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In hindsight, Amanda should’ve known it would go like this.
One of the first stages for planning for VidCon was choosing who was rooming with who, and Angela had piped up immediately, with almost too much enthusiasm– “I call Amanda!”
Amanda probably should have been offended at being claimed like an item, but Angela had looked at her with that grin afterwards, and Amanda couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face after that, felt herself nod against her better judgement. Courtney had kicked her under the table, looked at her with their eyebrows raised. Amanda shrugged and mouthed “what?”, and Court just smiled and shook their head.
It’s not that she didn’t want to room with Angela– she did, more than anyone else– it’s that she knew that she shouldn’t. They’ve been doing this thing for the past couple months, the flirting, the gentle touches, the looks stolen from across set; every time they film something together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the room, and it’s been driving Amanda insane. She knows it’s an incredibly bad idea to get involved with a coworker, and hell, she doesn’t even know if she’s gay or bi or what, despite all the conversations she’s had with Courtney about it.
So here she is, unloading her luggage from the Coach bus they’ve all taken to the hotel, dreading the days ahead of her. She swore to herself that she would have a good time despite this situation– maybe her and Angela would be normal, for once– but it seems less and less likely as the Anaheim sun beats down on her. She’s sweating, and her luggage is heavy, and everyone around her seems too caught up in their own conversations to offer to help her.
She startles for a moment when arms wrap suddenly around her waist, but the weight against her back is warm and familiar, and she smiles despite herself. “Hi, Angela,” she says, and the body behind her jumps up and down.
“Hey, roomie!” Angela says, and Amanda once again regrets her decisions. She turns around, and Angela is grinning, brighter than the sun that’s torturing her, and Amanda’s smile only grows wider. Angela’s looking up at her, rocking back and forth on the balls of her heels, a duffel bag swung over her shoulder. “You need any help with those?” she asks, and Amanda sighs in relief.
“Yeah, definitely. I think I overpacked a bit.” Amanda hands a suitcase to Angela, who groans with effort, though Amanda is sure that it’s exaggerated.
“Jesus Christ, Amanda, what did you put in here?” Amanda rolls her eyes and pulls out the other suitcase she brought, putting it on the ground next to her. Her eyes sweep the area around the hotel entrance, taking in the commotion around her, and settle on Courtney. They’re standing with their arms crossed, borderline glaring at Amanda and Angela. Amanda glares back, because there’s nothing going on, they’re just talking. Courtney seems to understand the message, because they laugh and shake their head, turning to say something to Tommy.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Angela asks, gently prodding Amanda’s side with her elbow. Amanda just shrugs, her lips pressed into a tight line. Angela looks up at her with this look on her face, like she knows that something is wrong, like she knows exactly what Amanda is thinking. Amanda has to pull her gaze up and away, pulling her suitcase into the lobby.
Anthony is already at the front desk checking them all in, and everyone else is scattered around the lobby on the various couches and chairs. Amanda sees an empty spot on one of the couches and flops down with a sigh, pulling her suitcase around next to her. Angela dumps her duffel bag on top of Amanda’s other suitcase and sits next to Amanda.
Amanda is aware of every single point at which Angela is touching her; where their thighs press together, where their shoulders brush, where Angela’s head leans into her shoulder. Angela crosses one leg over the other and throws her arm behind Amanda’s shoulders, and this is fine, really. This is what friends do.
Courtney walks in and straight-up snorts when they see the two of them, and Amanda shoots daggers at them. They just laugh and find a seat, and Amanda lets herself relax, leaning into Angela. Amanda can feel Angela smile as they rest their heads together, and Amanda feels heat spread through her whole body. This is fine.
Right on cue, Anthony calls that their rooms are ready, and Amanda stands up almost too fast, mumbling “I’ll grab the keys.” She’s the first one to the desk, and she retrieves the keycards in record time, walking back to Angela and grabbing her suitcase. “Room 452. C’mon, I’ll give you yours when we get to the room.”
They get up to their room, and, thank God, there are two beds. No cliches are happening to them, not this week– Amanda won’t allow it. She claims the bed near the window and immediately gets to work unpacking, using all of the drawers in the hotel-provided dresser, because she knows that Angela doesn’t unpack when she travels. Amanda can’t tell if she hates or loves that she knows that.
Once she’s satisfied with what she’s unpacked, she climbs into the hotel bed, sighing for what feels like the millionth time that day. “I don’t know what your plans are, but I need a nap. My body hurts from sitting in that stupid bus.”
“Oh, okay,” Angela says, and Amanda pretends not to notice the disappointment edging her words. “Um, I think some of us were planning on going to the pool. I don’t know how long you’re going to sleep, but you should come down when you wake up. If we’re still there.” Amanda nods and meets Angela’s eyes, and she can feel herself start to blush. Angela looks beautiful, as always, but there’s something about her like this, not in front of a camera or audience or anyone– this is the Angela that’s just for Amanda, and she smiles, softly, the skin around her eyes wrinkling. Amanda smiles back, and then rolls over.
Amanda wakes up with a start to someone pounding on her door and yelling her name. Once she’s gathered her bearings, she recognizes the voice as Courtney’s, and hauls herself out of bed. “I’m coming, Court, Jesus.” She opens the door and Courtney is in their bathing suit, one hand on their hip.
“I called you, like, fifteen times. We’re all down by the pool and you are going to come down.” Amanda tries to close the door on them and walk away, but Courtney catches the door, following her into the room. “Come on , Amanda. Are you going to sulk the entire time we’re here?”
Amanda shakes her head, smiling sarcastically. “No, only when we’re in the hotel.” Courtney groans, and Amanda tries to get back in bed, but Courtney grabs her wrist. “I’m not going, Court,” she says, but doesn’t pull away. “You know I don’t like to swim, anyways.”
