weak ; trixya ✗

four

The next day and the whole next week, Trixie made sure to wear the white glasses that Katya called her cute in.

And in that week, Katya stopped by Trixie's locker every time she could so she could talk to the girl.

Chris still bothered Trixie, but now it was a bit different. He was going to extremes.

By slapping Trixie's ass when she walked by and cat-calling her from across the room, and honestly Katya was getting a bit sick of it. Because not only did she have a slight crush on Trixie (although she wouldn't admit it), but it was just wrong to do that to someone. Especially someone as pure and innocent as Trixie.

It was Sunday morning when Katya saw Trixie again, this time not by her locker but at the small coffeeshop in their town. She smiled to himself slightly when she did, but it quickly vanished when she saw Chris sitting across from an uncomfortable looking Trixie Mattel.

The tattoed girl quickly got her coffee that she ordered and headed over to where Chris and Trixie were.

"Hey Chris, whatcha doin?" Katya asked, swinging her free arm around the back of Chris' neck in a friendly way.

Trixie felt a wave of relief wash over her when Katya walked over, knowing that with her there Chris won't try anything. It was odd, but Trixie felt safe around Katya.

Chris only smirked at Katya, glancing back at Trixie.

"Just talking to this pretty girl here," He said, nodding over at Trixie. "You know Trixie, yeah?" he asked, fully knowing that she knew Trixie.

Katya nodded, sipping her coffee before speaking.

"Yeah of course I know Trixie, she's great," She said, flashing a small smile at Trixie.

Trixie could feel herself blush slightly and she didn't know where this sudden rush of butterflies came from when Katya smiled at her. The blue-eyed girl never had this effect on Trixie before, but maybe that's because she's never been so nice to her before.

Chris hummed, nodding slightly as he heard Katya words.

"Yeah, she is. she's probably a great fuck too," He smirked again, winking at Trixie in a suggestive matter.

Katya scrunched up here nose as she heard Chris' words, immediately retracting the arm from Chris' neck.

"I don't think Trixie is very comfortable with that," She stated, glancing over at Trixie who was looking down at her lap.

Chris snorted, rolling his eyes. "Can't wait to get into that pink skirt, am I right? I'm sure you can't either, Zamo."

"Fuck off, Chris," Katya said, voice quiet but strong as he glared at the boy. "Thats not how you talk about someone, especially someone as lovely as Trixie over here."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Just wait until I'm fucking her," Chris said with another wink over at Trixie before walking away from the table Trixie was sitting at.

Trixie glanced up when Chris left, looking over at Katya with a soft smile. "Thanks for that. He probably wouldn't of left if it wasn't for you showing up," She said, voice relieved and happy.

Honestly, Trixie didn't care about what Chris had said to her. She got that all the time from Chris, it's Katya calling her lovely is what really got her. It was so sweet and sincere sounding, definitely odd coming from Katya's mouth. But, Trixie quite enjoyed it.

Katya shrugged, taking the seat across from Trixie and setting her coffee cup on the table.

"It's not a big deal. Like I said a few days ago, Chris is a dick. And someone as pretty as you should definitely not be treated like that."

Trixie found himself blushing again, her eyes tearing away from Katya and down at the table. A soft smile graced her lips, dimples popping out as she heard what Katya had said.

"Pretty, huh?" she asked, a slight teasing tone to her voice as she looked at Katya again.

"Yeah, pretty," Katya said, "that's what you are."

She only said it again to see the pretty blush form on Trixie's cheeks. It was definitely a sight to see. Trixie's curly pink hair shining in the morning sun and the rosy cheeks matching the pink sweater she was wearing. And that smile that was on her nude-painted lips was something else, it was breathtaking.

Katya is fucked.