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Ayanga was mad at her again.
Mad at her because Ayanga was annoying, because Ayanga was so, so, so, so annoying and Zheng Yunlong was a saint for even putting up with her, because nobody else would, honestly, how could Ayanga expect to find a husband and birth her ten million babies and live her perfect life if she kept being so annoying?
Zheng Yunlong glared at the shape of Ayanga’s back, far away in the distance, her shoulders narrow in her varsity jacket, arms wrapped around herself like she was cold, or upset, and it just wasn’t fair that Ayanga was upset, because Zheng Yunlong hadn’t done anything, hadn’t done anything wrong, had just said, because she had wanted Ayanga to know: I think me and him are gonna get back together.
And then Ayanga had said, flat and angry, like Zheng Yunlong had said something wrong: Why?
Just, why. Nothing else. Just one word.
So Zheng Yunlong had said, why not, and waited until Ayanga stopped twisting her pencil in her lap to look up at her before she said, it’s not like there’s anybody better. She didn’t know why she’d said that, actually, because that was decidedly untrue; her ex-boyfriend was just fine -- but he was taller than her and good-looking and all the other girls in their class thought he was a catch, and they’d already done the difficult bits of dating, like going for boring coffee dates and ‘getting to know each other’ (said like that, in big dramatic air quotes), so in many ways he was the only person Zheng Yunlong was willing to consider.
Then Ayanga had shot off like a rocket and left all of her homework on the library table and now she was pacing outside the library like a weirdo, her face turned away from the window so Zheng Yunlong couldn’t see what she was actually mad about.
It wasn’t fair anyway, Zheng Yunlong decided, because Ayanga was always mean about her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, boyfriend-again, whatever); never called him by his name, just referred to him as him, with the sort of tone in her voice that suggested she was unimpressed. Always said he was wasting Zheng Yunlong’s time, always hated when Zheng Yunlong left rehearsals a little early to meet him, always glared at them both when they snuck back into the dorm at two in the morning, giggly and drunk, Zheng Yunlong shushing him with her fingers pressed to his mouth so they wouldn’t wake Ayanga who was already, always, awake.
He’d mentioned Ayanga when they’d broken up two weeks ago, had said, plus your roommate’s weird, and Zheng Yunlong had narrowed her eyes at him and said, she’s not weird, she’s just Mongolian, and then she’d felt really guilty about it for hours afterwards, because maybe that was a worse thing to say. But Ayanga hadn’t heard that, because she’d been out working her twilight shift at the restaurant, and besides, what Zheng Yunlong had really wanted to say was: she just doesn’t like you.
They hadn’t even really fought when they’d broken up, because there really wasn’t anything to fight about. They’d been dating for two months, practically an age as far as Zheng Yunlong was concerned, and it’d been fine, it was fine, once they’d gotten past the awkward stage all they did was go out for dinner and get drunk and sing bad karaoke at the local dive bar. It was fun, and Zheng Yunlong liked holding his hand when they walked through campus, liked saying my boyfriend in conversation because people stopped being so weird about everything if you were normal enough to have a boyfriend. But he had wanted to break up, had said he thought they should see other people, and Zheng Yunlong had said, oh my god, is this because we’re not having sex?
Ayanga had come into the room at that exact moment, had cycled back from the end of her shift, her bicycle helmet dangling from her fingers, her hair messed up from the wind and rain outside, her backpack slung across one shoulder. She’d raised one critical eyebrow, and then Zheng Yunlong had pulled her boyfriend out of the room so they could continue breaking up not in front of her roommate, because that was embarrassing, and he’d said, I mean, that’s part of it.
“You said you were willing to wait,” she’d hissed.
“It’s not about the waiting,” he’d said. He’d been flustered then, looking around to make sure nobody else was listening to their breakup. But the rest of the corridor was empty, because it was midnight on a Wednesday, which Zheng Yunlong only knew because that was the time Ayanga usually got home from her shift, and usually by now they would be cuddled up in her bed eating sour patch kids and bitching about Ayanga’s restaurant coworkers.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s that I don’t think you actually want to. Have sex, I mean. Ever.”
That had shocked her into silence.
“I mean,” he’d said, quickly, as if he was worried he’d instantly be canceled for being intolerant. “I mean, that’s fine and all. If you are, you know, whatever, but I just don’t think we’re compatible if that’s how it is.”
“Fine, whatever. Let’s break up,” she’d said, because what the actual fuck, and then she’d turned around and hammered on the door until Ayanga opened it, because she’d forgotten her keycard. Ayanga stepped aside wordlessly to let her in, didn’t even look up at her boyfriend, and then Zheng Yunlong had immediately gotten into Ayanga’s bed and tucked herself underneath the duvet and opened the bag of sour patch kids Ayanga had already laid out for her.
“Big fight?” Ayanga had asked.
“Broke up,” Zheng Yunlong said. “I think he dumped me.”
“Good,” Ayanga said. “He was a shit boyfriend.”
“He wasn’t a shit boyfriend,” Zheng Yunlong had said, because she had still been in the habit of defending him against Ayanga’s impossible standards for men. She crammed four sour patch kids into her mouth at once. “I’m over it. Hurry up and shower so you can tell me about all the stupid things Chase did today.”
“Chase called in sick today,” Ayanga had said. “But we have a new hire. He turned up for his first shift wearing a Bronies for Life T-shirt.”
“Oh my god. Tell me everything.”
So that had been two Thursdays ago, and things had been fine, until her ex-boyfriend texted her last night: I miss you.
Then he’d called, and Zheng Yunlong had had to sneak out from underneath the covers to answer it, because she’d fallen asleep in Ayanga’s bed while they were watching a movie. She’d remembered her keycard this time, and she took his call in the common room down the corridor so that Ayanga wouldn’t hear her.
I’m sorry, he’d said, all quiet and sad. Zheng Yunlong’s heart softened, and then she’d said, what for, and then he’d said, I’m sorry I said you weren’t interested in sex. I shouldn’t have projected my insecurities onto you and made assumptions about what you were feeling. And Zheng Yunlong had said, it’s okay, her heart pounding in her ears, and for some reason it felt like she was doing something very wrong, like she was actively making a mistake, even though there was no reason to feel this way. She’d just been hanging out with Ayanga too much, probably, ever since the breakup, and Ayanga didn’t like Zheng Yunlong’s boyfriend, so it was just Ayanga’s emotions bleeding through onto her, and it was fine, it was fine.
I just want to see you again, he’d said, and Zheng Yunlong had said, keeping her voice low even though there was no one else around, okay.
And then they'd talked for a bit, and he'd said let's go out tomorrow, I want to see you, I’ve missed you, and Zheng Yunlong twirled her hair around her fingers and thought, okay, okay, fine, this is what college life is supposed to be like.
But now Ayanga was angry, and Zheng Yunlong hated it, hated when Ayanga was mad at her because Ayanga was so rarely mad at her, and it wasn't even like Zheng Yunlong had done anything wrong, except date someone Ayanga didn't like.
Zheng Yunlong waited until Ayanga came back in, and then Ayanga wordlessly started working on her homework again, annotating her sheet music by scratching the nib of her pen so deeply into the paper that Zheng Yunlong was sure it would pierce right through and stain the table. Then, after a minute, Ayanga said, “I'm happy for you.”