Courtney furrows their eyebrows, clearly frustrated. “Amanda. Angela’s down there.”
Amanda just looks at Courtney, equally as annoyed. “I know. That’s exactly why I’m not going. I don’t– we’re gonna be too close for too long as it is.” She blows out from her nose, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna end up doing something I’ll regret.”
Courtney doesn’t budge, their eyes still burning holes into Amanda. “She’s just been down there waiting for you. It’s kind of sad, honestly.”
Amanda glares incredulously for a few more seconds, and then breaks, turning away from Courtney. “Fine. Leave so I can get changed.”
“Yes! Okay, I’ll see you down there,” Courtney says, and Amanda can hear the grin in their voice. Amanda almost wishes they would stop playing matchmaker, but she can’t stop the smile from tugging at her lips as she changes into her one-piece and cover up.
She probably takes too long to get to the pool, but once she’s down there, everybody cheers dramatically, like she’s some sort of war hero. She smiles and bats at the air bashfully, making her way to where Courtney is sitting, a huge grin on their face. “I honestly thought you were gonna stay up there,” they say, and Amanda rolls her eyes.
“Oh, please. You know your berating gets to me.” Courtney giggles and nods, and Amanda looks around. Ian and Anthony are sat at a table having some sort of in depth discussion; Shayne is laid out on a chair, sunbathing; Tommy, Spencer, Chanse, Damien and Arasha are in the pool; and Angela–
Angela’s sat on a chair with her knees pulled up to her chest, huge brown eyes looking sad as ever as she watches the action happening in the pool. Amanda suddenly feels like crumpling in on herself, and when she looks back over at Courtney, they’re looking at her knowingly. Amanda’s sure she has a pained expression on her face– she can tell by the way Court’s expression morphs into one of pity– and she smooths her hands on her stomach.
As soon as Angela sees her walking over, her entire body brightens. She smiles and unfurls her legs, and Amanda can see the bikini top she’s wearing, and the expanse of pale skin below it. Amanda gulps, but smiles back, sitting on the edge of Angela’s chair. “Hey, you.”
Angela’s grin widens, and she places a hand on top of one of Amanda’s. “Hey! You came.” There’s a softness in her voice, a look in her eyes that Amanda tries and fails not to think about too hard. Angela’s cheeks are flushed from the heat, and Amanda wills her eyes not to wander down to Angela’s chest.
Amanda nods, glancing back towards the pool. “Yeah. Court convinced me.” When Amanda looks back at Courtney, they’re staring at the two of them, and they look away quickly when they realize they’ve been caught. Amanda shakes her head, turning back to Angela. “Were you planning on going into the pool?”
Angela nods, her eyes brightening. “Yeah! Um– I wasn’t sure if you were going to go in, but Chanse and Tommy have been begging me to play Chicken with them ‘cause nobody else will. We could be on a team?” Angela looks up at her, hopeful, and Amanda answers before she can think about it.
“Of course, babe!” Angela whispers “yes! ” to herself and pumps her fist, and Amanda rolls her eyes affectionately. She stands up and strips herself of her cover up and ties her hair up, and when she looks back down, Angela is staring. When she meets Amanda’s eyes, she looks away and clears her throat, cheeks red.
She mumbles something like “I’m gonna get in,” and practically falls into the pool, immediately being crowded by Tommy and Chanse. She says something to them and Tommy cheers, but Chanse is looking at her like she has three heads. He looks back up at Amanda, and understanding washes over his face. He nods at her, and she flips him off good-naturedly.
Amanda hauls herself into the pool, wincing at the temperature of the water, and Tommy practically flings himself onto her. “Let’s fucking go!” he yells, hoisting himself up on her shoulders, and she laughs, cringing when water splashes on her from his descent.
“Alright, c’mon, are we doing this or what?” Angela squeals and claps at that, and Chanse makes quick work at hauling himself onto Tommy’s shoulders, nearly kicking the other man in the face in the process. Amanda snorts and lowers herself mostly into the water, screwing her eyes shut against the cold. Angela climbs onto her shoulders with ease, and Amanda stands up.
As soon as she fully stands up and grabs Angela’s calves, Amanda realizes she’s made a mistake. Angela’s thighs are around her neck, her ass nestled on Amanda’s shoulders. Every inch of skin that’s touching her feels like it’s lighting her on fire, and the cold tinging her limbs is replaced with a white-hot heat spreading through her entire body. She’s not thinking about how easy it would be to turn her head and press her lips to the soft, sensitive skin of Angela’s inner thigh where her swim shorts are riding up. And she’s definitely not thinking about Angela’s thighs around her head in a different context, writhing under Amanda’s tongue, hands gripping dark locks of hair–
“Hellooo, Amanda? Are you with us?” Chanse’s voice breaks Amanda out of her stupor, and she loosens what she now recognizes as her vice grip on Angela’s calves. She nods, and Tommy grins at her, lopsided and all too knowing.
“Let’s do this!” Angela yells, clearly not recognizing whatever the hell is going on with Amanda, and lunges forward, forcing Amanda to step forward to balance out her weight. Chanse reaches out and grabs Angela’s forearms, but she wrestles out of his grip easily, and Amanda wobbles.
Angela bats her arms wildly at Chanse, digging her nails into his biceps once she gets a grip. “Ow!” he laughs, and Angela laughs, too. Tommy steps backward, taken a bit off balance, and Amanda uses the chance to take two steps towards him, letting Angela push harder. Chanse almost falls, but steadies himself, freeing himself from Angela’s flailing.
