They pulled away and stared at each other for a moment, then Alice was back in her arms, pushing her down on the duvet and sliding on top of her. Briar’s hands went to the dips of Alice’s hips, rucking up her top and reveling in the smooth skin underneath.
‘It was never about you,’ Alice whispered against the skin behind Briar’s ear, dropping a kiss there then mouthing down her throat. Briar’s mind was racing, her brain shorting out at the draw of Alice’s tongue across her collarbone. She’d forgotten everything that wasn’t this exact moment.
‘What?’ Her voice cracked, her whole body shaking with the effort to keep from getting lost in the feeling of Alice’s body against her own. Her fingers tucked under Alice’s shirt, stroking up her spine, grazing along the lace edge of her bralette.
Alice sat up. Locking eyes with Briar, she reached for the hem of her top and pulled it off along with her bra. Briar’s mouth went dry. This was much further than the fumbled groping they had done as teenagers. She stared at Alice’s naked chest, her brain trying to take in every single detail. Alice grabbed Briar’s hands and moved them to cup her breasts.
‘Me leaving,’ Alice said, pulling Briar up for a kiss. Together, they managed to wrestle Briar’s tank and bra off. ‘I cheated on Noah. That was why.’ She ducked her head, kissing down Briar’s chest and then mouthing at her nipple. She looked up at Briar through hooded eyes, a smile playing at her lips, and Briar’s mind went blank.
‘No more talking,’ she said, falling back onto the bed and pulling Alice with her. Briar kissed her cheeks, her jaw, her throat, everywhere she could reach, the smooth slide of skin against skin overwhelming her. Alice’s hands were back in her hair, pulling at the roots, the sharp pain pounding through to her core, and then she was lost to the feeling.
The incessant beeps of a garbage truck in the nearby alley woke Briar up early the next morning. She opened her eyes, glancing out the window to see the barest of pink streaks in the sky. The city was still asleep, and so was the girl beside her.
Alice’s arm was slung over Briar’s waist, her fingers wedged into the crook of skin where thigh met hip. They were pressed tight together on Briar’s twin bed, sticky from the heat between their bodies. Briar kicked off the blanket covering her legs, careful not to disturb Alice.
She tried to go back to sleep, but the magnitude of what had happened the night before couldn’t be ignored. Flashes of it swirled in her mind as she absentmindedly flexed her muscles, taking stock of where she was sore.
She groped for her phone, finding it tucked between the mattress and the wall. She had a few messages, mainly from her roommates working out the cleaning tasks for the morning. She had three from Noah asking her where she’d gone, another telling her that he and Harper were leaving and, finally, one more asking for proof of life. She hearted his final text and sent off a quick reply saying she’d fallen asleep.
Despite the amount of alcohol that had been in her system the night before, she felt a lightness that reminded her of happiness. Alice mumbled something, her breath hot against Briar’s neck, and then turned over.
It was miraculous, Alice in her bed. Alice back in her life. If anyone had asked her what her summer would’ve looked like two months ago, she’d have been so wrong it was almost funny. Ex best friend in her bed after nearly a decade, working at camp again of all places, mom dead.
Her heart clenched in the now-familiar way it did when her thoughts accidentally stumbled into her mother. The beginning of a headache grew behind her eyes. Of course, the afterglow couldn’t last forever.
She got up, tiptoeing across the hall to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, her mind was no longer blissfully quiet, but instead descending into a discomforting fuzziness. She stared at her reflection, at the mascara melting into the bags under her eyes. She spat.
Briar carefully crept downstairs, avoiding the floorboards she knew creaked. In the kitchen, she filled two large glasses with water and then rummaged in a drawer for a bottle of painkillers. She grabbed a carton of strawberries before heading back upstairs.
Alice hadn’t stirred yet, so Briar gently set a glass and two pills on the bedside table. She nibbled on the strawberries, something about the night before nagging at her. As she scrubbed through the party and its aftermath, she searched for clues unfiltered by the haze of lust and instead with the clarity that only came from sobriety.
They’d been talking about Noah. Because for some reason, they couldn’t talk about their friendship without it relating back to Alice and Noah. Alice had said it, the fallout from that night had been about Noah, and not about Briar at all.It was never about you.
A chill crept over Briar, but she refused to pull the blankets back over herself no matter how much she wanted to. Getting back into bed with Alice felt dangerous now, everything that had happened the night before suddenly tainted by this new memory.
Briar had spent the greater part of the last decade going over their kiss in excruciating detail. It was the thing she thought about when sleep evaded her, examining what had happened from every possible angle. Thinking through everything she could’ve done differently to change the outcome, to stop Alice from leaving.
It had never occurred to her that the implosion of her friendship with Alice might have had nothing to do with her at all. To Briar, what had happened that night had been about the two of them, about Alice being unsure of her sexuality, about Briar being too forward, or them being too close friends to do something as stupid as kiss.
But if Alice had only left because she couldn’t face cheating on Noah, then Briar hadn’t factored into the decision at all. She was the catalyst but not the cause; she could’ve been anyone and Alice would have left all the same.
She bolted off the bed, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. She stayed like that for a while, head propped against the porcelain lip, enjoying the coolness against her skin. Last night Alice had asked for one kiss, and Briar had given her everything instead. She had let Alice have as much as she wanted. All for a girl she hated, a girl who would leave her again, a girl who had never, ever wanted her back.
Finally, she pulled herself off the floor.
When she re-entered her room, Alice was blinking, bleary-eyed, at her. She grabbed the water Briar had brought her, gulping it down immediately and breaking off with a gasp. Neither of them spoke.
Briar’s ears were ringing, louder and louder, warning her that this was going to be exactly like last time. That Alice was going to leave again.
‘Are you coming back to bed?’ Alice asked.
‘Not yet,’ Briar said. Alice sat up more fully, seeming to sense Briar’s mood.
‘We should talk,’ Alice said, her voice pitching up as if it were a question. She hugged her knees to her chest, a motion that reminded Briar of her younger self.
‘Yeah,’ Briar said, sitting in the armchair in the corner. She stared at Alice, willing her to say something that would get rid of the dread in Briar’s stomach. Whatever happened next, it had to come from Alice.
‘Obviously, last night was irresponsible of us – of me.’ Alice pulled at a loose thread of the sheet. ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’
