the odd squad: on the road

how to make out with your famous ex who has a new girlfriend (for devon)

Devon woke up to a frustrated strum of a guitar and a loud "For fuck's sake!"

She opened her eyes and glanced at her surroundings as well as she could. Everything was a little blurry. The clean carpet was littered with what must have been at least fifty dollars worth of paper, scrunched up and dejected. Devon raised her eyebrows at the sight, her mouth speaking before her brain could comprehend it.

"So much for saving the damn rainforest."

Elle, seemingly the culprit of all of this paper slaughter and angry guitar playing, jumped; looking up at Devon. She was out of her attire from the night before. Or was it the night before? For all Devon knew, it was two months ago. Elle's hair was thrown up into a ponytail, which, on anybody else would look, well, horrible. But for some blessed reason, Elle Addams seemed to rock every hairstyle and look possible. Devon wondered if Elle would still look beautiful if she put her in tinfoil.

Probably.

"You're awake." she exclaimed, putting down the guitar with a soft crash. It was a black acoustic, shining against the light.

"Great observation." Devon smiled, before jolting. She had a sudden realisation: they were moving. Panic instantly started to kick in. Where was she? Was Elle secretly part of a human trafficking ring?

Maybe the last one was a little dramatic, but it seemed perfectly plausible to Devon at the time. She sat up, stopping to wince at the godforsaken nausea that overcame her. It felt like she was spinning on a fair ride with no way to get off, to the point of sickness.

Devon looked around. It was a normal bedroom. White walls, two beside tables either side of a double bed. A tall houseplant was in the corner, drooping ever so slightly but still vivid green in colour. Almost too green. There was a dressing table in the far corner, adorned with makeup and those tiny shampoo bottles you steal from hotels.

Devon was in the bed on one side, smothered by blankets and such. There was a cup of what looked like coffee on a saucer, the thin stream of steam indicating that it was not yet cold. Elle was sat on the end of the bed, feet tapping restlessly.

"How come we're moving?" Devon remembered to ask, too invested in the details of her surroundings. Elle chuckled (which, admittedly, made Devon swoon in such a way that she hated herself, and Elle, for it).

"Tour bus. I have places to be, you know."

"Tour bus?" Devon repeated in shock, a swarm of questions plaguing her mind. "Where are Jay and Alec? Amelia?"

Elle shuffled further onto the bed, crossing her legs. "Jay and Alec are no doubt making thorough use of the bed situation," she scoffed. "And Amelia is God knows where. Hotel, maybe?"

Devon frowned, which, for some reason, made her painstakingly aware of how much she hurt. Her eye felt twitchy, her head heavy. She felt extremely hungover, on top of the injuries she sustained at the reunion.

"Trouble in Paradise?" she taunted, leaning forward. She swore she saw Elle gulp.

"Give or take."

"Was it because of what Ethan said last night?" Devon wavered, shivering in remembrance.

"...What did Ethan say?" Elle asked as confused as Devon felt.

"About... us?" Devon said, doubting herself. "You know, before he punched me."

Elle laughed, and this time Devon felt herself shrink with embarrassment. "Dev, Ethan never punched you. You got smashed out of your head, argued with Ethan when he tried to take you home and you ended up falling- pretty hard, I might add."

Devon was, for what felt like the fiftieth time since the reunion, red in the face.

"Oh God, that's so embarrassing- I'm so sorry you had to see that-" Devon started, instinctively clasping Elle's hands in hers. She went to pull away after realising what she had done, but Elle only pulled her closer.

"Devon.. do you have any.. alcohol issues?" Elle treaded carefully, not wanting to upset her.

Devon flushed again. "No, I swear!"

"Wonderful," Elle smirked, inching even closer to Devon, who seemed frozen- very out of character from her flirty, unsubtle self. "I don't really like the taste of alcohol."

And then she kissed her.

It took seconds. One second they were close enough that they could feel eachother's breath, but not yet touching, and the next they were lying on the bed, sampling Heaven.

Devon felt guilty the second her and Elle started kissing, even though it was being overriden by euphoria every so often. Elle had a girlfriend and Devon had a boyfriend.  Or did she? After the stunt drunk Devon pulled, she wasn't too sure.

Elle's breath was hot on Devon's neck, yet her lips felt cold to the touch in a way that made Devon shiver. It didn't bother her much though, evident by the small noises Devon was making, a mixture of laughing and groaning.

It was when she felt her top button being undone that Devon decided to call it quits. She sat up, catching her breath as Elle looked at her, a mixture of confusion and upset on her face.

"Do you not want..." Elle started quietly, before being abruptly cut off by Devon.

"No, I do want it. More than anything in the damn world. But we both have partners, and I could not handle being just a roadie hookup to you." Devon sighed shakily, still feeling the high from before.

"Dev..." Elle sighed and put her hands on the shorter girl's shoulders, looking directly at her. "Understand, you would never be a roadie hookup."

"But I would," Devon retaliated, throwing a pillow over her own face in frustration. "I'm the middle ground."

"What?"

"The middle ground. The average. The second best. Never your first love or your last. You loved Alex first- both emotionally and physically," Devon frowned, her voice muffled by the cotton mass over her face. "And so far, your last love is Amelia. She doesn't deserve to be cheated on; nobody does. I learnt that from me and Jay years ago."

Elle stood up, pulling Devon up with her. Devon looked at Elle in what could only be described as longing; the look you give to your favourite jumper as you give it to charity. The look you give your girlfriend as she boards a plane, disappearing for half a decade.

The two kissed. It was a sweet, long kiss; not quite the passionate ones from five minutes earlier. Devon realised as Elle pulled away that she still managed to taste like strawberries. Elle rested her forehead on Devon's, murmuring in a tone so low that Devon could barely catch it.

"Never second-best."