It’s neck and neck for a bit, arms waving around, hands grabbing wildly; but eventually, Angela gets a good grip on Chanse’s shoulders, and it’s all over. Amanda steps forward, and Angela pushes, hard, and Tommy falters, just for a moment– but that’s enough. Chanse falls backwards, and the force of it makes Tommy fall, too. Angela cackles, high and loud, and the heat in Amanda’s body dulls to a warm glow.
She looks up, and Angela is looking down at her, grinning. She looks so fucking beautiful like this, hair around her face like a halo, the sun shining through it. Her eyes are glittering and her smile is blinding, and Amanda is sure nobody has ever looked prettier. “We won!” Angela giggles, and God, Amanda is so in love with this woman.
Shit.
And just like that, the moment is ruined– Amanda leans back and lets go of Angela’s legs, and Angela falls backwards, sending a wave onto Amanda as she breaches the surface of the water. Tommy and Chanse have come back up by now, and Chanse laughs harshly, almost seeming offended, looking away from Amanda.
But, like always, it’s all in good fun; it’s always just fun with Angela, and really, Amanda’s a bad person for wanting there to be more sometimes. Angela jumps up, grabbing Amanda’s shoulders and jumping up and down. “You ass! What was that for?”
Amanda looks up at Tommy, almost pleading, and he smiles and shakes his head. He swipes his arm out and sends a wave towards the two women, splashing nearly all of Amanda. Angela only gets some, shielded mostly by Amanda, but she shrieks, jumping to the side.
“Aw, what the hell, Tommy? I was trying not to get my hair wet,” she yells, and it’s only mostly exaggerated. She smiles at him, just a bit, and he winks. Angela starts splashing both Tommy and Chanse in retaliation. It turns into a full-on battle, and Amanda uses this as a chance to slink back to Courtney, wrapping the towel they had grabbed for her around her waist.
Courtney’s looking at her with an incredulous expression, and Amanda shakes her head, looking anywhere but the pool. “My hair got wet,” she murmurs, and Courtney barks out a laugh.
“No, you totally shit the bed. Jesus Christ, Amanda, do you realize you’re kind of being an asshole?” Amanda shrivels at that, hugging one knee close to her chest. She takes a chance and looks back at the pool, and Angela is staring at her, looking like a kicked puppy. When she realizes she’s been caught, she looks away quickly, turning back to Tommy and Chanse. Courtney sighs, tilting their head and looking at Amanda. Amanda just keeps staring at the pool.
They stay out there for a couple more hours– eventually Courtney abandons their effort to comfort Amanda, joining everyone else in the pool– and once the sun is setting, they all collectively decide to retire to their rooms.
The way back up to their room is silent and awkward, the air in the elevator seeming to weigh a million pounds. Angela shuffles from side to side, shooting Amanda a strained smile. Amanda grins back, her best attempt at masking her discomfort.
Angela seems to brighten at that, smiling a bit more genuinely, and Amanda’s stomach flutters. And this is why it was a bad idea for them to room together, because Amanda wants nothing more than to push Angela against the wall of the elevator, to kiss her deeply, to slide her hand down–
The elevator dings, and Amanda is even more frustrated than before. She rushes past Angela to get to the room, pressing the keycard against the door in a hurry. She doesn’t even know why she’s rushing; it’s not like she’s going to get away from Angela. Does she even want to? She can’t think about that right now.
When she gets into the room, she sits on the edge of the bed, sighing heavily. Angela is in the room in a few moments, still toweling her hair dry. “I’m going to take a shower. The chlorine isn’t great for my hair.” Amanda nods.
“Yeah, uh, I should probably shower too. You can go first, though.” Angela nods back, throwing her pool towel onto her bed. She starts to go into the bathroom, but pauses, looking back at where Amanda is sitting on the bed.
“Um. Amanda?” Amanda looks up from staring at her hands, tilting her head as she meets eyes with Angela. The rims of Angela’s eyes are slightly red, like she’s about to cry, and dread fills Amanda’s body. Courtney was right– she is being an asshole. “We’re okay, right?”
Amanda nods, quickly, vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Ang. I’m sorry if I’m being weird. My head is just– I don’t know. I just need to sleep more, I think.” It’s not technically a lie, and it seems to satisfy Angela. She nods, running a hand through her hair, smiling a bit stiltedly. She goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and Amanda flops back onto her bed when she hears the water turn on.
Angela is quick, and when she’s done, Amanda shuffles into the bathroom. She’s met with the warm scent of shampoo and soap and something uniquely Angela, and it shoots directly to her core. This was such a mistake, she thinks, climbing under running water, and she can’t help it if her hands wander.
Surprisingly, the next few days go off without a hitch; they actually are okay, bantering like normal on the con floor or when they’re out for lunch with their friends. Amanda can ignore the warmth in her chest, the annoying heat in her cheeks, the fluttering in her stomach and crotch. Angela is funny and bright, like always, and Amanda is happy.
Things start to go awry again when it’s time for their annual Buca dinner. Amanda thanks whatever higher power there is that Courtney agreed to sit next to her, and mentally plans how she can sit as far away from Angela as possible.
She almost feels bad for thinking about that as she puts in her hoop earrings, but then Angela steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed and makeup on, and Amanda feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. Angela’s wearing a short back dress and dark tights, with dark eye makeup to match. The dress is low cut and ends midthigh, and Amanda swallows harshly, resisting the urge to squeeze her own thighs together.
“Does it look good? I’m gonna wear boots and my leather jacket, I think. It’s cute, right?” Amanda nods, her mouth dry. She suddenly feels underdressed in her flared pants and blouse, shifting a bit in the hotel desk chair she’s sitting in.
“Yeah, you look really good, Ang,” Amanda says, smiling tightly. Angela’s eyes drift up and down Amanda’s body, properly taking in her outfit for the first time, and a light flush rises up her face. Amanda leans back a bit, relaxing her legs and letting them spread just a bit. She knows she’s teasing, but she might as well have fun in her anguish. “How do I look?”
