One Perfect Year at Stevenson High

Chapter 34

[CW: Some handsy foreplay]

That night, Catra's subconscious gave her a second chance to do everything right.

In her dreams, she was back on that staircase, Adora draped languidly between her legs. When Adora wrapped her arms around her, Catra didn't hesitate to return the gesture. She held Adora tight and close, savoring her comforting warmth and the floral scent of her hair.

The Adora in Catra's dream teased her fingers up Catra's back, coyly slipping under the bunched hem of her shirt and tracing nonsensical patterns up and down her spine. In her dream, Catra arched her back, needy and desperate for Adora's touch. She tipped her head back and let Adora explore her, gasping shamelessly as Adora groped at her chest before dragging her fingers lower, lower, to the top of Catra's jeans.

Catra was already breathless by the time Adora kissed her. There was no moment of tense surprise this time, only eager acceptance. Catra parted her lips and invited Adora in. She moaned against Adora's tongue as it curled around her sharp teeth like a dare. In return, Catra nipped Adora's lower lip, bruising bites marking what was hers.

This dream Adora was as bold as Catra needed her to be. She pinned Catra to the steps the same way she had in real life. But this time, as she kissed Catra over and over, her hand slid lower. First, she gripped Catra's thigh, her thumb drawing firm, teasing circles that drove Catra crazy. Catra lifted her hips and tipped her knees out wide as if to say please, keep going. Don't stop there.

In her dream, Catra got everything she wanted. No guilt, no regret. Just Adora's hand, sliding off her thigh so it could press into the heat between her legs instead. The pressure, the friction, it was everything Catra needed. It was so damn good. And when the feeling bloomed and hovered on the cusp of being too much, Catra cried Adora's name and awoke with a gasp.

Adora, the staircase, the dark frat house basement — it all disappeared as Catra's eyes snapped open. She regretted it immediately. The soft morning light that drifted across the room felt like icepicks driving into her eyes. Catra clamped them shut again and gulped deep, desperate breaths to calm the raging headache that had exploded just in the middle of her forehead.

Minutes passed before Catra was brave enough to open her eyes again. This time she did so gingerly, shielding them with a weak hand. Her eyes were dry and gritty, but she found it didn't hurt quite as badly if she squinted. She scowled up at the ceiling, wondering why something felt off — something about the quality of the morning light and the way it cut across the room was oddly unfamiliar.

Frowning, Catra turned her head carefully to the left and peered around. She spotted her clothes, piled carelessly on the floor. Wrinkled red t-shirt, tattered black jeans, leather jacket — the outfit she'd worn to the party.

The party.

Memories from the night before swam hazily to the surface of Catra's mind. She remembered dancing, sitting on the stairs, and Adora...

Catra's heart skipped. Adora kissed her. Catra recalled how excited she'd been in that moment, and then, how horrible she felt when she remembered the two of them weren't on the same side anymore. Regret came rushing back to her, and Catra draped her forearm over her eyes as if that would do anything to keep the memories away.

But she couldn't forget the sight of Adora's face, lovely even in tears. Catra knew those tears had been her fault, though the details of what she'd done to cause them were still lost in the fuzzy edges of her hangover. She remembered very little after that. DT pushing a red cup into her hands. Thrashing on the dancefloor with...

Scorpia.

This time when Catra's eyes flew open, she was too terrified to care about the sharp pain behind them. She looked again to the floor. Yes, those were her clothes discarded in a heap, but that wasn't her carpet. It was too clean, too new, and the wrong color entirely.