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Heartbeats (chapter 12)

Grace has learnt, by now, what not to do.
No bragging. No high-five-ing. No jumping on the mattress in excitement.
So she just runs her lips over Hannah's skin, sucking on the little drops that fall from her hair and are now trailing down her neck. She feels the girl's veins pulsing, fast - the silence broken only by a soft panting.
"I thought you forgot" Hannah says, when her breaths become even.
"I didn't" Grace replies, simply, after a moment of guilty silence, "I had something planned for last night, actually, but then you decided to get separate rooms and I was too angry..."
Hannah just looks at the ceiling, and nods.
"I'm sorry. That must have sucked" Grace continues.
"Nah, it's ok. I only cried for half an hour before getting drunk on cheap whiskey."
Grace pushes herself up on her arms to look at Hannah, to let her know how sorry she is, but it somehow makes Hannah worried, because she asks: "Where are you going?"
Grace chuckles.
"Nowhere, you dumb-ass" she replies, "I'm going nowhere."
"Ok, cool."
"I mean, I understand you've been burned before by - quote/unquote - 'straight' girls" Grace comments "but I thought I made it clear I'm not... I'm not playing with you. I told you I'm here. Why are you so scared?"
Hannah thinks about it, then says: "do you know how many times I thought you were about to kiss me, and you didn't?"
Grace's eyes say it all: 100% oblivious.
"What? When?" she frowns.
"Every other week since we met! You don't... Grace, you have no control over your body language. Most of all when you're drunk. I even thought of asking you out, before Mamrie pointed out to me that you were both straight and in a relationship..."
"I had no idea..."
"I know" Hannah reassures, "I'm not mad or anything... but now it's hard for me to believe this is actually happening."
Grace nods, pensive, and realises she sort of fucked Hannah up a little.
"It's happening" she assures, and thinks if she has to repeat it once every hour, she will.
She then rolls out of bed, and orders: "Now get dressed, we're going out."
"What?" Hannah protests, "don't I get to... you know, return the favour?"
"Nope, we're late" Grace replies, "and there will be plenty of time for that."
Hannah blinks once as Grace wraps the towel back around her chest, and thinks that yes, maybe this is really happening.
- - -
Tyler crawls out of bed, sneaking out of someone's grip. He's still sleepy and confused. The only thing he's sure about is that he fell asleep very late - his last memory is a big 4.38 on his phone lock screen.
He looks around.
'Most definitely not my room' he thinks, and rubs two fingers against his temple. He finds his glasses on a bedside table and puts them on, blinking a few times to adjust to the lenses and the light.
White wardrobe, grey carpet, stylish lamp- 'shit!'
He nearly jumps at the sight of Matt sprawled on the bed, lips parted and shirt open.
'He's dressed' he looks down to himself 'I'm dressed. Good. Great.'
He's shaking. He checks his phone - 11.45am - hopefully, Matt's sleep is heavy. He was drunk before they met, and they kept drinking till... till when? Tyler doesn't remember.
He tries to assess his headache. He gives it a 3/10, which is very low, but it could mean the effect of the alcohol still hasn't worn off. So they either haven't drank much, or they drank right until they fell asleep.
There are a couple of empty bottles of champagne, and one of tequila, so Tyler assumes the latter option is more accurate.
He leans over the bed to check if Matt's sleep is as deep as he hopes, when he sees a dark, red mark on his chest. He looks closer. There's a few of those, one right below the collar.
Tyler remembers, then.
He turns towards the mirror, to check he doesn't have marks himself. No hickeys. 'Thank god' he whispers to no one. He feels a burning sensation at his side, and when he checks under his shirt, he finds a messy web of scratches.
'Damn you, girl!' he mutters, not sure if to himself or to the guy laying behind him.
He quickly looks for his shoes and waistcoat - his bow tie somehow ended up in his chest pocket, where the voice recorder was.
'The voice recorder!'
He remembers a thump, at some point. He had assumed it was his phone, but he just found it in one of his pockets, so...
'There you are lil' bitch' he thinks when he finally finds it under the bed. The battery died off, so he has no idea how much he managed to record.
He quietly leaves the room, shoes in his hand, and tiptoes to the lift. Only when he's finally safe between metal walls, and three floors down, does he allow himself to relax and call Mamrie.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up" he mumbles.
"Hey sweetie," she says when she picks up, "had fun last night?"
"Where are you, Mames? I need one of your magic hangover cures" he whines.
"Uh, sound like you had a lot of fun" and before he can reply, she concludes "I'm at the main pool, close to the water slide, find me there. I'm the hot one."
The line goes dead and the doors open to the ground floor, where life went on normally - or as normally as it can in Vegas.
