Blue Sweaters
Pairing - Ava x MC
Word count - 7.1k
Emma burns.
Not because she’s warm, she’s the opposite, actually, it’s pretty chilly.
No, she burns because she’s angry. She’s mad, she would like to punch a wall if the opportunity ever arose.
When Emma thought about going to the homecoming dance, she’d imagined bright lights, romantic songs. She’s imagined Mason and her slow dancing for exactly the perfect amount of time until the moment felt just right and they both leaned in for the perfect kiss. She’d imagined fireworks and butterflies and everything else that’s supposed to happen when you kiss someone you’d loved all your life. Emma, however, had not imagined her date getting into a fist fight with somebody else. She hadn’t expected being kicked out of the dance, hadn’t expected never having that perfect dance along with that perfect kiss. Emma is angry about many things, dates getting into fights, being kicked out, and above all, she’s angry that this whole day, homecoming, feels like a waste. After the game, when Mason asked her to the dance she recalls feeling so much. Now she’s just angry. She huffs, pacing outside with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Because as she walks, even though she is absolutely burning with rage, and anger, and indignation and everything else right and valid, she also feels rather cold in the autumn air. It’s pretty chill for October. Not for the first time that night she wishes she hadn’t had Mason be her ride. Emma, still likes him, maybe, but right now she feels as if she has the right to be mad, and if she sees his face right now with all his bruises and a sad look in his eyes, she might be inclined to forgive him, and she will later, but right now she thinks she deserves the right to stew in her anger for just a little bit longer. She shivers, rubbing her arms again. If only she could stew somewhere warmer. For a moment, Emma considers calling her father to pick her up. Immediately after she shuts it down. She can practically already hear the pride in his voice, when she’d inevitably have to tell him why she had to leave. She knows that he’s said he’s going to be a better father and that should be enough, and she wants to think that it will be, but then she remembers all the looks he gave, and the things he’s done. Her father has always told her ‘actions speak louder than words’ and more than anything, she thinks he should take his own advice. His actions spoke volumes. Emma remembers the police station, how he wouldn’t drive her home so she could think about her actions. Emma only wishes he thought about his. So, Emma clenches her fists, she’s not calling her father. For one second, she debates walking, then her heels pinch at her feet, and the sky seems to get darker in relation, as if to say, ‘you really want to walk home, now?’ Emma doesn’t, actually. What can she do? Mason’s busy getting chewed out by the principal. That’ll take a while. Emma chews her lip, maybe she should wait for him, he’s her only option right now. She just doesn’t know if she could handle the awkward car ride home. She could probably roll with the awkwardness, but does she want to? Emma pulls out her phone and opens her last conversation with Mason. mason: on my way, excited to see you tonight! emma: ok!! see you soon <3 Emma winces, she remembers debating for five minutes on whether she should send the heart. Those five minutes ended abruptly with Mackenzie breaking into her room, grabbing her phone, and pressing send before Emma could stop her. (“It’s not that big of a deal,” Mackenzie had said, Emma had been too busy trying not to cry to respond.) It hadn’t mattered in the end, Mason had sent a heart back a few minutes later, and all her worries had evaporated into fuzzy-happy feelings. She had felt so happy then, now she just feels tired. Emma starts typing before she can convince herself not to. emma: hey, so i was wondering if... She paused. Wondering if what? How is she supposed to phrase this in a way that won’t make her feel like a jerk? She yelled at him, and now she’s asking for a ride. Emma’s never felt more hypocritical in her life. She glares down at her phone, at the stupid hearts, at her stupid half-written text message, at Mason previously saying he’d be happy to see her, and she agreed, but he was wrong. She was wrong Emma is back to burning. She’s in the process of trying to melt her phone into lava with her stare, when someone puts their hand on her shoulder. Emma jumps, and almost drops her phone. She doesn’t, luckily, she doesn’t want to know how her father would react to that a broken phone She almost tells the person to leave her alone until she looks up.
She blinks, Ava Lawrence?
Haven’t had a conversation that hasn’t ended in argument in forever, Ava Lawrence?
That Ava?
Emma is having trouble processing, that Ava Lawrence, Ava Lawrence, would want anything to do with her.
If Ava noticed anything weird about her, she doesn’t mention anything. Instead of saying anything, Ava just leans against the side of the building with Emma, tapping her foot against the brick, and resting her head against the wall. The moment is so terrifyingly normal that Emma suddenly feels horribly nostalgic. Ava must feel the nostalgia seeping into the atmosphere too, because she smiles.
