✔️Romance || WomanxWoman || short novelette was written together with bibi_the_nomad
Sarcastic, sharp-tongued Ava Allard didn't get to college. Almost ten years have passed since then, but the young woman is still working at her mom's misfortunate (...
Mama kept on yawning, but she valiantly kept on watching the movie.
"You'd better go to bed," I said to her.
"No way, I'm not sleepy," she replied fighting with another big yawn.
I stood up. Libbie copied me. We looked at each other and smiled. Mama did the same when we were kids and didn't want to go to bed. I guess it's our turn now to be adults. I never knew we would start switching our roles so soon.
"I want to sleep," said Libbie.
"Me too," I lied passionately.
"You are so weak, enfants!" mama liberated her ponytail from a blood red scrunchy letting her lava hair go down her shoulders and back. This simple gesture always meant let's call it night. I noticed that Libbie looked at her hair, then she awkwardly smoothed her short curls.
I helped my friend with a mattress and bed sheets. Libbie went on talking about her work, and my job interview, and how happy we would be working together.
"Libz, do you know that some people stop being friends when living or working together." I teased her, fluffing up my pillow.
Libbie pouted her lips and cheeks, "We have been together since elementary school."
"I'm just joking!" I covered myself with my favourite rainbow coloured blanket mama bought me when I was seventeen something.
I hoped Libbie didn't notice my reluctance to work at the bookstore and live in her pink bff reality. I wanted to find a girlfriend, for God's sake, have date nights with ladies, but staying 24/7 with my straight bestie who didn't know about my sexuality, no, thank you kindly! Mom could be a disaster sometimes, but she accepted me and supported my tiny comingout. Who knew how Libbie would react. There's always a chance she could just stop talking to me.
We always think the dear ones will be on our side, but how many examples proves otherwise.
I turned off the light in my bedroom and stared at the ceiling. It was dotted with tiny glimmering stars that had accumulated daylight in their small astro bodies. The stars were left there since early 2000s.
Libbie murmured something. I understood that she was falling asleep.
I turned to one side, then I turned to another. I didn't want to sleep. My smartphone was begging me to take it in my welcoming arms from the bedside table. Finally, I grabbed it and opened the only social-ish app thing I had: Pinterest. I avoided all popular socials preferring messengers because of dad. Just listen:
He and his cougar created multiple happy together accounts where they post romantic pictures and reels and other sort of stuff where they have a date at a restaurant or busk in the sun on one of Cartagena beaches or bake their stupid pastry... and all our relatives and friends were like: awwwwww, they are soooo sweeeet, look how talented and creative and prosperous they are! Have you tried their macarons with caramel and chocolate? No? How come?! Mon cher, you must – it's a new culinary masterpiece! Let's give them all our money and attention, they deserve to have their own restaurant or sh!t knows what!
Their posts became virus among my relatives. If you didn't follow them, be sure, uncle Huber would repost them or niece Claudette would post something she bought in their bakery shop or they would appear in recommendations because all your contacts followed them. Contiguous couple! Merde...
My Pinterest was a heavenly lesbian haven: only ladies and rainbows. I gulped being not sure if I wanted it or not, then I just quickly typed Bo B💋tch. What I didn't expect is to see multiple images of her in every single frame. All possible posts that led to all possible socials. There were not only her videos and photos, but also multiple fanart and fanfics of all sorts. Even erotic ones...
Wait, is she standing with Billie Eilish in this photo?
She was everywhere, and she was gorgeous, and I felt shame for having behaved like a perfect bitch. I was that Ava Bitch not she.
According to comments most of her "Bo Army" would kill for a chance to meet her, while I was just super rude to my customer. No wonder, the place is definitely cursed with people who owned it.
I put my smartphone back on the bedside table to pretend our conversation with Bo never took place.
Who cares, I will never meet her again
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