- - -
The main pool is easy to find. Tyler puts his shoes on sitting on a deckchair, and contemplates the idea of just taking a nap before looking for Mamrie and tell her she was right.
'Bitch was right' he thinks, and snaps his fingers. He then realises he might look like a finger-snapping lunatic, and stands up. He looks around, till his gaze stops on someone waving at him from a distance.
'There she is' he comments to himself, and walks towards her.
As he gets closer, he sees Beanz chilling in a minuscule plastic pool, and Mamrie sipping a colourful drink. At her side, Greg - best man Greg - is sunbathing in a pair of blue shorts.
"My boy!" she greets him, and removes her sunglasses, "here, have this."
She offers him a paper cup, which he expects to be coffee. He takes a careful sip and asks: "is this bloody mary?"
"The best hangover cure is to keep drinking, honey."
He stares at her for a second, then shrugs and opens the lid to take a gulp of the cocktail.
Something is off though. Something doesn't add up.
Tyler squints, pensive, and takes another sip.
'What is it though?' he thinks 'What-'
"Mamrie! Your arm!!" he squeaks, and nearly spills the red liquid all over his shirt, "what the actual fuck is going on here?"
"Alright, calm your titties" she puts the glass she's holding on the ground, "first things first: how did the night go?"
"I ain't telling you a thing until-"
"Ok, let me guess: he invited you to have a drink."
"Well, yeah but-"
"And then you went for a walk" Mamrie continues.
"Maybe..."
"You ended up on the rooftop of this very hotel."
"How do you even..."
"And at this point you either made out straight away, or you talked for a while."
"I say they spoke" Greg jumps in the conversation, and Tyler gasps. He thought he was sleeping.
"My money is on talking too. Matt's too much of a gentleman."
Mamrie and Greg both look at Tyler, who blushes and stutters: "y-yeah, ok... we talked for a couple of hours or so."
He watches them high-fiving in silence, and then bursts: "alright, you evil puppeteers, what's going on?"
Mamrie sits upright, and so does Greg.
It's him who speaks: "before I explain this, please tell me: did he come out to you? Did he... sort of... confess something?"
"He... yeah, he did. He came out and... well, he kissed me and also told me he's had a crush on me for a very long time" Tyler gulps - his face turning the colour of his drink.
"Thank fuck" Greg blurts, and raises his fists in the air as a sign of victory.
"Let me explain" he continues, "a few months ago - little after his proposal - Matt and I had one of our boys night, which consists in watching re-runs of True Blood and drinking beer. Just us two bros, you know. And we got drunk. He went to the kitchen, I think, to get some more beers and I took his laptop because I wanted to show him this really funny vid-"
"Alright, Meryl" Mamrie interrupts, "we don't need the details."
"But this is important! Pivotal." Greg continues: "so I'm there looking for this video, I accidentally open his youtube history, and find out he's been watching all the videos of this one specific youtuber."
He pauses, for dramatic effect.
"...Grace?" Tyler lisps, tentatively.
Mamrie rolls her eyes and scoffs: "you, you undiscerning mothball."
"Me?" Tyler says, but it's so high-pitched only Beanz can hear him.
"When he came back, he saw what I was doing and we stared at each other for a good minute. Remember we're both drunk. So I caught him being a huge Tyler Oakley fan, and I think 'cool, guy's funny, just something I didn't know about my best bro.' But Matt starts looking nervous and says things like 'dude, that's not what you think' and I'm like 'I ain't thinking nothing' and he starts crying! Dude cries, and I'm like 'shit, what have I done' and long story short, he thinks he's gay and has fallen for one of his girlfriend's friends who is seven years younger than him and he only met, like, twice."
Mamrie nods, sipping her drink so the straw moves up and down in her glass.
"So I hug the man" Greg continues, "I say 'it's ok, we'll figure it out' but bro says he can't hurt his girlfriend - actually, fiancée - and he needs to take this thing out of his mind. He makes me swear I'll never bring it up again and he puts me on a cab. Never spoke of it again till this week."
"So that's it? Your best friends tells you he is gay and you do nothing? You let him get married?" Tyler asks, shocked. Mamrie and Greg share an unimpressed look.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Greg says, "first thing I do in the morning, I look you up. I'm not really into youtubers - sorry guys, nothing personal - so I have to get my shit right. I watch your videos. I watch Grace's videos. I watch Mamrie's and Hannah's videos, of course - also pretty funny stuff you do guys, props to you."
"Thank you" Mamrie and Tyler reply in unison.
"So I end up learning what shipping is, and find out about this thing called Hartbig. Next thing you know, I'm on the phone with Mamrie trying to find out if there's any truth to it."
"Needless to say, I'm all 'of course not, how dare you.'" Mamrie continues "So two days later I find this one at my doorstep - suit, sunglasses and a briefcase. He slips inside my apartment and opens it, pulling out a pile of evidence labelled 'Hartbig is canon'."