Angela swallows, looking just as flustered as Amanda feels. “You’re beautiful, Amanda,” she says, voice just a tad too serious. They both still, just staring at each other, and Amanda almost expects Angela to make a move. But Angela seems to think better of it, turning away and rifling through her bag.
Of course, Amanda’s luck runs out, because they get there late, and only two seats are still open, bracketed by Courtney and Chanse. Once she sits down, though, Amanda isn’t so sure it’s just bad luck; Courtney and Chanse are giving her shit-eating grins, and she just huffs, pulling her chair close to the table.
“What took you so long?” Courtney asks. They’re still grinning, and Amanda kicks their shin under the table.
“Just traffic, you know how it is. Plus, Angela held the Uber up cause she couldn't find her jacket.” Angela gasps next to her, scandalized, and Amanda smiles.
Angela knocks Amanda’s foot with her own, and it sends a rush through Amanda, up her leg and settling in her stomach. “Hey! It puts together the entire outfit, I needed to find it.”
Chanse snorts from beside Angela, taking a sip of his water. “No, you’re right. You would’ve looked like a whore without it.” Angela cackles and pushes him, and he pushes back; Amanda is glad that she’s momentarily distracted, and turns to Courtney, smiling tightly and raising her eyebrows.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” she asks, folding her hands neatly on the table. Courtney just smiles, and Amanda sighs, rubbing her temple.
Angela throws a casual arm around the back of her chair, talking to Chanse and Tommy about something, and Amanda leans into it. They’re at dinner, it’s fine– nobody will think anything of it. Amanda settles easily into conversation with everyone around the table, warmth spreading through her body as she nurses her glass of wine.
By the time dinner comes, Amanda is comfortably tipsy, conversation roaring around her. Angela and Erin Dougal are discussing some pop culture thing from across the table, Tommy interjecting every now and then; Courtney and Spencer are discussing the weather from their respective states, Shayne listening intently; Chanse is fully turned around, having an animated conversation with Mallory and Bailey at the table behind them. Amanda leans further into Angela, letting out a small sigh of contentment.
Angela looks down, smiling at Amanda warmly, eyes glittering. A nervous pit settles in the bottom of Amanda’s stomach, swirling with affection, but she smiles back, genuinely.
Angela leans down, eyes fluttering shut, and Amanda freezes, legs jerking as she sits up quickly. She bangs her head into Angela’s on her way up, both of them hissing in pain. “Sorry, I- I need to go outside for a minute, sorry.” She stands up and leaves the table abruptly, ignoring Angela and Courtney calling after her.
Amanda rushes out of the restaurant, warm, stagnant air hitting her in the face. She takes in a deep breath, leaning against the wall. She tries to calm the stirring in her stomach, the warmth in her chest and groin, the constant thoughts of kissing Angela; but then the door to the restaurant opens, and of course, Angela has followed her.
“What the hell, Amanda? I was just trying to kiss your head!” Angela shrivels a bit after she yells that, blushing, realizing the slight absurdity in what she’s said. “I mean, like– just, a friendly kiss. You do it to me all the time.” Angela isn’t really helping her case, but Amanda feels her ears growing uncontrollably hot.
“Sorry,” she mutters, a pathetic excuse for an apology. Angela’s clearly not satisfied with it, stamping over to Amanda and standing in front of her, arms crossed.
“Yeah, like hell you are. Every– whenever we’re alone together, you get like this. I don’t understand. I thought we were–” Angela stops, sniffing harshly. Amanda looks away, not able to handle the tears welling in Angela’s eyes. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Why are you acting like this?”
I’m in love with you. Angela, it’s because I love you. ‘Cause I love you, idiot. There are a million ways Amanda could say the truth. Amanda could just kiss her. But she’s nearly wine-drunk, standing in front of the busiest street in Anaheim, and she can’t even look at Angela.
Something breaks inside her, and she just sobs, crumbling forward into Angela, bracing her hands on Angela’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she feels like she might throw up, sick from want. “I’m so sorry.”
Angela’s frozen for a moment, just letting Amanda snivel into her shirt, but then she wraps her arms around Amanda’s shoulders. “Oh, ‘Manda. It’s okay.”
Amanda sobs again, thinking about how horrible she’s been whenever she felt even the slightest bit vulnerable around Angela. In all her haste to avoid feeling anything for Angela, she’s forgotten how to be Angela’s best friend– but here Angela is, comforting her, despite everything.
Amanda pulls away, wiping her eyes, still not able to look at Angela. “I think I’m just gonna go back to the hotel.” She reaches into her pocket and grabs enough cash to cover her meal, finally turning to Angela and shoving it in her hand. “Here, so you can pay for my food.”
Angela nods, brows furrowed. “Okay,” she says, wiping the bottom of her jaw where a stray tear has settled. She grabs both of Amanda’s arms and stands on her toes, kissing the corner of Amanda’s mouth. Amanda is sure she turns completely red, standing as still as a statue, positive that she will do something stupid if she moves. Angela tucks some of Amanda’s hair behind her ears, looking at her with a mix of fondness and sadness. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there soon.”
Amanda nods, and Angela’s gaze lingers, scrutinizing. But eventually, she turns away, going back into the restaurant. Amanda breathes out heavily and wipes her face again, feeling almost hollowed out. She takes a minute and then calls an Uber back to the hotel.
By the time Angela gets back, Amanda is stone cold sober, in her underwear and a sleep shirt, sitting against the headboard and attempting to read. She’s tried not to think about Angela, think about everything she’s been feeling for the past days. It hasn't worked, and she’s barely been able to get through ten pages of her book in the hour and a half she’s been at the hotel.
