Tumblr fanfic

Nobody has to know (NSFW)

I am not in love with her.
It is just so frustrating. I absentmindedly watch her lips, as they form words I don't want to hear.
"I don't know, Hannah, I don't think I want this anymore."
I look up into big, brown eyes. "Hmm?"
Grace sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "I think I can't be with him anymore. It's just," another sigh leaves her lips, "it shouldn't be this hard, right?"
Right. I don't know.
I mean, sure, I could tell her to break up with her boyfriend because of a small disagreement, I could tell her that I never liked him in the first place, but that's not even true. In fact, he is a really nice guy. I can't hate him. But sometimes I wish he didn't exist.
All I manage to mumble is an unsure, "yeah, I guess it should be easy."
Suddenly, Grace laughs. "You know what he said to me the other day?"
I don't. How could I?
"What?"
Grace appears to be thinking back to something and shakes her head, grinning in disbelief as she stares into my eyes. "He said that he thinks I'm trying to make him jealous."
I swallow. "Why would he say that?"
My voice is only a little bit shaky because what I really want to ask, what I really need to ask at some point is don't you know that you drive me a tiny bit crazy every time you talk about him?
But of course I don't; I can't.
"It's crazy," the blonde continues, pushing tangled curls back with both hands, "because he thinks it's you."
Me. It's me. Wait, what?
"What?"
Grace's heavy-lidded eyes glance up at me before they roll back. "Oh come on, Hannah, isn't it obvious?"
Apparently, it's not. "What are you talking about, Gracie?"
I feel my chest clenching.
"Does he know...?"
She sighs and nudges my knee with hers, defensively. "God, no," she mumbles. I can't remember the last time she spoke without sighing. "The shipping, of course."
Of course. "Oh. Sure."
She looks at me, incredulously. She folds her hands in her lap and nods her head. "Right?"
No. This is certainly not right. I softly whisper, "can you do me a favour?"
She frowns at the sudden change of topic. "Yeah, what is it?"
I can't look at her. I bury my face in the palms of my hands. I shouldn't even have to say this. "Could you maybe not talk to me, about this stuff?"
No reply. I still can't bring myself to look up, though.
I clear my throat and shove slightly shaky fingers into my hair. "Just, talk to Mames about your boyfriend, maybe? I'm not exactly the best, um, person to turn to about your relationship issues. Not that I don't care, it's just," I don't know what it is. I give up trying to finish my sentence and helplessly mumble, "you know?"
Her breathing sounds abnormal. Now, I have to look. Fuck. She looks hurt. Fuck fuck fuck, I didn't want to see that expression, ever.
"Hey, wait, I'm sorry," I try, "please, come on, talk to me."
Hazel-coloured eyes have turned incredibly cold. "I think you don't want me to. Talk, right?"
"No!" Fuck, what did I do? "Of course you can talk to me, just, god, can't you see that this is hard for me?"
She can't. I see in her eyes that she doesn't get it. How can she not see my problem?
She spits out, "what, Hannah?" and it makes me cringe. And it makes me get up from the couch, it makes me pace.
I clench my hands into fists. Brown eyes, those stupid, pretty brown eyes follow me, confusion and hurt creasing her furrowed forehead.
My hands fly up and gesture pointlessly on either side of my head.
"Goddamn it, Grace!"
I see her face fall, her expression change. Maybe because I raised my voice, or maybe because now she remembers. And now there is a look of vulnerability, mixed with guilt, and it makes me feel sick.
Her fingertips momentarily grace her own lips before she presses a flat palm to where her heartbeat is speeding up inside her chest. "It's because we kissed." She almost breathes the words, barely audible.
I fill my lungs with air and turn away. Now I want to go back to talking about something else, anything. Her boyfriend, even.
"Hannah."
I shake my head. She gets up and I can hear her feet pad to where I'm standing with my back turned towards her. "Don't, Gracie," I whisper, "just forget about it, 'kay?"
But her hands are already coming up to rest on my shoulders awkwardly. Thumbs gently move back and forth along the neckline of my shirt. What is she even doing?
"It's okay, really. I was just being stupid," I mumble, in a hopeless attempt to go back to normal. But normal has never worked between us.
As the evening's thousandth sigh leaves Grace's lips, I feel her breath against my neck. This is not good. "Turn around, Hannah."
I shouldn't.
I do.
She cups my face and I think my heart might jump right out of my chest and land on the cold wooden floor.
My thoughts immediately make me frown, because this is no time to be poetic, this is too real and too fucked up to be thinking in metaphors.
Her thumbs rub my cheeks, now. I close my eyes and can't help but smile. "What are you doing, Grace?"
"I don't know. I hate it when you look sad."
It is my turn to sigh. My whole body shakes a little when her hands drop and Grace takes a step back. She looks younger than ever. She looks so unsure.
Trying to compose myself, I take deep breaths. "Hey, it's fine."