All gritted teeth, like she was getting a finger amputated with every word.
“He's really not that bad,” Zheng Yunlong said, feeling helpless. “He apologized for what happened last time.”
“Ok,” Ayanga said, short and clipped. She didn't look up again. Zheng Yunlong’s phone buzzed with a text message from her boyfriend. Come outside, he said.
Zheng Yunlong packed her homework away. She couldn't concentrate on it anyway, sitting here opposite Ayanga’s steely silence, growing increasingly frustrated at how unfair everything was. She zipped her bag up loudly - loud enough that Ayanga looked up again.
“I’m going,” Zheng Yunlong said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Ok.”
Infuriating. Infuriating. Zheng Yunlong resisted screaming in frustration. She only looked back once on her way out, but Ayanga had her head buried in her homework, totally unfazed about Zheng Yunlong’s departure.
The thing was, the thing was, the thing was, it was fine. It was just fine. Her boyfriend was her boyfriend again, so she kissed him again, held his hand again, let him put his hand around her waist and over her shoulder, let him take her to get tacos in his car. It was an old car, his mum’s car, only six months younger than him, and there was still a big pink Hello Kitty doll hanging from the rearview mirror, her dress faded with age, her black eyes staring deep into Zheng Yunlong’s soul while she waited for him to come back with their food.
Ayanga hadn’t texted her since she left the library, but Ayanga was acting weird anyway. Zheng Yunlong rubbed her finger over Ayanga’s name in her messages app, smearing out the fingerprint smudges. Ayanga hadn’t even texted to see where she’d gone; it was past dinner time and they still hadn’t talked, and Ayanga hadn’t even called to check that she was okay, that she hadn’t died in a ditch somewhere because she’d lost track of time again. Zheng Yunlong stopped looking at her phone and instead stared at the bright neon lights of the taco place until her vision blurred and her heart twisted in her chest like some ugly worm.
Her boyfriend was coming out now, so Zheng Yunlong locked her phone and put it back in her pocket, then she took it out again and sent one text to Ayanga, just one, because she was going to take the high road today, because she was the good one, the kind one, the generous one, so she said: let’s talk tonight.
Then she waited, but no reply came, not even after her boyfriend got back in the car and started the ignition and handed her her burrito on a plate he’d fashioned out of a copy of last semester’s organic chemistry notes. She felt a phantom vibration in the pocket of her jeans once or twice, but every time she checked there was still no reply.
“Ayanga is mad at me,” she said, when her boyfriend raised his eyebrows at her checking her phone again.
“She’s always in a mood about something,” her boyfriend said, and the way he said it made Zheng Yunlong feel bad, as if they were being bitchy about Ayanga behind her back. Afterwards they drove to the dive bar and Zheng Yunlong got out and raced her boyfriend to the entrance in the rain. He ran the entire way holding his varsity jacket over her head and when they got to the door, he grinned and wiped rainwater from her cheek. Zheng Yunlong thought about kissing him, so she turned her head to do it, and then she saw it, and her heart dropped to her feet, like a ten-tonne weight crashing through the floorboards.
Ayanga, sitting by the bar, still wearing her stupid varsity jacket, kissing somebody, kissing somebody -- kissing a girl, a girl --
Zheng Yunlong made a strangled sound in her throat and her boyfriend turned to look, and then his eyes widened, and he said, oh my god, and Zheng Yunlong felt like she was going to pass out, her face was hot and her hands were tingling and she didn’t know what to do, couldn’t look away, didn’t know what to think.
Her boyfriend said, “I always knew she was--” then he looked at Zheng Yunlong and said, “Babe?” like Zheng Yunlong was being weird, and maybe she was, because she was standing so still, as if she was frozen, and Ayanga was still kissing that girl, had pulled her even closer, and Zheng Yunlong didn’t know who that girl was, but she looked cool , looked like she knew what she was doing, looked like she could pin Ayanga against the wall, and then Zheng Yunlong laughed, awkward and stilted like ha, ha, ha, three loud exhales, and then her boyfriend saw a group of guys from his physics class and pulled Zheng Yunlong away to join them.
Zheng Yunlong drank her beer and listened to them tell their stupid stories and tried not to look over at the corner where Ayanga was. Was that Ayanga’s girlfriend? Was it a complete stranger? Did Ayanga even know her? Why was Ayanga here? Ayanga didn’t drink, didn’t like it, always wrinkled her nose up at the smell whenever Zheng Yunlong cracked a beer in their dorm room, always said it smelled like feet, so why was she here, in this bar, in Zheng Yunlong’s favourite bar, kissing random girls?
Then the music started, and their table started to get rowdy, because this was Zheng Yunlong’s song, this was the song she’d sung when she’d first met her boyfriend all those weeks ago. Her boyfriend pulled her off her chair and then they went up to the little stage, and Zheng Yunlong felt her head spin as she mouthed along to the first verse, desperately searching for Ayanga’s face in the crowd.
Ayanga wasn’t looking at her, she was locked in conversation with the girl she’d been kissing. Zheng Yunlong swallowed past the lump in her throat, and then she took the ugly bejeweled microphone because it was her turn.
I wanna know what love is,
I want you to show me,
I wanna feel what love is,
I know you can show me--
Ayanga looked up, and their eyes met across the bar, and then Zheng Yunlong thought she might throw up, which was weird because she’d only had one beer, so maybe the burrito had been bad, or maybe she was coming down with something, or maybe --
Her boyfriend spun her on stage, and she broke eye contact with Ayanga, couldn’t look at her anymore. When Zheng Yunlong spun back around Ayanga was gone, and so was the girl, and Zheng Yunlong finished the rest of the song on shaky legs and stumbled back to their table so she could drink some more.
Afterwards in the Uber home her boyfriend said, you okay, you seemed off today, and Zheng Yunlong said her tummy hurt, because it did, because she felt sick in some way, so he wouldn’t try to get her to stay overnight. He walked her to her dorm room and she pretended she had to pee really bad, so she rushed into her room and slammed the door and then sat on the toilet and breathed all of her anxiety out through her mouth as slowly as she could.
She texted him, haha, sorry that was so unsexy, and he sent her a meme that said piss on me daddy and she didn’t understand it at all, but knew it was supposed to be funny. The room was empty; wherever Ayanga was, she wasn’t here, so Zheng Yunlong was left to sit with her discomfort in silence.
When Ayanga came back, Zheng Yunlong was already in bed. Ayanga took her shoes off and then she came padding over to Zheng Yunlong’s side of the room and said, “Sorry, I didn’t see your message earlier,” and she smelled funny, like vanilla and coconut. Her hair was messy and her lipstick was smudged, and Zheng Yunlong would’ve laughed if she didn’t know why it was smudged in the first place. She had a streak of lipstick on the underside of her jaw, on her neck, like she’d been pawed all over, mauled, and Zheng Yunlong hated it, felt annoyed by it somehow.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” Ayanga said, and then she disappeared, and Zheng Yunlong could breathe again. She waited until Ayanga came out of the bathroom, her hair still wet, wearing her usual loose T-shirt, her basketball shorts, even though Ayanga didn’t play basketball, couldn’t shoot a hoop to save her life. Ayanga sat on the corner of her own bed, toweling her hair dry. There was a bruise on her neck that had been hidden by the lipstick, and Zheng Yunlong could see it from all the way over here, and it made her feel weird inside.