Angela comes through the door quietly, like she’s expecting Amanda to be asleep, and freezes for a moment when Amanda looks over. “Oh. Sorry, I kind of thought you would be asleep,” she says, beginning to pull off her boots. Amanda catches a glimpse of pale thigh and looks away quickly, cursing the heat that coils in her stomach.
“I’ll probably sleep now that you’re back,” Amanda says, closing her book and putting it on the nightstand. “Don’t want to keep you up.” That part is true, but Amanda also knows she won’t be able to focus if she can hear Angela breathing only five or so feet away from her.
Angela makes a small appreciative noise, grabbing pajamas and ducking into the bathroom, mumbling something like, “gonna go get changed.” Amanda uses the opportunity to flick off the lamp next to her, settling further in the bed.
She can hear Angela shuffling around in the bathroom, a few small grunts probably coming from her trying to wrangle out of that tight black dress. The image sends a jolt through Amanda, and she groans softly to herself, unwillingly pressing her thighs together. God, she can not get horny when Angela is about to go to sleep across from her.
Angela comes out in a tank top and sleep shorts, and Amanda flushes, pulling the comforter up to her shoulders. Angela looks over at her for a moment, looking like she wants to say something, but instead she climbs into her bed, turning away from Amanda. Amanda frowns at that, regret and guilt forming a pit in her stomach. She’s such an asshole. She’s such an asshole.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Angela asks, breaking the silence and stilling Amanda’s thoughts. Amanda breathes out heavily, shifting, the stiff hotel sheets making an unnecessary amount of noise.
“Yeah. Yeah, we can.” Amanda stays silent for a few moments, trying to collect her thoughts. How is she supposed to explain herself without spilling everything? She can’t tell Angela– she just can’t. Even if she feels the same way (Amanda is almost sure she does, but there’s always the slightest chance she’s misinterpreting), there are so many things that could go wrong. They’re coworkers, they’re best friends, and a relationship could ruin all of that.
Angela clears her throat, and Amanda knows that she knows that she got lost in her train of thought. “Sorry.” She drags her hands down her face, turning onto her back, and she can hear Angela turn onto her other side to face Amanda. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just– my head’s been such a mess. It’s nothing to do with you, you haven’t done anything wrong, I swear. I mean– God, Ang, you’re amazing, and so patient.” She turns her head, and even in the dark she can see the concern on Angela’s face.
Amanda sighs and shifts over, sweeping the covers next to her up. “C’mere,” she says, patting the spot on the bed next to her. This is bold, especially considering her current state of mind, but it’s not like her and Angela have never cuddled before.
Angela gets out of bed and pads over to Amanda, crawling in next to her. She easily slots into Amanda’s arms, a practiced routine, back against Amanda’s chest. Amanda has one arm tucked against her chest and the other laid across Angela’s side, palm against the sheets of the bed. Amanda breathes in deeply, catching the scent of Angela’s perfume. “Can we just forget this week ever happened and go back to normal?”
Angela chuckles weakly and nods, resting one of her hands on top of Amanda’s. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Amanda. I’m always here if you want to talk, yeah?” Amanda nods back, closing her eyes. Maybe she’ll actually be able to get a good night’s sleep with Angela’s warmth grounding her.
“Goodnight, Angela,” she says, pressing a soft, innocuous kiss to the back of Angela’s head.
Angela hums, squeezing Amanda’s hand. “Goodnight, Amanda. It’ll be okay.” Amanda believes her, and feels truly content for the first time being alone with Angela, sure that things will be fine between the two of them– and then something happens.
Amanda feels the swell of Angela’s ass press into her crotch, and she inhales sharply. It’s okay, Angela is probably just shifting, trying to get comfortable. But then Angela grinds down again, and there’s no way that it’s accidental. Amanda grips the sheets, steeling herself, heat pooling in her groin.
Angela presses back again, harder, a small noise spilling from her mouth. Fuck, she’s doing this on purpose. The realization sends heat directly to Amanda’s cunt, and she grunts softly. Her head drops to Angela’s shoulder, and she breathes out shakily. “Angela,” she says, quietly, a warning.
She can’t do this. She shouldn’t. This is her best friend, there are so many ways that this could end badly, so many ways she could fuck it up–
“Please touch me,” Angela whispers, and Amanda’s resolve breaks. Her hand moves to Angela’s waist, fingers sliding under her tank top, and Angela whines softly. Amanda feels like her entire body is being lit on fire, and she’s breathing heavily as she slowly pulls up Angela’s tank top, fingertips brushing over Angela’s nipple. There’s no way this is actually happening. Amanda has to be dreaming. But then Angela breathes out her name, begging.
Amanda cups her hand around Angela’s breast and kneads, and Angela shivers, leaning back into Amanda. Amanda wishes she could see Angela’s face as she rubs her thumb over a pert nipple, and Angela gasps. Amanda pulls Angela’s tank top over her head and then presses a kiss to the back of Angela’s shoulder.
Amanda’s hand moves down, brushing across Angela’s tensed stomach and reaching the waistband of her sleep shorts. Angela lets out a low, drawn out whine when Amanda’s fingers travel lower, ghosting over the front of her panties. Her fingers press lower and her breathing hitches when she feels that Angela has practically soaked through the fabric. “ Fuck, angel,” she sighs, and Angela flat out moans at the petname.
Amanda can’t help but tease, pressing gently at Angela’s core through her underwear. Angela’s hips jump at the touch, and she whimpers, her arm snaking around to grab the back of Amanda’s head. Amanda moves her fingers up, circling slowly around Angela’s clit, and Amanda swears she can feel her throbbing.