Emma hasn’t seen that smile, a genuine one, in a very long time. It’s nice, the kind of smile that sparks fireworks in the hearts of everyone ever. It makes her want to smile too.
“You cold?” Ava asks.
She blinks, “What?”
“You’ve been out here for a while, ever since the fight.”
Emma starts, “You noticed?”
“The fight? Where Mason threw Noah into the punch bowl? The one half the dance recorded? I think everyone did,”
“No, no, not that, you just, “She trails off, clearing her throat, she can’t help but notice how dry it is, “You noticed I was gone?”
“Yeah, duh. Why wouldn’t I?”
Emma is having a considerably difficult time finding only one answer to that question.
“Right,” She settles on.
Still, the guilt from before is piling up. Ava, the person’s she’s been a horrible friend to, is being nice. Ava, who noticed she was gone. Ava whose very smile makes something twist inside of her chest.
Even though her burning anger from before has since settled, there’s something about her that makes Emma still feel the slightest bit warm.
“So,” Emma starts, “Did you have fun at the dance?”
“Nope,” At Emma’s guilty look, Ava laughs,” Not because of the fight, the fight was the best part actually, gave me a chance to talk to you,”
Ava bumps Emma’s shoulder with her own, Emma finds the spot their shoulders touched scorching hot.
Emma laughs awkwardly, she doesn’t know how to take the compliment, and she feels weird. She thinks she might be coming down with a fever.
“You could’ve talked to me before,” Emma says.
“Yeah, I guess,” Ava turns away for a second,” But it wouldn’t have been talking,”
“What?” Emma frowns.
“We haven’t talked in forever,” Ava stresses the word, turning back to face her, there’s something unreadable in her eyes, “Not actually talked, it just- it wasn’t the same.”
She tenses, “I’m sorry. With Mason I thought- “
Ava cuts her off, “It’s not just Mason, it was like this before him, we just never acknowledged it, we should have acknowledged it.”
Emma feels her chest tighten, because Ava’s right. She remembers pulling away from their friendship in early sophomore year. She doesn’t remember why exactly, but that was also the year her crush on Mason escalated to the extreme. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t remember much from that year. It was all valentines’ cards with too much glitter and staring at the ceiling at night thinking of elaborate ways to profess her love for someone who didn’t like her back. She hadn’t realized but maybe in pursuing Mason, she had been pushing Ava further and further away.
Except maybe he did like her back then. Emma wonders why the thought makes her feels worse. She rubs her arms, it didn’t matter anyway, because there’s a part of her that regrets all the pining. She spent all those years, hoping he would one day look at her as more than a friend, and now that he has, she doesn’t know if it was worth it.
All she can look at now, is Ava, and the way their friendship has deteriorated for so long and Emma hadn’t even noticed. She never considered that the reason they hadn’t been talking as much, wasn’t just a senior year thing, but an entirety of high school thing. And it wasn’t because of Mason, not in the way she thought it was, it was all because of her.
The guilt Emma carries swirls, and if it’s possible, seems to grow even larger.
Emma suddenly does not feel very good.
She wraps her hands around her arms, taking in the night. It’s late, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else notices, everything is still just a little bit too loud. Cars rush past in the main street, and the streetlights are glowing in the way they only can in the night. As she stares, Emma feels the wind brush past her arms, she can feel the chill of it on the back of her neck, she shivers. The moon glows, and Ava’s presence beside her seems to glow even brighter. Though Ava’s the closest they’ve been in a while, Emma has never felt lonelier.
She rubs her shoulders, there’s so much to say. She doesn’t know to start.
An apology is always a good start.
“I’m sorry,” She looks down, twisting her fingers, “This is my fault,”
Ava doesn’t say anything, and Emma’s scared to look up, so she settles on staring down at the ground, there’s a crack in the concrete, that could be dangerous if left unchecked, she focuses on that instead of the weighted stare of the person beside her.
“This is all my fault,” She says again, it's easy to start with facts, “I’m a bad friend, and I don’t think I’ve been a good one to you in a very long time.”
She continues, her voice shaky. “I guess, I got distracted by Mason, for-- for years. And I never got undistracted, which is my fault, and I should have been paying more attention to you, because we’re here and they’re there, and, and, and-- I don’t know why any of it was so important.”
