Ready? Not Really.. (Fem USUK) •IN EDITING•

Alice

a/n
can't sleep.
so I write.
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I knew she was going to ask about it. She was too curious for her own good, and she could read me like a fucking picture book.
"So," Fran started. I looked over the top of my magazine at her. She slowly pushed herself back and forth on her rolling chair. "Amelia."
"So what?" I asked defensively, subconsciously gripping the pages tighter.
Fran raised an eyebrow. "So tense, chérie. I was simply going to ask how you two are."
I rolled my eyes and set the magazine down on her bed. "None of your business."
"Ah. Still not together."
Fucking hell.
"Stop doing that," I snapped. Fran watched me lazily. She acted as if she had no idea what I was talking about.
"Doing what?"
"The mind reading thing. It's obnoxious." Her eyes narrowed, and I looked away. If I did anything even slightly out of the ordinary, she could tell. It didn't exactly help my case that Fran was taking psychology. And that she practiced what she learned on me 24/7. Too many times had I just been sitting there, and Fran would point out something like "Alice, you look very uncomfortable in your environment. I can tell from how you've closed in on yourself" or "I can see from how you're sitting that you want to be included in the conversation. Glad you're attempting to be social." Of course, she loved doing it in front of people to ensure that I always looked like an utter fool.
It was great. I loved my choice in friends.
Fran placed a hand on her heart. "You wound me, Alice. I would never use my powers for anything but the good of others."
"You're bullshit." I shook my head and traced the outline of the words on the cover of my magazine.
Fran smiled at me. "What are you reading there?"
And the start of the mind reading thing. "Nothing."
She stayed silent for a few moments, sitting back and watching me. I did my best to stay absolutely still. "You're sexually frustrated and anxious. You are clearly reading a playboy magazine and your legs are crossed very tight. Your shoulders are tense and you've subconsciously been trying to make yourself smaller by curling into a ball."
"Go fuck yourself."
"Aha. I'm right. One point for Fran."
I scowled at her. "One point nothing. You'd be the shittiest psychiatrist. Go work at a fast food restaurant or something."
Fran shrugged and did a full rotation in her chair, pushing off the ground with a socked foot. "At least you're getting excellent advice for free." She sighed and rolled closer to me. "I'm genuinely afraid that you're going to spend the rest of your life chasing after her, Alice. You can't just throw away everyone else for her."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're not in a position to tell me what to do."
"On the contrary, I'm in a perfect position." She leaned forward, hands folded together in her lap. "I know you, Alice. You could get anyone you wanted if you just tried. Think of one person. One person you could be with."
Amelia immediately popped up in my head. "I don't know."
"Try."
I crossed my arms defiantly. "I can't change the way I think. Even you know that," I said. Fran flinched.
"Anyone. You could go out to a bar right now and get at least three girls' numbers, I bet you." She knew I hated when she challenged me, but it wouldn't work then.
I looked at my phone. It had buzzed a few times since the conversation.
Amelia: hey bro
Amelia: what's up
Amelia: ok, I see ur being, like, super social. I am doing quite well, thanks for asking
"She has your number?" Fran asked, looking vaguely surprised. "When did you give it to her?"
"Mind reading. Stop it."
"My apologies."
I typed in a response.
You: I am not your "bro."
You: You know I know more people than just you and your sister, right?
Amelia: oooook, so ur with fran ammirite
How the fuck did everyone know me so well?
I switched off my phone and looked up at Fran. She seemed amused from watching me get flustered. "You're an easy patient. Your facial expressions give everything away." Fran got up and went to her closet to rummage through some clothes. I watched her.
"What exactly are you even doing?"
"Pyjamas."
"Sleep in your damn underwear. No one gives a fuck." I didn't care, at least. I looked down at my phone screen.
Amelia: lol I'm right aren't I
Amelia: ;)
Fran shrugged and joined me on her bed. "Whatever you say." She rested her chin on my shoulder. "Still texting her?"
"Maybe," I admitted.
You: I never said that.
Amelia: but I am
You: Shut up.
Amelia: u know its, like, fifteen minutes til curfew? don't get in trouble
You: I promise I can take care of myself, Amelia.
"You haven't told her?" Fran asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. "No. There's no reason to."
"Oh. Are you ashamed?"
"Of sex? Of course not, Francine. Don't be an idiot."
So maybe I was a little ashamed. I couldn't get the one girl I wanted, so I just fucked someone else instead. What was even worse was that a friendship sprung up from a supposedly meaningless fling. It wasn't exactly something to be proud of. And there were times I had to stop myself from screaming out the wrong name when I was in bed.
"I meant of me, Alice."
I glanced up at my friend. She seemed genuinely concerned as to whether or not I was embarrassed to be screwing around with her, quite literally. I leaned over and kissed her. "No," I murmured against her lips. "No, I'm not."
Her hands brushed up under my shirt, fingers cold on my stomach. I leaned into her.
By the time the announcement came on for curfew starting, both of our clothes were already off and strewn across the floor, and my friend was on top of me under the covers.