“I saw you,” Zheng Yunlong said.
“I know.”
“Don’t you have anything to tell me? Like who that girl was?”
“I don’t know who she was.”
“You’re out there kissing random strangers?”
Ayanga wrapped her hair up in a stupid towel turban. She dug around in her desk for a face mask and put it on, like they weren’t having a serious conversation.
“Ayanga!”
“What?”
Zheng Yunlong stared at her, with her stupid collagen mask on her face. “Never mind,” she said. She turned over to face the wall, fuming.
“I tell you everything,” she said, eventually. “I told you when he first started asking me out. I told you all about it. And I tell you about every single guy that even looks at me weird in the cafeteria. And you didn’t even tell me that you were-- you just let me talk about your stupid future husband like some sort of idiot, and you didn’t even fucking tell me that I’d got it all wrong--”
“I didn’t know. Not for sure.”
Zheng Yunlong scoffed. “You had your tongue pretty deep down her throat tonight for someone who doesn’t know for sure.”
“Do we really have to fight about this?”
“We’re not fighting.”
Ayanga left her to stew in silence. Zheng Yunlong twisted the edge of her blanket between her fingers over and over again, until her fingertips were bright red.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Ayanga said, eventually. She’d turned the lights off, so the only light in the room was Zheng Yunlong’s nightlight. “I kissed a girl, so what?”
Zheng Yunlong couldn’t answer. Didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what to feel about that. Ayanga was right, she’d kissed a girl, no big deal, she’d kept a secret from Zheng Yunlong, no big deal; Zheng Yunlong had a boyfriend, was fine, was happy, and Ayanga was free to do whatever she wanted, kiss whoever she wanted, stranger or not.
“Sorry,” Zheng Yunlong said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
Ayanga was quiet for a little while.
“Anyway, I’m not the only one who’s being an asshole. Why were you mad at me in the library?”
“I don’t know,” Ayanga said, after a long, long pause. “I just get like that sometimes, I guess. Sorry.”
Zheng Yunlong shivered under her duvet. It was getting colder, and their room was always freezing. If this was any other night, she would’ve crawled into Ayanga’s bed and forced her to share her body heat. Ayanga was like a space heater when she fell asleep, rumbling and warm. But now that Ayanga kissed girls, it seemed inappropriate.
Was it inappropriate? Was Zheng Yunlong being homophobic? Her head hurt. She still felt tired and bruised, like something had gone wrong. There was no reason for this to feel as weird as it did; Zheng Yunlong had had gay friends growing up, had kissed a girl once during Truth or Dare, had even had a girl crush on Cate Blanchett when she was sixteen; but somehow it felt different with Ayanga, somehow it made Zheng Yunlong feel anxious and squirmy.
That night she dreamt about kissing Ayanga in that bar, running towards the entrance in the rain with Ayanga holding up her varsity jacket, except they were both soaked to the bone, and Ayanga’s hair was plastered to her forehead, like she’d just taken off her bicycle helmet, all flattened against her forehead in a way that should’ve been unflattering, but was somehow sexy, and Zheng Yunlong had to tip Ayanga’s chin up to kiss her, her small pouty mouth, the shape of her body hot against her own, Zheng Yunlong holding her close by the belt loops of her utilitarian cargo trousers, and the people at the bar were all singing I wanna know what love is, over and over again in a loop.
When she woke up she felt really fucking weird about it, but Ayanga was getting dressed in her corner of the room like it was any other day. She caught her eye as Zheng Yunlong sheepishly walked towards their ensuite bathroom, and said, “Hey, this doesn't change anything between us, does it?” and Zheng Yunlong swallowed to wet her dry throat and croaked, no.
Zheng Yunlong had met Ayanga when they were both auditioning to get into the programme. Ayanga was Prospective Student Number 3, and Zheng Yunlong, Prospective Student Number 9, had watched, open-mouthed, as she auditioned.
Afterwards, Zheng Yunlong had caught her in the corridor and said, I can't believe you're trying out, you’re so good, you could teach here! and Ayanga had laughed, ducked her head nervously and mumbled thank you.
Ayanga didn't say much, and even after they became roommates when college started, Zheng Yunlong was always the one that was talking, and Ayanga would listen patiently, would laugh at all of Zheng Yunlong’s big dramatic hand gestures, her icy facade slowly melting.
Zheng Yunlong knew how to make her laugh (pulling stupid faces), knew what she liked to pick off her plate at breakfast (blueberries), knew exactly what time her shifts at the Mongolian restaurant ended (no later than midnight, or one, if she was closing) and how long it took Ayanga to cycle back to the dorm afterwards (seventeen minutes).
She’d learned all these things because Ayanga was her friend. Her best friend. Zheng Yunlong had never had a best friend growing up, had always been well-liked enough at school but always existed somewhere in the fringes of each friend group. She’d never had her person, had always wanted to have that person, that one person you trusted with your life and your secrets and who you could call in the middle of the night. Then Zheng Yunlong had met Ayanga, and she'd become that person, Zheng Yunlong’s person, and now that was somehow different.
She tried to think, tried to rack her brain for any clues that Ayanga was - that Ayanga liked girls, but couldn't find anything, couldn't think of anything Ayanga could have said. Maybe Zheng Yunlong just talked too much, maybe she dominated the conversation, maybe she didn't let Ayanga speak, maybe Ayanga didn't feel comfortable, maybe --
Maybe Zheng Yunlong had been selfish, had been too self-centered, had been talking too much about her own boy troubles. Now that she thought about it, Ayanga hadn't really participated, had always just nodded along quietly like a monk deep in thought while Zheng Yunlong rambled about this boy or that boy, or the boys that liked Ayanga, and how Ayanga should have loosened up and just come to the bar one time for drinks and bad singing and --
Her boyfriend came to meet her for lunch, breaking her out of her rumination. Zheng Yunlong hadn't absorbed a single thing from her musical theory lesson today, had spent the entire time looking at the back of Ayanga’s head and feeling weird about everything. Her boyfriend carried her books for her as they went to the canteen, and Zheng Yunlong cleared her head just long enough to buy her lunch.
“I never get to have lunch with you,” he said, when she sat down. “I feel so special.”
“We eat together all the time,” Zheng Yunlong said, as she tried to pry her disposable wooden chopsticks apart.
“Never lunch,” said her boyfriend. “You’re always out with Ayanga during the day. I only get to see you at night, like some sort of creepy sex pest.”
“Me and Gazi have all the same classes,” Zheng Yunlong said. “It just makes sense. Besides, I’m here with you now, aren't I?”
“And I’m very honoured.” Her boyfriend grinned. He put a couple of pieces of his sushi on her plate and reached over to pick her coriander out of her rice.
“Hey-”
“You always make a face when you eat coriander,” her boyfriend said. “You hate it.”
She did. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to know that. It made her feel weird, which was in itself weird.
They ate in relative silence. Zheng Yunlong felt uneasy. Destabilised. Like something had changed in the air. Her boyfriend was chewing with his mouth slightly open. Had he always done that? She’d never noticed it before. It looked weird. Had his hair always looked like that? It sat awkwardly to one side. His mouth was a little shiny with grease.
She had to look away.
“Sooooo, that was weird right? The whole Ayanga kissing girls thing?”