Emma’s throat burns, she doesn’t know if it’s because she’s just spoken more words than she should have, or if she just really, really wants to cry. She decides it might be both.
She isn’t going to cry, but she does sniff terribly loud because she is two seconds away from crying, and it is just as embarrassing.
Emma looks down resolutely at her shoes, she knows if she looks up, she’ll see Ava’s expression, and whatever is on her face, will either destroy Emma or make her cry. Either way, she’s two minutes away from running away and never looking up. Her feet will hurt running in heels, but she thinks it might be worth it rather than having to look into Ava’s face and only seeing disappointment.
‘Emma,” Ava says. It’s one word, just her name, but Emma looks up immediately. Somehow Ava has managed to stand directly in front of the moon, the perspective makes Emma breathless, the full moon is like a halo to Ava. It makes her heart jump-start. Emma can’t put a name to this thrumming in her chest, but it feels new, she isn’t sure if she’s ever felt anything this intensely.
There’s something in Ava’s eyes, the same unreadable look she’d seen before, but this time it seems sharper. Before Emma can look too closely, it softens. Ava smiles, and with the moon behind her Emma thinks this new feeling might be killing her.
Ava’s smile brightens, if that’s even possible, and she grabs Emma’s hand. “Do you want a ride?”
“Okay,” Emma focuses on their hands together, wondering why it seems so important, suddenly deciding she would like to never let go.
-
The drive home is nice. It seems like old times, when they would sing out of tune in the back of whoever’s family’s’ minivan, back when they were only kids and they would sing as loud as they wanted to. They couldn’t drive places on their own yet, they also didn’t know how to sing, but that didn’t stop them, it was fun.
Emma misses it, before her mom died, before her father became who he is now, before everything became so much worse. She misses being out of tune.
Emma looks over at Ava, crooning to whatever song’s playing on the radio, and yet is still somehow still driving perfectly. Emma wonders how she does it, but Ava is perfect at many things, so she isn’t all surprised. Emma might recognize the song, but she can’t tell over Ava’s terrible singing. She is somehow off-key on every single note, Emma didn’t think it was possible, but Ava exceeds expectations. Emma knows that technically Ava is probably the worst singer ever, but looking over, seeing the grin on her face and the joy she radiates clear as day, Emma thinks she might be the best.
Emma must look embarrassingly sappy looking over at Ava, but she can’t help herself, she’s lucky to have her friend back.
“What are you looking at?” Ava teases, glancing at Emma.
“You,” it slips out, and Emma is only momentarily embarrassed at the brutal honesty, “Your voice is incredible, you know?”
Ava rolls her eyes, still smiling, “Okay.”
“Really, “Emma insists, “Incredible, it’s very… powerful, and strong, and--“
“Okay, Emma,” Ava laughs, and Emma is suddenly very glad she isn’t driving, she feels she would forget how to function at the sound, “I know I’m not good. It’s fine, I’m not trying to be. Sometimes it’s just fun to sound bad.”
Ava continues, glancing over for a second, “You ever just… have fun?”
Emma wants to answer, but she doesn’t exactly know how to. She tries to remember the last time she’s had fun. It’s more difficult than she thought. There’s the time she spray-painted with Mackenzie, but that had ended in the police station with more bad memories than she knows what to do with. That night had started fun and ended with Emma trying her hardest not to cry. She doesn’t know if that counts as fun, she would like to think it did not.
Then there was the time she took pictures of the football field, that was fun too, for a bit, until Mason and Noah had started fighting. Emma frowns, Mason and Noah certainly fight a lot. She supposes she might have noticed before, but tonight, at the dance, was just the tipping point.
But hanging out with Ava has always been fun.
“’m having fun with you,” Emma turns, resting her chin on her hand to look out the window. It’s getting late, she wonders what time it is.
“Oh,” Ava says. She doesn’t continue for a moment; Emma vaguely wonders if she said something wrong.
“I mean,” Ava starts, her voice strangely high, “I mean- besides me, what do you do for fun?”
Emma hums, “I don’t know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” She sighs, “I’ve spent so much time focusing on Mason, that I guess that was fun to me? I don’t know.”
“Mason? You don’t like him anymore?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m mad at him, I think. Am I allowed to be mad?” Emma asks, she trusts Ava, she’s right about many things.
“You’re allowed to be mad.” Ava confirms.
“Okay, then I’m mad.”