"It takes me an hour and a half to convince Mamrie that her two best friends are in love with each other, but at the end of it, she's 100% on board."
"I say 'what do we do about it, Greg?' he says 'well, I got some good news for you, Mames' and I say 'good news, Greg?' and he says-"
"Alright, alright, I got it" Tyler interrupts, all ten fingers massaging his forehead, "so at that point, instead of telling the truth, you thought it would be a good idea to make an overcomplicated plot to get Grace and Matt to mutually cheat on each other?"
"You see, Tyler" Mamrie says, patiently, "the problem is Grace and Hannah are unaware of each other's feeling. Grace particularly has no idea about her own feelings. You are oblivious to being virtually stalked by your friend's fiancée, who in turn is in a state of complete denial."
Tyler lets the words settle in his brain, then finally admits: "ok, I see."
"We couldn't force anything" Greg admits, "getting married was still their decision, and it was not up to us to spill the theoretical beans."
Beanz barks sharply at the word 'beans' and splashes a little in the water.
"All we could do was create the right environment for... things to happen." Mamrie concludes "which, let me tell you, took quite a bit of work."
- - -
There's a taxi waiting for them outside the hotel. There's a table booked at the restaurant they walk in, and on that table there's a candle, a rose, and two glasses of champagne - real French champagne, not cheap California stuff.
There's a jazz band playing live on a stage.
Grace hates jazz.
Hannah looks around, and understands why Grace insisted on dressing up. The restaurant is small and has a sort of 20′s atmosphere to it - not too elegant, yet everybody seems to be wearing a tie.
"Grace, this is so cool!" Hannah comments, looking at the Japanese prints hanging over the patterned wallpaper "how did you find it?"
"I asked Madame Therese at the hotel" she replies "you should have seen her face when I told her this was our first date."
Hannah thinks she's just tasted her own heart in her mouth, and the look on her face is just priceless.
"Earth to Hannah?"
"I'm sorry, I just realised we're on a date."
"Jesus, are you dumb. I don't know what I see in you."
Hannah smiles shyly, and looks down at the glasses. She raises hers, and Grace does the same.
"To our first date?" Hannah asks.
"To our first date" Grace replies, "your birthday, and the failure of my almost-marriage."
Hannah searches Grace's eyes, carefully, for a sign of regret or sadness, and can't find any.
"I'm fine" she assures, "it had to happen. I'm happy it did before I made anything irreparable."
"Look" Hannah says "I know this is not easy. And I understand if you need time and..."
Her eyes fall on the card Grace is offering her, and notices she's not wearing her engagement ring - which is both obvious and surprising.
"What's this?"
"Your birthday card?"
Hannah smiles, and takes a sip of her wine. She then hurries to open the envelope, excitedly.
The front of the card had a pastel drawing of a pile of poo - apparently Grace has made it herself - and it's captioned 'happy birthday you lil' shit'.
Hannah smiles some more, then opens the card, and stops smiling.
"Dear Hannah,
happy birthday.
I love you.
Like really love you, not the sort of 'I love you' you tell your best friend. More like 'I am going to break up with my fiancée for you and want to call you my girlfriend' kind of 'I love you' - also you're a little shit don't cry or I will cry and then I'll hate you. I put makeup on for tonight. Don't be that girl.
I'm here. I'm yours. Also I hate jazz. Here are two tickets for the next Beyoncé concert.
Destroy this message after reading it.
Grace"
Of course she cries. Not too much, just enough to smudge her eyeliner a little.
Their starters arrive, and Grace explains: "I asked for the tasting menu when I booked, I hope you don't mind." Hannah can hear the trembling in her voice that tells her she's holding back her tears.
"You know I love tasting menus!" she replies, sniffling a little.
"Good, cause you're in for a parade of French cheeses and weird pâtés."
- - -
Dinner is the closest thing to pure bliss Hannah can feel that doesn't involve laying under Grace's naked body. She gets to hold her hand between courses, and to smile when she looks at her, and to tell her she's beautiful - all things she never thought she'd get to do.
Once it's over Grace picks up the bill and they move to the bar, closer to the stage, where they can sit side by side.
"This is supposed to be your week, and instead you're spoiling me" Hannah comments, "I gotta say it feels pretty good."
"Mh" Grace nods, sipping on a cocktail, "who's your daddy?"
"That's sounds so wrong on so many levels" Hannah laughs, and rests her head on Grace's shoulder. But she quickly straightens up, unsure whether Grace is ok with public displays of affection.
It's a questionable thought, she reckons, given they basically had sex in a park yesterday - yet, it's different now. It's not a potential one-off, and Hannah doesn't want to assume Grace is comfortable being out just yet.