She frowns. I try again. "I'm not sad. Look, happy as clam!" I point at myself, my poor attempt at a genuine smile. It makes her chuckle quietly, but worry is still etched into her face.
She mutters, "I didn't tell him. He doesn't know, I mean, we agreed that it was nothing, didn't we?"
We did. But why did we, again? Because we're friends. Best friends.
"Yeah. Sorry. Don't give me that look, come on babe, it's fine, we're fine." I reach out and pull her in.
My arms wrap around Grace's waist while she grabs my shoulders.
I hold on to her shirt and my hands clench into fists, almost painfully, when she subconsciously whispers, "God, sometimes I wish I could just be with you."
My head spins. You can. No, you can't. Damn it.
All I can do is huff out a nervous laugh. Grace buries her face in the nape of my neck and mumbles, "Shit, I shouldn't have said that, sorry."
I hum in agreement. Because, yeah, she shouldn't have. But also, who cares?
She speaks up again, lips brushing against the skin of my neck, "I really want to talk to you. About my stupid relationship-issues. Do you think that would be okay, just this once? I need to, Han. I really care about your opinion. And I don't know what to do anymore."
I unclench my fists and run flat palms over her back, soothingly. She sound so vulnerable. How could I negate her anything?
"Of course, Gracie, baby. You can always talk to me, forget what I said earlier, of course you can."
Her body relaxes in relief. "Thank you. Let's," she leans back and gestures in the direction of the couch, "sit down again?"
I nod and then we're back, sitting far too close with our thighs aligned. When did we start being too close, constantly? I don't know.
"What is it babe?" I ask, and I even manage to sound casual.
She leans back into the cushions, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, calmly. "Everything was fine," she starts, "but lately he just seems to be looking for the most ridiculous things to make a fuss about. It's so unnecessary. It's like he's trying to pick up a fight, all the time."
She stops talking. It's my turn to be a good friend, isn't it? Give advice, tell her that everything will be fine, that he's a great guy. And I do, because I am a good friend, I can do good friend. Best friend, even.
_
Later that night one of us decides that alcohol is the first step in order to make it all better. After a while I feel less tensed-up. But alcohol also means that there is literally not any appropriate distance left between our bodies.
Somehow we end up going to her bedroom because Grace has stated that "you can't possibly drive five minutes to your place, nope," and that "the couch is way too uncomfortable," and also, "who wants to sleep alone?"
No one, exactly.
And then there's the fact that we still have things to talk about, that means it is only sensible to lie down together and keep taking. Because, god, the couch is so uncomfortable. And her bed seems so much more convenient.
I sit down on one side. "Where is he tonight?" It's a question I had been dreading to ask, but I need to know.
Grace lets herself fall into the softness of white sheets face-first, and mumbles, "I don't know, said something about visiting an old friend. Can we not talk about him anymore?"
"Sure," I answer, probably a bit too quickly. It goes unnoticed by Grace. In an attempt to keep the conversation going I mutter, "so, what do you wanna talk about?"
She turns onto one side and looks at me, hair messily splattered across her pillow. She curiously watches me when she asks, "do you like being single?"
I chuckle. "Babe, you know I'm domestic as shit. I hate it."
"Really?"
Her hand comes up to brush some hair behind my ear. I nod, and bite the inside of my cheek.
"Why are you single, then?"
It's a weird question. Why is someone single? Why am I single? Why is her hand still in my hair?
"Because, um..." I clear my throat. "I guess I haven't met the right one yet. Yeah, that's it. Once I find the right one I'm gonna wife that woman so hard," I grin, and it makes Grace grin as well, and maybe I just lied. Because maybe I'm looking at the right one. Her eyes dart back and forth between mine. She grins wider and mouthes, "What?"
"Nothing."
I want to shuffle closer and hug her. I want to wrap myself around her and never let her go. I also want so much more than that but all my thoughts are in vain. Although we are too close already, the space between us feels so huge. Because all I want is right in front of me and yet so, so impossible to reach.
It's frustrating.
"Why are you frowning?"
Her voice startles me. It's huskier than usually and it sends shivers down my spine. "I'm not," I lie.
"Yeah you are."
Her hand is still in my hair. Fingertips slowly start drawing patterns on the skin of my scalp, behind my ear. "Stop frowning," she whispers.
I want to kiss her.Maybe I should just say it. See her reaction. She kissed me once. It was a mistake, sure, but why not make a mistake again? Only once again.
But she has a boyfriend. "You have a boyfriend," I breathe.
She closes her eyes and hums a quiet yes. When brown pools look at me again there is so much sincerity inside them that it makes my stomach flip. And then Grace asks, "is that why you're frowning?"
I take in a shaky breath. "Maybe."
Her eyes try avoiding my face again, and she swallows. "Why would that make you frown?"
I move closer, involuntarily. Her hand shifts from behind my ear to the back of my head. Foreheads against one another we breathe in sync.
There is no way I can give her any kind of even remotely acceptable answer.
The words that leave my lips make the air in Grace's bedroom thicken.