Emma spots the moon outside her window. She scowls at it, then quickly stops, the moon’s done nothing wrong.
“Are you always going to be mad?” Ava asks.
“Maybe.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Ava raise an eyebrow.
Ava really is right about many things, “Okay, okay. Maybe not. We’ve always been friends, that’s hard to ignore.”
“Right. But you don’t like him?”
“No, “She starts, turning away from the window to look at Ava with an incredulous expression. “Do… you like him? Again?”
Emma can see it, Mason’s very charming. She likes to think she wouldn’t necessarily mind if they got back together, not that she doesn’t like Mason anymore, but for some reason it makes her skin itch, she really hopes she wasn’t lying to herself when she said she got over him.
“No. God, no.” Ava snorts, “No offense, but dating him was a nightmare.”
Emma winces, “That bad?”
“Worse.” She laughs, “He kissed someone else at a party, while I was in the other room. Who does that?”
Emma apparently, Emma does that. Emma would also like to open the car door and jump out due to guilt and mortification.
“Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you, “She pauses, “Well, I was. But now I just find it funny. “
“I’m still sorry that happened, “Emma says. It sounds weak to her own ears, but Ava doesn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t be. It was the push I needed to break up with him.”
Emma looks down at her fingers, twisting them. “Did you ever like him?”
“He’s on the football team, he’s nice, good grades. What isn’t there to like?”
Ava sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself rather than Emma. The conversation from the roof comes to mind, and Emma bites her tongue. She doesn’t know what to say to that.
It’s quiet for a bit. The radio is still loud, playing something on the Top 40’s. Emma tunes it out watching the road move as the car drives. It’s entrancing.
She almost doesn’t notice the road signs. “Oh, we take a left here—"
“I know, I remember.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, of course,”
Something in the words makes Emma smile. She remembers. She doesn’t know why it matters so much, but she can’t stop smiling at the thought. She knows that technically they’ve been friends for forever, and Ava remembering isn’t something entirely significant, but it still fills Emma with all kinds of warm and fuzzy feelings. Because she remembers.
Emma hides her smile in her palm as she looks out the window. This is fine, an absolutely normal thing to smile about.
She steadily avoids looking directly at Ava, she feels that in that moment, it might be like looking at the sun.
As time passes, she can feel her eyes drooping, the landscape starts to blur together. Emma’s been feeling rather tired lately, she thinks this must be a good as time as any to sleep.
-
Time flies by in flashes. She remembers shivering and feeling terribly cold. That could have just been a dream, Emma thinks, she doesn’t feel cold anymore. The radio that was so loud before, sounds incredibly soft now. There is a warmth in her chest, she doesn’t know where it came from, but she would never like it to leave. Emma feels content and she wonders, if only briefly, when the last time it was that she might have felt anywhere close to this.
She feels someone nudge her shoulder. Oh, Ava.
Emma yawns, she’s very tired, going back to sleep doesn’t sound like too terrible of an idea.
Ava nudges her again, “We’re here, at your house.”
Emma blinks, “Oh, okay. Thank you.”
“You look tired, “Ava comments. “Maybe you should go to bed,”
“I’m not tired, “Emma tries to protest, but considering she can’t seem to keep her eyes open; she doesn’t think she’s being very convincing.
“Okay,” Ava says simply, from the smile on her lips Emma can tell she doesn’t believe her. The smile pulls at Emma’s chest, she feels very floaty all of a sudden.
“Really!” She stresses.
“Okay, I believe you,”
Ava’s still smiling, and Emma’s chest is still doing somersaults and maybe Emma does need to go to bed.
Emma starts to cross her arms, to protest that even if she is feeling tired, it doesn’t matter, but there’s a blanket in her lap and it stops her in her tracks.
At closer inspection, it isn’t a blanket. It’s a sweater. Blue, soft, large, and everything good at once. She decides she loves it immediately.
“What is this?” Emma asks.
“One of my sweaters, you looked cold, so…” Ava trails off.
Emma is having trouble remembering how to respond. She’s distracted by many things but pushes away all the ones that start with ‘Ava’ and focuses on one.
“But… but you were driving- “
“Not when I gave it to you, the light was red,” Ava looks amused, meanwhile Emma is trying to remember how to breathe, “Just because I don’t know how to sing, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive.”
“Right, I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Emma’s still a little preoccupied by the warmness of the sweater in her hands so she sounds more sincere than she meant to. But she’s tired, her brain to mouth filter is slowly disappearing, she can’t bring herself to care. She missed Ava, with her things are easy.