Her head snapped up immediately.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not being homophobic or anything, ‘cause I’m not. But like, did you know she liked girls?”
“It's none of my business,” Zheng Yunlong said.
“But you guys are like, best friends!”
“Obviously she didn't want to tell me!” It came out snappish, and Zheng Yunlong regretted it immediately.
“I just meant-”
“What's it to you?” Zheng Yunlong asked. Demanded, really. “You don't even know her. You don't even like her! What does it matter to you if she likes girls or not? Oh my god.”
“Whoa-” her boyfriend held his hands up. He still had grease on his lips. It was infuriating. Zheng Yunlong wanted to gag. “I just meant-”
“I have to get to class,” Zheng Yunlong said, abruptly. She gathered her things and still couldn't really bring herself to look at him. “I’ll text you later.”
“Babe-”
“I’m late! I’ll see you later!”
It wasn't until she was safely away from the canteen that she felt she could breathe. The air felt raw. Her rice churned in her stomach. She hadn't seen Ayanga since the morning, but she knew where she would be.
There was a piano room on the fourth floor that Ayanga liked to go to whenever she had a spare second. Zheng Yunlong had teased her about it once, had said she should ask the school if she could move her things into the piano room and just live there permanently, and Ayanga’s eyes had lit up as if it was a very good idea, and then Zheng Yunlong had to beg her to stay so she wouldn't have to deal with another roommate. Had said she’d make piano noises if it would make Ayanga happy, had taken Ayanga’s hand and placed it on her own arm and said, look, just press a key, I’ll show you.
Ayanga was in the piano room, but she wasn't playing anything. She was just sitting at the piano quietly, her hands completely still on the keys, as if she was contemplating what to play. She looked up when Zheng Yunlong entered, and smiled, and everything weird and awkward that had been built up in Zheng Yunlong’s heart seemed to break down, and it was fine again, it was them again, something familiar.
“I wrote a new song,” Ayanga said, in lieu of a hello.
Zheng Yunlong sat next to her on the piano bench. She smelled like herself again, not like weird coconut and vanilla. She smelled like her own body wash, like the laundry detergent they shared. It soothed something within Zheng Yunlong, even if she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
“I want to hear it,” she said. She shifted a little closer to Ayanga. The piano bench was small, that was all.
“Okay,” Ayanga said, bumping their shoulders together gently. “I’ll play it for you.”
The dust settled in a way that required no effort from Zheng Yunlong, which was just the way she liked it. Ayanga didn't look like she was kissing anymore girls, and their nightly routine of eating terrible candy and watching mind-numbing reality television while gossiping about Ayanga’s stupid coworkers resumed. The first time they shared a bed again was a little weird, but Zheng Yunlong told herself she was just being silly, and by the time they were past the opening credits of whatever it was that was playing on Netflix, she’d forgotten it and was pressed up against Ayanga like she normally was.
Things were fine, things were entirely uninteresting. Her boyfriend was busy with exams, which meant she didn't have to see him very often. She didn't really know if they were definitely back together, she couldn't remember what she'd said to him and at this point it felt too awkward to ask. He texted her now and again but didn't push to see her, which made her feel like maybe they weren't together, but sometimes he texted her back goodnight baby, and that felt like they were. Given how mad Ayanga had been when Zheng Yunlong had brought him up the last time, she didn't exactly want to ask what Ayanga thought. Privately Zheng Yunlong hoped things would fizzle out - every time she thought about him she would remember the way his mouth looked underneath the canteen lights, weird and greasy.
They were in bed, Zheng Yunlong and Ayanga, trying to find something to watch on Netflix, and then through some sort of madness Zheng Yunlong said, let's look at the LGBTQ+ section, and Ayanga had stiffened for one second, just a second, and then she’d breathed and said okay, so Zheng Yunlong leaned over so she could use the trackpad of Ayanga’s laptop in her lap. Ayanga didn't move a single muscle, almost didn't breathe, and somewhere in the back of her mind Zheng Yunlong knew this was weird, like she shouldn't be doing it, because her heart was starting to pound and her cheeks were starting to heat. But she didn’t move away, instead she moved the cursor around the page, waiting for Ayanga to choose.
“I don't know,” Ayanga said. Her voice sounded really far away. Zheng Yunlong’s face was so close to the laptop screen that she could see the small specks of dust on it, little dots against the black background.
“Let's just watch this one,” Zheng Yunlong said. She didn't know what it was about, but it was the first one the cursor had landed on and looked interesting, except maybe she shouldn't have chosen it, because forty-five minutes later they were watching lesbian sex, and the words popped up like a big bright neon sign in Zheng Yunlong's head, flashing on and off, LESBIAN SEX, LESBIAN SEX.
They were still pressed together, her and Ayanga, and Ayanga’s body was hot against hers, and she thought about the dream she’d had, where they’d been kissing, and Ayanga’s body had felt like this, small and hot, smaller than Zheng Yunlong, which was different than anything Zheng Yunlong had ever felt before. On-screen the lesbians moaned, and Ayanga stiffened underneath her and Zheng Yunlong swallowed, gulped air into her tight lungs, and tried not to sweat.
She pulled herself away and went to the bathroom. Stared in the mirror at her flushed cheeks and washed her face with the coldest water from the tap. Her heart was still pounding. It was awkward, she decided. Awkward to watch lesbian sex with your lesbian best friend. It was like watching a sex scene in a movie with your parents. The same kind of weird.
When she came out of the bathroom Ayanga had closed the laptop, had put it on top of the duvet, far away from her like it was going to bite.
“It ran out of battery,” Ayanga said, and Zheng Yunlong knew that was a lie, but she was thankful for it, was relieved. She shrugged and plastered her cold hands against Ayanga’s bare shoulders until she yelped.
“Is that what you want to do?” Zheng Yunlong asked, apropos of nothing, she was being so rude, really, she knew it, but she felt like she had to know. “Like, what they did?”
Ayanga blinked at her, and then her cheeks reddened, and Zheng Yunlong felt like an asshole.
“I don't know?” Ayanga said. She didn't take Zheng Yunlong’s hands off her shoulders. They were starting to warm up now. Zheng Yunlong could feel sweat prickling against her palm. “I haven't really thought about things like that.”
“Me neither,” Zheng Yunlong said. She took her hands away, and Ayanga breathed, big and deep like she’d been holding her breath for a while. “I just don't understand it all,” she said. “Sex in general, I mean. I don't know. I like guys, but I’ve never thought about what their dicks look like and what I want to do to them.”
Ayanga didn't answer.
“Sorry,” Zheng Yunlong said. “TMI? But I want to talk about stuff like this with you. You’re the only person I have that I can talk to about stuff like this!”
“You don't have to,” Ayanga said, slowly. “Have sex, I mean. If you don't want to. Some people never want to.”
“Ha,” Zheng Yunlong said, and then said it again for good measure. Like she was laughing, except it wasn't that funny. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe that’s me. I don't know. Maybe.”
“You have time,” Ayanga said. “We all have time. You don't have to figure it out today.”
“No.” Zheng Yunlong ran a hand through her hair. They were sitting cross-legged in front of each other now, still on Ayanga’s bed. “I just wish I knew.”
Ayanga was silent, so Zheng Yunlong forged on, emboldened by her lack of response.