Grace notices, and places a kiss on her cheek.
"I need the restroom" she says "Enjoy the double bass solo or whatever."
Hannah rolls her eyes, and watches her disappear through the crowd.
- - -
'Paris is weird' Grace thinks, as she notices door handles are slightly lower than in the US. Light switches are also a little misplaced, and she always fumbles longer than usual to find one in the dark.
Everything is similar, yet a little different.
Like her.
She's only a little different, a little misplaced - it's only a matter of getting used to it. But nothing is completely unknown. Just a little unfamiliar.
She's not scared. She's not even worried, right now, and wonders if it's because of the physical distance between her and all her problems, while all the solutions seem to be sitting on a stool in the room nearby.
She checks her makeup on the wide mirror - thank God she managed to not cry. But she had to tell her. She had to write it down and give her tangible proof.
'Was that too sappy? Maybe a little off brand, but hey' she tells herself as she re-applies a layer of bright red lipstick. Better check on Hannah's cheek, to see if she left a mark.
She does want to leave a mark on her, though.
'What the fuck, Grace' she winces, as if her own thoughts were coming from a place still to be discovered.
She walks back to the bar, wondering if it's possible to miss someone after being apart for six and a half minutes. She'll walk up to her, and run her fingers over the back of her neck, and maybe say-
'Who the hell is that?'
Grace stops, and wonders if the heavy, clenching feeling in her chest is normal at all.
A girl is talking to Hannah - Grace can only see her short dress and the cascade of reddish blonde hair she's flipping nervously. And Grace knows Hannah has the look, and the charm, and every single freaking lesbian in the room always tries to chat her up. Hannah talks, amiably, as she always does. Does she always look like she's flirting? She's rubbing her nose. She touched the girl's arms. Grace noticed it before - the way people gravitate towards Hannah, the way she always- is she hugging her?
Grace feels something like a blind rage running through her body. She unwittingly closes her fists and her feet start walking - her heels hitting hard on the rough wooden floor. Only when she's standing close to Hannah does she stop.
She doesn't look at the blonde girl standing next to them, she doesn't notice she stopped talking. She just dramatically cups Hannah's face, and turns it towards herself. She softly greets her with a: "hey", then kisses her.
It's not a peck. It's a full-on French kiss, and she is making sure the blonde can see tongues are involved. As she pulls away, she rubs a smear of lipstick from Hannah's lips and, pleased with her shocked expression, turns towards the stranger to offer a hand.
"Hi, I'm Grace" she states, but her hand remains empty, floating midair.
The blonde looks surprised and, weirdly, very happy. It takes half a second for Grace to realise what just happened.
"Grace, this is Rachel..." Hannah introduces, unsure whether she should laugh or be utterly terrified, "she's a big fan of yours."
Grace stands, speechless. The girl brings both hands to her mouth, then starts "Oh. My. God! Oh my God, you're Grace Helbig - and you guys... oh my god. Hartbig is canon. I can't even."
Grace looks at Hannah, who looks at Grace, and both look at the over-excited fangirl about to lose consciousness.
"Oh crap" Grace whispers, barely audible.
Hannah laughs, nervously, and tries to explain: "Ah ah! No, dude, you know Grace! She's, like, the biggest troll ever! Mace? She started that ship off! Don't be-"
"It's true." Grace puts a hand on Hannah's shoulder, and cuts her off.
"Rachel, I have to ask you a favour" she continues, looking the blonde girl straight in the eyes for a second, then her gaze falls on the floor, "we... this is very new. I'm in a relationship with someone else, but I'm about to break up with them. I have to ask you to keep this for yoursefl until we make it public. Can you do that?"
When she lift her eyes up, Rachel is clapping her hands, jumping excitedly and making squeaky noises. Grace turns to Hannah, and finds her open mouthed, frozen in a sort of awe.
"Guys, please, I'm supposed to be the awkward one" Grace adds, frowning.
Hannah says nothing, but a proud smile appears on her face.
"Of course, oh my god!" Rachel finally manages to string some words together "my lips are sealed. Your secret is safe with me. When are you planning to come out? Will you make a coming out video? That'd be so cool! Will you make a joint coming out video? Sorry, sorry" she sees Grace quickly getting uncomfortable, or maybe scared, and waves her hands apologetically "no pressure. It's just... a lot of people will be very happy. That's it."
Grace had forgotten the shippers. The videos. The channel. She had nearly forgotten she was still engaged.
"Does anybody know?" Rachel whispers, still excited.
"No" Hannah says, simply, "nobody knows yet."
"Not even Mamrie?" Rachel squints her eyes, investigating.
"Not even-" Hannah pauses, and frowns, then continues "not even Mamrie."