"I'm twisted, confused, and I really want you, but I don't want to ruin what we have now."

Nicky had noticed her immediately—all dolled up like she was. Glossy brown hair primly curled, long eyelashes emphasized even more by mascara, the red lipstick in a shade so bright it rivaled the orange of her newly issued prison uniform. She was the very picture of performative femininity—which was to say, the opposite of Nicky's usual type. She usually went for the more… authentic ones, girls who had an edge to them.

But there was something about the new girl that had caught Nicky's eye. She watched her for a moment, the way her brown eyes glittered as she looked anxiously around her surroundings before finally catching Nicky's gaze.

Nicky smirked, winked, opened her mouth to call out to the new girl when—

"Yo, Nichols. You comin' or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," she mumbled, then turned and followed her friend down the hall, casting one last glance at the brunette before she went.

"C'mon, Morello, lighten up." Nicky took the brunette's arm with a smirk and a swagger. "I've got something I wanna show you."

Lorna glanced around nervously; Nicky could see the jitters in her eyes as Morello bit her lip. "I-I dunno, what if we get caught?"

"We won't," Nicky said bluntly, leading her companion down the hall. "Trust me, I'm not exactly new here."

Nicky could feel Lorna's fingers digging into her arm as she pushed open the door to the chapel, scanning the room. Thankfully, it was empty. Prying Lorna's hand off her bicep so she could take it in her own, she dragged the reluctant newcomer up to the front of the room and behind the pulpit, ducking down to sit behind it.

"Why are we here?"

Lorna had dropped her hand and joined her, scooting across the floor to sit next to Nicky—just a hair closer than she had expected. Though only their upper arms brushed now, Nicky could feel every inch of contact, skin practically tingling where they touched.

Shit. Lorna had been here what, six days now? Prison did that to you—everything was more intense here. Relationships formed fast and fell apart even faster; it was inevitable, with so many of them living and breathing together all the time. Nicky knew that better than anyone. She'd banged many a girl in a shower stall or behind the pulpit—in this very place they were sitting—just to pass a few minutes, make the time more bearable.

But still, six days had to be some kind of record. Six days in, and she was already acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. How many more days before she started doodling their names inside a fucking heart in her notebook? She really needed to get ahold of herself here.

Nicky ran a hand through her messy mane of hair, trying to play it cool. She's a straight girl, you idiot. Lezzie rule number one: never fall for a straight girl. All they do is fuck you over and break your heart.

Blinking, she focused back on Lorna, who had fixed her with a quizzical look and was raising an eyebrow, a slight smile playing across her lips.

"Um, earth to Nichols?"

"Oh, yeah, right." Nicky reached into her pocket, producing a small, cylindrical object. She'd had Red bring it in as a favor. It had taken a fair bit of begging on her part—something Nicky detested on principle—but Red had relented eventually. Anything for my favorite daughter.

"Close your eyes."

Lorna obediently closed them, and Nicky reached out, taking her hand. She placed the tube of lipstick in the center of the brunette's palm, closing her fingers around it. Letting her hand linger against Lorna's just a touch longer than necessary, she said, "Alright, you can look now."

"Oh, you didn't!" Lorna's bright smile made Nicky's heart melt just a little more than it should've. "How did you get this?"

Nicky shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I have my ways."

"Thank you." Lorna's voice was earnest, her gaze fixing Nicky in a way that made the blonde avert her eyes and fight back a blush. Their hands still laid tangled between them, the little tube of lipstick still cradled in Lorna's palm.

As if compelled by an impulse she couldn't control, Nicky reached out to brush a wayward brown curl back behind Lorna's ear. "Anytime, kid. Anytime."

"So." Big Boo materialized behind Nicky's chair, sliding into the seat next to her. "Can't help but notice how much you've been hanging around my new bunkie."

Nicky didn't look up from her breakfast, choosing instead to continue her casual probing of the gelatinous oatmeal with a spoon. "Last I checked, you didn't have a monopoly on new chicks."

"Fair enough." Big Boo snorted and raised her hands in mock surrender. "All I'm saying is, you better be careful with that one. Morello seems pretty damn straight to me."

"Yeah, well," Nicky drawled, the corner of her mouth quirking up as she peered at Boo from under those heavily mascara-ed eyelashes, "you know what they say. Spaghetti's straight… 'til it's wet."

Boo smirked, then jerked her head to the right, gesturing at the door. "You've got company."

"Hey, Morello!" Nicky turned, waving a hand to beckon to Lorna. "Over here!"

She couldn't help but notice the way Lorna's face lit up when they made eye contact; the brunette gave the most adorable wave as she hurried over, and Nicky tried her best to convince herself that what she was feeling was most definitely not butterflies. Boo was probably right, anyway; Morello was straight. Lord only knew she talked about her fiancé enough.

Fighting to keep her cool, she turned back to Big Boo and noticed the older woman giving her a skeptical look.

"What? Just tryin' to be nice here," Nicky said with an overexaggerated shrug. "Not like I'm catching feelings or anything. Besides, you're in no position to judge, you're all wifed up yourself."

"Yeah, well, at least my Mercy's a bona fide dyke," Boo said. "Just be careful, Nichols."