“Do you know?” she asked. “What do you want? Like. Do you know? What do you like about - girls, I guess? Like, like do you like them? Do you want to have sex with them? Like - I mean -”
“I suppose?” Ayanga was slow when she answered, like she was actually considering it carefully. Zheng Yunlong couldn't really bring herself to look at her in the face so she looked at her knees, all the little scars Ayanga had from falling down as a kid, faded now against her skin, but still visible under the light.
“What is it like?” Zheng Yunlong asked. “Like what is it that you feel? Like if you see a girl that you think you like. What goes through your mind?”
Ayanga was silent for so long that Zheng Yunlong wondered if she was asleep. But when she looked up Ayanga was staring off into the distance, her fingers moving quietly against her shorts almost unintentionally.
“It’s just a different feeling, I guess,” Ayanga said, eventually. “Like I want to hold them, kiss them. Hold their hand, touch their face. Spend time with them. Go places together. Do stuff together.”
“Like, sexual stuff?” Zheng Yunlong's voice was scratchy when she finally spoke. “Like the stuff we just saw?”
“I guess?” Ayanga’s fingers were moving quicker now, almost restless, and then they stopped, like an exhausted runner at the end of a race. “I told you, I haven't really thought about things like that.”
“Why not?”
“It just feels -” Ayanga shrugged. “Disrespectful.”
“What? Why? It's not like you’re thinking that stuff about someone you shouldn't.”
“You don't think about things like that,” Ayanga said.
“Yeah, but that's because I just don't,” Zheng Yunlong replied. “But you're holding yourself back because you feel it's disrespectful to have private thoughts! That's totally different!”
“I-” Ayanga let out a big breath, and then she seemed to deflate. “Let's go to sleep,” she said. She put her laptop away, and Zheng Yunlong stared at the shape of her back, at the shadows her figure made against the wall, a smeared silhouette across the posters Zheng Yunlong had put up of her favourite soft rock band.
“Gazi,” Zheng Yunlong said, when she was back in her bed and it was dark. “Gazi, I’m sorry if I was prying. I didn't mean to. I was just trying to - I don't know. I just wanted to know if I’m normal, I guess.”
“You don't have to have it all figured out,” Ayanga said. Then, she said, “I think it's probably good. For us to talk about stuff like this.”
“Probably,” Zheng Yunlong said. It felt hollow in her mouth. She was uncomfortable underneath her covers. Like she was overheating but too cold at the same time.
“You’d tell me, wouldn't you?” Zheng Yunlong asked, even though she knew it was selfish. “If you liked someone.”
Ayanga was quiet again for a while. Zheng Yunlong could hear her breathing. Long and deep, like she was counting out her inhales and exhales.
“Sure,” Ayanga said eventually. “If you want me to.”
“Yeah,” Zheng Yunlong said. “You’re my best friend. I want to know this sort of stuff about you.”
“Okay,” said Ayanga, and then said nothing else.
There was a party, something about Halloween, and neither of them wanted to go, but Zheng Yunlong’s boyfriend’s exams were over, which meant that he’d started asking to see her again. Zheng Yunlong hadn't been to the dive bar since the night she saw Ayanga kissing a girl there, didn't know if she could face seeing that girl again and knowing what she'd done, what Ayanga had let her do to her.
She felt like she owed it to her boyfriend to see him, at least, so she had to go to the party. Ayanga said she would come, mostly because Zheng Yunlong sat next to her in class and begged her until she gave in. So Zheng Yunlong put on a sexy black dress and drew some cat whiskers on her face with eyeliner she found in the bottom of her makeup bag, and Ayanga sat on the edge of her bed and watched her, silent.
“I think I need to break up with him,” Zheng Yunlong said, and she'd been so good, really, this was the first time she’d spoken about him at all to Ayanga since they fought about him in the library. “I just don't think we’re meant for each other.”
“There will be plenty of boys at the party,” Ayanga said. She was going too, had been persuaded by Zheng Yunlong, who’d said, like she was dangling a carrot in front of a horse, there will be girls there! Sexy sexy lesbian girls! and Ayanga had rolled her eyes and refused to buy a costume, but had begrudgingly agreed to come with her.
“And sexy sexy lesbian girls,” said Zheng Yunlong, and pretended she didn't see Ayanga flinch or roll her eyes. When she leaned over to pick up her stupid little bag that was too small to hold anything but her phone and her keycard, Ayanga straightened her cat ears for her.
They went to the party, and Zheng Yunlong’s boyfriend was there, dressed like a vampire, and he pulled her close to kiss her. His mouth wasn't greasy this time, but it was chapped, and his spit was cold, and it felt weird, and Zheng Yunlong extricated herself from his grasp and said, after a big deep breath, I really think we should see other people.
He blinked at her.
“I am,” he said. “Aren't you?”
She stumbled a little as someone pushed past her to get to the kitchen, where the booze was. “Excuse me?”
“I thought we were seeing other people,” he said. “You barely text me anymore. I just assumed you were-”
“Then why do you call me baby?” she demanded, and felt stupid. Her drink was sweaty in her hand. She didn't even know what it was. Somebody else had poured it for her.
“You liked it before,” he said. “I won't, if it bothers you.”
“Of course it bothers me! I thought we’d gotten back together!”
He seemed genuinely surprised by that. “You barely text me,” he said. “You never want to hang out. I thought we were on the same page. You know. Seeing other people.”
“Oh my god.”
Zheng Yunlong downed her drink in one. It was some sort of cheap cider. She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks. It wasn't enough to get her even remotely tipsy, but she always flushed with alcohol, no matter how little she drank.
“Well, bye, I guess,” she said. It was rude, but she didn't even care. There was an overwhelming sense of relief. She didn't have to stare at his greasy mouth again.
“You have issues,” he said, but she didn't stay to listen to the rest of it. She’d never felt freer in her life. She had to find Ayanga, and tell her the great news. Ayanga had never liked him anyway, she'd be pleased, she’d have something witty and acerbic to say about him, even though Zheng Yunlong was the one at fault.
She found Ayanga in one of the bedrooms, playing cards with a bunch of other people Zheng Yunlong didn't know. They looked up when she entered, and suddenly she felt shy, shy in her short dress and sexy cat ears, and stupid eyeliner whiskers on her face. Everyone else in the room was in a stupid costume, a hotdog and a frog and somebody was even dressed as a shoe, and Ayanga in her leather jacket because she was pretending she’d chosen to go as a member of a biker gang.
Ayanga shifted to make space for her, and she must have seen something in Zheng Yunlong’s face because she did it wordlessly. let Zheng Yunlong look at her cards over her shoulder so they could play as a team of two against everyone else, let Zheng Yunlong whisper what she thought she should play into her ear.
When the round ended, people got up to refill their drinks, and Ayanga hadn't touched hers so Zheng Yunlong sipped it for her, chewed the plastic between her teeth.
“You didn't introduce me to your new friends,” Zheng Yunlong said.
“You’re not with your boyfriend,” Ayanga said.
“Turns out we never got back together.” Zheng Yunlong turned the empty cup over and flicked it across the room. “All this time. I’m so stupid, right? I’m so fucking weird that I couldn't even tell we weren't together. Like. It was my fault too, I wasn't even texting him. I hated seeing him. I was avoiding him. So I can't even be mad that we aren't together. I’m so fucking glad, in fact. I’m so relieved. I never want to see him again. But oh my god, Gazi. Gazi. What’s wrong with me? Why did I - why can't I just have one normal relationship! God!”