Her fingers part and rub down the sides of Angela’s labia, still over the fabric, and Angela grabs a handful of Amanda’s hair. “Fuck, Mandy, please, ” she says, voice thick with lust, and Amanda groans, pulling Angela backwards by the hip so that they’re flush against each other, Angela’s bare back against Amanda’s sleep shirt.
“Okay, I’ve got you, baby,” Amanda murmurs, and pulls Angela’s underwear and shorts down just enough. She feels positively dizzy when she can almost smell how wet Angela is, and her hand is shaky as it finds its way through curls. Her fingers finally dip into Angela’s cunt, and the smaller woman is practically dripping. Amanda bites her lip and suppresses a whine, fingertips teasing against Angela’s entrance. “Fuck, babe.”
Angela nearly folds in on herself at the touch, hand flying from Amanda’s hair to her wrist, holding firmly. “I’ve been thinking about this. I– fuck– I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispers harshly, her voice ragged. “These past couple days I’ve been trying so hard not to touch myself while you’re– ah, shit– while you’re just over there.”
Amanda kisses her shoulder again and pulls her fingers upwards, just brushing against Angela’s clit, and Angela whispers “yes, yes. ” Her hips buck upwards, and Amanda shushes her gently, kissing the back of her neck.
Her fingers move slowly, because she’s trying so hard to take in every bit of this– the slick feeling of Angela under her fingers, the way the other woman is squirming and whining against her, the way her breathing stutters every time Amanda moves– but eventually, she starts to rub broad circles against Angela’s clit.
Angela groans out Amanda’s name, her grip on Amanda’s wrist tightening. “ Haah, fuck, Amanda– Jesus, I– hnnn–” Amanda breathes heavy against Angela’s shoulder, feeling herself getting wetter by the second. Angela’s already reduced to a whimpering mess, her hips jerking uncontrollably at Amanda’s touch. Angela tries to pull her hand lower, but Amanda’s stronger than her, and she starts rubbing faster.
“I know, honey,” she purrs, grinding against where Angela is pressed against her. The friction sends a shock through her body, and she moans softly, which only spurs Angela on. “Let me take this in. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you.” Angela lets out a breathy laugh at that, and Amanda smiles, too.
“I th– ah– I think I have an idea,” Angela says, sentence ending in a low groan as Amanda presses harder, both on her clit and against her ass. Heat is curling deep inside her, and Amanda wonders if she could come just like this, rutting against Angela while she touches her.
Without much warning, Amanda pulls Angela onto her back and hooks a leg over one of Angela’s, straddling her. She leans down and finally, finally kisses Angela, all heat and passion. It’s not a great kiss, really– their teeth clash together when their mouths first meet, and Amanda’s tongue presses sloppily into Angela’s mouth– but in the moment, Amanda swears it’s the best she’s ever had.
Angela hooks her elbows around Amanda’s neck, and Amanda cups Angela’s jaw. They pull each other impossibly closer, and Angela moans into the kiss, bucking up into Amanda. Amanda’s fingers are sticky against Angela’s cheek, but she doesn’t seem to care, sliding her tongue against Amanda’s. “‘Manda,” she breathes, “I love you.”
Amanda pulls back for a moment, her eyes raking down Angela’s body. She looks positively wrecked, her hair a mess, pupils blown out, shorts and underwear still pulled halfway down her legs, and Amanda swears she can see how red she is, even in the low light. “I love you,” Amanda echoes, head swimming with lust and emotion. “I love you,” she repeats, leaning down and kissing Angela’s neck. “Fuck, Angela, I love you.” She moves down and wraps her lips around one of Angela’s nipples, and Angela arches into her mouth.
“I love you,” Angela whispers, close to a sob. Amanda doesn’t linger long in one spot, kissing around Angela’s tits, and then moving to the underside of them. She sucks a hickey into pale, smooth skin, and Angela cries out, hand tangling in Amanda’s hair once again. Amanda moves lower, kissing Angela’s taut stomach, tongue grazing over the stray moles she finds. She can smell Angela now, and she swears she’s salivating as her mouth moves lower, lower.
“I need to taste you,” she says, low and gruff, and Angela nods frantically, throwing her head back.
“Yes, yes, please, Amanda, need your tongue on me, please,” Angela babbles, her head still thrown back, spine arched. Amanda smiles lazily, kissing the inside of Angela’s thighs, reveling in the moment.
“I love you,” Amanda murmurs into her skin, and Angela giggles, nails scratching pleasureably against Amanda’s scalp. “Now that I’ve said it once I’m never gonna stop,” she laughs, grinning, and Angela cackles.
“Idiot,” Angela murmurs, looking down at Amanda, eyes glittering with affection. Amanda’s heart soars, joy bubbling up her chest and spilling out of her mouth in a dumbfounded laugh. She almost forgets where she is, what she’s doing, until Angela bites her lip, and all of the energy surges back into her body.
She leans her head against Angela’s other thigh, taking in the sight before her; Angela’s pussy is beautiful, wet and pink, her clit peeking out from under its hood. Amanda breathes in, enamored, and she’s not sure if she ever wants to move from this spot. She looks up at Angela, her eyes half-closed, smiling dumbly and pressing her tongue against the back of her front teeth. Angela meets her eyes, then leans back, squeaking out an “Amanda…”
Amanda grins and relents, pressing a soft kiss to Angela’s clit. Angela whines, pulling at Amanda’s hair. Amanda flattens her tongue against Angela, and is immediately overwhelmed with the taste of her, moaning into Angela. Angela apparently doesn’t appreciate this, grunting and pulling Amanda closer to her. Amanda laughs, but takes the hint, pressing her tongue against Angela’s clit. She’s never actually done this before, so she’s not quite sure what she’s doing or if it’s good, but when she flicks her tongue, Angela gasps, and that seems like a good sign.