Ava hums in agreement.
Emma takes a second to look out the window. The porch-light to her house isn’t on, which either means her father isn’t in, or he is, and he plans to interrogate Emma as soon as she steps in the door. She’d much rather have the former.
“I guess I should be going.” Emma has never sounded as reluctant as she is now.
Ava nods, it warms Emma’s heart that she looks just as hesitant.
“Um, thanks” Emma starts,” for the ride, it was nice of you. You didn’t have to.”
“And let you have to ask Mason for a ride? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“He wouldn’t be awful, but-“
“But it’d be awkward, right? I wouldn’t do that to you.” Ava smiles, “Besides, this way, I got to save you and hang out with you,”
Emma can only smile, “This is much better than having to ask Mason.”
“The bar is on the ground, but I agree.”
Emma snorts, Mason really isn’t that horrible, but she imagines a car ride with Mason with awkward small talk, and no radio, and having to talk about the weather of all things. She decides she’d rather be nowhere else other than here with Ava.
She smiles, “I really like hanging out with you, Ava.”
“You’re so sappy,” Ava comments, “But, okay, I really like hanging out with you, too.”
At Ava’s words, she can feel her heart jumpstart. She feels tempted to hide her face in the sweater and never emerge from it. She’s smiling so much, and she doesn’t know if she can stop. Emma is a pile of goo, and she is never going to emotionally recover from this.
She doesn’t know what this feeling is, but it is on the tip of her tongue.
Emma thinks about the sweater in her lap, about how Ava turned the radio down when she was asleep, about how Ava notices more about her than maybe anyone else. Emma thinks about the warmness in her chest, and the smile that never seems to leave. She feels the buzz in her fingers, and the non-stop drumming in her heart. Emma thinks of many things and feels even more, she isn’t sure if she understands it yet, but she would like to.
“No, I mean,“ Emma isn’t very coherent, but she is full of tired words, and they are big and heavy and bursting to get out, “I’ve been thinking about all the time I spent thinking about Mason, when I really should have just been thinking about you,”
Emma’s chest feels lighter, like the words she’s been carrying have always been a weight she has never been able to let go off.
She doesn’t know when, but the atmosphere in the car has gotten significantly heavier. Almost like the heaviness in her chest has left to encompass the air of the car.
Emma doesn’t notice herself look away from Ava, but she finds that her gaze is fixed on the dashboard, she isn’t sure she can tear it away.
Right when the thrumming of Emma’s chest reaches an extreme, Ava reaches over grabbing one of Emma’s hands in her own.
“Are you, “Ava says, “thinking now?”
“Yeah,” Emma says immediately, its breathy, and it sounds so unlike her own voice she almost doesn’t recognize it. She’s looking at Ava now, and she doesn’t think she can stop, doesn’t think she wants to
And Oh.
Oh.
That’s what the feeling is.
The feelings she couldn’t understand were feelings. Romantic ones, for Ava specifically.
There are so many things she doesn’t understand, so many things she doesn’t know yet, but she does know, right now, that the thrumming in heart points to Ava. She knows that many things point to Ava.
Emma would like to say something, but the words die in her throat. She’s glad for it, she isn’t sure what she would have said.
They’re closer now than they were before, Emma’s having trouble thinking, and all she can focus on is Ava’s hand in hers.
Just then, the porch light turns on, then off, then on again. Its flickering, like a siren without the sound. She’d be worried if her father hadn’t done this exact same thing every time Emma went on a date. Emma groans, her head falling onto the dashboard. She debates sinking lower into the passenger seat and never being seen again. She figures she could do it, if she really tried.
“Sorry, that was--,” Emma cringes, “that’s my dad, he must be wondering why we’ve been sitting here for so long,”
If Ava is bothered, she doesn’t show it, Emma meanwhile might be dying of embarrassment,
“It’s fine, not like we were making out or anything,”
Emma coughs, feeling her face burn, “Yeah, that’d uh, good thing we weren’t doing that, not like I would mind or anything, but that’d be crazy.”
Ava looks amused, Emma feels she might have done something terrible to have deserved this.
“Um,” Emma gathers up all her belongings, embarrassment clear as day. Emma is absolutely mortified, “I should get going, I’ll text you?”
Ava grins, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind or anything, but that’d be crazy, right?”