"Careful o' what?" Lorna chirped, settling into the seat on Nicky's other side with a bright smile on her face. Nicky couldn't help but notice the vivid red tint to her lips and smiled a little to herself in satisfaction.

Looping an arm around Morello's shoulders, Nicky drew the smaller girl in closer. "Nothing important, kid." Lowering her voice, she added, "That shade of red really suits you, you know."

Nicky swore she could see Lorna blush; the brunette ducked her head, biting at one corner of her red lips to stifle the small smile spreading across her face. Boo gave them both a judgmental look out of the corner of her eye, but Nicky couldn't bring herself to care.

"Christopher always said red was my color," Lorna said, and Nicky suddenly wanted to kick herself.

Fuck. Morello really was straight. She had to keep reminding herself of it before she got carried away with some hopeless fantasy that would only end up breaking her heart again.

Nicky had always done this to herself, ever since that first time in high school when she'd fallen for her straight best friend. She'd convinced herself maybe there was something there, that maybe her feelings were reciprocated. She'd overanalyzed every little touch of Vanessa's hand, every night they spent cuddled together on her parents' couch, watching movies and talking until two AM. But it had meant nothing to Vanessa, and it had taken a tearful confession that had resulted in losing her best friend for Nicky to get that through her head. She'd learned her lesson: straight girls—no matter how hot or sweet or wonderful, no matter how much they seemed to be flirting with you—were never, ever, worth it.

But she swore sometimes she saw Lorna looking at her like something out of those romantic movies the brunette so adored: those melted-chocolate eyes fixed thoughtfully on Nicky's face when she thought she wasn't looking, only to dart away when they made eye contact. In those moments, Nicky wanted nothing more than to take Lorna's face in her hands and plant a tender kiss on her lips. But inevitably, Lorna looked away before she had the courage to actually do it.

Besides, Lorna probably didn't feel that way about her anyway. Nicky knew she could come on too strong; she'd always been aggressive in her affection. She'd grown up being called "bossy" more times than she could count, and she supposed it was true. It was just that Nicky didn't see what was wrong with going for what she wanted; you couldn't wait around for things to come to you, you had to go out and get them for yourself. And that philosophy had always worked for her in the past.

Lorna was different, though. She was fragile; she made Nicky want to protect her with a ferocity she'd never felt for anyone else before. She could almost justify it to herself as a sisterly sort of love if she tried hard enough, but she knew deep down that the feelings she had for Lorna weren't just platonic. It was a crush—a silly, stupid crush that Nicky knew she could never act on.

So she had to be gentle with Lorna. She had to nod and smile and say, "Well, your Christopher's got good taste then," as though it didn't break her heart.

Lorna's mascara is streaked down her cheeks, her little red mouth twisted up into a tortured grimace. It hurts Nicky's heart to see her like this, so much so that she can feel her stomach coiling up in knots inside her body. The pain is almost physical, it's so strong; she lets herself feel it, wishing she could take some of it away from Lorna.

"Do you hate me?" Lorna's voice is so earnest when she asks the question that Nicky has to chuckle a little bit.

"No, I don't hate you." Nicky looks Lorna straight in the eyes, willing her to hear the truth in her words. She needs to be a safe place for Lorna right now, to let her know that there's no judgment here. "Well, it is getting clearer every second that you're totally bat-shit crazy, but you're a beautiful, sweet girl."

She runs her hand through Lorna's hair at the nape of her neck, trying to tell her with a simple touch that it's all going to be alright. Her own mind roils with the shock of the revelation that Christopher isn't actually Lorna's fiancé—and the selfish, knee-jerk reaction that maybe she has a chance with her after all—but she pushes it aside, focuses instead on reassuring Lorna, whose small form is crumpled on the steps in front of her.

"Fuck this guy," Nicky says, some small part of her wishing she could really enact revenge on him for what he's done—how he's made Lorna feel. She knows Lorna isn't blameless, but even so. She doesn't deserve to feel like this. "So many people are gonna love you."

"No." Lorna sounds so small, so resigned and hopeless, and Nicky can feel her heart breaking anew. "No, nobody's gonna love me."

Nicky knows what she's about to say could change everything, but she hesitates only for a second before she says it.

"I do."

And now it's out there. Lorna looks at her for a long moment, tears still frozen in her eyes, inky streaks still trailing down her cheeks. Then Nicky opens her arms, pulls her close, and Lorna sinks into her embrace like she's coming home.

A little swirl of unease seeds itself deep in Nicky's stomach, but she forces it down and focuses instead on the warmth of the woman curled in her lap. It will be okay. She's sure Lorna knows it already, anyway; Nicky has never been a subtle person. Just because she's never said it in so many words doesn't mean she hasn't told Lorna a hundred times already.

She knows exactly why she had to say it now: she could never let Lorna believe she's unworthy of being loved. Nothing could be further from the truth, and Nicky knows that all too well. She'd told herself so many times to stop falling for Lorna, that these feelings would lead only to heartbreak. But no matter how hard she'd tried to stop it from happening—no matter how many girls she fucked in the same secret places she'd once made Lorna scream, attempting to replace their old memories with new ones—nothing works. Lorna always feels inevitable to her.