Amanda flicks her tongue for a bit longer, then just starts to lick and suck, taking as much of Angela’s cunt into her mouth as she can. Angela is squirming and whining, but none of it seems to be enough– she keeps huffing frustratedly whenever Amanda changes what she’s doing, pushing and pulling at Amanda’s head. Eventually, Amanda pulls away, kissing the inside of Angela’s thigh, mouth and chin slick and sticky. “What do you need me to do, baby?”
Angela looks down, a shiver running through her body when she makes eye contact with Amanda. “I don’t– hng, fuck– I don’t know, I just need you,” she whimpers, and Amanda smiles. She climbs up and catches Angela’s mouth in another heated kiss, Angela’s wetness mixing with both of their saliva. Angela moans into the kiss, sliding her hands up the back of Amanda’s shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she murmurs, and Amanda chuckles.
Leaning back on her haunches, she pulls her shirt over her head, her tits catching a bit on the fabric and then bouncing back down. She turns away to pull off her panties, and when she turns back, Angela looks awestruck; her hands nervously slide up the smooth skin of Amanda’s thighs and hips, fingers splaying out against her ribs. Amanda smiles down at her, running her unsoiled hand through her hair. “You can touch them, honey.”
Angela, hands shaking a bit, cups Amanda’s breasts in her palms, and Amanda gasps softly. Angela experimentally tweaks a nipple, and Amanda moans, biting her lip. Angela sweeps her fingertips along the top of Amanda’s tits and then squeezes, and Amanda moans again, her hips jerking a bit.
Amanda stands up suddenly, climbing off and kneeling to grab her toiletry bag from its spot near her bed. She rifles through, blind in the dark, eventually pulling out her small black bullet vibe. Angela groans quietly when she sees what Amanda grabs. Amanda climbs back onto the bed and clicks the vibrator on, and Angela bites her lip.
“I want you to hold this on your clit while I fuck you with my fingers. Is that okay?” Angela throws her head back and moans, and then nods vigorously, muttering out a small “yes.” Amanda smiles and hands the vibrator to Angela, who whines and presses it softly to her clit. Angela gasps sharply and then moans, jaw hanging open. Amanda grins, sliding two fingertips down Angela’s core and pressing against her entrance. Angela’s hips twitch and she moans, pressing forward and encouraging Amanda to slide into her.
Amanda does, slipping two fingers into Angela easily. “God, Ang,” she whispers, “you’re so fucking perfect. So wet and open for me.” Angela moans, loud, her hips stuttering as Amanda thrusts deeper into her. She nods quickly, whimpering out, “mhm, mhm.”
“Yeah, for you, ‘Manda– fuck– only for you,” she breathes out, high and keening. Amanda curls her fingers up and taps against Angela’s g-spot, thrusting out and then back against it again. Angela’s back arches and she gasps, face twisting in pleasure. “Yes fuck right there just like that–” she moans, and Amanda thrusts and curls her fingers again and again and again. Angela’s face is so red she almost looks like she’s crying.
Angela’s breathing stops and stutters and her body freezes, her pussy squeezing and gushing against Amanda’s fingers. She’s silent for a few seconds, jaw just hanging open, but then she sobs, “Amanda.” Amanda leans down and lays against Angela, and the smaller woman claws at Amanda’s back as she rides out her orgasm. Amanda coos into her ear and pets her hair until Angela stops jerking and sighs, laying boneless against the bed.
They lay like that, Amanda laying on top of Angela, for a minute or so, before Angela whines something that Amanda can’t quite hear. “What was that, baby?” Amanda pulls back slightly, and looks at Angela, the other woman looking a bit shy.
“I want you to sit on my face,” she murmurs. Seeing the trepidation in Amanda’s face, she continues, “You won’t hurt me. I’ve done this before.”
That sends a rush of arousal through Amanda, white hot, and she nods dumbly, shifting upwards on the bed. She grabs onto the low headboard and hovers over Angela’s face, breathing heavily. Angela holds onto Amanda’s thighs and lowers her down slowly. “C’mon, princess,” she murmurs, voice gravelly.
Suddenly Amanda needs Angela’s mouth on her immediately, and she sits down, hissing when Angela’s tongue presses against her pussy. She bites her lip and grinds down, moaning when Angela’s mouth catches her clit. Angela sucks, and Amanda moans again, hands tightening on the headboard.
Angela grips her thighs tighter and pulls her down, tongue sliding down and fucking into Amanda. Amanda leans back and rests on her hands, riding Angela’s tongue in earnest. Her hips roll back and forth quickly, fingers tangling in the sheets. Angela’s moaning into Amanda’s pussy as she licks and sucks, and she grabs Amanda’s hips to shift her up a bit.
She reaches up and slips two fingers into Amanda, and Amanda gasps, grinding backwards into them. Angela has definitely done this before, her fingers working as her mouth kisses and sucks, her free arm thrown around Amanda’s waist. Amanda’s moaning and gasping, small chants of “yes, yes,” falling from her lips. Angela thrusts particularly hard, fingers pressing against Amanda’s g-spot and her cervix, and she sees stars, falling forward and bracing on her hands as her orgasm rips through her.
Amanda lifts her hips up so Angela can breathe, but Angela’s fingers keep working, gently, until Amanda whines loudly and Angela pulls out. Amanda wills herself to pull away, flopping down next to Angela breathlessly. Angela makes a small, choked noise in the back of her throat, grabbing Amanda’s waist and burying her face in Amanda’s chest.
Amanda’s a little shocked, at first, but then she pulls Angela in close, carding her fingers through short brown hair. Angela sniffles wetly into her skin, and Amanda pulls the smaller woman against her tighter. “Oh, baby.”
