusing.
"Cady, what happened?"
"No talk. More drink." Cady proffered the bottle to Janis.
"If I drink, will you tell me?" Janis asked, taking the bottle and waving it enticingly.
"Drink, then tell."
Janis took a long swig.
"Ok, what happened?"
"I'm not telling."
"You just said you'd tell!"
"I told you the answer to the question of whether I'd tell or not! And I won't!" Cady giggled.
"Why are you like this?" Janis groaned. Real exasperation. Like Regina. "She doesn't have to come to every single thing." Cady's smile froze on her tear-stained face, then faded away, back to the grief of before. A sob heaved its way out of her chest.
"No! Cady!"
Cady couldn't stop herself—she just kept playing the kiss on loop in her head, the moment when Regina looked up, over his shoulder, meeting Cady's eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. She had wanted to hurt Cady.
The force of her sobs hunched her over, wetting the purple silk of her dress. Everything was ruined. Everything. And Aaron—had he ever liked her? Had she made it up?
"Shh, it's going to be ok," Janis whispered. Cady felt a hand gingerly pat her on the back. She couldn't stop, the tears choking her, making her gasp for breath. Suddenly, Janis's arms were around her, pulling her in. Cady relaxed, and Janis awkwardly pulled her onto her lap, rocking gently in the narrow space on the ground. The fire in Cady's fingers and toes calmed down, pulling back to her center, simmering in her tummy.
They stayed like that for a while, until Cady's tears had dried out. She didn't know if Janis was still rocking her, or if the room was spinning. She was too drunk for this. Too drunk for sadness. She kept sniffling, and suddenly her sinuses cleared, the disgusting snot from all her crying emptying out. She was assaulted by the scent around her—first the overpowering coconut of Malibu, but then the earthy aroma of cloves, vanilla, and orange. Janis's favorite essential oil blend. Janis was whispering to her.
"I don't know, be stronger, remember Kenya, remember arriving, remember kind thoughts and fun times and no pressure and letting yourself exist, outside this, outside all this, just take your mind back to Africa, away. . ."
Cady didn't know what Janis was whispering about, but it was soothing. She had always liked how deep Janis's voice was. So sensual. . .
Her mind flashed back to the kiss, to Regina's lips on Aaron's, and she cringed.
"Shhh," Janis soothed, running her fingers through Cady's hair, detangling it. "Caddy, it's all going to be ok."
Caddy. When Janis called her that, it filled Cady with so much affection, such pleasure—her very own nickname! All for her!
"I love it when you call me that," she whispered into Janis's shirt.
"What?" Janis replied. She hadn't heard. Cady tried to sit up—with great difficulty, given how long she'd been in that position. Her head spun. Janis helped her remain mostly upright, a firm hand on her waist. Once Cady got her balance, Janis didn't move the hand.
"I love when you call me Caddy. Our thing. It's special." Cady grinned, reaching out and wrapping a lock of Janis's poorly dyed hair around her finger, tugging on it gently. This close, all the light between them was gone, minus a small reflection of the moon on Janis's iris. A mini-moon, held in Janis's eyes. The vanilla and cloves was stronger now.
The magnetism crept back into the air between them. It snowballed in long seconds, building gradually until the force of it was intense, until Cady needed to kiss Janis, much like she needed to breathe. It was the only thing that would stop the room from spinning, that would erase the image of Regina from her mind. So she did.
She leaned in, and their lips were together, and the electric current was running through her body again, entirely on fire—and then Janis yanked away, pulling back.
"No," she breathed, her chest heaving, watching Cady with jaded eyes.
They sat there for a moment, gasping. It hadn't been that long of a kiss, but Cady could feel the frantic tattoo of Janis's heartbeat matching her own.
"Why?" Cady pled.
"Cady," Janis groaned. She bit her lip, looking at the girl in front of her, backlit, shadowed.
"Janis, just kiss me, ok?" Cady made it seem like the easiest thing in the world. Just.
"Cady. . ." Janis pulled back and the moonlight flooded in the space between them, shining on Janis's face, making her ugly. Cady saw it, suddenly, clearly, the indecision ripping the dark beauty of Janis to shreds, casting her in doubt and pain. It only made Cady want her a million times more. That pain would know her own. She stayed there, her lips parted gently, breathing in the smell of Janis and waiting and hoping. She could feel the memory of Regina, she was wearing the anguish of it on her face—could Janis see? Could she feel it?
Suddenly, Janis leaned in, her lips on Cady's once more.
The room stopped spinning abruptly, but Cady was lying on the ground, and she didn't remember how she had gotten there.
The lacy purple slip slid up her stomach with ease, revealing the mole on her side that she used to hate when she was younger. Janis's hand travelled slowly up her skin, following the slip with agonizing intensity, tracing over every square inch of Cady. Cady remembered Regina's red lips, her vengeful stare—No!
She leaned into Janis, grabbing her head and pulling her body into her—she had to block it out. She couldn't remember. Janis responded readily, her hand climbing over Cady's body, pushing the slip now, not waiting for its steady progress. Cady was grateful for Karen suddenly, grateful for the deep blue bra she had on instead of the beige strapless she had originally planned for.
She tickled her fingers at Janis's hem and the girl pulled away subtly, let out a giant huff of breath. Janis's elbow clamped against her side, holding her shirt down. Cady kept tickling at the hem intently, not pulling it up, but indicating that she wanted to. Janis held her lips inches away from Cady's own, refusing to lean back in.
"Fairsies squaresies," Cady whispered playfully. She looked up from the hem and saw the look in Janis's eyes—it knocked the breath out of her. She had teased Janis about the sadness in her eyes before, but this was torturous.
"Janis—" Cady didn't know what to say. Why was it always the eyes?
Didn't her friend realize how pretty she was? Edgy, and always with too much make-up on, but still so pretty, so darkly pretty. . .
Cady leaned her chin up, reaching for the kiss, not wanting to lose the rhythm—it was working, she could feel the memory of Regina's face fade as the heat in her stomach grew. Janis reluctantly let herself be kissed. This wouldn't do.
Cady pulled back, lying on the ground, stared at Janis. She wouldn't meet her eyes. Cady reached out and kissed Janis's shoulder, kissed down her arm, held her hand and helped them both upright. They sat there, the room spinning once more, but Cady continued kissing, gentle kisses across Janis's collarbones, down her sternum, til her head rested in Janis's lap. She tickled the hem again, kissing at the skin revealed between it and Janis's favorite denim shorts. Janis let out her breath in a huff of air but didn't stop Cady. So she kept going.
Janis's shirt lifted inch by inch, slowly, revealing her pale skin beneath. Eventually she stopped Cady. Cady pulled back questioningly, worrying that she had gone too far, but Janis grabbed the shirt and yanked it over her head, removing it.
Cady stared at Janis's body—with the girl's reluctance, she didn't know what would be hiding under there. But it wasn't anything she couldn't have imagined—a black sports bra, her ribs showing beneath the skin, her collarbones poking out more than they should have. Was that a tattoo? It was—a middle finger stuck in the air, drawn with wobbly lines—so very Janis. Her figure was beautiful—slender, pale, delicate, feminine.
"Don't stare," Janis whispered. Cady obliged her, leaning in for another kiss. Within moments, her dress had joined Janis's shirt on the floor next to them. Within minutes, a pair of denim shorts joined the fray, followed shortly by a black sports bra. The pile of clothes only grew.