"Why did you kiss me?"
Because she did, she kissed me. Of course, I kissed back, but I remember vividly that her lips had moved against mine first, after being pressed together so tightly. And I remember her hands on my back, stroking, and her hands in my hair, pulling and tugging, and I remember thinking that she was into it.
She squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head. I briefly think that she's going to kiss me again but she just breathes, "Hannah," into the space between our flushed faces.
"Grace."
Her nose nudges mine. "Would it make any sense if I told you that I wanted to know what I'm missing out on?"
No. Yes. What?
"Grace, we are not fifteen. That's not, no, that doesn't make any sense at all."
She shuffles even closer. "Right," she nods, pressing her nose into my cheek, "right, it doesn't. You're absolutely right."
Fuck. This woman is going to drive me crazy one day. There's actually a good chance of that day already having passed. Who knows.
I realize that one of my hands is stroking Grace's side, but I can't recall how it got there, I don't even know for how long I've been doing that. "I shouldn't have asked, it's stupid," I mutter, giving her waist a squeeze.
She shakes her head the slightest bit. "Honestly?" she asks, "I kissed you because, well, we had a really nice evening, right? You remember?" Of course I remember. Still doesn't answer my question, though.
She continues, "it was nice. You were nice. You looked very, um, nice."
Grace clears her throat and laughs quietly.
Oh. There we go. I nod my head against hers, assuring her that I'm still listening.
"God, Hannah, you were being so nice and it kind of felt like you were taking me out on a date, okay? And I know that must sound absolutely ridiculous and self-centered and-" she stops and I whisper, "It's not, 's okay."
Her fingers are tangled in my hair and she pulls my head even closer. Her breath is hot and it takes me so much self-control to remain still, to not let  my lips brush against hers.
"But it is," she mumbles, "I don't know, I just wanted to kiss you, I guess."
The air between our faces becomes hotter with every passing second. "Why?" I breathe, but it doesn't matter. I know. Nothing Grace could say or do would change anything right now.
"Because."
I chuckle. This is madness, this is not how grown-ups behave and this is certainly not normal in any which way.
Another question pops up on my mind. Do you want to kiss me now? But I shouldn't ask. I kind of know the answer, I think, and it'd be so irresponsible to make the same mistake again. Although I really, really want to.
Thus we just breathe, foreheads against one another, engulfed in the other one's scent.
But I need to ask something. I need to say something, this silence and this stillness is way too frustrating to even bear.
I remember college, and how I used to think that I had to make a girl fall for me, that I had to do something, change something about myself, to make her like me. I used to think that if only I looked a little better or acted a little cooler around her, any girl would eventually like me.
That didn't work out very well. Because yeah, straight girls did like me eventually. And then what? It never works.
Grace's thumb is stroking my neck. Her fingertips curl into my hairline.
"Can I ask you something?" I whisper. I didn't even mean to talk so quietly but I think I might have spontaneously lost my voice.
She nuzzles my cheek with her nose and we are definitely too close. She replies, "Sure."
I clear my throat. "Are you attracted to me?"
As the words leave my lips I feel her fingers' movements halt. Shit, that was a bad thing to ask. I already part my lips to take back my question when I'm rewarded with a giggle and an answer.
"I mean, how could I deny that you're attractive? And I do like attractive people, so..." She pauses, maybe thinks about what she's implying, and tries again, "I'm not saying that I am attracted to you. Actually, no, I'm not. I mean, you're a girl. But you are attractive."
It doesn't make the most sense and yet I can only agree. "Yeah," I chuckle, "like, you're hot, but you're totally not my type. 'Cause you're my best friend."
We grin at each other for a while. Grace's hand travels from the back of my neck to my cheek. She takes in a deep breath. Her eyes dart from the freckle on my nose to the freckle in my eye to my lips and back up. She smiles, tiredly. She mumbles, "I don't know."
I pull her closer, as far as that is physically possible. The hand that had been stroking her side moves to the small of her back, her front pressed up agains mine. I sigh.
"Can't deny you're beautiful."
Did she just say that? That is not a very Grace thing to say. Or is it?
"You cheesy idiot. You're not too bad yourself."
Her smile grows wider. I want to pull her closer so badly. I wrap one leg around her, her thigh slips between my thighs. With entangled limbs our closeness feels much more bearable, somehow.
_
I wish I could see what she's thinking. There has got to be a reason why my best friend feels the need to lie down with me like this. Why she kissed me. Why I have the feeling that she wants to kiss me again, right now.
Her voice is raspy when she starts saying, "We drank quite a lot, hmm?"
No, we didn't drink that much. I shrug.
"Do you think," she mumbles, "do you think that we drank enough for it to be okay that I really... really want to kiss you?"
There we have it. She wants to kiss me. I don't think that is okay. I nod.
She frowns. "God, why do I have to be in a relationship?"
I really wanna know that as well. "It's your call," I reply.
"Things would be so much easier if I were single. Especially when I want to kiss my best friend all the time."