Ayanga petted her shoulder. Gentle. Perfunctory. “There will be other men,” she said. “Better guys.”
“I have issues,” Zheng Yunlong said.
“Did he say that?”
“He did.”
Ayanga got up, and Zheng Yunlong pawed at her to keep her down. “No, no. Don't go. I wasn't angry. He was right.”
“He’s garbage,” Ayanga said, with conviction.
“Okay,” Zheng Yunlong said. She felt at peace. The group converged again, with new drinks this time. Somebody handed Ayanga another drink, and they’d even brought one for Zheng Yunlong.
Ayanga let her drink both drinks, let her choose the cards so they could play. She plastered herself to Ayanga like a parasitic twin. Nobody seemed to mind. It was getting cold, and when she shivered Ayanga took her leather jacket off and draped it across her shoulders. She put her cat ears on Ayanga’s head as a form of repayment.
Eventually she was drunk and falling asleep, her head in Ayanga’s lap, Ayanga’s jacket draped over her. Someone had found a blanket so she could cover her legs, and she dozed off, slightly too warm. She could feel the gentle movement of Ayanga’s arms, her elbows brushing against her shoulders as she played her cards. Someone’s voice, low and muffled, something about a girlfriend, and Ayanga’s fingers brushing her hair back from her face, a low gentle hum. Ayanga was skinny but her thighs were muscled from years of dancing, and Zheng Yunlong pressed her cheek against it, solid underneath her, the denim of Ayanga’s skinny jeans rough against her face.
Ayanga woke her up when it was time to go, brushed her hair back and away from her face as Zheng Yunlong sat up sleepily, blinking her unfocused eyes as Ayanga pulled her up, bundled her in a blanket and coaxed her into a taxi.
The frigid night air had mostly woken her up, but Ayanga was sitting next to her in the backseat of the taxi, keeping her shoulders high so that Zheng Yunlong had something to rest against. She smelled comfortable and familiar, the vestiges of her perfume fading away. Zheng Yunlong nuzzled her face into the crook of Ayanga’s neck to chase the smell of her. She could feel her own hot breath against her face. Underneath her, Ayanga breathed, long and intentional, counting again. Ayanga was always counting breaths, Zheng Yunlong thought. She parted her lips, pressed them gently against Ayanga’s skin.
Ayanga gasped, then shifted. Zheng Yunlong’s head bopped against her shoulder as the car went over a speed bump on the road.
“Zheng Yunlong,” Ayanga said. Her voice was low and quiet.
Zheng Yunlong suppressed a shiver.
“Are you asleep?”
Her heart thudded against her chest. Ayanga sighed, pulling her jacket up a little higher over her shoulders. She sat up straighter.
“I know you’re not sleeping,” Ayanga said. But she didn't push it.
When they got back to the dorm, she waited patiently for Ayanga to open the door for her. Ayanga went into the bathroom and came back out with a makeup wipe. They sat on the edge of Zheng Yunlong’s bed together and she let Ayanga wipe the whiskers off her cheeks, her hands gentle and warm against her face.
Zheng Yunlong felt like she should say something, but the moment felt too sacred to break. In the background Ayanga’s cheap small alarm clock ticked relentlessly. Zheng Yunlong looked at her, feeling helpless and hopeless. Something yawned within her, like a whale’s jaws, huge and all-consuming.
“Goodnight,” Ayanga said, when she was finished, and left her there. The bathroom door clicked shut, and the sound of water started. Zheng Yunlong made a small strangled sound in her throat, then the lights were turned off and she could only crawl under her covers, still in her little black dress, and pretend to fall asleep.
Zheng Yunlong skipped class the next morning, citing a hangover. Pretended to gag when Ayanga checked up on her, begging Ayanga to tell the professor she was too sick to attend, so Ayanga left her, amused but compassionate as always.
Once Ayanga was safely out of the room, Zheng Yunlong found her phone and typed am I gay into the search bar and pressed enter before she could chicken out. Twelve quizzes later the answer seemed to be maybe, and she was in the middle of taking the thirteenth when Ayanga returned with congee.
“You’ve revived me,” Zheng Yunlong said, dramatically. She tucked her phone carefully underneath the duvet so Ayanga wouldn't see. “And, I've just remembered, your Long-jie is a free woman.”
“I’ve never seen someone happier to be single again,” Ayanga said. She handed Zheng Yunlong her porridge and watched her like a hawk until she began to eat it. Zheng Yunlong had changed out of her little black dress now; it lay forlornly in the laundry hamper, destined to be forgotten and never worn again.
“His mouth was so greasy,” Zheng Yunlong said. “You have no idea. And when I kissed it yesterday, it was cold. Ugh. God. I can’t believe how much time I wasted thinking about this guy!”
“I told you so,” Ayanga said.
“I know,” Zheng Yunlong said. She practically inhaled her congee. “You're right. You did tell me so.” She grinned. “Now tell me more things. Lottery numbers? My future?”
“Stupid,” said Ayanga.
Ayanga’s phone buzzed, and Zheng Yunlong watched intently as Ayanga looked at it, laughed, and then put it back in her pocket.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“You laughed at your phone. You never laugh at your phone. Who texted you?”
“Maybe it was spam,” Ayanga said.
“Was it?”
“No.”
Zheng Yunlong felt her heart twist funny again. She put her congee down. “Who was it?”
“A girl from the party,” said Ayanga. “The one in the zombie nun costume.”
Zheng Yunlong could barely remember her.
“And you're talking now?”
Ayanga shrugged. “We became friends.”
“Friends.”
Zheng Yunlong had lost the appetite for more congee. She pulled her phone out from under her duvet and unlocked it. The thirteenth sexuality quiz stared back at her.
“Is she gay?” she asked.
“I don't know,” said Ayanga. “Probably.”
“I bet she's in love with you,” Zheng Yunlong said. “She wants to marry you.”
“She doesn't want to marry me.”
“Who wouldn't want to marry you?”
Ayanga sighed. She nudged Zheng Yunlong’s congee towards her. “Finish it, it's getting cold.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.” Petulant, like a child. Zheng Yunlong finished her thirteenth quiz rapidly, tapping her phone so violently that her fingernails clacked against the screen.
“What are you doing?” Ayanga asked.
“Nothing!”
She was acting weird and she knew it. Maybe it was because she was gay. She didn't know if she was. The thirteenth quiz certainly seemed to think so.
Ayanga set the congee aside, far away from any edges so Zheng Yunlong wouldn't accidentally send it flying with any of her flailing limbs. They sat together on Zheng Yunlong’s bed, Ayanga almost too-close. Zheng Yunlong felt claustrophobic. Uncertain.
“Can we - can we watch the rest of that movie?” she asked. Ayanga raised an eyebrow at her.
“What movie?”
“The lesbian sex movie. We never finished it.”
“We don't have to finish it,” Ayanga said. “It wasn't very good.” But she got up and went to get her laptop anyway. She came back and Zheng Yunlong rearranged the pillows so they could sit together. She pulled back her covers and patted the bed next to her so Ayanga would come and sit.