Emma groans, “Can we please forget that ever happened?”
Ava’s grin grows even larger, “I don’t know, I think it was cute.”
Emma would like to scream, she doesn’t of course, but she would like to.
She doesn’t know how to respond articulately to Ava calling her cute, so she doesn’t, instead Emma opens the door as best as she can, it’s hard when her face is as warm as it is.
“I’ll text you later though, okay?” She can hear the smile in Ava’s voice, and she almost trips over the sound as she walks over to her flickering porch-light. She turns around, before she can trip, and flashes a thumbs up, alongside a shaky smile.
When Emma reaches her front door, Ava starts to drive off. Before she does, Ava gives her a bright smile, it warms Emma up all the way to the top of her head. Emma tries to return it, but it’s hard, she never has liked going home, especially when she knows her father’s waiting, ready with a lecture.
She watches Ava’s car turn the corner, it is only then that she steels herself, letting the smile drop. She turns around, unlocking the door, she can do this. She can’t help but think about how much she already misses Ava.
-
Her father is not mad. It’s so surprising, Emma thinks it’s a joke at first. Then again, her father has never exactly been funny.
He only sits her down and questions why she was in the car as long as she was. He heavily implies that if she were making out with anyone, he’d be fine with it. Emma heavily implies that ‘no way, she would never, why would you even think that?’ She gets the feeling he might not exactly believe her, and she understands. Her face has never felt as hot as it does now. She’s still burning with the mortification of her father thinking she might have been making out with someone, alongside the mortification of her father not being too far off.
She hadn’t been making out with Ava, but maybe she wanted to?
She rubs her hands over the soft fabric of the sweater Ava had given her. Emma hadn’t meant to take it from the car, but in the haste of not dying from embarrassment, she must have accidentally grabbed it. She had forgotten about it then, but she can’t bring herself to now. The fabric is so soft and warm, it reminds her a bit of the fuzzy feelings she feels with Ava.
Ava, who she has feelings for. Ava, who she has romantic feelings for.
Emma, who for the past ten minutes has been sitting on her bed questioning everything she’s ever known, covers her face with her hands and groans.
She has never been one to deny her feelings. She feels things strongly and loves even stronger. But so far in her life, she’s never loved anyone other than Mason. This is new territory for her.
Emma’s only known she’s had a crush for twenty minutes, but in those minutes, she has had many thoughts and one hundred percent of them have been about Ava.
She fingers the sweater in her hands, its soft, warm, perfect sweater material, a part of Emma wants to make a joke about it being ‘girlfriend material’ too but she smothers it down. She wonders where Ava got the sweater, she’d like her own, for reasons entirely unrelated to Ava, of course.
Huffing, she grabs her phone. Telling Ava that she accidentally stole her sweater, would probably be the kind thing to do.
When she unlocks the phone, she frowns. Her half-written text message to Mason still displayed. At the sight, she feels guilt swirl in her chest, the fuzzy butterflies she felt with Ava disappearing.
She left without a text, or acknowledgement, or anything. The last time they spoke to each other, was harsh, primarily on Emma’s side. She doesn’t regret it; she is angry about all the fighting between Noah and Mason. She is angry that it came to a boil at the dance. She’s angry about many things. But she feels the anger slowly calm, like a thermometer settling at ninety-nine. On the edge of burning, but not quite there yet.
Emma isn’t burning anymore. She looks down at the sweater in her hands, maybe she’d had a little help with that.
She figures she and Mason should probably talk soon, but for now, Ava.
She switches to her last text conversation with her, it wasn’t recent. It hurts more than she thought, but they’re friends now, it’s fine.
She exhales, first conversation with Ava after the realization.
Emma: hey! You left your sweater
Emma: and by left i mean i accidentally borrowed it
Emma: and by borrowed i mean stole
Emma: on accident
Emma: anyway do you want it back?
Before she can type anything else, she throws her phone as far as she can. Luckily, it lands with a thump on the other side of her bed. She doesn’t need a cracked screen, but she also doesn’t need to feel tempted to send any more texts than she just did. She doesn’t need to be more embarrassed.
Emma grabs a pillow and screams. This is fine.
She sits on her bed, legs crossed, very adamantly ignoring the phone beside her. This is also fine.
Right when she thinks she might pick up her phone, just to check If her messages were even that bad, she has the sneaking suspicion they were, but It wouldn’t hurt to check, her door opens.