Angela sobs softly, her arms hooking under Amanda’s, nails digging into the skin of Amanda’s shoulders. “‘m sorry, I just– I’ve been waiting– and you’re– this was so– ” Amanda interrupts her by pressing their lips together, softly, and this is more like how their first kiss should have gone. Her lips move slowly against Angela’s, and a contented warmth spreads from her chest to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She cups Angela’s cheek with one hand and uses her thumb to wipe away a stray tear.
“I love you,” Amanda murmurs against Angela’s lips, and they both break into grins. They rest their foreheads together, and Amanda inhales deeply, taking stock of her body. Her legs feel weak and the insides of her thighs are sticky, along with most of her face. Her chest is still heaving, and she’s sure she’s still flushed, and she’s never been this goddamn happy in her entire life. “I think I’m dreaming. This can’t be real,” she says, thinking out loud, and Angela giggles.
“I love you,” Angela says, kissing Amanda again. They move against each other in the dark, legs tangling, giggling. Angela gasps softly when Amanda ducks down and bites at the junction of Angela’s shoulder and neck, and Amanda smiles against her sweaty skin.
“We need to pee,” Amanda says, and Angela groans. Amanda smiles. “I know. But you’ll be so mad if you get a UTI and I can’t fuck you again for weeks.” Angela perks up at that, and Amanda giggles as she wobbles her way to the bathroom.
Once they’re both cleaned up, pajamas put back on, Amanda cradles Angela close, chest to back, the same as how they started out. Amanda hums contentedly, and Angela tenses a bit.
“Um. Are we going to, like– uh– talk about this? Like, us?” Amanda nods, pressing a kiss into the crown of Angela’s head.
“Mhm,” she says, sleepily. “Can we do it in the morning? ‘m tired.”
Amanda slips her hand under Angela’s tank top again, but this time it’s more of a grounding gesture, pulling the other woman in and kissing her head again. Angela melts into the touch, breathing out loudly. “Yeah, definitely.”
Amanda smiles, fingers rubbing lazily against the warm skin of Angela’s stomach. “I love you,” she says, and she feels like she can never say it enough times. Emotion wells up in her throat, and she presses her forehead against the back of Angela’s shoulder. She’s been such a bitch these past few days, and somehow, the woman she loves is in her arms. “I love you,” she repeats, voice thick.
Angela turns so that they’re facing each other, and she kisses a stray tear from Amanda’s cheek. “Oh, ‘Manda, I know. I know. I love you.” Amanda draws Angela closer, their legs slotting between each other, fists curling into shirts.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been– God. I’m so sorry, Ang.” Angela shakes her head, kissing the corner of Amanda’s mouth– Amanda thinks about how she acted earlier that night, before Angela had done that the first time, and she sobs quietly.
“It’s okay,” Angela says, rubbing Amanda’s back. “I love you. It’s okay.”
Angela comforts her for a few more minutes, soft whispers and light touches, and eventually, they fall asleep holding each other, breathing softly into each other’s skin.
Amanda wakes up tangled in Angela’s arms, the other woman’s breath stirring against her cheek. She grins like an idiot, kissing Angela square on the lips. Angela stirs at that, grunting a bit, her hand sliding up Amanda’s back.
“Mm. Morning.” Angela’s voice is gruff with sleep, and the sound has warmth spreading through her whole body. She kisses Angela again, and they make out lazily for a few minutes, giggling and murmuring “I love you”s. It ends up with Angela in Amanda’s arms again, making small noises of contentment.
“Are we gonna talk now?” Angela asks, and Amanda laughs loudly.
“Impatient,” she murmurs, kissing her gently. “Yeah, of course we can talk.” She sighs heavily, looking up as she tries to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been such a bitch. Like, seriously, total mega bitch.”
Angela shakes her head, cradling Amanda’s jaw. “It’s… okay, it’s not really okay, because you have been blowing me off big time.” Angela is smiling as she says it, and that cools Amanda’s nerves. “But I sort of understand where you’re coming from. I mean– you’re nervous, right? You’ve been nervous? Because I– shit, I’ve been super fucking nervous.”
They both laugh, and Amanda nods, knocking her forehead lightly against Angela’s. “Yeah. Fuck, I was nervous. But it was more than that, I guess.” Angela nods, brows drawn together in concern.
“I just– I kept overthinking everything. I mean, I figured that you felt the same way. You weren’t, uh, very subtle.” Angela laughs, and Amanda grins in response. “But we’re coworkers, and–” emotion wells up in Amanda’s throat, “–and you’re my best friend. I mean, if we start a relationship, and I fuck something up, it ruins everything. ”
Angela nods, the gears turning in her head. She thinks for a minute, and Amanda lets her, rubbing a hand up and down Angela’s arm. “Okay. I understand that. Hear me out, though– what if we don’t worry about any of that?”
Amanda is taken aback for a moment, because all Angela does is worry. “Seriously?” she says, a bit incredulous. “I mean, I thought you would be worried, too.” She suddenly feels a bit self conscious, but when she tries to shrink back, Angela gets right back in her space, and it’s welcome.
“Oh, I’m so fucking worried. But I think,” Angela pauses, brushing a piece of Amanda’s hair out of her face. “I think I can ignore it. Because I love you.”
Amanda’s heart swells, and she surges forwards, capturing Angela’s lips in yet another kiss. Angela laughs into her mouth, and the sound makes Amanda so happy she should cry. “I love you,” Amanda murmurs, “so fucking much. I’m sorry I was so worried.”
Angela smiles, eyes brimming with affection. “It’s okay. You’re here now.” Angela twines her fingers with Amanda’s, and Amanda thinks that things will work out just fine.