When they were wrapped up together satisfactorily, Zheng Yunlong took control of Ayanga’s laptop again and found the movie. It was still paused where they’d left it the last time, the two women in the middle of having sex. She laughed, high-pitched and nervous, then fast-forwarded it so they no longer had to look at the main character’s exposed tit, and then Ayanga put her hand in against the small of Zheng Yunlong’s back, and then softly, gently, on the curve of her hip, and they sat back and watched the rest of the movie.
There was a scene, at the end of the movie, where the two lovers were sitting in bed, watching television, and one had their hand around the other’s waist, and Zheng Yunlong thought about moving away from Ayanga, thought about making a big joke about it, address the elephant in the room, ha ha, ha ha, but then Ayanga’s hand tightened on her hip, giving her one big squeeze the length of a breath, and then it relaxed again, and Zheng Yunlong didn't know what to say, so she sat quiet, thinking about her thirteen quizzes, thinking about Ayanga.
Ayanga’s phone buzzed again in her pocket, three times, four times. She took it out and let Zheng Yunlong play with it, let her play the stupid little game she had on her phone, the one she'd downloaded for her nephews to play whenever she was back in Inner Mongolia. Zheng Yunlong had stopped watching the movie by now, couldn't look at the two women deeply in love and not imagine something strange like her and Ayanga doing the same things, couldn't bear to think about it in case she liked it.
The movie ended, and then they watched another one, and another one. Ayanga took her phone back once but didn't look at her messages - Zheng Yunlong watched her like a hawk and then felt guilty and weird for it. The sun set and the room was dark, and Ayanga was warm against her. They were lying down now, they’d been sitting up for too long, and now Ayanga was watching her own laptop over Zheng Yunlong’s shoulder, as they laid down pressed together, Zheng Yunlong’s back against Ayanga’s belly.
They were cuddling. They were. There was no other word for it. Zheng Yunlong couldn't even pretend she didn't know what was going on. The laptop screen was dark. It had actually run out of battery this time. It was hot when she put her hand on it. Ayanga’s hand was on her waist, then on her belly. She had fallen asleep halfway through the last movie, and Zheng Yunlong could feel her even breath against the back of her head.
She turned, and Ayanga’s arm shifted to accommodate her, and then they were chest to chest, and she could feel Ayanga’s chest rising and falling with each breath. Ayanga’s eyes were shut, her lashes fanning across her cheeks, the jut of her high cheekbones obvious even in the low light. She was beautiful, Zheng Yunlong knew this, had always known this. The soft pout of her mouth, the way her soft black hair fanned across Zheng Yunlong’s pillow. She traced the line of Ayanga’s cheek with one finger, feeling her heart race. She didn't know what to do, didn't know what she was doing. She lingered across Ayanga’s cupid’s bow, small and sharp, and then Ayanga’s hand came up to grasp her wrist.
“What are you doing?”
Ayanga’s eyes were still shut, but her grip was tight.
“I don't know,” Zheng Yunlong said.
Ayanga let her hand go. Zheng Yunlong inched closer, pressed their chests together properly, tangled their legs together. She could feel Ayanga’s breasts against her body, her hard nipples through her shirt. Her head swam.
“Zheng Yunlong,” Ayanga said. It was a warning.
She lurched forward, pressing their lips together. Ayanga gasped, and Zheng Yunlong took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, to suck at her bottom lip, to coax her lips apart so she could lick into her mouth. She was hungry, desperate, led by some sort of frenzied desire to devour Ayanga, all of her. Ayanga’s hands roamed her back, slipped under the hem of her shirt. Zheng Yunlong wasn't wearing a bra, and Ayanga’s hands were cold against her skin, and they held her, just on her bare back at first, and then slowly inching closer, across her ribs, pressing her ribcage together.
Zheng Yunlong moaned, and Ayanga’s hands were too close, too far, too something, and then Ayanga’s thumbs found her nipples and flicked, and her hips bucked. They were still kissing, mouths wet, tongues aching, and Ayanga’s thigh came up so high, so high that Zheng Yunlong could rut against it, all muscle, and Ayanga flicked her nipples again, this time almost unsure, and Zheng Yunlong bucked into the touch, pressed her body forwards into Ayanga's hands, begged please, please, oh my god, into her mouth.
It seemed to devolve after that, Ayanga pulled away from her, unstuck their mouths and Zheng Yunlong said, wait no, where are you going, and made grabby hands, but Ayanga pushed up the hem of Zheng Yunlong’s shirt and kissed her chest, in the space in between her breasts, and then she looked up and said, can I?
“You can,” Zheng Yunlong breathed, even though she didn't really know what Ayanga was asking, but Ayanga could do anything, Ayanga could do everything, and then Ayanga's mouth was closing over one nipple and sucking, and Zheng Yunlong yowled, and her hand tightened in Ayanga’s hair, her legs flailing, unsure where to go. Ayanga worshipped her like that, her mouth on Zheng Yunlong’s breast, one and then the other, her clever fingers moving in tandem, and Zheng Yunlong bucked and squealed and squirmed until Ayanga growled and pinned her down, her hands on Zheng Yunlong’s hips, her eyes wild, her chest heaving. She was still fully dressed, so Zheng Yunlong grabbed the hem of her T shirt and pulled it off, tugged on her utilitarian sports bra until Ayanga took it off, and then they stared at each other for a moment, and Ayanga said, is this okay?
Zheng Yunlong blinked, nodded, said yes yeah oh my god yes, and then Ayanga pounced on her, pounced, knocking the wind out of her chest and making her pant, and then Ayanga tugged at her shorts, pulling them down, grabbing Zheng Yunlong’s ass with a hand, squeezing so hard she must have left bruises.
She still had her underwear on, but she was wet through it, she could feel it, she was so wet, and then Ayanga slipped her fingers underneath the cotton and Zheng Yunlong’s brain short-circuited. She could feel Ayanga’s fingers moving against her, a gentle caress, the pads roughened by guitar calluses.
“You're so-” Ayanga breathed, her voice hot and wet against the crook of Zheng Yunlong’s neck, their chests pressed together. Zheng Yunlong could feel Ayanga’s nipples against her chest, and it was funny for a moment, so she laughed, and Ayanga captured her mouth again and they kissed, fragmentedly, as Zheng Yunlong squirmed underneath her, tried to get her to move, to touch her more, to do something -
So she begged, said, please, please, and Ayanga said, inside? like a question, and Zheng Yunlong nodded, vehement. Ayanga slipped a finger inside, and it was too much, so much, and it wasn't like Zheng Yunlong hadn't done this before to herself, but it’d never felt more than clinical when she had. This, this was different, and Ayanga crooked her finger, found something inside her that made her belly twist weirdly like she was going to pee, and then Ayanga said, one more ? and Zheng Yunlong nodded, babbled, tried to grab Ayanga’s wrist and make her do it, and then made her do it again.
Three fingers felt like a stretch, and Zheng Yunlong had never been this full before, had never known what this could feel like. Ayanga moved her fingers in and out, and Zheng Yunlong flushed, embarrassed, when she heard it squelch - so wet, Ayanga said, almost trance-like, and Zheng Yunlong sobbed, felt embarrassed but so turned on, high-strung, rapid.
Ayanga fucked her, one hand on her pelvis to stabilise her, the other hand rapidly fucking into her, pistoning, and Zheng Yunlong threw her head back, let the sounds escape her throat, her eyes rolling back as her legs quivered, slamming together as she came, locking Ayanga’s hand inside.
