Fight and Makeout

Ava sat on the couch with her textbook open. Kristen slid in beside her, saw the highlighted pages, then started to rise again with a soft apology. Ava reached out and caught her wrist. They needed to talk. She confessed about the boy in her lecture hall. Kristen recognized him instantly and rattled off the things that pulled his attention. Silence followed. Kristen checked the time and left her with the list. Later the bedroom door opened and closed. Ava heard the clink of a belt and the slide of silk. She pushed inside and saw Kristen in a tiny black dress. Recognition hit. The same boy waited on the other side of that zipper. Ava lunged. “You knew,” she hissed, fingers yanking at the fabric. Kristen shoved her back, seams splitting. Ava’s shirt came off in one fierce pull. They tumbled onto the bed, wrestling. Cloth shredded. Nails scraped skin. Kristen gained the upper hand and dropped down, thighs bracketing Ava’s face. Trapped, Ava stopped fighting and ran her tongue straight between Kristen’s lips. The weight lifted in a jerk. Kristen stared down. “What the fuck are you doing?” Ava met her eyes. “I’ve wanted you for months. That’s why I’m angry.” Kristen’s face softened. She bent low again, lips hovering above Ava’s. Outside, somewhere, a guy’s phone stayed silent. Inside, two naked women decided the evening was theirs.