Mackenzie enters with all the grace of a younger sibling, meaning none at all. There’s a bit of bright blue paint on the side of her face, something tells Emma her sister was doing one of her extracurricular activities.
“So,” Mackenzie begins, grinning and shutting the door behind her, “How was the dance?”
“Boring,” She elects not to mention her date getting into a fight, and being kicked out,” Where were you?”
“Around,” She waves her hand, deeming it unimportant, walking over to sit next to Emma, “Dad lecturing you for thirty minutes straight was a good distraction, so thanks for that.”
She’s glad it was helpful to someone. The entire time, she thought her Dad was going to be stern, or angry, or something. But he wasn’t. He just talked. He wasn’t as patronizing as he used to be, and that just unnerved her even more. It was relieving, but it felt strange.
“I thought he was going to yell at me, but he didn’t, is that weird? That’s weird, right?”
“He’s trying, I guess.”
“I know, it’s just.” She frowns, “It’s weird.” Emma fingers the sweater again, apparently anything reminding her of Ava is very calming.
Mackenzie follows her eyes, “Hey, where’d you get this?”
“Nowhere,” She says too quickly.
Her sister looks suspiciously, “Mason?”
“No- “
“Noah?”
“No-“
“Then who? They’re the only two people you ever talk about.”
Emma knows that technically, saying that she took Ava’s sweater wouldn’t raise any alarms, they are best friends. It’s just the context of the sweater that makes her second guess it. The way the sweater in her arms reminds her of Ava caring about her, and that reminds Emma of the realization she’s had earlier, and that means feelings and it’s too late to deal with feelings right now.
She’d like to keep her feelings to herself as long as possible, they’re new, and she isn’t sure she’s ever felt anything like this before.
“Nobody’s. I accidentally took it from the dance, I’ll return it later.”
Mackenzie doesn’t look like she believes it, but she isn’t going to push. “Okay, well, it’s a nice sweater anyway,”
“It is,” Emma says softly.
Mackenzie raises an eyebrow as she pretends not to notice.
“You have a little bit of paint on your face,” Emma notes, changing the subject.
“I do?” Mackenzie rubs her face, missing the spot entirely, “Did I get it?”
She tilts her head, “Um…”
Mackenzie stands, “I should clean this off, I don’t want dad to, uh,” She gestures around with her hands, “You know, he’s fine with it but he isn’t fine with it.”
“Yeah.” Her dad wasn’t fine with a lot of things.
Her phones chimes, Emma itches to check it, but she can show restraint, she can do it.
“Are you going to check that?” Mackenzie asks.
Emma can, in fact, not do it.
She grabs her phone a little too quickly. Her shoulders slump.
Mackenzie looks over questioningly.
“Just Mason.”
“Just Mason?” She says full of disbelief, “I thought you were in love with him, or something.”
“Or something,”
Mackenzie frowns, she looks ready to ask something, and Emma cuts her off.
“Its’s fine,” She can’t have her little sister worrying over her, it should be the other way around. “He didn’t do anything bad, or whatever, I just don’t think I like him anymore.”
Emma resolutely ignores the part of herself than knows she doesn’t like him anymore. The same part that grips her phone tightly, ignoring his messages and waiting for someone else’s.
“Okay.” Mackenzie says, she doesn’t look as concerned as she used to, but there’s still a bit of it in her eyes.
She’s hesitating a foot away from the door. The question on whether she should stay or not is written in her posture.
Emma exhales, “It’s fine,” This time it’s steadier, she raises her shoulders confidentially. “You should wash your face. There’s still paint.”
Mackenzie sighs, “I didn’t get any of it?”
She laughs, “No, I think you might have just smeared it more actually,”
“Seriously?”
“No,” She teases, laughing at Mackenzie tired glare, “But there is paint, you should clean that off.”
“Fine, whatever, “She rolls her eyes, letting out a small smile that Emma beams at in return, “But, just know, that if Mason ever does anything-“
“He didn’t!”
“But if he does!” Mackenzie cuts her off, “If he does- I have experience in graffiting cars. And Mason has a really nice car. So, if you ever want me to do anything, then-- “
“That’s so mean!” Emma covers her face in her hands as she tries not to laugh, she shouldn’t be encouraging this. “Besides the last time you did that; we ended up at the police station.”
“Psh, he could take it. They’re rich.” She waves it off, as if she was not currently planning a felony, “And, this time we just won’t get caught.”