“I can feel you around me,” Ayanga said, and her voice was soft like she was in awe. Zheng Yunlong moaned, oversensitive, and Ayanga moved her fingers again, sending sharp sparks somewhere deep into Zheng Yunlong’s pelvis. Zheng Yunlong squeezed, somewhere deep inside, and Ayanga groaned, pressing her wet lips to Zheng Yunlong's neck, her jaw, her face, her ear. Her hot breath hit the curve of Zheng Yunlong’s ear, tickled her, made her feel horny again. They rocked together like this, Ayanga’s hand still deep inside her, her fingers still moving, making Zheng Yunlong puffy and swollen.
Ayanga breathed into her ear, breathed what do you need, and Zheng Yunlong didn't know, couldn't say, could only pant wetly, squirming as Ayanga rubbed firmly against that spot inside her. All of a sudden it was too much, made her feel like she was going to lose control of her bladder, so she squirmed, and Ayanga held her tighter, her arm holding her just underneath her breasts, and Zheng Yunlong panted, oh my god oh my god I’m going to wet the bed you have to stop- but Ayanga growled, sank her teeth into Zheng Yunlong’s earlobe and fucked her even harder. It sounded wet, sloppy, and it was so good that it hurt, and Zheng Yunlong felt her eyes roll back every time Ayanga slammed her fingers back in, and then something within her crested and she screamed, her legs shaking, her pussy tightening around Ayanga’s fingers as she came again, soaking the bed beneath them.
When Ayanga removed her fingers, Zheng Yunlong winced at the slight burn. She was puffy and bruised, and Ayanga waved her fingers in front of their faces, and they were pruned, like she'd been underwater for some time, and Zheng Yunlong laughed, her belly aching with it.
Ayanga grinned. Zheng Yunlong was exhausted, like every last breath had been fucked out of her. Ayanga placed her hand on her belly, soft and cold, and Zheng Yunlong placed one hand over it, holding it in place until she fell asleep.
When they woke, they woke together, Zheng Yunlong first, then Ayanga. It was four in the morning, and it was freezing. Ayanga’s thigh was between Zheng Yunlong’s legs, and her fingers were resting gently on her chest, not quite touching. Zheng Yunlong pressed back against her, felt Ayanga’s hard nipples against her back. Ayanga kissed the back of her neck, where her spine met her skull, and then she grasped Zheng Yunlong’s breasts, one in each hand. They weren't the biggest, and Zheng Yunlong had never cared, had simply viewed them as part of her body and nothing else. Ayanga drew teasing circles around her nipples, scraping gently with a finger as Zheng Yunlong bucked back against her. She pinched, a little meanly, and Zheng Yunlong moaned softly, pressed her chest forward into Ayanga’s hands, wanted more, wanted so much. Ayanga shoved her leg higher up so Zheng Yunlong had something to rock against, and she was wet again, could feel her own wetness coat Ayanga’s skin.
Ayanga fucked her like this, let her ride her thigh until she came, then she shifted to the foot of the bed and spread Zheng Yunlong’s legs apart so she was exposed. Zheng Yunlong yelped, tried to cover herself with her hands, but all Ayanga did was lick her fingers, and it tickled, and Zheng Yunlong squirmed, said no, no, dirty, and Ayanga looked up at her, her face barely visible in the dark.
“Please,” Ayanga said, and her voice was hoarse, and Zheng Yunlong was so horny she could barely breathe, so she took her hands away shakily. Ayanga murmured, gorgeous, and it made Zheng Yunlong blush, made her feel shy, but Ayanga had a strong hand on either thigh, and then she licked a big, fat wet stripe up Zheng Yunlong’s cunt, over her slit, up her clit, and Zheng Yunlong howled, her legs spasming even as Ayanga held them apart.
Ayanga licked her open, spread her with her fingers and speared her with her tongue, like a man in a desert, smearing slick and spit all over. Her nose bumped against Zheng Yunlong’s clit, and Zheng Yunlong shuddered, oversensitive and each nerve-ending bruised, as Ayanga slipped a thumb into her. It was too much and not enough at the same time, and Zheng Yunlong moved her hips in a frenzy, smearing herself against Ayanga’s face, moaning brokenly as Ayanga put her lips over her clit and just sucked, her thumb fucking in and out of Zheng Yunlong until she came against her face, her thighs shaking, weak, fibrillating.
Ayanga came up to kiss her, and Zheng Yunlong could taste herself, could taste the salt on Ayanga’s chin. Ayanga was moving against her, and she could see Ayanga’s hand under the waistband of her underwear, moving frantically, rubbing, making herself come.
When she was finished Zheng Yunlong sucked her fingers into her mouth, like she'd seen in the movies, and Ayanga gasped. Zheng Yunlong sucked her fingers, licking between them, running her teeth over the edges until Ayanga gasped, tasting salt and sweat and slick, tasting Ayanga.
They collapsed together in a sweaty heap again, and Zheng Yunlong’s tummy rumbled, loud and grating in the quiet night, and Ayanga giggled, pressed her face against Zheng Yunlong’s chest and giggled.
They pulled on whatever clothes they could find, an old sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants. They still smelled like sex, and Ayanga’s hair was matted, but they linked their hands together and went out in search of food. Ayanga bought them crisps and a protein bar from the nearest vending machine, and then Zheng Yunlong pushed her against it and kissed her, kissed her out in the freezing cold night. Ayanga was still holding on to their food, so Zheng Yunlong ran her cold hands underneath Ayanga’s sweater, found the hard nubs of her nipples and pinched, cheekily, until Ayanga dropped the food and retaliated, her hands cupped around Zheng Yunlong’s ribcage, around her breasts, her thumbs rubbing hard circles against her bruised, chafed nipples.
Zheng Yunlong said, oh my god, and Ayanga grinned, pulled her by her hand towards their dorm room in some sort of frantic half-run, until they both collapsed against the inside of their door, breathless and a little sweaty.
They shared the bag of crisps and the protein bar, and Ayanga tucked her head against Zheng Yunlong’s shoulder, her face only half-visible, the corner of her mouth upturned. Zheng Yunlong looked at her and felt stupid then, felt stupid for asking all those days ago what feeling like you liked somebody, feeling like you liked a girl felt like, because how could it be anything but this, this all-encompassing warmth, the soft slide of Ayanga’s thigh against hers, their fingers laced together.
Ayanga said, just as they were dozing off again, her voice small and uncertain, this is real, for me, you know.
“Of course this is real,” Zheng Yunlong said. The sun was beginning to come up now, pink and orange and purple between the blinds. “I’m not just -”
“Trying it out?” Ayanga supplied. “It’s okay if you are,” she said. Her hand was tracing idle patterns on Zheng Yunlong’s skin. “But I just wanted you to know. That it’s real. For me.”
“It’s real for me too,” Zheng Yunlong said. “Give me time. I’ll show you.”
Okay, Ayanga said, okay, all equanimity, not a single atom of heat or anger, as if she just truly, truly believed her. Zheng Yunlong's heart swelled, full, spilling over, spilling across the mattress, across their bodies, across the dorm room they shared, Ayanga's pillows on Zheng Yunlong's bed, her hoodie shucked off and bunched up somewhere in between their legs, and she felt encompassed, consumed, sheltered, safe.
fin