“This is illegal and a crime, but it’s also very sweet of you, so thank you, and I love you.”
Mackenzie stumbles back, pretend disgust coloring her face, “I tell you I’d commit a crime for you, and you tell me you love me? You’re so sappy.”
“Maybe a little,” She grins, “But so are you, planning on committing crimes for me, in case I’m ever hurt? That’s sappy.”
“Gross, no.”
Emma only grins a little brighter in response.
“No.”
Even brighter.
Mackenzie’s glare grows more intense, before she huffs, crossing her arms. “Whatever, fine, maybe. But I’m going, I’m washing this off,”
Emma waves, smiling even more. Mackenzie sticks her tongue out as she leaves.
Even after Mackenzie leaves, Emma still has small smile adorning her face. Teasing her little sister is always fun. Plus, it distracts her from other things.
Things like her phone. Her phone which is dinging and lit up. Emma never has been able to stay distracted for long.
She closes her eyes, breathing in once and then twice, and then a third time just for good measure. It probably isn’t even Ava; she doesn’t know why she feels this stressed out.
She grabs the phone, blinking, it’s Ava.
The universe just might hate her.
Ava: I didn’t think you stole it haha
Ava: Besides even if I did
Ava: I was going to give it to you anyway
Ava: I thought it would look cute on you :)
Emma decides the universe does not hate her, not at all.
For a second, she wonders why the smiley face makes her feel like the sun itself, all warm and bright, then she remembers feelings. She debates screaming into a pillow for the second time that day, but then figures that Mackenzie, one room over might hear, and she decides it isn’t worth it.
As she debates on whether she should send one smiley face back or two, Emma decides that she isn’t burning with anger for Mason or Noah or whoever else anymore. She isn’t burning at all anymore, but her face does feel incredibly warm whenever she texts Ava.
--
The Monday morning after homecoming, Ava offers to pick Emma up for school. It’s been so long since that happened that Emma, understandably filled with warm-fuzzy-feelings, spends an embarrassingly long time just staring at the notification, before eventually answering with an appropriate amount of smiley faces and exclamation marks.
She stares in the mirror for longer than she usually would, smoothing down anything and everything. It’s weird feeling nervous for these things. Riding with Ava has been something she’s been doing for so long in high school, it only recently stopped, but those few weeks where they didn’t talk as much as they should’ve had, had more of an impact on her than she thought.
And now Emma has, feelings. She has very little idea what to do with them. Before when she had feelings she’d ruined one of her best friendships, the ruined another good friendship, then ruined another one.
Basically, Emma is a mess when it comes to feelings.
She sees her phone ding with a text from Ava to know she’s outside, and Emma gets increasingly more nervous, what if she ruins their friendship for the second time?
Emma shakes her head, actively trying to dislodge the nervousness from her brain.
She spots the blue sweater Ava had given her, folded delicately on her dresser, it reminds her of the night before, when things had been so warm and comfortable. She remembers right before her dad had called her inside, when they’d been so close, and the only thing Emma had been able to focus on was the pounding of her heart, or how close they were. She wonders what might have happened if her father hadn’t called her in.
This is fine, she thinks, Absolutely fine.
She grabs her phone and backpack, and resolutely goes downstairs.
She almost trips on the last step, and Emma figures it might be the world telling her she’s right to be nervous today, she ignores it.
She takes a breath before opening the door, when she see’s Ava’s car she tries to relax, but she can still feel the tense of her shoulders, and the swirling ball of nerves in her stomach. She’s nervous she’s going to do something wrong, or say something weird, or reveal these feelings that are still so new.
Emma can spot Ava, one hand on the wheel, but otherwise relaxed. She’s singing to something on the radio, the windows are closed so she can’t hear the song, but from the way Ava’s bopping her head it’s a good one.
Ava spots her too, she grins and waves, motioning for Emma to come closer. She rolls down the window, and a song that’s too loud for seven am, pops out of the car. “Come on, this is my favorite song!”
Even though the smile Ava gives her, makes her face feel dizzyingly warm, and her breath catches at the back of her throat at the idea of Ava grinning at the sight of her, Emma feels the nerves in her stomach loosen at the sight. She feels a laugh start to bubble up. She doesn’t even know why she was worried. It’s just Ava, it’s always been just Ava.
Emma finds that warm-fuzzy-romantic feelings aren’t bad when they’re Ava. In fact, she finds they’re the opposite.
--
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